My Life as a Nomad

I have many positive associations with multicolored nylon fabrics fashioned into large structures. Also known as tents.

Circus Tents 

Who doesn't love the circus?  Unless you have a huge fear of clowns or had a bad experience as a child, I think that any excuse to watch animals and eat nachos and cotton candy under the big top is a win.

Camping Tents

I grew up camping. My sister and I had Mickey Mouse tent that we would set up in our basement to play in and later a small purple one. Sometimes we went on family camping trips and occasionally we would go crazy and pitch it in the back yard!  I think there was one summer when I spent a whole week sleeping out in the tent. And then in high school, camping became a great excuse to have uni-sex sleepovers! Oh, and s'mores.

Parachute Tents

This is probably my favorite association. I LOVED to play with the parachute as a child. Probably for longer than I should have enjoyed it. I loved to play popcorn (were you throw balls in the middle and toss them around) and I always wanted to jump in the middle and get tossed around too.  I realize now that would not work so well... anyways, my second favorite part was when you lift the parachute up really high and then duck under and sit on the edge- creating a large tent with a hole in the top where you can see the sky.  And then is slowly starts to deflate around you... totally safe...

With all these positive tent associations it is regrettable that I now have a negative association to share.  See, when you get the news that your house is being tented, it does not mean that you get animals, s'mores, or hours of tactile play time (unfortunately).  It means that there are termites in the building and that you are being kicked out for two days while they cover the building (in a pretty tent!) and fumigate with poisonous gas. (Yep, I looked it up.  When they assure me that the gas is not water soluble, I immediately become curious as to its other properties... *cough* Chem nerd *cough*)

 

 

 

And for those of you that are unfamiliar, this is what my complex normally looks like...

 

 

 

The Elephant in the Room...

So there is one VERY obvious difference between LA and the Midwest that I have avoided talking about for quite some time now. Not because it doesn't come into play in my life nearly everyday, but simply because acknowledging it, especially so publicly, makes it real. And having this become real puts me at risk for being uncomfortable and possibly feeling bad about myself. However, the point of this blog is to be open, honest, and push myself; embracing change and new experiences. So, in that spirit, it's time for me to admit that when I go almost anywhere in LA, I become the elephant in the room.  Like, literally the largest person in a sea of toothpicks.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not think I'm fat.  You may think I'm fat, and that's fine, you are entitled to your opinion. I am also not writing this for sympathy or reassurance.  I am not fishing for complements.  I'm trying to broach a topic that plagues FAR TOO MANY women today with some honesty and humor. Hopefully it will at least make someone smile; at best I would love to help someone feel like they aren't so alone when they are sitting on a bench outside of a store that makes seemingly child-sized clothes, waiting for their friends.  Also, for those of you that have never met me in person, I am 6 feet tall. End scene.

Ahem, back to my original point. Seriously.  I'm not kidding. Most days it feels like this:

 Buuuttt some days it feels like this:

I'm swear I'm not exaggerating either. I have never bumped into so many things with my ass when just trying to walk through a place; tables, clothes racks, bar stools, the occasional person in yoga class... it is pretty obvious that the businesses of this city are not planning for people of my stature and girth as their clientele.

"Arctic Blast"

Yeah... so it's "cold" here in LA.  I'm not gonna lie, this is the coldest I have been since I moved here, but I'm not about to break out my parka and my gloves.  And it's extremely comical to see how everyone here is reacting:

 

Again, I'm not going to pretend I'm warm, but I certainly know how to handle a night where the temps drop to the 30s. I think that weather is one of the cultural phenomena here that is most interesting to me.  Any deviation for the standard 70 degrees is thought to be "so hot" or "so cold."  What is really funny is that I have never been able to feel the difference in a few degrees as much as I have since I have lived here.  70 and 75 degrees feel different to me out here. Anywhere else, the difference would be pretty moot. But out here, you get used to the relative lack of weather, seasons, and significant temperature changes.  A deviation from the norm can be a huge difference. In the Midwest  Colorado, almost everywhere else I've lived, deviation is the norm.

Though I can admit to feeling chilly in our mild temperature drop, one thing I'm not going to do is act like this is the end of the world. Yes, the temperatures are annoying and, quite frankly, my house is not insulated for weather like this. But, it is a little refreshing to snuggle up with a few extra blankets and feel the brisk air on my skin.  Also, the "cold snap" is a good reminder of how wonderful the weather is here most of the time. When things are too perfect, sometimes it's hard to appreciate it. In Chicago, everyone in the city was outside on the nice days, taking advantage of weather and enjoying it. Here, perfection is the expectation, and nice day can easily be brushed off as another is soon to follow. I hope if anything, our "freezing temps" can serve to remind LA residents how good they have it.  In the meantime, I am going to continue to laugh at everyone that dresses the way I would dress when the temperatures drop into the 'teens.  It is really unnecessary, and the day I "get soft" and ask for a parka in this weather is the day I need to move.  For sure.

Dear LA Cab Drivers:

First of all, and with all due respect, SUCK IT! $10 minimum on a credit card? Forgive me for not tipping, but sorry I'm not sorry. The duration of my ride was less than a mile ($4.25 on the meter), get over yourselves. I know this crap flies here because "everyone drives" but frankly, I am sick of paying the financial punishment for being responsible or trying to find a safe way home (aka: not with a drive with someone who has been drinking or not walking alone). Here is a tip, EVOLVE!  New York and Chicago both have standardized cabs with regulated fares and credit card machines stationed in the back of every cab. Hell, St. Louis is more accessible and accommodating when it comes to cabs!  News flash: there is no minimum credit card payment in the actual cities of America, they allow you to pay for your actual fare with a credit card like civilized human beings. LA gets away with murder here because they can. I personally, cannot believe that that people here don't realize how disadvantaged they are with the entire transportation system. Seriously. Second biggest city in the country? Step up. I am continuously penalized for choosing to NOT drive my car. I choose to drive to LAX because it is cheaper and more cost effective than taking a shuttle or cab. I ALWAYS took the train in Chicago because was cheaper and more cost effective for me, not to mention better for the environment and at some points, a time saver.  Health conscious?  Environmentally friendly?  Seriously?!?!  Get over yourself LA. You have the worst public transportation of any city I have ever been in. Right now, I'm calling poser. So many people here have good intentions and noble, organic ideas of how to live life, but there is an underlying current of money and corruption that dominates. I'm sick of it. I have pretty much caved to a lifestyle that involves not leaving Santa Monica to try and not be exploited and I still loose. People of LA- demand more.  This is crap. Your services her are overpriced and under-functional. It is not ok. I even hesitate to call LA a city. I have for a while. This is a sprawling metropolis of bullshit. Talking it up doesn't make the shortcomings disappear. And tolerating it perpetuates the problem. Believe me, I want to love LA, but these "nuances" are making it difficult...

and stupid and elitist...

Off the Wagon...

Hi. I'm Taylor, and I'm a Target-holic. The last time I had shopped was in December back in Iowa.  It was a quick trip, very under control.  My sister and I were putting some finishing touches on Christmas gifts. I didn't really choose to stop shopping at Target, it just kinda happened. See, there is no Target in Santa Monica. There is no Target in Venice, West LA, Marina Del Rey, Pacific Palisades, Malibu, Westwood, Beverly Hills... there is no Target that is remotely close to me and my job.  It is one of the top things that I dislike about living here.

The closest Targets are in Culver City, there are allegedly 3 of them (selfish hoarders) according to Google maps though I can only account for two in my mind. Distance wise, Culver City is not far from me, but it requires a trip on either the 405 freeway or the 10 freeway and during peak hours, this is a nightmare.  I could plan to go on a Saturday morning or something, but I usually end up sleeping in, going to yoga, and enjoying relaxing and fun weekend time in Santa Monica.

So, due to distance and travel time, my relationship with Target had to end.  It's been a challenge for sure, but I've figured out where to buy things that I would usually get at Target around Santa Monica. The combination of the grocery store, Walgreen's, Bed Bath & Beyond, and the hardware store pretty much take care of it.  Four stops in a day can be super annoying, but it's better than the 405 at rush hour.

After semi-making peace with my Target-free life, I saw an opportunity yesterday, and I took full advantage.  Yesterday, my boss, one of our research assistants and I went down to the San Diego VA to hold a focus group and collect data for our new research project.  My boss lives south of me in Manhattan Beach, so we met at her house and went to San Diego from there. On the way back, it struck me. I was away from the Westside, and making my way home would be the perfect opportunity to shop at Target.  My excitement turned to elation when my boss informed me that there was a Target right in Manhattan Beach. Boom. Game on.

Transplant Theory: Oxen and Chameleons

Along with palm tree and fake boobs, another thing LA is full of is transplants: people who have moved to LA from other places.  People who actually grew up in LA are about as rare as snowflakes.  I've met many a transplant over the last six months and have actually started to categorize them into two groups in my mind: oxen and chameleons.  Stay with me here, it's good I promise.

Oxen are the stubborn people.  The ones who move to LA and refuse to give up their customs and traditions from their old way of life.  They are often the ones who have moved to LA for a job or a relationship, not because they actually wanted to move to LA.  They tend to pick out the negative qualities of the city and claim that it's fake, plastic, and materialistic. They refuse to let the city change them.

Chameleons are eager to blend in and become "Hollywood." They are the people who have come out to LA to try and live the California lifestyle. They often have preset ideas about how living here will change their lives, and genuinely want to embrace change and absorb what LA has to offer. They may desire fame, fortune, or something else entirely, but they see LA as they key to their success. They want the city to make them.

Now, obviously not everyone fits into one of these two categories, and quite honestly, the people I gravitate towards and all of my friends out here have a healthy mix of both animals, perhaps we call them, oxeleons. They are open-minded, up for trying new things and having adventures, yet they are grounded and confident in who they are and where they come from.  They want the city to inspire them, but not define them.

The real question I have been asking myself lately is, which animal am I??

You can take the girl outta the Midwest...

but you can't take the Midwest cooking style out of the girl.  That was blatantly evident at my Super Bowl party last Sunday.  Just to set the stage a bit, let me remind you that I really like football and I really like food.  I particularly enjoy an opportunity to combine them both.  In the past this has led to endevors such as this:

Super Bowl '09 Cardinals v Steelers
Created with the lovely and talented Alison Clark

This year I decided that instead of focusing my efforts on one awesome dish, I would create many dishes, all with an ample aura of awesomeness...

Soooooo I may have gotten super excited and over-cooked for my party... oops?  It wouldn't have been such a bad thing except for the fact that everything I cooked was laden with cheese, carbs and spicyness; definitely not anything you could or should eat for a week straight.  Paula Dean chooses butter, I choose cheese.  Note for the future: people in California have more dietary preferences and healthier eating habits than people in the Midwest.  Again, not such a bad thing except for the fact that it left me with nearly 2 lbs of mac and cheese...

So let's recap.  I'm going to assume that everyone knows how the Super Bowl turned out and knows the major game highlights.  I'm also going to assume that if you don't know, you probably don't care.  Thus, all I will say about the game it that it was watched at my house on my new TV.  The patio bar was stocked with fun beverages and a great time was had by myself and my lovely friends, both new and old, who also helped contribute to the buffet with delicious (and healthier) dishes like salmon and fresh guac.

My ridiculously unhealthy and fairly monochromatic spread was as follows:

Buffalo Chicken Tartlets

Seacrest Sausage Balls
(sigh, don't ask.  The name in Kendall's fault...)

Beer-battered Jalapeno Popper Mac and Cheese

Mom's Taco Dip
(Sorry, I forgot to take a pic.  This is an old pic from a
tailgating attempt at Northwestern Game.  It usually looks better...) 

All of these tasty delights (save for the taco dip, that's a Sale family secret) can be recreated in your own kitchen with the ridiculously easy steps enclosed below. Note: I don't measure, I'm sorry.  I'll try to do my best to give amounts when I can but when in doubt, just start adding a little and then adding more to taste.

Soybeans to Oranges

Welp, it's been about two week since my last post.  It's not that I haven't thought about blogging, it's just that... well, life has gotten in the way.  Which is good I guess- it means that I have things to do and that my experiences here are becoming less novel and more routine.

Guys, I live in LA.  Crazy.

This also means that it's finally time to write this post that I have been sitting on for quite some time...

One of my favorite learning techniques is to use metaphors or comparisons of things I'm familiar with to get a grasp on something new.  This worked great for my students (I think...) and was also successful in helping me master the rules of rugby when I was in Australia.  Using football as as staring point, I was able to make connections and understand a new game... and meet cute Aussie boys ;)

Anyways, as you may have gleaned, this post is going to make a comparison.  In order to orientate and get my lay of the land out here, I'm going to equate the areas of LA to their Chicago neighborhood equivalents.  I'm also gonna go ahead and say which area I prefer though the total is not generalize-able to an overall LA v Chicago throwdown, they are just entirely too different.

***Disclaimer*** The comparisons are based purely on my impressions and biases after living here for approximately three months.  What I have to say about Chicago is most likely true, but I may have some misconceptions or over-generalizations about LA.  Also, being that I am a fairly open minded person, these impressions are subject to change as I continue to assimilate in the area.  For now, I present you with... (Drum roll please)....

The Backstory

Moving to a new place gives you a chance to start over, potentially even reinvent yourself if you so choose.  And it all starts with how you present yourself when you meet new people.  Lately I've been thinking a lot about my "backstory"- what I tell people when they ask about what I do, where I'm from etc.  I noticed a while ago back in Chicago that I tend to alter my story based on where I am, who I am meeting, or how long of a conversation I wish to be in.  Now when I say alter, I don't mean lie.  I never say anything that isn't the truth, I just tend to leave things out or frame things in a way that fits the conversation I wish to have.  For example:

Question:
Where are you from?

Potential answers: 
1. I grew up in Iowa.
2. I went to school in Colorado
3. I just moved here from Chicago

All of these are true- but they all lead to very different conversations.  Unless specifically pressed, I tend to shy away from telling people I grew up in Iowa.  This isn't to say I'm not proud of Iowa, I just tend to find the conversations that follow to be... well... annoying.

Answer #1:
I grew up in Iowa.

Sample Responses:
1. Wow, I've never met a farmer!
2. You must really like potatoes!  (Yep, I've had people think it's IDAHO)
3. I don't even know where that is...
4. Heh heh, ever go cow tipping?
5. My [insert random relative] is from Iowa!  Do you know them?

No place like home.

Philosophically, there are multitudes of different opinions on what constitutes "home".  People, places, things, states of mind or combinations of these.  For me, it's difficult to describe how I view "home" because it's more of a feeling I get.  I feel a comfort, familiarity and warmth with floods of old memories and excitement for new ones.  For me, home is not necessarily where I live, though places I live do often become home.

I knew October in LA was going to be difficult for me- the weekend I moved into my apartment is the only weekend I have had and will have in the apartment all month.  To top that off, all of my weekends would be spent with many old friends in all of my favorite places.  This past weekend was the motherload.  First stop:

Oh heeeeyyyyy Fall!

I LOVE FALL!

GC Pumpkin Carving 2009

The changing leaves, bonfires, football, scarves, boots, sweaters, comfort food- everything!  Unfortunately for me, Fall isn't really a "thing" here in California.  It's been sunny and in the 70s or 80s everyday with some cooler temps at night that are just lacking that crisp fall smell.

A weekend trip to St. Louis for the wedding of two of my favorite teacher pals, Kristen and Chris, was just the ticket to get into the fall spirit.  I stepped of the plane into the heart of fall.  Even the wedding was complete with gorgeous fall touches and a jar of apple butter for a favor:

Out with a bang

Alright, so you know when you were a kid and you would get a new toy and play with it all day, everyday for like a week and then never again??  I find that as an adult-ish person, I still have this quality though now it mostly applies to workout plans and guys I attempt to date.  I'm also concerned that this may happen to my blog.  So my first 5 posts were all consecutive (*cough* excited child) and then followed by about 5 days of radio silence however, I feel that I have a perfectly good excuse for my lapse: playing in Chicago!

Before I head out to California, I really wanted to make one more visit to the city I love enough to consider one of my three homes (Iowa and Colorado would be the other two) and soak in all of my favorite things.  It seems logical that I should have memories of having fun, knowing my way around a place and spending time with people I love before I'm lost, confused and friendless on the coast.

Are you ready for some football?

Photo courtesy of FX

I know I am.  Football is a sure sign of fall (I'll save my obsessive love of fall for another post) and the weather this past weekend in Iowa was a perfect match for the start of high school football and college football (even if Colorado's debut as a Pac-12 team was less than stellar). With the pro season kick-off rapidly approaching I must say that I'm excited for a new venture in the football arena this year.  No friends, I'm not talking about the new indoor football team in CR, I'm talking about fantasy football!  This year, in addition to manically cheering on my Buffs and my Bears, I will be managing and dominating my fantasy league with... wait for it.... Refrigerator of Sweetness.  Epic, I know.  If you don't get it, sorry you're not awesome.

I knew that fantasy football was for me after watching the first two seasons of The League on FX.  If you haven't seen the show, I recommend you watch it immediately; it's hilarious and takes place in Chicago.  I can only hope that my fantasy league incurs such debauchery and absurd competitiveness.  I must say, I was fairly disappointed when my draft order was doled out to me in an e-mail from ESPN as opposed to being determined in a manner such as this.

But in all seriousness, I cannot wait to start fantasy football- and the wait is almost over, my (autopick) draft is at 5am tomorrow morning!  I've spent the last several weeks participating in mock drafts, tinkering with my autopick strategy and reordering my pick preferences to ensure a championship combination of beefy and agile gentleman is delivered to my inbox much like a present under the Christmas tree.  I'm confident that my obsessive planning and organization coupled with my adorably competitive nature will pay off.  After all, I am going against a bunch of genetic counselors, most of whom are female and one of whom is a male that thinks football involves kicking a black and white ball into a net...

Wish me luck!  I'll post the roster tomorrow!

Also... it appears that the closest thing LA has to a professional football team is USC... who isn't even bowl eligible this year and has lower stadium attendance than Colorado (!?!?!)... here's to hoping I find a good Bears bar!

Not to be wine-y...

... but I have never been a fan of wines made from grapes grown in the Midwest. Call me a snob but they just don't taste good. The climate condones small, sweet grapes and if I wanted that flavor, grape juice is far cheaper (most of the time). One thing I truly love in life is wine; not just because it has a higher alcohol content than beer but because of the complexities in the flavor and the science behind creating the perfect blend (nerd alert).

I started developing my palate (I know, snobby) when I was 20 years old and studying abroad in Australia.

Sydney Uni Wine Society Grape Escape 2006

I joined the Sydney University Wine Society and began going to tastings all semester and eventually on a 3-day "Grape Escape" to the wineries in Mudgee, AU. This is when I really began to enjoy drinking wine and when I was first introduced to the process behind it.

Yes, I will take any excuse to use this pic!

It is my FAV!

Soooooo... all that being said, the Midwest really surprised me yesterday by allowing my mom and me to be a part of the craft by harvesting grapes! Something I have wanted to do FOREVER!