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torquillYesterday was my birthday. For all my efforts, it never rose above mediocre, really.
I blame the hormone shifts. I think the GSE builds up over time -- not knowing its mode of action, I can't guess at its effective half-life. Once I took the four caps in the morning, things went steadily downhill. I got terribly depressed and weepy, easily frustrated, unable to cope. My dad and I got into a yelling match (he tried to mansplain how to use a stud-finder, and I wasn't having it) which made me so fed up I decided to drive far away. I hit Trader Joe's for some food, got gas, and headed off to find Bean Hollow.
I hadn't been there in twenty years, but I did manage to find it. The rockiness of the beach was a bit of a surprise -- I found later that yes, there is a sandy end on that beach which is as I remember it -- but then I remembered that it was a prime tidepooling location. I had a bite to eat at one of the picnic tables, then went down to pick around the rocks. It was low tide, a bit of luck. I found some very active pools, full of rock crabs and turban snails, plus some tiny hermit crabs and some large enough to fit into 1" turban shells. I saw two separate hermits change shells. I found a live chiton that was over two inches long, and some very large green limpets. And, most heartening, I found sea urchins stuffed into every cranny. Some of the large pools had sizeable urchin shells at the bottom, and I saw a few being turned into crabs' lunches. The population had evidently been thriving for some time.
So that made me cheerful for a bit; evidently the water quality and beach health is so good that some of the most vulnerable species are doing quite well. The hillside above the beach had been replanted in native beach plants maybe a decade ago (by the looks of things) which had settled in very well. I even found what looked like a dwarf species of coyote brush, Baccharis (I just looked it up, and apparently there are several prostrate species). All in all, that is a very healthy and happy state beach.
I decided to head south to Santa Cruz, see whether I could find a nice restaurant for a birthday dinner. When I got there, however, I found that it's no longer the town I remember. Downtown is even more of a maze than ever, with a warren of cramped one-way streets and left-turn-only signs. I finally got down to Beach street only to discover that there is no affordable parking south of downtown; all of the stuff remotely near the boardwalk is either permit-only or a flat $15. I had just wanted to wander around for a few minutes, but I decided to spend the money on dinner instead. Alas, the restaurant options in Santa Cruz are as dismal as ever -- if you want any quality, it costs quite a bit. It all added up to the sense that visitors are not welcome unless they're willing to fork over substantial sums. If I go back, it'll have to be in the off-season.
I headed back home, getting to Pleasant Hill in an hour and a half (wow). I settled in at Back Forty and ordered a birthday meal for myself... I don't know whether they're slipping or if it was just the end of a long Saturday night, but nothing about it was as I wanted it. Even the salad (which had dried cranberries on it for some reason) was topped with blue cheese because I forgot that I can't tolerate creamy salad dressings anymore. They don't offer any french fries that aren't breaded (oh well) and my medium-rare prime rib was closer to what I'd call medium-well. Even the apple crisp was more crisp than apple and had a little too much almond extract for my liking.
So other than the tidepools, the day was a 200-mile bust. I've had worse birthdays, but I've definitely had better.
Today was much more like it. Despite having slept badly, I was up and on the road in time to meet with Akien and Leah for Dance Church... I did pretty well there, until the DJ dropped into dubstep and didn't come out. (I don't care how much bass you have, 60bpm is SLOW.) We went back to their place and I hung for a bit, getting Akien's help with figuring out how to fix my foot. Then I went home and puttered... I fetched the belt sander back from Greg's, talked with Alex, and had a nice evening with Greg and The Blacklist. Not bad at all. It was all facilitated by cutting back on GSE and ramping up my progesterone some; we'll see how that goes over tomorrow.
I blame the hormone shifts. I think the GSE builds up over time -- not knowing its mode of action, I can't guess at its effective half-life. Once I took the four caps in the morning, things went steadily downhill. I got terribly depressed and weepy, easily frustrated, unable to cope. My dad and I got into a yelling match (he tried to mansplain how to use a stud-finder, and I wasn't having it) which made me so fed up I decided to drive far away. I hit Trader Joe's for some food, got gas, and headed off to find Bean Hollow.
I hadn't been there in twenty years, but I did manage to find it. The rockiness of the beach was a bit of a surprise -- I found later that yes, there is a sandy end on that beach which is as I remember it -- but then I remembered that it was a prime tidepooling location. I had a bite to eat at one of the picnic tables, then went down to pick around the rocks. It was low tide, a bit of luck. I found some very active pools, full of rock crabs and turban snails, plus some tiny hermit crabs and some large enough to fit into 1" turban shells. I saw two separate hermits change shells. I found a live chiton that was over two inches long, and some very large green limpets. And, most heartening, I found sea urchins stuffed into every cranny. Some of the large pools had sizeable urchin shells at the bottom, and I saw a few being turned into crabs' lunches. The population had evidently been thriving for some time.
So that made me cheerful for a bit; evidently the water quality and beach health is so good that some of the most vulnerable species are doing quite well. The hillside above the beach had been replanted in native beach plants maybe a decade ago (by the looks of things) which had settled in very well. I even found what looked like a dwarf species of coyote brush, Baccharis (I just looked it up, and apparently there are several prostrate species). All in all, that is a very healthy and happy state beach.
I decided to head south to Santa Cruz, see whether I could find a nice restaurant for a birthday dinner. When I got there, however, I found that it's no longer the town I remember. Downtown is even more of a maze than ever, with a warren of cramped one-way streets and left-turn-only signs. I finally got down to Beach street only to discover that there is no affordable parking south of downtown; all of the stuff remotely near the boardwalk is either permit-only or a flat $15. I had just wanted to wander around for a few minutes, but I decided to spend the money on dinner instead. Alas, the restaurant options in Santa Cruz are as dismal as ever -- if you want any quality, it costs quite a bit. It all added up to the sense that visitors are not welcome unless they're willing to fork over substantial sums. If I go back, it'll have to be in the off-season.
I headed back home, getting to Pleasant Hill in an hour and a half (wow). I settled in at Back Forty and ordered a birthday meal for myself... I don't know whether they're slipping or if it was just the end of a long Saturday night, but nothing about it was as I wanted it. Even the salad (which had dried cranberries on it for some reason) was topped with blue cheese because I forgot that I can't tolerate creamy salad dressings anymore. They don't offer any french fries that aren't breaded (oh well) and my medium-rare prime rib was closer to what I'd call medium-well. Even the apple crisp was more crisp than apple and had a little too much almond extract for my liking.
So other than the tidepools, the day was a 200-mile bust. I've had worse birthdays, but I've definitely had better.
Today was much more like it. Despite having slept badly, I was up and on the road in time to meet with Akien and Leah for Dance Church... I did pretty well there, until the DJ dropped into dubstep and didn't come out. (I don't care how much bass you have, 60bpm is SLOW.) We went back to their place and I hung for a bit, getting Akien's help with figuring out how to fix my foot. Then I went home and puttered... I fetched the belt sander back from Greg's, talked with Alex, and had a nice evening with Greg and The Blacklist. Not bad at all. It was all facilitated by cutting back on GSE and ramping up my progesterone some; we'll see how that goes over tomorrow.
