Craft Cocktails and A Murder Mystery (23 and 24 of 40)

I haven't felt much like writing lately. Writing for me is like exercise, exactly what I need and yet often the very last thing I prioritize doing. Wanting to be a writer is unquestionably the longest-held dream I've had, but for all that wanting, I've developed an unfortunate process steeped in procrastination. 

As a kid, I wrote all the time. In the aftermath of my spectacular teenage downfall though, I packed everything about that version of me into a metaphorical box because, well, that girl's choices lead to very destructive consequences. Best to toss the baby out with the bathwater and all. 

The further I got into my new life, it became easier to deny that particular part of me. As a result, I didn't write creatively for over a decade. Problem is, I'm a real over-thinker. My mind is filled with constant and frenzied thoughts that multiply and stretch until I become figuratively stuffed with anxious rabble. 

Writing is like releasing the pressure valve, allowing the words to spill out onto the page where they can be sorted through and seen more clearly. You'd think that after years of this, I would have learned by now to release that pressure valve more often and more willingly. 

Ah, but where's the fun in that? 

I like to be fully backed into a corner emotionally before I concede defeat. 

What does this have to do with cocktails and murder? Nothing, really. I'm merely justifying to myself why I have put off posting to the blog in several weeks. 

Let's start with the alcohol, shall we?

I had it in my head that it would be cool to know how to make craft cocktails from memory. I envisioned hosting social gatherings, whipping up a few classics on demand and impressing the masses with my amateur mixologist skills. There have been a few hiccups on this journey however.

Hiccup #1: 'Rona. It is hard to host social gatherings when there is a global pandemic and literal government orders not to gather socially. It is, however, easy to drink alone in this situation...easy, but not necessarily good for mental health. Having a bunch of random bottles of booze on hand just waiting to be consumed felt somehow unwise in this particular season. 

Hiccup #2: Alcohol is expensive. And cocktails often use small quantities of multiple different kinds. Since I'd be building a liquor cabinet essentially from scratch, I balked at the investment capitol needed every time I came back around to this idea.

Hiccup #3: Vodka tastes like hairspray. And whiskey is the absolute worst. Tequila is okay, but we all know it's the stuff that bad decisions are made of. I did discover in the last year that the one spirit I actually do enjoy is gin. 

Growing up, I rarely saw one of my grandfathers without a martini in hand and though we weren't particularly close, the smell of the gin is one of the lasting memories I have of him. He was a bombardier in World War 2 and I suspect he returned home a very different person than when he left. As a little girl, I only knew him one dimensionally. He called me an ornery child and after that I think a part of me always wondered if he even liked me. It's funny the perspective that children have. As I've gotten older, I can appreciate how little I actually knew of who his life experiences had forged him into. 

I digress...

Given all the above complications, I have officially learned to make ONE cocktail. May I present...the Gin Mule.

This three-ingredient beverage is a spin on the Moscow Mule, an American-made drink so named for its association of vodka with Russia. The mule portion of the name is a nod to the 'kick' from the spiciness of the ginger beer. Typically, mules are served in a copper mug. Don't have a copper mug? No problem. The exact same ingredients served in a glass is called a Foghorn so technically this is a two-for-one tutorial. You're welcome. 

You'll need...

• 2 oz of gin. I went with Aviation, because, well, Ryan Reynolds. 

• 1/2 oz of lime juice. Fresh squeezed is preferable.

• 4 oz of ginger beer. For a lower-calorie option, use half regular and half sugar free. I promise it will taste just as good. 

• Combine all ingredients over ice, stir and imbibe away!

Now that COVID restrictions are easing, I finally had the opportunity to put my new-found bartending skills to work by hosting a Murder Mystery party last weekend. I highly recommend! There are tons of options online and I settled on this one largely because I figured costumes would be easy what with the fact that 80's style seems to be all the rage again. 

I sent the guests their characters about a week in advance and not a one disappointed with their appearance or performance. We had the former-class-president-turned-presidential-candidate,

the head jock and his alleged two-timing head cheerleader wife,

the AV-nerd turned successful movie producer and his gold-digging glamourous girlfriend,

the math whiz making it rich off other people's success

the Hollywood starlet with a mysterious past

and me, the embittered band-geek who has been swindled out of my rightfully earned royalties. 

It was a great time all around and such a refreshing reminder of what socializing was before all the craziness of this last year. And what was the verdict on my Gin Mules, you ask? Shockingly, turns out my venture was entirely self-serving. Not a one person took me up on my offer to craft one for them, instead opting for the strawberry-jalepeño margarita concoction my lovely neighbor Sarah brought. 

Sigh. Oh well, can't say I didn't try!  

Visit Joshua Tree (22 of 40) Part Two

After walking around the town and lazing a bit by the pool back at Spin and Margie's, I decided to make my way into Joshua Tree National Park to catch some of the sights before sunset. It was stunning. I ended up finding a boulder that was carved out like a chair, so I perched myself there and read until the sun dipped below the horizon. 

Twilight is by far my most favorite part of day, but twilight in the desert? There are no words for this level of perfection. 

I woke up early on Saturday ready to take on the rest of the park. I had only seen the Cholla Cactus Garden and Ocotillo Patch the evening prior and I really wanted to drive the path between the North and West entrances. Can we all agree that this National Park takes the prize for most-literal-names-for-landmarks? Behold, Skull Rock:

Jumbo Rocks: 

Hall of Horrors:

and Hidden Valley:

This one may be harder to appreciate its literal interpretation by photographic evidence only. Let me assure you, said valley is hidden. Apparently outlaw cattle and horse thieves used to store their stolen livestock there because it was such a good hiding spot. There is a nature path about a mile long that loops through the valley. I found a secluded spot with just enough shade to sit under and wrote the following poem. 

The Hidden Valley, Joshua Tree

Alone in the valley

The sun looms overhead

casting small refuges from the desert heat

 

Fortressed on all sides

A jumble of stone

appearing, somehow, both intentional and haphazard

 

Time has etched

a thousand scars across her face

and yet, she is all the more lovely for it

 

Sprigs of green

reside in her jagged crags

Vibrant life brought forth in impossible places

 

She is breathing

Exhaling a cleansing breeze

that dances around and through me

 

A woodpecker taps

The ticking of a clock

that measures a different sort of time

Alone in the valley

I am unfamiliar

but not lost  

All in all, it was a great weekend away. As always, I found myself missing the kids and wishing they were there to see all the things I was seeing. Bittersweet is a feeling I have become intimately acquainted with over the past few years. I'm glad I went and now I can bring them back to experience it for themselves. After all, they are really going to want to see this rock butt in person:

 

Take a Solo Trip (21 of 40) Part One

There's a learning curve when it comes to finding yourself single again after a long period of time. Considering that I was essentially coupled up from the age of twenty on, my learning curve feels more like uncharted territory. There was zero part of the me from five years ago that thought she would be doing this phase of her life alone, but here we are.

There are two types of single women. (Okay, okay, there are probably many more than two types, but bear with me for the sake of efficiency.) The first is always searching for a partner. Her life feels unsatisfying and paused, waiting for someone to come in and make it whole and meaningful again. The second is content. She'd like a partner, but doesn't need one to give her life purpose or substance. She creates this for herself. 

Phrased this way, obviously one sounds better than the other and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't judgmental of the first. But the truth is, I can relate to both. Why anyone enjoys my company has always been a bit of a mystery to me. Most days, I find myself uninspiring at best and loathsome at worst. Facing a life with "just me" feels equivalent to all my preferred friends having plans and being forced to hang out with the one awkward acquaintance I have nothing in common with. What can I say? Self-esteem has never been a strong-suit. 

Even if I didn't foresee life looking this particular way at this particular juncture, I am acutely aware of the price that was paid to get here. If nothing else, I'll be damned if all that it cost was in vain. I don't know if or when I will find a partner again. Honestly, for the amount of magic, timing and circumstance to align for true connection, its a wonder any of us find each other. What I do know is that I want to choose a life of fullness, authenticity, wonder and excitement regardless. And that means I'm going to have to get out there and live it. 

I have never taken a trip on my own and because seeing Joshua Tree was on my bucket list as well, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I set some parameters for myself for this excursion to keep myself accountable:

One, I had to eat out at a restaurant by myself. 

Two, I could not just stay inside the hotel room and watch Married at First Sight or something as equally mind-numbing. 

Three, I would stay off social media for the trip (I was like 80 % good on that one). 

I got a late start on Thursday night after work, so I found myself driving to an unfamiliar part of the desert in the dark. Since no fewer than four people had worriedly warned me to be careful when I told them that I was heading out alone and my road trip playlist was essentially just crime podcasts on binge, I had bitten off most of my fingernails by the time I turned onto Highway 62 towards Joshua Tree. Realizing this, I switched up the audio to something a little more fitting and a lot less stressful. 

I arrived at Spin and Margie's Desert Hideaway about 9:30pm, settled in and spent what was left of the evening safely star-gazing from the yard beside the bungalow.

I awoke the next morning to the cutest little desert property! I highly recommend this place if you're ever in this neck of the woods. Instagram-worthy photo-ops at every turn! But since I was off social media, I spent the morning writing and listening to the birds.

When it came time to check number one off the list, I headed into the town of Joshua Tree and found this cute little restaurant along the main drag. 

After about a 30-minute wait they sat me outside directly next to the entryway. So we're going to do this in the most conspicuous way possible, I thought to myself. I ordered what turned out to be the most delicious sandwich I have ever had and guess what: eating at a restaurant solo is not such a big deal. 

The rest of the story continues in part two...

See a Blue Whale (20/40)

A couple of years ago I saw a newscast discussing the blue whales that were migrating off the coast of California. It made mention of the fact that these aquatic creatures were not only endangered but also the largest animals that have ever existed on our planet.

Did I hear that right? I thought to myself. The largest animal EVER?  

What about the African Elephant? 

                    Ummm, no. (35 feet long)

The Whale Shark? 

                    Not even close. (40 feet long)

Colossal Squid? 

                    Shrimpy. (45 feet)

Oooh, oooh: the Megalodon? 

                    B*tch, please. (60 feet)

C'mon, Diplodocus, don't fail me now... 

                    Who, him? (80 feet) Probably best to stick to the day job.

The longest blue whale on record measures in at over one-hundred and ten feet long! That's roughly equivalent to one Boeing 737 or three double-decker buses! 

Now this I had to see! I immediately reserved three spot on a whale watching tour and the kids and I headed to Long Beach for the chance to see one in the wild.

I had been on one other whale watching trip before. It was off the coast of Cape Cod and I made the mistake of taking a Dramamine at the start of the trip. I was really worried about getting seasick and puking all over the boat and possibly the poor, unfortunate souls who found themselves within spraying distance. 

Fortunately for me (and them!) I did not get sick. Unfortunately for me (but probably not them) I promptly fell asleep and slept through the entirety of the voyage. I was told that the boat couldn't locate the whales anyway, so I guess I wasn't the only loser that day. 

Thankfully, history did not repeat itself, and on Mother's Day 2019, the kids and I got to see not one, but two real, live blue whales!

So few things in life ever go exactly the way you hope, but this was one of those rare and wonderful occasions when it did.