Just another Friday night
04/29/2011
“C’mon baby, don’t say maaaaybe. I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna saaaave me…”
The Eagles are on the radio. The wind is whipping through the courtyard. I’m in my lounge. My favorite place. My feet are propped on my white ottoman, colorful toenails smiling at me. My dogs are playing down the hall. My girl dog has taken to humping my boy dog. I find this hilarious. I’m enjoying fabulous Pinot Noir that my brother-in-law sent me from Oregon. I’ve decided I’m not dusting this weekend. My favorite gray sweater feels cozy and comforting in a springy way. My favorite lamp is dimly lit. I’m smiling at the electric guitar and amp that live in the corner. I will play it this weekend. I don’t know how to play it. It won’t matter. It will sound good to me, and if a non-guitarist plays guitar in a forest and no one is listening…did the non-guitarist really play the guitar anyway?
It’s been one of those weeks where the universe spoke to me, taught me lessons I didn’t know I needed to learn. I’ve reconnected with old friends…strengthened bonds with new ones…had laughs with my husband…heard from cousins I’ve never met in person…enjoyed unexpected surprises…dedicated myself to fun new projects…let my curly hair be curly…ate a whole box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts (with no regrets).
This is what happens when you clear your brain. Open yourself to ideas. Stop worrying. Start living. Really living.
Less is fabulous.
Life is just beachy
04/23/2011
I grew up on the beaches of Lake Erie. Beach volleyball, beach bonfires, beach bike rides and (gasp!) even beach fishing were among my activities. I bought economy size baby oil, not because I had a baby, but because it produced a killer tan. Yet, I’ve never considered myself a beach person. Maybe because in my mind “beach people” were only in the cast of Baywatch. I’ve since learned that’s not true, and that I could definitely enjoy life as a beach person…
Day 1:
It’s spring break. I’m not a wild college girl or a Clark County School District student. So what am I doing in Oceanside, California on a Wednesday night at 11 p.m., chilled out on a balcony, beach towel wrapped around my legs, ocean 40 yards away, overlooking the lush grounds of North Coast Village with a salty sea breeze blowing through my turned-curly-upon-arrival hair? Did I mention I’m sipping Corona? My biggest concern…should I run north or south on the beach at sunrise? Life is exceptionally exceptional at the moment.
I had no intention of blogging about my little three-night California adventure with my friend and her 8-year-old daughter. Wasn’t even going to throw my laptop in my duffel. Flies in the face of minimalist packing. Turns out, my traveling companions hit the hay early and I couldn’t resist packing my computer. What’s a lonely girl with a Mac and an imagination to do but blog about it?
So here I sit, reflecting on the past 12 hours and anticipating my date with Shamu tomorrow. Here’s what’s struck me since arriving in my next-door-neighbor state…
- When a 5-hour car ride flies by and your throat hurts, you know you have yourself a great friend.
- Why do I want to wash off my makeup the minute I get to California?
- It’s okay to be as excited as a 5-year-old on Christmas Eve when you get to your oceanfront condo. You can even jump up and down a little.
- Sometimes you just have to eat three huge slices of pizza (and wash them down with bread sticks).
- Walking in the waves under the moon…in a category of amazingness unto itself.
Day 2:
Something about California just makes you relax your shoulders and want to get blond highlights. It also makes you want to write exclusively in bullet points…
- Getting up before sunrise, running six miles in the surf and throwing rocks in the waves…nirvana.
- Shopping at Pappy’s market and checking out with Pauly is as fun as it sounds.
- Did I miss my calling as a killer whale trainer? Shumu rocks.
- Why is cooking dinner in a beach condo kitchen so much more fun than cooking in my own?
- When your 8-year-old travel mate asks you to perform (that is, type as fast as you can with no errors) again and again…and she giggles hysterically…you know you’re officially buddies.
Day 3:
I could get used to this. Life is just easier and breezier by the ocean. Paragraphs are so overrated…dude.
- Makeup, shmakeup.
- Surfers really are cool. So are bait shop owners.
- When you run past cadets and they scream “Good morning, ma’am…” you know it’s going to be a good day. (I know they’re trained like dogs to say that to every “ma’am.” Indulge me, would you!)
- It’s hard not to collect rocks.
- The best days require no car.
- Remember when Monica’s hair went wild in Barbados? That really happens.
- Best bud Donna drove up from San Diego for coffee. Friend Marji drove over from Vista to chat on the balcony. Getting visitors on vacation is excellent.
- While my travel mate made a grocery run, I nervously watched her daughter at the ocean. She began burying herself in sand. I highly encouraged it and readily assisted to keep her in one place. It only seems wrong now.
- I wouldn’t mind starring in a Corona commercial.
- It’s after 11 and I’m on the balcony…should I sleep here? If I crack the screen door I’ll still be able to hear the ocean when I lay down on the couch. Good night…
- Humidity, I will miss you…you made 24 miles of beach running feel effortless.
- I haven’t seen any in Oceanside, but I’m pretty sure the cows in California really are happy.
- When you start thinking about the emotional state of cows, you know it’s’ time to pack your beach bag and head home…
Something about this vacation changed me a little bit.
For the better.
I’ll be back.
“Where the Sheep Have No Name”
03/15/2011
I’m not Irish. I don’t like lamb. I can barely find something green to wear for St. Patrick’s Day…I do like love Guinness. Bono is dreamy sexy. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
For an unforgettable week in 2008, I channeled my inner leprechaun and got my Gaelic on with my amazing travel mates. Along with sis Julie and our husbands, Ron (mine) and Matt (hers), we circumnavigated Southern Ireland in a piece-o-junk Opel and made memories to last a lifetime.
Call it the “Luck o’ the Italian-Polish girls” and their agreeable husbands…we scored a rare opportunity for together time. Our only expectation: fun! Our only needs: duffel bag, jeans, travel pants, hiking shoes, sweater, rain jacket, basic toiletries, earrings. Our adventure supported the point of this blog. Less is fabulous.
Matt was photographer. Julie, chief map reader. Ron learned the language (an esteemed and critical role when we were going to go to Italy, not Ireland). I took naps in the backseat. We be-bopped from Shannon to Galway to Dingle to Limerick to Tipperary to Cork to Dublin. We marveled at castles, countryside, 
caves, cliffs, cows and…cream. No non-dairy creamer in the back country. Coffee is served with a big greasy dollop of the real deal. (Hold the cream. Just give me the scone.)
When I look back at photos, it strikes me that our best memories weren’t made at tourist stops. They were made on bar stools, streets, off-the-beaten-paths and in that Opel minivan.
None of it was on the itinerary. Leads me to believe the Luck o’ the Irish is this: they’re lucky enough to know life is best experienced without an itinerary.
This St. Patrick’s Day, I’m raising a Guinness to our shenanigans (origin of that fabulous word is unknown, sure sounds Irish to me!), and to you. Thank you for being a loyal reader and joining me on this journey.
A Viking reenactment? OK!
What exactly did they sell?
It never got old. (Matt left, Ron right)
Neither did this. (Me left, Julie right)
Trip mascot, sheep pencil we named "Baaahhhb."
When we got tired...yep.
Ron kissing the Blarney...wrong stone.
Rock of Casbah? Ohhh! Rock of Cashel.
A souvenir.
Probably frowned upon.
You Had Me At Hello.
02/21/2011
I’m back.
Where have I been for the past 7 months, 2 days and 3 hours?
Living life.
And…
Running.
And…
Buying stuff. (Oops! This blog is about minimalism. More later).
And…
Trying to come up with an answer to the “Hello. Why haven’t you blogged?” emails I’ve received. So to my parents, cousins and kind readers who don’t share my genes, I’m back. You had me at hello. Truth is, I’ve missed writing and sharing the nonsense that fills my noggin. We had some good meet-ups in the comments section too!
A year ago I began minimizing with wild abandon. Couldn’t get enough. Found my calling. My project. My guilty pleasure. I became obsessed with giving away everything that had no purpose or I hadn’t touched in six months. I wanted to fit my life in a big backpack or tiny clown car – take your pick. I loved writing about it. Then “one day I just stopped” (a la Forrest Gump).
After a girl gives almost everything away, there’s not much else to say on a blog about minimalism.
Wrong again, Tara! Over the past 7 months, 2 days and 3 hours I’ve amassed countless ideas for posts. So it begins again today with a fresh twist. And oh yes, over the course of 66 posts I forgot to introduce myself. It’s Tara Maras. Nice to meet you. Not sure why it took me so long to reveal myself. Maybe I thought you’d be offended by my commentary on cluster balloonists, Kathie Lee and Billy Mays…
So to bring you up to speed:
- I’m enjoying the tax benefits of my Purgeapalooza.
- Me. The wagon. Falling off. Sometimes a girl just has to be a girl. I still agree.
- “Truck Nuts” – I’ve yet to find the appeal.
- My Garfield ruler will be an antique in 72 years.
- Fresh & Easy’s pickle selections are still limited. Amen.
- I bared my armpits and praised baking soda as deodorant. I’ve since regained consciousness. (Effective and earth friendly, yes. Weird and Laura Ingalls like, yes.)
- I don’t regret donating my miniatures.
- That 60 percent of my wardrobe I gave away? 40 percent is back. (Stay tuned for post!)
- I still get a charge from driving with the windows down, radio up.
- The library was fun for a bit, but I’m impatient. Kindle all the way.
- I still go bananas over bananas.
- What’s playing in your ear buds? Thanks for your suggestions.
- Dad remains the bomb, sweater vests and all.
- Farming as an occupation still fascinates me. Sleeping in is still a waste of time.
- Cowboys using anytime minutes – it continues in Centennial Hills.
- Kathie Lee’s sex-me-up dresses are still inappropriate for Studio 1A. Really, NBC?
What have I learned during my hiatus?
- I love spending time with family and friends (human and canine).
- I love my job.
- I love running.
- I love writing.
- I love eating muffins.
I’m consistently fulfilling 4 of my 5 “loves.” That could only mean one thing.
It’s time to get writing.
Thanks for joining me! Now let’s have some fun.
Minimalist Milestone: No mouse in my house
04/23/2010
Over the years I’ve been a PC user, Mac user, desktop user, laptop user. Sometimes in combination. Sometimes exclusively. There’s been one common thread – a mouse. Over the years I’ve been a wired mouse user, wireless mouse user. You get the point. There’s always been a mouse in my house.
Knowing what you now know, you can imagine my horror when my Logitech wireless mouse keeled over last week. I hit the reset button, changed the battery, disassembled it, blew out toast crumbs and checked for software updates. I did everything but give the thing cheese. I called in the coroner – my husband. He confirmed my fears. Dead mouse.
Forced to use to my laptop’s awkward touch screen thingy, I did a search of the latest mouses (mice? meese?). Desiring to get up close and personal with my replacement mouse, I ventured to Office Depot and selected an iHome notebook mouse. It was compact, cute and the right price. I should have known way better. One whirl with that piece-o-junk and I was cursing the entire mouse species.
Back in the box it went, back to Office Depot I went. Evidently a mouse, even an inferior one, is considered a technology item, which meant my only option was to exchange it. I showed extreme displeasure and after strongly suggesting they refund my cash, walked out with a lame merchandise credit. Great. You win Office Depot. Score one for you. But I digress…
Back at home and so totally over all things mouse, I decided to school up on my trackpad. I endured the video tutorial and futzed around with settings. So much from one little trackpad! Options for track speed, double-click speed, swipe to navigate, tap to click, one-two-three-four finger choices. Wowie!
My house has been without a mouse for five days now. I continue to be impressed with the fine little piece of technology that had been sitting idle at my fingertips all along. I no longer “need” a mouse. I’m enjoying my more streamlined desk setup and am paying much closer attention to what’s in front of me.
Try it out. I think you’ll also realize everything you need is within easy reach.
