While heading to the city this past weekend, I chuckled at the large signs posted on Highway 17 near the Summit touting “Herbs, $125 an ounce” flanked by the green crosses that signify medical marijuana.
The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation makes available transcripts of parole suitability hearings a month after the hearing is held. They can often be very interesting to read through, providing insight as to what leads parole board commissioners to make the decision whether or not to grant parole.
The news doesn’t stop for directionally-challenged 15th century Italians, so I’m here working away today while the rest of the world (okay, just county and state offices, banks, and post offices) gets the day off. I’m not complaining – sometimes it’s nice to have a slow, calm Monday.
I’m sorting through the various arrest logs from the past weekend. Some officers tend to write far more descriptive reports than others do. I enjoyed this one out Watsonville from Friday afternoon on the 400 block of Rodriguez Street:
“Adriana Diaz was arrested after she selected a bottle of liquor, placed it into her purse and left the store without paying for the bottle. She was cited for petty theft and released.”
The real question here though is what kind of liquor was it? That’s what I want to know!
I hate roller coasters. I don’t just dislike them. I mean, I actually hate them. I detest them with a deep-seeded passion and generally refuse to go on them. I’ve gone on about three in my life and it’s never gone well.
When I moved here though, I thought I should give a coaster another shot. After all, it had been a decade. I went on the Giant Dipper last September. It was terrifying. I hated every second of it and pretty much felt like I was going to die the whole time. It’s quite possible that my screaming caused my boyfriend to suffer permanent hearing loss in one year, and it was bad enough that he vowed never to repeat that experience with me ever again.
However, the Hurricane is soon to be no more because it was placed up for sale. My college bestie was in town and a few of us decided to go to the Boardwalk last night for dollar night. One friend kept trying to convince me I should ride it at least once before it leaves santa Cruz. I refused over and over again, before finally deciding to bite the bullet and just ride the darn thing. As we strapped ourselves in, I was already feeling certain I’d pee my pants.
Still, I stayed tethered in and braced myself for what was to come. And you know? It was terrifying and I absolutely hated it. A coaster girl I will never be.
So long Hurricane, thanks for the memories and the momentary fright. I can’t say I’ll miss ya much, but I know others will. Right now I feel positive that I won’t be riding the Undertow, but who knows, maybe I’ll get brave enough to confront my fear once again. I’ll just be sure to bring ear plugs for everyone else who rides with me.
Earlier this week I marked one year at the Sentinel, which also means it’s been a year and two weeks since I made the big move to California. Holy smokes. Where is the time going?
I’ve got my California license, plates, voter registration and a membership to a local wine club, but I still wouldn’t say I really feel like a Californian yet. There’s still a lot more to understand, explore and discover…
I cover crime, courts and the Live Oak School District for the Santa Cruz Sentinel. I'm originally from New York state's capital, Albany, but was most recently living in Chicago. I'm excited to be in Santa Cruz, adjusting to life on the left coast. It's a whole lot different than what I'm used to.