Twenty Minute Tuesday

The beginning of the end occurred last week while I was out of town. Old Navy opened their doors for business on State Street in the sacred grounds of the former Earthling Bookstore. Not only that, but it's across the street from the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. When I first heard the news of yet another chain store opening downtown, I threw up a little bit. Then I wept openly. And then I vowed never, ever to spend one penny in that gawd awful establishment.

It's really not that I'm opposed to Old Navy, specifically. Certainly, I've been known to hunt it down in some far away mall and delight in the bags of affordable undies and t-shirts that come home with me. But see, this particular location has crossed some serious boundaries that only worsens the current Camarillo-ization of our beloved downtown Santa Barbara, and it's simply not alright for this kind of activity to continue!

While perusing the onslaught of chain stores down there (Urban Outfitters, Cost Plus, Border's, etc...I mean you) can be fun, it's just not very a unique experience. These are the kinds of places one can find in just about any ol' strip or box mall type of place. I always thought Santa Barbara was the cool, off the beaten path, go see stuff that's not found right off the freeway kind of a shopping town. Some might argue that, hey, we've also got hip new stores like Juicy Couture, Mac, and Betsy Johnson. But, come on! These are shopping reasons to go Los Angeles, San Francisco or frigging New York City!

For me, downtown Santa Barbara has always been about the people watching and thrift/antique/mom & pop store shopping. It seems like we can hardly even do that any more seeing as all the real thrift stores have been chased away and there remains only one antique store and perhaps one or two privately/locally operated stores (sumbody, I mean you!).

I've mentioned the new Old Navy location to a few former Santa Barbara residents, and -- thank gawd -- they reacted with the proper, expected level of horrification. They sympathized with us because it's not like avoiding this store is going to be exactly easy...it's literally 2 blocks from my home and en route to just about everywhere I walk in a day. The husband saw the store on opening day last week and was sad to report that it was packed out the door, down the sidewalk.

This begs the question: What the f*** is wrong with everyone around here? WHY are we condoning this sort of behavior? Is this really what we want for our city? Who decides this crap in the first place? Besides, it's not like it's a Target or anything!

Seriously, though, I have to ask a simple favor from everyone I know. Please. Do not fall victim to the siren call of $2 flip-flops because the price of selling your soul like this is far, far too steep. If you want to sleep better at night knowing you've done your small part to defend the integrity of your town, then join the husband and me in boycotting the Old Navy store on State Street. You know you want to!

Dream Sabatoge

Sleep is like a daily reboot for the soul...it's just that, not every reboot works the first time you try it.

The other morning, I woke up from a dream in a clammy, gasping sweat. There are many inexplicable aspects of the dream I can no longer bring to the surface for examination -- probably for the best. But, I do remember sitting around the picnic bench at my folks' place, crying hysterically because the world just broke the optimistic spirit of yet another loved one. My mom was there, trying to understand and console me. When I woke up, the misery was fresh and real, lingering and disorienting.

The next night, I dreamt I was sitting at the same picnic bench with my mom. This time, we were laughing at a video I was showing to her. It was some footage of the senior citizen residence where I'd been visiting that day (in the dream). Apparently, I was leading a group of about ten white-haired ladies in a sort of salsa soul-train. We were having a helluva good time and the last part of the video showed me dancing circles around a lady while my pants fell to my ankles. Of course, I was so engrossed in my funny dance that I didn't notice where my pants went, revealing an awesome pair of saggy underpants. My mom and I were just about hysterical with laughter and were sure this video would be a hit on the internet. That morning, I woke up laughing out loud and the good mood lasted throughout the day. Now, that is more like it.

Upon a little reflection, I think I've divined the lesson to be found from these two nights of dreams: Do not, under any circumstances, dare to dream when you are so sick that your nasal passages are not free and clear. Trust me, you'll only regret it if you do.

Thank Gawd for Bosom Friends

Just home from a whirlwind trip to Seattle to visit some of my bestest, oldest -- and quite different from each other -- friends. I was rotten with a serious head cold the entire time but still had an incredibly beautiful time.

Even though this trip included fabulous meals, another Ben Harper show, and a glorious sick-day in bed marathoning the first season of my new favorite show (Ugly Betty...yay!), my favorite part has to be the gift I was given by each of my ladies in the form of a hand-written card. Their words are messages of appreciation for my friendship, which brought us to tears in seconds.

This actually isn't terribly unusual. We've never been the types to avoid sharing our feelings of love for one another. But, timing is everything. It means more than I know how to express right now that you each recognized me in the way that you did. You help me believe that I am actually achieving a decent level of success in being the person I strive to be, despite the crazy of it all. Thank you, my two friends, for all you have offered, as well, as our lives cross over and run parallel and screech in different directions.