Just stumbled into this quote from Mark Twain about dance. Love the way he describes spinning around...
I was exceedingly delighted with the waltz, and also with the polka. These differ in name, but there the difference ceases — the dances are precisely the same. You have only to spin around with frightful velocity and steer clear of the furniture. This has a charming and bewildering effect. You catch glimpses of a confused and whirling multitude of people, and above them a row of distracted fiddlers extending entirely around the room. The waltz and the polka are very exhilarating — to use a mild term — amazingly exhilarating.

*image of Fred & Rita from Flixster 


99 cent camera

Some shots from Erin's 99 cent camera - she helped me replace the film inside with my own roll of good film. The camera kinda broke after I was done taking pics, but I guess that's part of the charm!
These shots are from seeing 42nd Street at Moonlight Ampitheatre (so good!), hanging out at Balboa Park, and clicking around in my neighborhood.


home sweet

I love taking walks around my neighborhood. I feel very lucky to live in a place full of history where all of the houses along the street are distinct. The picture of the whale weather vane (below) is across the street from where Owen Wister, father of western fiction, built a house for his family. Unfortunately, his plans to live in it were sidetracked by the premature death of his wife, and Wister could only visit the home occasionally. I keep meaning to read his most well-known novel, The Virginian.

Some other cool residents linked to my neighborhood are Teresa Carreño - a "fiery" Venezuelan pianist - and the poet Carrie Jacobs Bond. My mom Venezuelan, so when I told her about Carreño it blew her mind. "How the heck did she end up in this corner of the world when San Diego was barely on the map at the time?" Although Carreño died before she was able to move into her home here, Carrie Jacobs Bond was a permanent resident. Cheesy as it is, I like the poem she wrote about her home:

"... And weary though my soul may be, My spirit there is blessed.
The wild birds chant their caroles,
The wild flowers bloom galore.
Out in God's lovely garden - How could I ask for more?"

*historical info from
the Journal of San Diego History


4th of July

The chicken wings were artery-cloggingly delicious, the spa was a perfect 99 degrees, and the cadillac margaritas were strong and cold. God bless America.