It's All About the Small Stuff

Friendly fire

2012-01-24T10:28:00.000-08:00

I sure do feel for my third grade daughter this year. Academically she's totally fine, but the subject of friends is another story. Her best friend of several years is now best friends with someone else after being in separate classrooms last year. Plus, the two new friends that she liked the most in her second grade class ended up leaving the school. So, now in third grade, she's at a bit of a loss. While her class is full of nice girls that she's friendly with, none of them come close to being that really special friend(s) that she dearly wishes she had. She's not a regular part of any particular group, and ends up playing with different girls here and there, never feeling totally alone, but not really feeling the comfort of being in a regular group that looks out for her and has sleepovers with every weekend like it seems like everyone else is doing.

I know that these early school years are very transitory and always changing, but it's all a bit rough for my sweet and sensitive and rather serious eight year old girl. Luckily, she's not a social reject, but more like a confident self-aware single girl who is in transition and finding her on way. She's out of her comfort zone. Sadly, these school years wield the necessary growing pains that are important to experience in order to better understand the gray and complex arena of close relationships. We've had lots of discussions about how she's feeling and viewing all of this friendship stuff, like the type of friend she wants to be, why people do what they do, standing up for yourself, and other sticky yucky stuff. She gets it. It could be much worse. I know she'll be fine. But, well, it's still hard. It's definitely not kindergarten any more.

Her twin brother? He doesn't have a best friend either, but he's not stressing. He has his nice group of boy friends school (I call it "his posse"), his cub scout buddies, and his Star Wars characters. He's content and cool about it.

That's me and my favorite friends when I was my daughter's age (I'm on the far right).

It's crazy this whole parenting thing. Watching my daughter go through this brings up sooooooooooo many long forgotten uncomfortable memories and emotions from my own childhood. Her pain and struggles remind me of my pain and struggles. I wish I had all of the answers, but hey, I'm still learning about this stuff in my forties. It will only get more complicated! I can't fix it for her. I can only hold her hand and comfort her and wipe her tears.

However, it's hard when we live in a world where my kids don't have neighborhood friends to casually play with on a whim.

We live in a world where often the burden is on me as a parent to arrange and implement playdates for my kids in order to cultivate close friendships.

We live in a world where social media says we can be "friends" with someone we barely know and can be instantly "un-friended" and don't even know it, yet we are often judged on the number of "friends" on our profile when it really doesn't mean anything.

We live in a world where social media makes it look like everyone else is having way more fun, has way more friends, and where you honestly have no idea what is really going on with people because they only post what they want you to know (have you ever seen a sad profile picture?).

We live in a world with a false sense of being connected, but in reality can go a long time without being remotely social or let friends know what's really happening.

We live in a world where tv shows and movies make it seems like everyone else is part of an extremely close knit beautiful looking group of friends that barely work and are always there for each other. Or the opposite where manufactured groups of reality show "friends" are encouraged to fight with each other, are catty, superficial, judgmental, and narcissistic.

We live in a world where kids are growing up way to fast.

Wait, geez, I'm sounding rather sad and cynical, aren't I? I just want the best of the world for her. I wish I could download all of my relationship knowledge into her mind and save her all the grief and heartache. I wish I could find her that best friend that I know is waiting for her and that they'll be best of friends their whole lives. Darnit!

I tell her things will get better. That's she's just having a hard couple of months. Without dark there is no light. Tomorrow is a new day. That best friend or friends are out there, and you just haven't met her yet or maybe you already have but haven't bonded yet. Lighten up, girl, and just have fun - you are only eight! Deep down I know it's true, but in the back of my mind I know the whole friendship thing will only get more complicated and wonderful and hurtful and happy and confusing and easy and sad and joyful. And then there's puberty and hormones, The Ultimate Game Changer. Yikes!

Good friends are definitely worth it, there is no doubt about that. I know, because I went a few years without them in my early twenties and it was awful. A.W.F.U.L. But, now that I have a handful of really really wonderful friends, I'm extremely grateful. Hopefully, when my little girl, uh hum, big girl, gets to that better place with friends after suffering through these growing pains, she'll feel the same way, too.

Favorite finds

2011-12-27T08:17:00.000-08:00

In no particular order, here are some of my favorite personal finds that I discovered in 2011. Oh, and no, I didn't get paid for any of these...I only wish!

1. Goodbelly - In the last several weeks of December, my household suffered from bronchitis, strep, and some other unknown cold/fever nasty thing that went undiagnosed. Me, who usually gets it worst and last because I'm so exhausted and run down taking care of everyone else, did not get sick at all. This has never ever happened in the my personal history of parenthood. I kept waiting for it and it never came.

Was it a miracle? Was it because I've been working out every day and eating a meticulously healthy diet with zero stress? Ha ha ha...that's so funny. Not! It was holiday season, remember?

The only thing I did differently was drink a shot of probiotics every day without fail. I friend of mine recommended GoodBelly and I'm sooooo grateful! I was sneezed on, coughed on, barfed on, exhausted from listening to coughing all night, and yet I didn't get sick. My little shots of probiotics aren't cheap (just over a $1 each), but much cheaper than a doctor visit, prescription meds, cold medicine, hot and sour soup, and being unable to take care of my family. Plus, there's a bonus smiley face with every shot!

2. Live internet streaming on my tv - We bought a Wii two years ago for Christmas, and for some unexplainable reason, never realized it included WiFi that could talk to the wireless router. We thought we either had to hook up the internet directly with a cable (total pain!), or buy a special device that we could connect to transmit a signal that would talk to the router. When people said they streamed movies through their Wii, I thought they did something like the direct hook up or special device. I had NO IDEA they were simply using their Wii. Duh!

Only until I posted a please-tell-me-what-you-know-that-I-don't status on Facebook, did a kind (and way more technologically saavy ya kinda nerdy and much much younger) friend, Nicole, instant message me with a step-by-step personal and very patient tutorial on how to make it happen. And, much to my beyond appreciative delight, we were finally (and easily) connected. Yessssssssssssss!

I kicked myself around for a bit for being such a major dork for not knowing something so simple, but hey, all that is in the past now. Besides, it only took me twenty two of my adult years to discover puff pastry and I couldn't be happier!

Bonus: For Christmas, my husband just so happened to get a Blu-ray player with WiFi, so now we can also get Netlix through that (with much better quality) and all kinds of other cool stuff.

Live streaming is AWESOME!

3. Conditioner that really works - Hey, a woman needs her favorite beauty products that work exactly the way she wants...and hopefully even better. I recently discovered this conditioner by Bead Head called Urban Anti-dotes after trying dozens of different brands through the years. My fine curly (dry) hair has never felt softer and my curly haired daughter squealed with glee the first time she tried it and was able to run the brush through her conditioner filled hair in the shower. Yes, I know, it's only conditioner, but if I don't have to fight my hissing screaming crying daughter over brushing out those nasty tangles, my life is SO MUCH HAPPIER.

4. Puff pastry - A new discovery this year. I even wrote a whole post about the flaky yummy goodness. I buy several boxes at a time from Trader Joe's so I always have some on hand for bursts of inspiration. The slow cooked pork leftovers? Why, how perfect for a pulled pork, corn, and cheese turnover! Very ripe bananas? Hello Nutella and banana pastry! Need a quick but impressive cookie? Yumm to the cinnamon-sugar palmiers I tried for a holiday party. Oh, the possibilities are endless for this new staple in my baking repertoire.

New favorite food discovery runner ups: Pho soup and perfect french toast recipe (you only use the egg yolks!).

5. Soundhound app - I use this clever app all the time on my smartphone when I like a song and want to know the artist and song name. I'm not the best with remembering artists/group names, so I LOVE this and just think it's a fantastic invention. Just point at the music, tap, and wait as it listens, then it amazingly tells me all about the song. Plus, if I'm in the mood for buying some new music, I can go back over my history and see what artists and songs I liked.

Now, if only someone would invent an app that I could point at the tv screen, take a picture of an actor, and tell me what tv show or movie I know them from. How cool would that be?!

6. Water fountain - At the end of the summer, I snagged a water fountain on sale for a steal. I always dreamed of a having a water feature in my backyard, ideally a flowing stream with koi fish and natural plants, but realistically a simple fountain that doesn't require much effort. The new fountain sits on a dirt area right by a backyard facing window. There are big plans for that dirt area (a kind of "zen" garden meditation spot), but I didn't want to wait until that was finished to benefit from having a working running fountain.

I always thought I'd like hearing the sound of water flowing in my backyard and now I know for sure - I love it and it makes me so happy!

The sound is calming and soothing and, well, simply lovely. Add to that, a collection of beautifully colored rocks that I collected during a recent trip to Morro Bay and voila!, I finally have that tranquil addition to my backyard that I always wanted.

7. Art classes - A long time dream of mine finally happened last April when I started taking oil painting art classes, ironically as a much welcomed form of therapy. Here I am more than nine months later still enrolled and loving it. Not only do I get to paint for three hours every week surrounded by the kindest and most supporting fellow students and pretty amazing artists (shattering my previously held artist stereotypes), but I also learn invaluable and unexpected lessons about myself and life. And, here I thought I'd learn just about paint brushes and color techniques - little did I know!

8. Eight year olds - What a different breed these eight year olds are! My "tween" kids are much more introspective, opinionated, philosophical, independent, serious, aware of other people's actions and how it compares to them, more confident in who they are, easy and fun to talk to, understanding what's imaginary versus real, active and sporty, into humor and funny stuff (the endless jokes abound), friendships and relationships (it's such a girl thing!), and all around fascinating people to be around.

When my kids were much younger and I'd talk to friends with older children about how hard parenting was at different stages, and many told me that the age of eight was their favorite age. I keep this in mind when my very own eight year olds get a little bit too cocky or obnoxious or annoying. I savor this wonderful age because, well, next stop...puberty!

My "small" holiday gratitude list

2011-12-24T10:17:00.001-08:00

Now, of course I’m thankful for my family andfriends and sooooooooooooooooo much more this holiday season, but since this is my “small stuff”blog, this Top 10 list is all about the smaller things that might not be so obvious.

1. My messy home - I've recently had a profound epiphany that amessy home with children is directly relational to their well-being. If they are sick or sad or overly scheduled,then the rooms are tidy and barely disheveled. When they are healthy and happy and free of too many obligations, theyare more creative, silly, exuberant, and playful. Translation = messy.

My first instinct is to cringe and want it cleaned up, butconsciously force myself to listen to the giggles, admire their latest creations,and then look the other way (a hot cup of tea and a book helps). The rooms will eventually be cleaned andorganized, but my kids only have so much time to be free and have fun.

Same thing with other messes around the house, like dirtyplates and wine glasses from a joyful holiday party, flour and sugar filledcounters and floors from baking yummy cookies, a table full of paint filledpaint brushes and dirty water and crumpled up paper towels from holidaycraft-filled afternoon, and wrapping paper scraps from either wrapping gifts oropening them.

Embracing the mess means embracing the joy.

2. Calories count during the holiday, but in a much differentway - I normally (mostly) eat with healthand maintaining my weight in mind. I amgood at exercising will-power when it comes to food, and regularly think aboutgetting enough fiber, greens, vitamins, protein, good oils, and just enough butnot too many calories.

However…

In my mind, the holidays are like going on vacation. It’s a time to let go and eat with wildabandon, savoring the local flavors and delicacies or catching up over aglorious meal with friends or family that I’m visiting.

I think about the extra weight I will probably gain from thebaked goods that people give me and the ones I bake, or the hearty comfort foodthat I crave, or the lack of exercise from all of the extra lounging around orthe extra glasses of wine and champagne, and eating more than I normally wouldat a gathering because IT’S JUST SO GOOD and SO GOOD FOR THE SOUL!

Worth it!

Good things come in small packages.

3. My new Santas collected during the year – I’ve never beenone to collect things, but, if I do, Ilike to keep it at a minimum, like my small collection of sea glass I keep in apretty vase in my cabinet or my beloved Santas that I take out only once a year anddisplay on my mantel (well, now it’s spilling out a bit into other places, butthat’s okay). I especially love mySantas because I can unwrap them every December, admire them for about a month(while praying there isn’t an earthquake), then carefully wrap them up and store them away untilnext year.

I love unwrapping each one and reminiscing where or who Igot it from – it’s like a taking a trip back in time and recalling fondmemories. I only get my Santas from vacationsor visiting new places or from a friend, so each one is special.

Additions to my collection this year:

Victoria Tim Burton-esque Santa

I found this one during a visit to beautiful Victoria, B.C.this past October for a most marvelous wedding of some dear friends. I picked it because of the face and how it’srather Tim Burton-esque.

Estate Santa

This one was given to me by my incredibly thoughtful friend,Emiko, who saw this at a family friend’s estate sale and bought it to give to me.

Ho ho ho how I love my Santas!

4. Cheesy holiday movies – For maximum cheesy goodness, I justcan’t get enough of Hallmark Channel and Lifetime holiday movies. They ooze with clichés, predictability, longforgotten actors, and sweet magical moments…and I get such a kick out of them. Some are not very good at all (that’s why Irecord a bunch of them to increase the odds of finding a good one) and some aredefinite stand outs (like Fallen Angel with Gary Sinise)

Why I love them:

- People get second chances. Maybe they were cranky, crappy, too busy,selfish, disconnected, screwed up, lonely, or resentful, but in almost every single movie are given anopportunity or motivation (however contrived it may seem) to mend their ways for the better.

- Often there are characters that only see the good in peopleno matter what and help them get a second chance. They remind me of the special people that Iknow who are like angels on earth.

- There is always hope no matter how impossiblethe situation may seem.

- Loads of magical moments and happy endings, evenif you have to wait until the last five minutes to finally get the reward.

- My mom loves them, too, and it’s fun to shareour favorites.

- Those two hour nuggets of guilty pleasure timehelp get me into the holiday spirit.

5. People are generally in better moods – Sure, there are a lotof cranky people out there who have obviously not watched enough HallmarkChannel holiday movies, but more people I come across are infused with the holidayspirit than not. People just seem tosmile more, speak kinder and more sincerely to each other, are more generous,have more positive attitudes, and feel more festive. It’s beautifully infectious and beyondwelcome.

6. The smells of the season - Pine needles, egg nog, Vicks(winter colds), apple cider spices, wood burning in the fireplace, gingerbread cookies, New YearsDay popovers fresh out of the oven, roasted anything, especially turkey

7. The sounds of the season – Jingle bells, favorite holiday movies and songs (bonus if sung by carolers), peoplein good moods saying cheerful holiday greetings, the four little feet runningto the living to open presents on Christmas morning, the squeals of joy as they open the presents, themail carrier delivering holiday cards, champagne cork popping

8. The highs and the lows and the highs and the lows and thehighs and the lows… – Without fail, I always start off December feeling rather blue. I’m not sure why, but a few days in, and Ihave to remind myself that for whatever reason this is what I go through everyyear. My mood lifts and I feel betterfor a while, then something else will get me down a bit (like feeling sadabout what I’m missing out on), only to come out of it by reminding myself and being grateful for whatI do have.

It’s just a roller coaster ride of emotions all month likeno other, like everything is amplified and exaggerated. It’san emotional cycle that I know most people go through, some with much lowerlows and higher highs than mine. But,with all that turmoil, comes a genuine and deeper appreciation for the good.

9. Spending blissfully excessive time in pajamas, watching movies, baking (see#1,2,4 above), plus a healthy dose of napping is practically a requirement - ah, come on, sooo self explanatory.

10. Time to reflect. A time to bring in the new. - The mediabombards us with top lists of the important news events of the year, whether itbe the top stories, best/worst dressed, top grossing films, top trends, noteworthypassings, and it goes on and on until the new year. That’s when the whole calories don’t countthing (see #2) comes into play and the weight loss diet gym membership ads makeus suddenly feel guilty about all of those calories. Yay!

While many of those lists are interesting, I also findmyself taking my own personal inventory, well, except for getting on the scale(that will have to wait until January).

Whatdid I do to grow this year? Did I doanything new? Any importantrevelations? Bad choices? What would I do differently next time? Trips I took this year (many!) and trips I want to take next year (notmany – will still be paying off trips from 2011!)? Friends I want to see more? What can I do to find more happiness and be abetter person?

Lots of question marks that are both easy to answer and challenging. Life has a funny way of always changing and evolving, particularly when I think I have it all figured out and know what I'm doing.

At least almost all of those ten things on my thankful holiday list pretty much stay the same year to year. I absolutely LOVE traditions and the few things I do have control over. So comforting. So worth looking forward to. So me.

Puffs

2011-09-05T09:37:00.000-07:00

I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a BIG fan of food and cooking shows and competitions. It's surprising how much you can learn and also get inspired to experiment at home. I've watched plenty of the chefs use puff pastry in recipes and it always leaves me curious. Even the top chefs get scared off by the complexity of making it from scratch and make no apologies about using the frozen (pre-made) kind. But, alas, even though I often make my own pie crust from scratch, I've never bought or used puff pastry and I'm not sure why the hesitation. Perhaps because of the intimation factor or just simply because I've just never tried it?

Now that I'm (gasp!!) forty, I'm feeling more brave and bold and less intimidated (hooray!). So, get this...last week I bought my first box of frozen puff pastry!! I know, soooooo wild and crazy, right?! I am so proud of my fabulous forty self.

I decide I want to make apple turnovers like I loved so much during my childhood (my mom often stocked a box of the frozen ones in the freezer). So, I buy a bag of granny smith apples with visions of cooking up the apples with cinnamon and raisins as a filling just like my fond memories. Yumm!

I am all set to do this, but then I just so happen to watch It's Complicated over the weekend. I practically drool over the scene where Meryl Streep's character "Jane" effortlessly makes fresh homemade chocolate croissants with Steve Martin's character "Adam" over the course of a playful music montage at her scrumptious (and rather enviable) upscale bakery. Aaahhh, the crunch of the flaky croissant and the gooey warm dripping expensive imported chocolate. Aaahhh, if only we could all make homemade croissants in the course of a few minutes in real life.

I want one. Darnit!

So, this morning, not being able to stand it anymore, I decide today is the day to take the puff pastry plunge. I can't think of a better companion than the highly beloved Nutella.

I start with one sheet of defrosted puff pastry cut into four squares, some brushed egg wash, plus four generous tablespoons of Nutella.

I fold and pinch the squares into triangles and brush some more egg wash.

About fifteen minutes in a 400 degree oven and voila! Gourmet!

And what do my very willing test tasters think of their special breakfast treat? They say I'm the best cook ever and that I'm an awesome mommy. Awww, that's about the best compliment I could hear. I'd venture to say my kids love them.

I ask the happy eaters what we should name our new found treat. My son says "Nutella Puffs" and then my daughter says (in true twin oppposite form) says "Puff's Nutella", to which her brother replies with a smirk "I didn't know a tissue company would make Nutella flavored tissue" and then we all have a big sugar high giggle.

Now, I'm not so vain to think that this is my own unique invention and I'm the most brilliant baker ever. I'm sure that combination is made many times over each day by genius people just like me. But, it sure did hit the spot and I satisfied my sweet craving...for now. Plus, I've taken the puff pastry plunge! Yay!!! The only question now is, should my next puff pastry creation be savory or sweet? Oh, the delicious possibilities...

Advantages

2011-09-02T14:12:00.000-07:00

It's almost the end of June, about a week into summer break with my kids, and, ummm, I'm not doing so well. I totally expect (and dread) my kids inevitably going through their annual out-of-sorts whack-a-doo behavior from the huge change and decompression that the end of the school year and the beginning of summer brings. But, me? Well, I guess I'm entitled to feel the brunt of their intense emotions plus my own emotions from the change, too. I give up a lot of my own freedoms and routine when I'm practically on mommy duty 24/7. I know, it's what I signed up for when I had kids, but it's still a bit overwhelming sometimes, especially after getting used to having six hours a day all to myself.

I feel blue. I feel sad. Uninspired. Unmotivated. Disconnected. Totally blaaaaaah. I didn't like how I am feeling one bit.

After about a week of this sullen mood, I wake up and decide to make a conscious effort to be more positive - to stop wallowing in what I was missing out on and instead be more grateful for all of the blessings. So, that night, after the kids are sound asleep, I sit down with a tall glass of Merlot, a few squares of dark chocolate, and I write this as my facebook status:

"One of the best advantages of summer: hours swimming, jumping, playing in the pool means VERY TIRED children who beg to go to bed before bedtime. Viva la summer!"

And, you know what?!? I feel noticeably better the next day. Seriously, so much happier. That small conscious shift in my attitude made a world of difference. I really like that feeling and I want the benefit of a positive attitude to continue. So, I decide to commit to doing a positive Facebook status update every single day during the summer break. Seven days a week, no matter what, I will look for something positive to say about summer break, regardless of what mood I am in, where we are, or what we are doing. Some days it comes easily, other days I have to think hard. Sometimes, I notice the most unexpected thrills, while other days it's the most simple of pleasures that so many Facebook friends relate to and appreciate along with me (those get the most comments).

So, without further adieu (drum roll please....), here are all of my status updates (and yes, I did them every single day) up until the day before school started:

Summer break advantage #2: Going out for lunch instead of packing one.

Summer break advantage #3: Hangin' out with longtime friends who go to a different school.

Summer break advantage #4: Playing with classmates at the beach is way more fun than the concrete playground at school.

Summer break advantage #5: Every day is like Saturday.

Summer break advantage #6: The pool!

Summer break advantage #7: Even though the school year is finished, their learning continues on, only they don't realize it (it's fun!)...shhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Summer break advantage #8: Ice cold mango banana smoothie for a snack hits the spot.

Summer break advantage #9: Lots and lots of extra time to read.

Summer break advantage #10: Mom still gets to go to her beloved Thursday morning painting class, but instead of being at school, the kids now get a fun playdate.

Summer break advantage #11: Frozen yogurt is good, but tastes quite spectacular after a great day at the beach...and just a table away from Jermaine Jackson!!

(See him back there!)

Summer break advantage #12: A cute burst of annual sun-kissed freckles (just like his mama).

Summer break advantage #13: Although I really love this extra time together, any time that I happen to get by myself without the kids to breathe and regroup feels especially lovely and appreciated now.

Summer break advantage #14: An impromptu picnic in our own beautiful backyard.

Summer break advantage #15: Listening to way more music and (hopefully) discovering the new song or soundtrack that will remind me of this summer. I wonder what it will end up being?

Summer break advantage #16: A Ray Harryhausen ongoing summer movie marathon from my major movie fan of a husband's personal collection. Yes, the original Clash of the Titans still stands up to this day.

Summer break advantage #17: Days like today, with nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to do in particular. No schedule. No worries. No stress.

Summer break advantage #18: Much anticipated vacation time to go see other people that you love and miss soooooooooo much.

Summer break advantage #19: Dining al fresco.

Summer break advantage #20: Appreciating a rest on a shady bench (with a rather cool view).

Summer break advantage #21: Making fond memories.

Summer break advantage #22: Embracing the mess and letting go because it's an indicator of the amount of fun that's being had.

Summer break advantage #23: Sandcastles.

Summer break advantage #24: Losing track of what day it is.

Summer break advantage #25: Cooling off in a cool stream full of a gazillion very catch-able tadpoles.

Summer break advantage #26: That cute and short fuss-free very stylin' wash-n-go much much cooler to beat the heat summer hairdo.

Summer break advantage #27: The fun summer blockbuster movies that we anticipated for so long are finally here.

Summer break advantage #28: Monday. 9:04am. Still in pajamas.

Summer break advantage #29: Fieldtrips and learning are now on our own schedule and whim.

Summer break advantage #30: All that cooking outside in the backyard...three cheers for the bbq!

Summer break advantage #31: Sprinklers aren't just for watering the lawn.

Summer advantage #32: It just tastes better.

Summer break advantage #33: We get to celebrate two very special birthdays!!♥♥

Summer break advantage #34: Unexpected warm summer showers.

Summer break advantage #35: Camping during the week.

Summer break advantage #36: Campfire smores.

Summer break advantage #37: Extended family time together.

Summer break advantage #38: It doesn't look like the planet Endor when it's covered with snow (Sequoia is where they filmed the Endor/Ewok scenes for Star Wars!).

Summer break advantage #39: Reconnecting with nature and (hopefully) inspiring a future painting...or two.

Summer break advantage #40: Looking a little less paler than usual.

Summer break advantage #41: New True Blood episodes

Summer break advantage #42: Seeing pictures and hearing about friends and family summer vacations.

Summer break advantage #43: Keeping a supply of ice cream in the freezer at all times is practically a requirement.

Summer break advantage #44: So many possibilities.

Summer break advantage #45: Thunderstorms.

Summer break advantage #46: Staying up much later and getting used to sleeping in.

Summer break advantage #47: I'm pretty sure the calories don't count.

Summer break advantage #48: No feelings of the Monday dread on Sunday.

Summer break advantage #49: Rush hour traffic still sucks, but not as bad as when school is in session (you get reminded of the difference when school starts).

Summer break advantage #50: Soaking in all that extra vitamin D.

Summer break advantage #51: Homemade popsicles.

Summer break advantage #52: Reaching the point where you are fulfilled and actually excited about going back to school.

Summer break advantage #53: Slow leisurely breakfasts whenever we get around to it.

Summer break advantage #54: Seeing the finish line...just...over...there! And wow, how bittersweet knowing that a new "race" is about to begin.

Summer break advantage #55: The annual return of the ripe figs in our backyard.

Summer break advantage #56: Writing my "summer break advantage" every day to keep me positive and grateful and focused on having a wonderful summer.

I know for a fact that this daily practice of gratitude made an already amazing and fun summer more joyful and deliciously satisfying. I'm not saying my summer was perfect and I was giddy and jolly every moment. But, every time I found myself feeling negative or grumpy (like when we got stuck waiting for almost an hour for a road closure on the road up to Sequoia after missing the cutoff by seven stupid minutes!), I felt more inclined to look for the positive (the view from where we were parked was beautiful!).

Now that summer break is over and my kids are back in school, I actually kind of miss my daily "summer break advantage" postings and often find myself wanting to keep posting them. But, everything has a time and a place and I know all good things must come to an end. Luckily, the "advantages" live on in my mind and attitude, only now it's less limited. Funny, how now I see kids-are-back-in-school advantages, weekend advantages, volunteering advantages, hot weather advantages, girlfriend-weekend-away advantages, gardening advantages, painting-class advantages, and being-in-my-forties advantages (gasp!!), and so on and so on. Oh, and finally-writing-in-my-long-lost-blog advantages, too.

Happymiss blueberries

2011-06-30T08:13:00.000-07:00

So, I'm down with this backyard gardening thing. I like it. I really do. But, it's not like I'm feeding the whole family with an abundant yield of amazing produce. I am totally winging it. I have no idea what it means to "tend the garden" and don't do much besides water and pull out dead stuff. I mean, look at this pathetic corn that I harvested this week. Ummm, ya, not even remotely close to the corn that I buy from the store. I even left one out for the birds and backyard squirrels and I've yet to get a nibble.

Anything edible that my garden does produce is like a joyous celebration of triumph. And fresh always tastes damn good! That's why I just love love love my blueberry bushes. They produce tons of blueberries and we do nothing but eat, eat, eat away. And this year, getting that BEYOND BELIEF AMAZING blueberry bush from my neighbor has only intensified my love for them. Between the two bushes I now have in my garden, we literally get at least a dozen ripe blueberries a day. Not only are we saving boat loads of money, but they taste waaaaaaaaaaaay better than the store bought ones plus without any use of chemicals. Absolutely heavenly.

I need to make a point. Oh yes...

The other day my fabulously wonderful funny, smart, and beyond charming handsome husband goes to Costco just to fill up his truck with their inexpensive gas and then spends $200 including...GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!...a mega carton of blueberries. BLUEBERRIES from the store!

I want to say I shrug my shoulders and smile with a little giggle as I affectionately think “oh how cute of him!! This sweet guy went shopping is so healthy and thinking of us and wanting to do good for our family and (hee hee hee) just innocently forgot about our homegrown blueberries”.

But…honestly, I shake my head and mutter a few colorful explicatives and think “DUH! He just spent all this money on blueberries when we consistenly pick them EVERY DAY from our OWN GARDEN by the handfuls and I wish he paid more attention and URGH how annoying because it’s practically discounting all of my effort to homegrow these and…well…how grrr!!!”.

Sooo, what do I do as an outlet when I’m annoyed? I bake. And, in this particular case, I make pie.

I dump the non-homegrown contraband Costco blueberries into a saucepan and add a generous squirt of blue agave sweetener, a bit of vanilla, cinnamon, salt, lemon juice, and some corn starch to thicken. While it’s cooking I make the crust by the 3-2-1 method – 1 cup of flour, ½ cup of unsalted butter, ¼ cup of water, and a dash of salt. The rolled out crust gets pressed into the pie dish, topped with a diced apple tossed with sugar and cinnamon. Once the blueberry mixture is thickened, I pour it over the top of the apples and bake in the oven until it looks set and the crust is golden brown. The baked pie cools on the counter, then goes in the fridge for the next night’s dessert. Pie almost always tastes even better the next day.

And, wouldn’t you know it, that pie is really good. I’m talking AMAZING. Epically awesome . Top three pies, if not the best pie I’ve ever made. It’s sweet but not too sweet, flavorful but not overpowering, set perfectly without being runny, the crust is simple and flaky, and the texture is smooth and balanced with a tiny bit of crunch from the apples. I get a big thumbs way up from my adoring admirers as they gobble up every last crumb.

THE Pie

Victory! The blueberries are redeemed.

When I make this pie again, I will call it my "Happymiss blueberry-apple pie". Just to think, there I was, all frustrated that my well-meaning man bought a warehouse sized carton of blueberries, when I turn around and make, without a recipe mind you, one of my best pies ever, if not of all time in the history of blueberry pies! Every bite of that delicious pie washed away any leftover grrrr!! with replaced it with a well deserved and satisfied smile.

ps - for more "happymiss" stories, visit the "happymiss project" tab at the top

Hiking with company

2011-06-13T18:30:00.000-07:00

It all started just over six weeks ago during my workout on the gym treadmill. After almost twenty mind-numbing minutes, I am completely bored out of my mind. Well, umm, let's be honest, after barely five minutes on the treadmill, I start thinking about all of the other things I'd rather be doing. I mean, how uninspiring is it walking on a machine, staring at myself in the mirror, and craning my head upwards to read the subtitles on Live! With Regis and Kelly with all the other ladies similarly annoyed with themselves for neglecting to visit the gym in like, forever?

Suddenly it occurs to me - what the f*%$#! am I doing? Why am I inside torturing myself on this horribly boring treadmill when I could be outside in the wonderful spring air doing the same thing but in nature and for much most likely longer than twenty minutes?!

A few days later, after kind of a rough emotional weekend, I drop the kids at school and set out by myself on one of my favorite local hiking spots. Instead of listening to the boom-chaca-boom of the gym's overhead music, I'm listening to nature. It's positively cathartic. Relaxing. Calming. Head clearing. Energizing. Sweaty. Beautiful. Therapeutic. Fun. Inspiring.

I make a vow to myself to hike this hike at least once a week until the kids are out of school at the end of June. Why not continue the hikes with the kids? Ya, I do that with them, too, but it's just not the same. When they hike, it's a totally different agenda - play, doddle, get dirty, explore, be loud, and so on. The only sweating involved is from me worrying that they are going to fall off a cliff or get bit by a rattlesnake.

Javier the friendly & philosophical lizard

The next week on my hike I feel a bit like Snow White. There are critters everywhere I turn. There are all kinds of birds chirping, tree squirrels, ground squirrels, frogs croaking, happy dogs, bunnies, a rare baby bunny(!!!!), and tons of different scampering lizards. I question my sanity a bit after I engage in a rather philosophical conversation with Javier, the friendly lizard I spot along the trail. I think maybe next week I should invite some friends to come along with me for some human company.

But, I don't quite bring myself to do it quite yet. With all of the wildlife, nature, Javier, and occasional fellow hiker, not once do I feel alone or lonely.

When I mention my solo hikes to well-meaning friends, they caution "be careful!". I will admit, the thought of danger does occur to me (bad people lurking in the brush, mountain lions, dogs not on a leash), but I feel pretty confident holding onto my I'm-a-bad ass-don't-even-think-about-messing-with-me stick that I carry every time (and stash behind the same rock near the entrance). Maybe that's just part of the attraction - exercise, nature, and a little bit of a thrill?

Last week, I finally feel like I'm ready to invite some friends to join me. It seems like perfect timing because a bunch of us moms from school are all doing this sort of healthy/lose weight/exercise/take better care of ourselves support group thing to keep us all motivated right before swimsuit season. So, I put it out there to the group that they are welcome to hike with me. I tell myself that I am still going hiking no matter what, even if no one else goes.

Well, wouldn't you know it, seven ladies show up that day! Oh, and two dogs! And, it is nice. Really nice. The time seems to fly as we talk talk talk up, down, and all around the trail. Like me, they appreciate the abundant wildflowers, gorgeous weather, sometimes challenging climbs, and the company. I did a good thing.

Do I like hiking with the ladies better or do I prefer the going solo with only the company of nature? Well, I'm not sure...tough call. It's just a different experience. I do know that either way, it absolutely feels great and I will cherish my last two Wednesday hikes until school gets out for summer. After that, I will switch to hiking-with-the-kids mode until the fall. No biggie.

Instead of pining for my solo or ladies hiking days, I will try to focus only on the good stuff, because after all, I can have a blast hiking with my kids. With my family in tow (and maybe some occasional invited friends), we tend to be more adventurous with our hiking spots (like trying places that other people suggest or that take more than ten minutes to get to), make a whole fun day of it, find new discoveries together, bond as a family (or with our friends), and have lots of opportunities for learning.

I won't kid myself, though - my solo hikes do something for my soul like nothing else does. But, at least I know that. It's like a big gift in my little sanity pocket that's all mine. Mine! So, with that in mind, I look forward to what adventures await us this summer and I can't wait to share.

Eating away at the blues

2011-05-30T19:13:00.000-07:00

Eleven years ago when we bought our home, Dale and Zondra were the first neighbors to kindly introduce themselves and welcome us...and tell us all the good neighborhood dirt, of course. Unfortunately, our neighborhood isn't super friendly, unlike those I totally envy that will close off the street and have block parties or where the kids all know each other. All these years later, we only loosely know a few people right around us. I wish it was different, but, alas, it's just the way it is.

Over these eleven years here, we've seen less and less of Dale and Zondra due to her failing health. But, we still get those helpful phone calls now and then reminding us to move my car on street sweeping day or about coyote sightings and criminal activity, and so forth. I've always appreciated how they looked out for us - without a doubt, the eyes and ears of the neighborhood.

Sadly, today they packed up and moved away.

You see, the years haven't been the kindest to them. Zondra has many awful physical ailments, like diabetes, chronic breathing problems (lifetime smoker), and the worst of all - Alzheimers. Dale recently said to me, "I've slowly lost my best friend and I simply can't abandon her". So, with lost income from hardly working so he can take care of her, he had trouble making ends meet and paying his mortgage payments. He had to short-sale his home of forty-six years - the home where they raised their children and spent their entire lives together. He has lost almost everything, except for his devoted children and sharp mind.

A week ago while his wife was in the hospital, Dale and his family had a garage sale. As soon as I noticed the sale, I walked across the street to say 'hello' and visit with the family. As I am chit-chatting away, I look over and see this plant along the walkway. I actually gasp in astonishment. It's a huge blueberry bush in a whiskey barrel that is totally covered in blueberries. I've never seen anything like it. Positively stunning. Amazing. Incredible.

I express my awe over the beautiful blueberry bush to Dale's daughter. She goes on to tell me that her mom absolutely loves that blueberry bush and what a shame it is that it won't do well where they are moving so they can't take it with them. I didn't want to be all "I WANT IT SO BADLY CAN I HAVE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE I WILL LOVE IT AND CHERISH IT FOREVER!!!" because, my goodness, it's such a sad situation and I don't want to be all insensitive and greedy and take advantage. Going along with my best judgement, I don't say another word about it.

But, I really really want it.

Instead, I wander around the garage sale, picking up a few really nice cookbooks and enjoy looking at her various treasures (it's more than obvious she was very much into buying from home shopping network and crafting on a grand scale). I look up to see the daughter coming toward me. She says that they talked it over and would like to give me the blueberry bush because Zondra would be very happy knowing I have it and that I will take good care of it.

I can hardly contain my excitement!! Whooo hoooo yippeeee!!!!!!!!!!

Today, the magnificent blueberry bush sits in my very own backyard next to my beloved vegetable garden. Every day, me and the kids go out and pluck handfuls of sweet ripe blueberries and gobble them up with pure enjoyment.

When I look at that bush, I smile at the beyond valuable gift that was given to me. I mean, how do you put a price on that?!

I'm still very sad that we are losing our favorite neighbors today, but hopefully this move will give them a fresh start near their children and the best possible care. They certainly will never be forgotten by our family.

An easel, the key, and a bracelet

2011-04-10T17:22:00.000-07:00

Part of my extensive 10-step fundraiser therapy involved finally taking an oil painting class (step #6). Yep, that's me taking a real grown-up art class at a bona fide art studio with other really nice grown-ups that like art, too. I'm just so used to only doing art projects with the kids that involve Crayola paints or glitter or toilet paper rolls, so it's beyond refreshing to be doing my own art just for me.

Now that my art gallery exhibit is opening soon, ha ha ha, I mean, now that I'm feeling kind of art-minded and wanting to soak it up like a sponge (because boy do I feel like a total beginner!), I'm more hyper-aware of art stuff. Like, the other day I was driving down the road on my way across town to do some shopping, and I see a bright orange "Estate Sale" sign. I keep driving, but immediately start debating whether or not I should turn around and check it out. Believe it or not, I've never been to an estate sale, so I am kind of apprehensive. But, a little voice keeps telling me to go...go because I might discover something really neat, like an old painting or antique jewelry or just something special. Why not?!

So, I turn around and drive back to the orange sign. I follow the arrow into an impressive neighborhood, full of meticulously landscaped yards, with white picket fences surrounding well-kept homes on huge lots. Five more orange signs direct me through the streets until I finally find the “Estate Sale Here” sign. I can't help but laugh at the irony that the estate sale is at the most rundown and dilapidated home I've seen on my little treasure hunt. I gather my courage and decide to go in anyway.

It's obvious the house hasn't seen a contractor since it was built in the early 1960's - pebble floor in the entryway, original cabinets with vintage tile in the kitchen, and glass shutters for windows. I meander through each room and find myself stopped in awe in a back bedroom. It's full of art - original paintings, piles of prints, small wooden easels, and art books. Taped on the wall were tons of articles about the artist, Robert Perrin. According to the flier, “he was a renowned Western artist and also known for drawings of Victorian homes, as well as being a wonderful architectural artist for homes in the San Fernando Valley.” An artist lived here!

(see him standing there next to President Reagan!)

Despite the rather somber but respectful mood in the house as this artist's life is being sold away to strangers, I proudly smile as I buy his aluminum standing easel for $25 that's obviously old and well used, but in great shape. I wonder how many pictures he drew or painted using this easel? I tell the older professional estate sale ladies that I’m a beginning art student, and they get all excited and say "Well, now you own an easel by a real artist!" and sincerely wish me the best of luck. As I drive away with my "new" real artist easel in my car, I am filled with thoughts about the cool synchronicity of my neat find. I am so glad that I listed to that little (and rarely wrong) voice in my head.

An hour or so later, I buy what I originally set out to buy at Crate & Barrel (I just love that store!), and as I open my driver's side door, I see something laying on the driver’s seat. It's a large decorative key with a leather string that was once attached to a leather purse I bought several (maybe 4?) years ago. I recall buying the purse and taking off the key because I didn't like it. I don't exactly remember what I did with the key, but I definitely know I haven't seen it since.

And now it's laying there on my seat.

(reenactment photo)

I pick up the key and sit down with a mix of surprise, wonder, puzzlement, delight, and...Robert Perrin. How in the world did it get there? I jokingly say out loud "are you trying to tell me something?" and I run through the possible symbolism and meaning, like key to the ...? Or is he happy I bought his easel? Am I totally losing my mind? Hummm...

Now, I'm not above thinking that the key could have easily landed on my seat from a random something or another non-mystical reason. It's most likely that there's a perfectly good explanation. But, it's way more special to think that maybe it’s not so random and can’t easily be explained.

I am still thinking about the unusual events of my day as I pick up my kids from school, but my mind quickly switches gears to asking and listening about their day. When we arrive at home, they grab their backpacks and jump out of the car. I stay behind to gather my purchases and to look for The Key among the various stuff on the passenger seat. I want to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. When I don't see it, I reach down between the driver's seat and the middle console thinking it might've dropped down there. I feel something metal. I peer over and down and see a bracelet wrapped around the seat belt clip.

My beautiful beloved bracelet that I believed to be forever lost six months ago!!!!

I actually mourned the loss of this bracelet when I realized it was missing after a visit to the local mall where I tried on some clothes in different stores (I pictured it on the floor of the dressing room being swooped up by the happy new owner). Not that the bracelet was particularly valuable or anything, but I bought it many years ago and always loved wearing it.

And now my long lost beloved bracelet that I discovered while looking for the mysterious key was amazingly in my hands again!

I stare at my bracelet for a while, then shake my head in amazement and say "thank you" with a big smile.

Wow.

Whether the interesting series of events that happened that day was pure coincidence or a "thank you" from Robert or the Universe trying to tell me something or I'm making way more of a big deal than I should (I’ve been known to do that)...it simply doesn't matter. I, the new art student, now owns my first easel and I found my long lost beloved bracelet, oh, and I also now have a great, no, magical story to tell.

Fundraiser therapy

2011-04-02T11:24:00.000-07:00

Just over a month ago, The BIG School Fundraiser that I co-chaired finally happened after months and months of planning. The fantastic and fun evening was a huge success and, yes, I am totally proud. The guests had a great time and the school made lots of much needed money. We did it and we did it good.

On a personal note, I pushed myself waaaaaaay beyond my usual comfort zone, set higher expectations for my work and achieved them, kept my cool during the really difficult and awful stuff (the hardest part by far!), embraced my creative side (the best part by far!), and stepped up to the plate when needed. I did it and I did it good.

But, once the money was collected and counted, the auction items mailed, the post-event meeting finished, and the hoopla dwindled away, I was left feeling wrecked. Weeks later, I was still in fight-or-flight mode with a clinched jaw, blown out back, unsettling eye twitches, and an agonizing feeling of tense nerves and not myself at all. The way I was feeling was foreign and weird and I consciously did everything I could think of to make it better. I wanted to be myself again, dammit!

So, here is my attempt at post-fundraiser therapy and recovery...(psst...it worked!)

1. Reach out and talk it out

I reached out to people that care, especially those that I neglected during my stressful planning frenzy, honestly telling them that I'm not doing so well and why. The human to human connectedness reminds me that I'm not alone in all this and how I am surrounded but great people. Even if I'm not myself, they still care and love me anyway. It isn't always easy for me to express that I'm struggling (have to be strong and steady like people expect!), but it's worth it. Very worth it.

2. Visit my chiropractor

Heavy emotional stress is horrible for the body and I certainly felt firsthand how devastating it can be. My chiropractor confirmed what I already knew - I was a complete mess. My body screamed out how UNHAPPY IT WAS WITH ME!!! from all of that neglect.

According to Dr. David, the body doesn't know the difference between being chased by a jaguar or being under an intense deadline. Tremendous stress releases bad chemicals in the body and without proper care, they just build and build and build until the body, or in my case, my upper back, shuts down (and causes tremendous pain!). When we sweat, out body releases those awful chemicals and replaces them with endorphins and good chemicals, offsetting the stress and helping us cope and feel better. I didn't do any of that in the months leading up to the fundraiser - I just gritted my teeth and clinched my jaw and functioned in survival mode, crouching in the bushes, hiding from the jaguar - waiting for it all to be over.

So, I returned to Dr. David several times, got reacquainted with the gym, I took some good sweaty walks, I worked in my garden, down-dogged in my yoga classes, and got back to taking care of my body...and in return, my soul.

3. The beach

I've got this casual and neat hobby - collecting sea glass. It combines one of my favorite things in the whole wide world, the ocean with treasure hunting. Lucky for me, March in Southern California is perfectly lovely for indulgent beach excursions. I've ventured to the beach twice since the fundraiser ended, once by myself while the kids were in school, and another time on the weekend with a dear friend of mine and fellow sea glass collector (her extensive collection is amazing!). That day with her, I not only found my first piece of cobalt blue glass that I always long for, but I also found a lucky penny. Was that a good sign or what!? There is nothing like walking along the sparkling shore, talking about life (see #1), breathing in the salty fresh air, and finding that little desirable piece of ocean tumbled glass. Awesome!

4. Family bonding time away

Two weeks after the fundraiser, my family took to our annual trip to the snow in the local mountains of Big Bear. We stay at the same cabin that we always stay at, go to the same quiet sledding spot away from the crowds, buy chocolate from the same sweet store, and eat at the same yummy restaurant on our last day. While some might think that's beyond boring, I find our simple traditions positively comforting. I don't have to think much - just relax and enjoy the beauty in the surroundings, happy giggly kids, and quality family time.

5. Food, glorious food!

Normally, I am rather conscious about what I eat - calories, protein, organic, fats, chemicals, etc., etc. This last month? I ate with wild abandon. Whoooo hooooo!! I savored whatever food I felt like eating and indulged without guilt or worry. Not great for the hips but completely liberating.

6. Oil painting class

My mom gifted me a month of art classes, uh humm, last April for my birthday, and I never cashed in the certificate until now. I felt totally guilty about this all year, like I was this ungrateful daughter who was missing out on this great opportunity.

Well, I started my first class the week after the fundraiser and definitely plan on renewing after my initial four classes end. The first two classes weren't easy - uncomfortable, doubtful, and unsure. But, once I came back from the emotional wreck that I was, I walked into my third class this week with my head held high - confident and full of joy about being there. Sometimes timing is everything - I just wasn't meant to take the classes until right now when I was truly ready.

The class is filled with older women who have been taking painting classes together for many many years. They are talented and kind and supporting and funny and I feel right at home. Fulfilling my long time desire to take an adult painting class and being surrounded by these wonderful women is exactly what I needed.

7. Hair salon

My roots were scary - no wonder I wanted to hide in the bushes! But, my fabulous hair lady set me right with new highlights, the latest gossip magazines to read, and a wise and empathetic listening ear. Nothing like a girly day of pampering to make a lady feel better.

8. Gardening

I've always loved gardening, going back to my very early years when my family raised chickens (fresh eggs...yummm!) and lots of vegetables (yep, my parents were rather earthy). Now that I'm a grown up with my own family, I love gardening in my own backyard. A year or so ago, I made the decision to take out my existing garden bed since it was too close to the house and never did very well. Did I immediately replace it in another location? Well, sadly no, and I've missed and craved it ever since.

So, the weekend after the fundraiser, I said to my husband, "Husband, it's time to build a new garden bed" and sure enough, we did it. I literally felt the urge to get grounded - to dig in the soil and plant some new beginnings. I know...corny but sooooo good for the soul.

9. Make an appointment with my hypnotherapist

I'm lucky enough to know an incredible hypnotherapist that I visit every once in a while when I need help working through something. I love going to her because not only is she a wonderful person, but always helps me discover something new about myself. I appreciate that she never tells me what to do, but guides me on my own journey into my revealing subconscious. This time, just the act of making the appointment with her set in motion the final important key to my recovery. I won't go into detail about my session, but I will say that the phrase "compassion for myself" came to light. What a profound and powerful concept...self compassion. Life changing, really...

10. My tar vision

I don't like sounding cryptic, but my "tar vision" was a HUGE breakthrough and a life changer and I will never forget it. I hope to write about it soon after doing some research and...when I'm ready to share.

I am beyond relieved that after my valuable "10-step therapy work", I'm finally and happily myself again. Man, was that ordeal rough! Thank goodness I didn't stay "wrecked" for too long.

It's funny thing, though, as much as I feel like myself again, I feel different, too, but in a good way. I am stronger, wiser, more self-aware, and ready (and rather excited) for what's next.

In beautiful synchronicity, I saw this quote a few days after my major breakthrough and think it sums up my experience perfectly:

"It is when the clay is put in the kiln that it grows strong. It is through heat and pounding that the sword is shaped. It is through adversity that you become more than the sum of your parts. When a challenge appears, and it will, be grateful for the opportunity to grow. You could even be fascinated by the way the Universe chooses to challenge you." ... Ayamanatara

Poki paper

2011-02-10T18:45:00.000-08:00

Last night I came home from a rare night out with a girlfriend during a "school night". My friend's friend's daughter, her sixteen year old incredibly talented daughter, Zoe, was playing and singing at a pub in Santa Monica. We had expensive drinks (Absolut Ruby Red and soda - my new fave drink) and stood on a sticky floor listening to her amazing talent. It sooooooo reminded me of my single days when this was more of the norm. Love it. It's good to be reminded of the good times and also to get away from all my "stuff", if only for a few hours. But, alas, I wasn't the only one yawning at 9pm...we were all feeling our non-early twenties age. Sigh.

I come home feeling relaxed and mellow. My man is chillin' on the couch, so I sit at the kitchen table (strewn with crayons, legos, homework, and bills - yes, back to reality) so I can check my email on my laptop before I go to bed. I've got so much on my mind with the planning of this school fundraiser and I want to make sure nothing earth shattering is going on, even though I'm sure I will inevitably dream again about the darn fundraiser. I can't truly escape it! Urgh!

My man is working on his current papercraft model (a relaxing and cool hobby of his). Right next to him on the floor, he's got a grocery store plastic trash bag full little tiny bits of paper cut from his latest creation. I can hear my cat, Popoki, wrestling around the bag which I don't think twice about.

(yep, that robot is made entirely out of paper!)

A little background on my cat Popoki: Like a lot of cats, she's kinda weird and rather OCD. Like a dog and a ball, she brings you a string in her mouth to play with her. She drinks out of a glass of water that I leave for her on my nightstand, not with her tongue, but with her paw - dip paw and lick water droplet, dip and lick, dip and lick. Around 9:30 every night, she comes out of the bedroom and either screams at me or gives me The Stare that it's time to go to bed (am I that predictable?) And, like a lot of cats, she likes to sleep in weird places, like my beloved cat Sydney who used to sleep in the bathroom sink. Popoki just so happens to like sleeping on plastic bags. Plastic crunchy bags filled with bits of paper.

So, plastic bags. She's playing in and around the plastic bag full of paper bits by the couch, when all of a sudden all hell breaks loose. Popoki starts racing around the house with the plastic bag flapping behind her. She races warp speed round and round the house, from the living to the dining room though the kitchen back to the living and around and around and around and around and around. She's like a bunny being chased by a cheetah, only with hundreds of tiny bits of paper scattered around the house in her wake. She is absolutely fearing for her life. Killer bag!

I am practically on the floor with tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard as I'm witnessing this. Even after Popoki stops and fearfully crouches in the windowsill (with the bag still attached), in my mind I am still seeing and hearing the blur of the nails scraping, bag flapping, paper flying, running-for-her-life cat. Maybe you had to be there? But, OMG too funny.

I blow my nose, giggle some more, recount the hilarity with my man, wipe my tears, and head over to relieve Popoki from her plastic bag entanglement. The bag's is like a leash around her shaking upper body, with the rest of the bag completely shredded and looking like plastic flames. Run free Popoki, run free!!

I know it's mean to laugh at the terror of another beautiful creature, especially my wonderful quirky kitty that I love so much. But, oh man, was I grateful for the snot and tear inducing guttural belly laugh that melted away all of my stress and worry. What a perfect and unexpected way to end an already nice evening. If only she knew that, the great gift she gave to me - maybe it would've helped her the next day as she was so obviously traumatized. At least she let me make it up to her with plenty of petting and a fresh glass of water for dipping. Aaah, if only life was that simple for the rest of us.

Cinderella pumps

2011-02-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

I've searched and searched for a new pair of black pumps for the last few months. Granted, it's not like I have all day and unlimited resources to shop at stores all over LA, so by all that searching I mean whenever I happen to be in or near a store that just so happens to carry nice shoes.

You see, last year when I helped run the big formal fundraiser for my kid's school, I wore some pretty black pumps and half way through the night my feet were KILLING me. They weren't even that high of a heel, but I might as well have been wearing a size 4 shoe (I wear an 8). Then again, maybe I wasn't really supposed to run up and down the hallways like a crazy stressed out lady in these type of shoes - maybe they are more for standing around and looking all fancy. And, it's not like I wear pumps more than but twice a year or so (flip flops are more like it), so no wonder my feet protested...big time.

That night, I swore to myself that next year for the fundraiser I wouldn't run up and down the hallways (more dignity) and that I would gift myself a new pair of more comfortable but still pretty pumps. I had the exact type of high-heels in mind - the sort of vintage looking ones with a little strap and a more rounded toe, oh, and I had to be able to wear nylons with them (my legs are way too pale to be seen in public in February!).

Unfortunately, I see nothing like that out there. Everything is either too high or too low or too strappy/sandaly or too old looking or too hip or have the wrong heel or too pointy and so on. Oh the shoe frustration!

But, I keep the faith and just know I'll find something that will work and I'd even be willing to, gasp, settle...in the name of comfort. I am, after all, almost forty!

Yesterday was beautiful and sunny and in the seventies and the outside world beckoned me. Since I had a bit of an off week, both physically and mentally, I definitely needed to take advantage of the return of my energy and positive attitude...and the fact that my mom just picked up the kids for the day and overnight. Whoo hoo!

I first hit a new thrift store based on an entusiastic tip from an avid thrift store shopper (she does props for the studios) and, yep, it was awesome. HUGE! And, it was okay that it was totally crowded and only took cash and I had none and my ATM card was at home. It was another cool thrift store to add to my roster and I'm giddy.

Next, I decide to drive to the nearby IKEA to shop for some new curtains for my newly painted playroom. Only, as I almost get there, I hear my own voice in my head from years back caution "NEVER go to IKEA on a Saturday ever again!!" and I cringe and rethink my plan...then change my route to the (oooohh!! aaaah!!) Nordstrom's Rack right up the street. I drive around for a while and finally find a parking spot far far away, but I'm not deterred. I walk into the store with focus and b-line to the back to the extensive shoe section.

And then, then...I see them. I see The Pumps. In my size! Not too expensive! The little strap I wanted! And they are prettier than I imagined! So comfortable! I practically do the Cinderella glass slipper dance (raise the shoe up in the air and twirl - see pic to the right of my favorite, and I would argue the best Cinderella movie of all time The Slipper and the Rose).

Now, I'm not saying these are life changing glass slippers (I've already found my prince), but it's a reminder that sometimes I can actually get something I wish for, and it feels so comforting and neat and I love it.

I'm not completely superficial and think that it's profound and meaningful to successfully wish for silly black pumps and all is right in the world. After all, it's more important that the all-important fundraiser makes lots of money for my beloved school. Of course, I wish for lots of deeper things, like for the economy to turn around, the end of wars, that no one goes hungry or without medical care, and the return of more important values and spiritual enlightenment. But sometimes, it's about the little things like those perfect pumps or finding the turquoise earring I thought was lost forever at the bottom of my laundry basket, or discovering that the sweet mom I recently met at school lives just a few houses away, or visiting a new awesome thrift store.

Wish me luck with the fundraiser...and that my new pretty pumps don't kill my feet that night. I might, just in case, learn my lesson and put aside my vanity and pack an emergency pair of comfy shoes. But, I have a feeling my new "Cinderella" pumps won't let me down.

The yummy taste of feedback

2011-02-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

I seriously spent the last two days in self imposed down time at home. I was feeling rather sick, like some sort of cold or virus or a yucky something. Or, quite possibly, I was mentally and physically worn out and drained. I'm not sure what it was, but it doesn't matter. I do know that I definitely needed to fly off to some tropical island and drink mai tai's on the beach for a week or two, uh, umm, I mean, take a break and rest and nap and eat well and ask for help. I admit, the situation was rather desperate.

When I asked, my husband gladly took over most of the kid duties without complaint. Maybe he got a wee bit scared seeing my "crazy" eyes or concerned because of my eye twitch and sleepwalking incidents (let's just say it involved getting out of bed, putting on my pants, and wandering around my room looking for kids to film for my fundraiser project...and that happened repeatedly during the course of one night). Ya, umm, so...just simply getting a break from making lunches, taking the kids to and from school, helping them with homework, and not being the almighty responsible go-to super person can make all the difference.

So, during my downtime, I watched a lot tv in bed - caught up on some recorded shows, like Intervention (always helps me feel better about my life), How I Met Your Mother (always makes me laugh), and Top Chef for excitement and inspiration.

One of the most interesting elements of Top Chef, besides watching the cooking techniques and skills of the full-of-personality contestants, is the judge's feedback after each challenge. It can be brutal and blunt or full of praise and applause, but regardless it's pretty darn interesting. The feedback, either good or bad, gives the Top Chef contestants motivation to improve and keep going, confidence (stroke their already big egos), a reality check, areas to work on, and validation for their efforts and training...and much more.

I can't help but think to myself about whether getting more brutally honest feedback in life, like on Top Chef, would be a good thing or maybe not? There is always room for improvement, right? I'm not saying I am desperate for more praise and outside validation. I know that it has to intrinsically come from within - a sense of personal satisfaction...yada yada yada. But, sometimes, I don't know, sometimes...I just need a little something from other people to let me know I'm doing alright...or not doing so great. Just something that let's me know that I'm being noticed...and not invisible.

I've actually given constructive criticism that changed people for the better. I remember my first real boyfriend at sixteen. Todd was very nice, artistic and kind of dorky, but man, a horrible kisser! Not that I had tons of experience in this arena (I was shy and picky), but I did have the sense to know if the kissing felt right or not, and his kissing was just bad. BAD. When I finally couldn't take it anymore, I said right to his face "You don't know how to kiss!" and broke up with him. Kinda mean, I know, but I was sixteen after all. I probably needed some honest feedback about my lack of tact.

Years later at college, I bumped into Todd and do you know what was one of the first things he said? He said, well, begged "Give me another chance and let me show you I know how to kiss now. I've been practicing!!" He was completely serious and sincere, but I could not get away from him fast enough. Eeeww!

Another time, I once asked a good friend if she realized that whenever we talked, she never asked about me and that all she did was talk about herself? She never knew she did that. She actually thanked me months later and said she really took what I said to heart and had made a big effort to be different with all of her relationships.

I've heard plenty of honest feedback about myself through the years. I remember way back when I was in seventh grade I had my hair really short, like boy-cut short. One day, this boy I didn't know very well said to me "You'd look better with long hair". At first I was totally embarrassed, but then I really took a look at myself in the mirror and thought my short hair did look kind of weird. So, I grew out my hair and do you know what?! It grew out curly! I didn't even know I had curly hair (a result of puberty?)...and it was really pretty! Thank you hairstyle feedback boy!

I've given and received plenty of life changing feedback and constructive criticism, and I do know it can be uncomfortable but sometimes necessary. And, there's a big difference between complaining and feedback. I hear complaining all the time, after all, I am a mom. For example, after watching my son eat his entire dinner, sometimes I hear a whiny "I'M STILL STARVING!!! (so defeating and grating!), but, I'd much rather hear "Mom, can I have more to eat next time because what you gave me just wasn't enough" (informative!). Maybe there will be a girlfriend in his (very distant!) future that will tell him he needs to learn some tact.

I wonder if I was ever a Top Chef contestant or on any of those other competition shows with judges, would I be able to handle the brutal honesty? Would I gracefully thank them for the experience or cry in the limo all the way to the airport? Yikes, I don't know...and I don't plan on finding out either way.

After catching up on all of those Top Chef episodes and after a totally glorious afternoon nap, I am feeling more like myself again. I even decide to attempt making fish soup for dinner. Why fish soup? I'm not sure, but it sounds good and I've never made it before so it's adventurous. I look up "fish soup" recipes online, however many are tomato or cream based, and I want more of a light broth. So, I throw a bunch of ingredients together and hope for the best. And, what do you know? It turns out AMAZING. Yummmm.

I serve the bowls of fish soup to my kids and husband and happily settle down with my own steamy hot bowl. Before I can get a spoonful in my mouth, my sweet and wonderful daughter proclaims "Mommy, this is the best soup I've ever had in my whole life!".

Now, I've talked about constructive feedback and how it can be life changing and all, blah blah blah, but her huge compliment feels like a big hug for my soul. I did something right and I did it great and somebody noticed and I heard it out loud...and...I needed that.

ps...
soup recipe (as best as I can remember)
onions and celery and garlic sauteed in oil
lots of white wine to de-glaze - don't be shy :-)
vegetable broth (TJ's Savory Broth) - 2 packets
add water, corn (a lot), orzo pasta (not too much),
herbs de provence, bay leaf
salt, pepper
cook for a while
then add all of the talapia from a frozen 3-pack package from TJ's - cut into one inch pieces
more salt
cook about 10 minutes or until fish is cooked

enjoy!

Happymiss fall from the sky

2011-02-02T18:10:00.000-08:00

You get shot down over the South Pacific during WWII, almost die, and you feel gratitude towards the pilot for doing it?!?! Unbelievable.

I was completely struck by this amazing and beautiful "happymiss" story:

Enjoy:

‘Mastah Preddi’ fell from the sky, into hearts

A wonderful waterfall

2011-01-28T20:29:00.000-08:00

These last few weeks I've been pretty much consumed with school fundraiser Co-Chair duties (I am co-chair again for my kid's school's biggest fundraiser of the year that happens next month). On one hand I LOVE IT!!! because it's pushing my comfort-zone into new life changing creative and mental territory (that's a blog post or two or three all on it's own), I feel like I'm positively contributing to the school, and well, ya, I like having a meaningful project to work on for a change. Yes, I am unemployed and I get bored, okay!?

But, sometimes enough is enough and I have to detach and gain perspective and just find some pure joy and take care of my Daria soul. Otherwise, someone might find me with crazy eyes all curled up in a fetal position in a corner of the school auditorium muttering "must get one more shot for my all important fundraiser video that will help us make lots of money...one more shot...one more shot...just one more shot...one...more...shot". Seriously, it could happen!

Ya, ummm, not interested in going there, thank you very much.

So, today, an absolutely gorgeous bright blue sky 70-something degrees January day in Los Angeles, my kids are off from school for a "pupil free day" and there is no way I'm just hanging around the house and organizing donations and working on my video or anything related to the fundraiser. Must...get...outside...in...nature!

So, ya, I do just that.

Luckily, my good friend and fellow school mom who is in the same kind of predicament and mindset, suggests a new hiking spot with caves and a waterfall for us to go to and I'm all over it. I don't have to plan or make decisions or consult a committee. I just get to show up with a picnic lunch and a car load of kids full of pent up "GRRRR!!!" and restless energy.

Let me tell you something - we all needed it.

What is it about the great outdoors (well, "outdoors" meaning on the outskirts of the big city with parking lots and trailheads and designated trails) that just brings out the best in us? Is it the relative freedom we feel? The amazing beauty of nature? The exercise? The getting back-to-basics of just being outside away from our lives? I'm sure it's all of those things and much more. It probably even goes down to a much deeper kind of soul level. But, right now I'm way too tired to go there. Not to sound whiny, but darn, It was a long hike up back to the car!

Even though while on the hike we made plenty of "mommy rules", like we have to be able to see you all, keep an eye on the trail for rattlesnakes, respect nature, and don't climb up that huge cave rock thingy and fall down and crack your head open because omg that (our worst fear) would scare the bejeezus out of us, the time spent there still feels like letting go. There is no email (yep, I have an "old" phone), no laundry, no appointments, no deadlines, no "have to's", or anything else other than hearing the kids be them silly selves and me getting some precious bonding time with a good friend. Oh, and ya, the waterfall was really really pretty.

Now that I'm home after our beautiful, but whew!, rather vigorous hike, I feel a renewed sense of calm and positive mojo. Deep down, I know that everything that needs to get done for the big fundraiser will get done, and, oh ya baby, I will ROCK IT! Of course, it will be due in part to everyone involved and all of our hard work and ya, well, because I'm so awesome and modest...ha ha ha... I wouldn't be able to see and appreciate all of that glory if I was curled up in a crazy fetal position or in an overwhelming pressured haze of stress and suffocating loss of self. I simply won't let myself go there.

I'm not completely naive to think that these next four weeks of fundraiser crunch time won't be up and down crazy stressful busy, but at least I have today. The energizing and spirit-lifting day that gave me a bit of a well-deserved break from it all. I may not feel the same way tomorrow when I must face the massive pile of "to do" stuff, but it's okay. I will happily do it all with my newly unearthed pile of smiles and immense gratitude...oh, and lot's of coffee helps...and...can't forget the chocolate...and of course, dance music. Really, it will be worth it. I just know it.

Hot tamales

2010-12-18T18:25:00.000-08:00

Recently, we spent a bit of money on some much needed home repairs, ahem, I mean, contributed to the economic recovery (it just sounds so much better to think of it that way). Not exactly what we wanted to do right before the holiday$$$, but felt it was important enough to spend the money now instead of letting it go any longer and end up spending more down the road. Plus, there's an added bonus of peace of mind knowing that my house won't completely crumble and fall apart. Well, it wasn't actually that bad, but it kind of felt like it.

Not only does our house look and function better, but I also got the added pleasure of meeting Robert, the Stucco Guy Extraordinaire. This man is one of the nicest, most humble, most grateful, most proud of his craftsmanship, and genuine person I've ever met. I'm not exaggerating when I say this. You just don't see this sort of professionalism, worth ethic, and sincerity too often anymore. How truly refreshing.

I didn't meet Robert right away. My wonderful husband did all of the arrangements and interactions while I was down for the count in bed with an awful cold virus. It wasn't until the second to last day that he was working at our home that met him. I decided to bake some homemade chocolate chip cookies as a sort of 'thank you' to the hardworking crew, and also as an excuse to introduce myself. I commented on his excellent work and then casually asked him how business was in the bad economy. Turns out, this simple question is how I learned about his true character.

He told me that last year was very very bad and he was only saved by a home equity line of credit, so this year is relatively better in comparison. He also said that eight out of ten people he knows in similar businesses did lose everything - their businesses, their big homes, cars, boats, time shares, fancy fancy etc., etc. Why them and not him? You see, he didn't upgrade to a huge (overpriced) house and buy expensive toys and overextend when times were good. He kept his modest house and slowly fixed it up, one upgrade at a time (kept in line by a smart wife of thirty years making sure he finished every project he started). He also did not cut costs by sacrificing his high standards and worth ethic, which helped him continue to get referrals and clients.

We talked for a while about our positive hopes for the economy and what's truly important in life, like family, friends, and gratitude and the more I talked to him the more I saw a true gem of a man. He just gets it in the way that I wish more people did. He believes that what goes around comes around, and when you put out good you get back good in return, so always do good. Karma. He doesn't need all of that material stuff to make him happy because he already has what he needs. Oh man, did I just want to hug him and adopt him as an uncle so he'd stay in my life forever.

When his work is done, we say our good-bye's and thank you's and I feel lucky for knowing him. I wish all my friends and family needed stucco work done, too, so we could give him tons and tons of business. He more than deserves it.

The next morning at a 7am, I hear a knock at my front door. My first thought it that it's a neighbor coming by to tell us something we didn't want to hear, like the time we heard "hi, do you know you have tons of bees flying out of a hole in your side wall?". That was fun. So, after hand-combing my wild curly bedhead, I cautiously open the door. Who do I see? It's Robert, the Stucco Guy! He says good-morning and apologizes for the early house call. He proudly hands me a heavy and surprisingly warm large brown paper bag filled with a dozen just-cooked hot steamy tamales. My caution evaporates into big happy smiles.

You see, one day my husband and Robert got to talking about tamales and the best places around Los Angeles to get authentic ones. So, Robert figured he would get up extra early (when the tamales are best) and bring some to us from his favorite local place since he knows how much we like them.

Wow, right?

The delicious tamales were devoured quickly in our tamale loving home. Yummy! They were especially wonderful, not just because of the restaurant, but because they were brought to us with such care and kindness. It's like Robert puts his whole self into everything he does, from the meticulous stucco work and clean-up, to openly discussing his sincere views on life, and sharing his favorite tamales. I totally respect living life in that kind of authentic way, and I aspire to be more like that. I think I do for the most part, but there's definitely room for improvement. It's just such a rich and peaceful way to live.

This year was more than full of sad events, difficult challenges, and uncomfortable changes, both in my life and others I know, bringing plenty of bittersweet reminders of how fragile and hard life can be. And that's why I soooooo appreciate having such a lovely and welcome moment and reminder of gratitude for a good reason from a really good guy. This time, I didn't need a funeral or illness to remind of my blessings. I got a chocolate chip cookie induced hot tamale happy give-give gift just because we both decided to do some good for each other.

I believe that people (who often seem like angels) come into our lives, even if it's for a brief time, to remind us of what is most important, and "Uncle" Robert is definitely one of them for me.

Happymiss naughty dogs

2010-11-18T14:32:00.000-08:00

I laughed when I saw the story on tv about this dog that ate Gorilla glue...and it saved his life! A happymiss story for sure:

http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/tv/ruff_diet_f2ETQNuyojpzLit4jAjtSP

And here I get mad at my cats when they eat the occasional houseplant.

Double fortune

2010-11-18T13:46:00.000-08:00

I guess the universe has a lot to tell me. I'm ready and listening!

Hugs and kisses

2010-11-02T15:32:00.000-07:00

When my twins were born, a dear friend of my grandma gave me this "Love is..." comic that she clipped out and slipped into a clear magnet frame. The sweet sentimentality literally brought tears to my (sleep deprived new mommy) eyes. This simple, yet beyond touching gift will always be on my fridge and remains as one of my favorite gifts ever.

You see, my grandma, Ruth, died two and a half years before I was blessed with my children. She adored the long-running and beloved "Love is..." comic that dates back to the early 1970's. So much so, that when the local newspaper stopped printing it, she organized a successful campaign to bring it back and...she won. Thank goodness! My grandma found such delight in the simply joyful moments like those depicted in the comic, and that's why I think she loved it so much. Lucky for me, I remember lots of "Love is..." moments with my grandma and without a doubt her love plays an important role in who I am today.

Recently, when I helped organize a surprise class gift for my kid's teacher's upcoming wedding, I felt totally inspired to do a "Love is..." class project. Not only will their teacher appreciate the student-made gift, but I'm also curious to find out what love means to these kids. We teach them to say "I love you" when we say it to them, but do they really understand what it means in an abstract sense? Humm...

One day while their almost-married teacher, Jullie, is conveniently out of the classroom, I pose the "Love is..." question to the students while we all discuss and listen to project instructions. I will admit, I daydreamed about hearing some funny, heartfelt, maybe even embarrassing answers, like on Bill Cosby's Kids Say the Darndest Things , but surprisingly, what I get is pretty straightforward. "Love is..." to these seven-year-olds means their pets, friends, family, chocolate, and their toys. So, what was the #1 answer? Hugs and kisses.

Yep, it was that simple and wow, totally refreshing. Love is so much more complicated in the grown-up world. Yet, hugs are kisses are the most simple form of showing love and affection. We hug and kiss our pets, friends, family, toys (yes, I've hugged my Kitchenaid) and definitely chocolate (I've been known to gush over a box of See's Candies). And those who grow up without much in the way of hugs and kisses often end up in a world of pain and dysfunction. I would say they are pretty darn important.

Now, I'm not saying all we have to do is hug and kiss each other and all will be right in the universe. But, like the "Love is..." comic, I believe it's the less obvious gestures that keep me wanting the hugs and kisses from the close relationships in my life. For example, love is...last Saturday morning my man told me to stay in bed while he got up with the (6 a.m. early riser) kids because he knew I was drained after a few hard days taking care of my sick boy. I fell back asleep until 8 a.m. and it felt glorious! Love is...sitting next to my grandma Ruth on her organ bench while she played and we sang Sound of Music songs together. Love is...going through my daughter's school backpack and finding a picture that she drew in class of me and "I love you mommy" in bright crayon letters. Love is...when my mom calls to ask how I'm doing when it's my daughter who is sick. I could go on and on 'cause I'm feeling rather mushy...or is it the beginnings of the nasty virus going around my house for the last month? Urgh.

I'm all smiles when I think about the fact that my grandma Ruth enjoyed the 'Love is..." comic as much as she did, and that her caring friend remembered and gave me that gift, and that seeing it every day reminds me of her and how lucky I am to have my twins, and how it inspired me to do a wedding project with the class, and that their teacher was so touched that she said she'll display the poster at her wedding (to be enjoyed by her guests), and that all of those kind pay-it-forward gestures are appreciated and remembered as they live on and on every day.

A lifetime to celebrate

2010-10-19T21:41:00.000-07:00

In the past twelve months, I've gone to more memorial services than in my whole entire life. Huh, what gives? It has definitely not been the best year on record, to say the least.

Gone are the years in my twenties where everyone got married and weddings were a regular event. The thirties? Babies. Babies. And more babies. Now that I'm almost, sigh, forty? Divorces and death. This is obviously one of those getting older awful secrets, like suddenly not tolerating dairy and sausage, gray eyebrow hair, and age spots that NO ONE WARNED ME ABOUT! Or, I was just too young and perky-boobed to pay attention to the warnings?

Now, I'm certainly not saying that me attending all of these memorials even remotely compares to those that had to actually plan the service for their mother, father, husband, partner, or sister. But, I just can't help but feel gloomy about it all because the life switch is so glaring. I only wish I could go back to the days of shopping from bridal registries, bachelorette parties, and traveling out of town to witness happy nuptials (and making for great extended vacations while we were at it). Wedding in New York? Can you say side trip to Niagara Falls and Toronto?! Good times for sure.

Oh, and all those girly baby showers and ogling the cute onesies and playing silly games...I miss that! Those were the glory days when everything was new and exciting and being experienced for the first time.

I can daydream all I want, but I can't go back to those times. And, well, I'm not sure I would if I could. I ultimately have to accept the fact that life is what it is...today. Life now at almost forty feels so much more grownup and hard and way more sad, but a million times richer and rewarding. With every loss of a loved one comes a greater appreciation for life and loved ones still with us. With every divorce comes hope for growth, life lessons, healing, and a chance for new love.

It's also a good reminder that those major happy events that I yearn for don't always have to come in the form of a wedding or birth of a baby or a huge accomplishment. The best things can be in the everyday happy life-changing moments in my life and in the lives of my friends and families, like my friend's husband getting a better job, a home-based business that's suddenly taking off, a wonderful new home, cancer going into remission, getting a lucky lottery slot at a great school at the last minute, a remarkable breakthrough in treating a son with autism, a back injury that's healing well after surgery (well on the way to 100% pain free!), birthdays, anniversaries, adopting a new rescue dog, quitting smoking, falling madly in love, and so on and so on and so on and so on...

I smile and cheer and relish all that great stuff. When I add them all up, those sweet daily life moments far exceed the occasional sad memorial or divorce. It really puts it all in perspective to write out a list like that. And, here's hoping that some of that new love will mean more weddings (yay!) and more babies (awww!) and more reasons to get all dressed up and celebrate.

Sweet song

2010-10-04T19:33:00.000-07:00

Last week it was a record 113!! unbearably hot miserable degrees here in Los Angeles. Today is drizzly and cool and I love it.

As I walk my kids to class this morning, we collectively smile at the welcome change in weather, hug each other goodbye, then I walk out to my car to chit-chat with a good friend (and fellow mom at the school). She shares her glorious plan to go home, nap (crawl back into bed), and allow some much needed "me" down time. Amen, sister! I feel happy for her, relating to my own requirement for that kind of time for myself and thrilled to see my friend do the same for herself.

Today, however, my ambitious vision of my day looks much busier than hers, like a stop at Target for some necessary stuff, TJ's for food and fruit, then home for cleaning my bathrooms, floors, and tackling some of the clutter leftover from a week of being home with sick kids and my (bored) need to organize my closets. But, realizing I'm starving and I don't like shopping for food in that "dangerous" state, I head home for a quick bite to eat, with the intention of going right back out for errands. Only, once I'm home I remember how much I despise grocery shopping in the rain (it's up there with oil changes and teeth cleanings) and realize a nice breakfast with a cup of hot green tea and a little bit of tv while I clean up might be more in order.

I scroll through my dvr looking for a recorded show I can leave on in the background while I'm cleaning, and decide to finally watch a Live from the Artist's Den that I recorded last March. It features my absolute favorite singer/artist in the whole wide world, Patty Griffin. Geez, I don't know why I saved it for so long. Maybe the time never seemed right? Maybe I worried it would be boring? I've seen Patty live in concert four times for various album tours and she is an total pleasure and joy to watch. And, damn if I don't cry every time I see her! Heck, I don't even have to see her live; sometimes it's simply listening to one of her cd's (yep, I own all of them). Her angelic voice singing her beautifully sad and moving songs from the heart and they just, well, they just touch my soul.

So, I'm "watching" Patty sing as I'm doing this and that, but find myself not doing anything else but staring at the tv as I'm enthralled with her amazingness, reliving past concert experiences, most of them with my mom, and how we both cried during different songs as they touched us in different ways, and I'm simply enjoying the moment and nothing else. And then, like on queue, I start tearing up and crying as she performs one of her most haunting songs, "Sweet Lorraine".

Wow. I guess I needed a good cry and I didn't even know it.

It was then that I realize why I haven't watched this recording for seven months. I was waiting for today, on this quiet drizzly melancholic mellow first Monday of October day. This is all I really needed to do today.

It makes me smile (and ya, sometimes cry) when life reveals exactly what I need when I need it. Like when I'm at dinner with a friend who invited me and I realize how much I needed to get out and be social, or when my man rubs my surprisingly tight shoulders with a you-seem-really-stressed shoulder massage, or when I laugh so hard my eyes water as I hold my stomach and I realize it's been months since I laughed like that, I mean really laughed from deep down, and I feel much much better for doing it. Yep, today was just like that.

"Most everything means nothing, except some things that mean everything." - Patty Griffin

Ravioli vs reality

2010-10-01T19:01:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I went out of town for four days. FOUR glorious carefree days away from my everyday life. I stayed in a rented beach house right across the street from the ocean. Uh huh. Oh ya. Total bliss dipped in sunny goodness.

Of course I love my family and my life, but I desperately longed for a break from it all. I was starting to see molecules in the air, my house felt about as big as my refrigerator, and I had visions of shaving off my daughter's hair because I couldn't handle another minute of her screaming like I was pulling out her fingernails before I even touched her rats nest hair with the brush! Walls closing in, random crying alone in my bedroom, one centimeter left of patience, too many ~~glasses~~ bottles of wine, and a profound inability to feel any inspiration other than taking odd (but admittingly cute) pictures of the backyard squirrels were just a few clues that I needed a change of scenery.

So, me and three other longtime girlfriends (and previous traveling companions) escaped from our very different lives and convened just over three hours up north in a quaint little beach town. Oh, but not before stopping for lunch at a wonderful restaurant I discovered a few years ago on another girlfriend weekend away for one of my favorite and BEST DISHES EVER CREATED ON THE PLANET. A total masterpiece in every exquisite fresh and buttery bite. I dream and drool about this dish. Even the waitress said she would eat this ravioli if she had to request her last meal. Yep, it's that good.

With my getaway starting off with an unbelievable meal like this, it would be all downhill from there, right? WRONG! I had a great time. I walked on the beach every day collecting shells and sand dollars while bird watching, touching strange spongy rocks covered with sea anemones and starfish, smiling, and washing away my worries with every breath of the cathartic ocean air.

We shopped and ate like tourists, played hilarious board games, drank coffee every morning on the balcony overlooking the ocean, munched on indulgent snacks and sweets that filled the counter and fridge (btw, calories don't count when you are on a girlfriend getaway), talked, laughed, laughed, laughed, watched movies, napped, read, explored neat rock covered beaches, danced, sang, and...let go. Oh, and I found an old Santa (and my first Mrs. Claus) for my Santa collection at a really neat antique consignment shop that I could've spent hours at exploring all three floors. I didn't wash a single dirty dish (thanks Amy!), or cook a single meal (thanks yummy restaurants and snack foods, especially the chocolate dipped strawberries made by Terri!), or drive anyone anywhere (thanks Christy, our tour guide!). Totally pampered.

I felt at peace, content, happy, relaxed, and reconnected with my friends and most importantly...with myself. And above all, thankful for the opportunity, money to afford it, my good friends, and supportive family.

Then...I went home.

I came home to a sick son and having to take care of him while bracing for more sick members of the family. On Thursday, my daughter barfed in the car, then spiked a fever, and also stayed home from school for two days. There was a day or so in between fevers and barfing and rinsing noses, but the time feels totally lost and blurry. With all this comes bickering cranky emotional kids, cooking three meals a day (I make a yummy chicken noodle, though), dirty dishes, bills, homework, being sneezed/barfed/cried/snotted on, etc., etc., etc., and the inevitable virus/cold/whatever-the-heck-it-is waiting to hit me any day now. Hello reality! Basically very little time to myself all week. I'm exhausted from the loud reality of it all.

Can you say the total opposite from my pampered weekend at the beach?

Was my girlfriend getaway a total waste now that I'm home and dealing with all of this and feeling kind of sad and overwhelmed because it seems way more multiplied than normal after a weekend of such zen and fun? Well, I can look at it a few different ways...

Cruel: Bwaahahahahahaha you dared to steal away to forget your responsibilities and obligations as a mother and wife! You threw your little universe out of balance by having all that fun, so now you must pay and it's all your fault, you selfish you!

Guilt: While you were away having all that fun without them, your family needed you and obviously suffered greatly in your absence. You should be able to have fun at home and be grateful for what you have because your life is pretty good compared to many others suffering and in far worse situations than you.

Life: This is just how life goes. You need this time away to replenish, rejuvenate, and get centered. To be YOU. You are no good to your family if you remain depleted and resentful. Your kids are totally affected by your state of mind, good or bad, and mental health is just as important as exercise and eating fiber. Embrace the ups and downs of this roller-coaster ride that is called life.

Honestly, I know the real truth is that it's just life; it is what it is. But those cruel and guilty feelings have a yucky way of creeping into my thoughts. Lucky for me, I can simply accept that fact and swat that negativity away with happy memories of that magnificent ravioli dish, my hilarious girlfriends, and lots more good times during this and other getaways in my past (and hopefully in my future). I am so glad I gift myself a true break away from it all once in a while. After plenty of practice over the years, it's become an important part of who I am and helps me deal with the not-so-fun stuff a little bit better. It's good to remind myself that it's worth the fallout when I'm feeling drained like I am at this very moment. Absolutely positively worth it.

Would you like some sugar with your tea, R2?

2010-09-22T11:41:00.000-07:00

Kitkat was invited to the picnic, but surprisingly, Hershey shows up instead. He's got a major sweet tooth and a hankering for some delicious chai tea.

Going nuts, R2?

2010-09-20T14:22:00.000-07:00

"Oh, why, yes, please join us. Help yourself to some pecans, you friendly diurnal earth creature from the Sciuridae rodent family. Isn't it a splendid day for an outdoor feast?"

Wild melons

2010-09-07T21:19:00.000-07:00

It's a tradition in our family to do a "Day Before School Starts" hike. The idea is to step into nature, get out some pent up anxiety, get dirty, calm down, reflect, smile, and be together. For two years now, it's been just that. We hike at the same spot and then go home feeling centered and ready for the first school day. Do you see that pretty blog banner of mine? Yep, taken the day before kindergarten. That picture means so much to me. It was an emotional day in many many ways.

So, ya, today - it's the day before second grade and I totally (foolishly) want that special Hallmark moment. The "aww soooo sweet" image as a reminder that it's all worth it. It's been thirteen summer break weeks of family bonding, fun in the sun, freedom, laziness, sleepovers, explorations, play, and togetherness. I'm leaving out all of the other, umm, more challenging details. Why? Because, well, I have two seven-year-olds and I'm trying to keep it all in perspective.

Did I say two boisterous seven-year-olds full of waaaaaaay too much grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?!

What I get on today's hike is pushing, tongues sticking out at each other, running around in every which direction, straw throwing, stick poking - your basic discombobulated totally out of sorts anything but peaceful mischief. I can't get them to touch each other in a nice and decent way to save my life. Are these really my children?

Literally, different directions, same hike...

He's about to do something annoying...

Straw fight...

Am I irritated because I want to recreate this fantastic sweet emotional shot just like two years ago that would make for a beautiful memory, only to have them mock the very thought? I am, but, they are obviously having fun and being free and letting go and being who they are at this very moment. It may not be the way I want them to be, but, well, ultimately, so what?! They could care less if I get my perfect picture for my blog post. And, once I let go (give up in total exasperation) of that silly expectation, I notice so many other neat things all around us.

Check out this wild squash or watermelon (???) plant growing along the hiking path...

Or the green stuff along the creek...

These flowers were in different stages of bloom and color and drying out all around us...

Our favorite owl nest under the bridge is still there...can you see it way up there?

And this tree full of these cherry-like looking berries - what in the heck is it?

When no one was around, we even have a let's scream and let out all of our pent up grrrrrr feelings (for them it's the first day of school anxiety, for me it's omg I love my children but thank goodness I survived the very long summer hallelujah school is tomorrow and I get my "me" time back) moment just like in the movie Garden State (just substitute me and two very seven-year-old crazy kids leaning and screaming over the creek). Yes, I scream, too, and it feels damn good let me tell you...

When all is said (and screamed) and done, I love our traditional hike at our favorite local hiking spot. Maybe the lesson is that every year the hike will be different, just like my ever-changing children, and that's truly something to look forward to and relish and embrace. They are growing up so fast!

Thankfully, I finally get a simi-decent shot of them actually calmly walking together. No poking. No teasing. No running. No grrrrrr. It's simply my two wonderful children, obviously more separate than ever now, being their individual sweet sibling selves, just talking together side-by-side, ready to start a new school year together while blazing their own important trails.

Happymiss radio

2010-08-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

I got my first driver's license on the morning of my 16th birthday by rockin' 100% scores on both the driving and written tests. With the biggest smile ever, I proudly drove my red used 1981 Dodge Colt hatchback to school right after I was handed my temporary license. Thinking back, I probably left my stunned and emotional mom in the dust after I peeled out of the DMV parking lot without even looking back or waving goodbye. Freeeeedom!

Even though other kids at school got new BMW's, Fiero's, Integra's and Suzuki's with stereo systems that cost more than my car for their birthdays, I was totally grateful that my mom bought me my little red Colt. Plenty of friends I knew would only dream about getting a car in high school. This car meant new found independence, no longer taking the bus or walking to/from school, driving to my favorite beach (the hatchback was perfect for beach chairs), driving wherever I wanted, learning how to drive a stick shift, and well, you know, I was beyond happy.

Sure, I wanted to be able to park in the Hey! My Rich Parents Bought Me A Brand New Car parking lot instead of the Mom's Hand Me Down I Have to Work Nights To Pay For Gas Don't Mind The Minor Dents alternative lot. But, those rich kids with their new fancy cars didn't appreciate how lucky they were and raced around and crashed those flashy shiny cars and got more dents and scratches than celebrity diva drunk drivers. No thank you.

I will admit, though, the one disadvantage of my car was that it only had AM radio. I could barely afford gas, so I certainly couldn't buy a new car stereo. So, I listened to the only station I sort of liked that wasn't talk radio...oldies. Oldies meaning the 1950's and 1960's. These decades were absolutely foreign to me, as I grew up listening to 1970's folk music (think James Taylor and Joni Mitchell). Suddenly I'm exposed to Buddy Holly, Temptations, Aretha Franklin, Sam Cooke, Beatles, Elvis, Righteous Brothers, Supremes, and the Beach Boys. This was not exactly what I had in mind as a sixteen-year-old who was just handed the keys to independence.

At first I was rather annoyed (after all, I was a teenager), but once I started listening, really listening, I became more and more familiar with the songs and artists. I (gasp!) actually started singing along and discovering my favorites. I'd hear myself exclaiming "ooooh, I love this song!" and be-bopping around as I drove. Then, I noticed the oldie songs would be in movie soundtracks, diner jukeboxes, and be remade by current artists. I recognized them! I had a new appreciation for the talented and innovative artists, catchy tunes, and groundbreaking sounds. I was won over.

As soon as I could afford it, many many months later, I finally bought a new detachable face car stereo...with FM radio and everything! Amid my excitement as I watched my shiny new stereo being installed, I had a brief moment of "aw, bye bye my sweet happymiss AM radio, you were good to me"...but then...then the stereo cranked out a U2 song and there were tears...tears of sweet modern music joy!

**yes, that's me around the age I got the FM stereo (I was too busy driving my car to take any decent pictures of it so this is the best I can do)

Cool art

2010-08-24T20:09:00.000-07:00

After a spectacularly mild summer, it's finally hot hot hot just as expected for August. At 105 degrees and no ocean breeze, it's yucky. Me no likey going outsidey in this heaty.

Today, I'm not into embracing the heat and going to a local fun water park (with all the other billions of people) or the ocean (long hot car ride with very boisterous children who desperately need to get back to school). Everything takes effort, I'm feeling lazy, and my name recall memory is totally shot and functioning on a five minute delay. Who's that on that new show The C Word, wait, wrong show, is it The Big C? Yes! That's it. And, the actress. You know, the one in that wonderful movie with her screwed up brother played by that cute guy. I love her. She's one of my favorites. Wait...ummmmm...

Five minutes later, while discussing with my husband how we need to get the house professionally bug sprayed because we keep finding eight inch long cockroaches having parties in our kitchen at night, I shout "Laura Linney!!!!!" and feel much much better. Continuing on...

Our home has great air conditioning, a fully stocked fridge, a gazillion movies, Wii, a playroom loaded with stuff to do, and the internet. Forget being social and adventurous and taking full advantage of the summertime outdoors during our dwindling few days of freedom before school starts - I'm simply not in the mood. I am officially experiencing summer burnout.

So, after watching a movie, playing plenty of Wii, constructing a complicated marble run, playing with the very cool marble run, too much time on the internet, calling friends, cooking, snacking, cooking, snacking, building a Star Wars space flying thingy (give me five minutes, please), and a ten minute dance boogie, my daughter requests that we do an art project from her new art book.

We settle on the section based on Kandinsky. He painted and theorized with color and the abstract, with color often relating to feelings and music. His famous painting of circles gives me that "I could paint that" feel, but it definitely grows on me once I realize how much thought and theory went into his work.

We fold the paper, then draw the circles with crayons, and paint over them with watercolors. Here is mine which I name "Mellow Moments".

Quinn names his "Grumpy Balls".

Talia picks "Rolling Changing Seasons" as her title:

What strikes me most is the serendipity of this particular artist and painting, and how it applies to our day. His "Color Study of Squares" came out of his major fascination with color. It obviously isn't about painting the perfect circles with the expected mix of perfect colors. It is just about experimenting with art, pushing the status quo, seeing objects in a new way, and being original. I always admire that.

As we do the project, my kids struggle a bit with the folding and the circles and using color that they thought was one thing (red) but turned out to be another (pink). They are so much like me in wanting to get things perfectly right the first time, or else! But, in the end, they are smiling, talking with enthusiasm, and proud. They learn that there are no "mistakes" in art, you make it your own, and sometimes it's just about the simple act of just doing art and expressing yourself.

So, even though I initially felt a twinge of regret that I didn't wear my supermom cape today by not taking my kids out for some fantastic summertime adventure like everyone else was probably doing (ha ha ha), I did just fine. Like my kids getting frustrated with the circles and colors and perfectionism, I, too, need many more lessons in dealing with expectations, even though I've gotten much better in recent years. Let go. Express yourself. Relax. Have fun. Relish the moment with joy. Maybe tomorrow we will be more adventurous. Maybe not. What's the weather going to be? 110?! Uh, ummm, doing more art from Talia's art book in our air conditioned house sounds like a perfectly fine plan. Me likey.

Happymiss bread

2010-08-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

Once in a while, I like to make my own bread, sometimes by hand but usually in the easy bread machine. There is something just so comforting and joyous about smelling the bread baking and then eating the yummy fresh homemade goodness. Cinnamon raisin bread is one of my bread machine favorites. It makes for great cream cheese and jelly sandwiches, also good with peanut butter and bananas, or better yet, fantastic french toast. Delish!

Today I was in a bread making kind of mood, so I threw the ingredients in the bread machine per the recipe and three hours later the bread was done and...ummm...well, it turned out kind of funny looking. It was sunken in the middle and the texture was just weird. I am not sure what happened, only that I screwed up something. What a damn waste. Darnit! And, of course because I'm feeling particularly tired for whatever reason (lack of gym? too many chocolate chip oatmeal cookies? end-of-summer-looking-forward-to-school-starting-soon exhaustion? life?), I feel a wave of negativity and internally criticize my baking abilities and unfairly get a bit down on myself. Humph.

I take my bad baking mojo out on my bathroom - cleaning, scrubbing, wiping, disinfecting, and distracting. Then, while scrubbing the toilet, it hits me. No, not the foul smell of my cute boy's missed toilet pee. Instead of just discarding the failure that was my cinnamon raisin bread, I can make a dessert bread pudding. Ding! Ding! Ding! My mom is coming over for dinner in a few hours and she always says she doesn't eat dessert (wink wink) but she always loves my dessert and never refuses and I haven't baked anything yet for tonight. Perfect!

So, I put down the scrubber, dance over to the kitchen and get to work. I cube up the bread and put it all in a baking dish. Then I mix up some eggs, milk, brown sugar, butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, raisins, diced apples, walnuts, and pour it all over the bread. I let it all soak in a bit, then bake it for around forty minutes until set. After dinner, I serve it sprinkled with a little maple syrup and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Let me tell you, my raisin bread pudding was most excellent. I loved it and so did my family as they gobbled it up (especially my mom, of course). How neat is that to take a failed loaf of homemade bread and turn it into a delicious dessert?! I'd like to claim that I planned it all along (because, ya, it was that good), but I feel even better enjoying my unexpected happymiss moment.

*happymiss is an ongoing project of mine and you can check out the first post here

Delivering good times

2010-08-09T12:08:00.000-07:00

In a perfect moment of synchronicity, a week before my girlfriend weekend away in Big Bear that was planned months ago, the fine folks over at Vons offer me some nice gift cards to experience and blog about their home delivery service. Wow, right!?! So, it's a no brainer for me to propose that I plan the menu and purchase all of the food and drink for our much needed getaway. My two traveling companions cheer a big "yes!!" without a moment of hesitation.

This makes me beyond happy for the following reasons: I find comfort in planning and organizing, I am good at it, I love to cook (especially when I can spoil my deserving and thankful girlfriends), I feel like I'm contributing in an important way, and we will all enjoy delicious and indulgent meals that we don't usually cook for ourselves at home (no fish sticks or tater tots on this trip!).

So, here it is, the simple but most excellent Girlfriend Weekend Way Menu:

Friday dinner/dessert - T-bone steak with sauteed red onions and garlic, smashed red potatoes, salad (mixed greens, cucumber, homegrown tomatoes, avocado), bakery fresh soft French bread, wine, sparkling water, and assorted chocolates
Saturday breakfast - scrambled steak and eggs (leftover steak from dinner), toast, jam, fresh fruit, coffee, and juice
Saturday lunch - touristy shopping and lunch in town
Saturday dinner/dessert - salmon fillet steamed in parchment paper ("salmon en papillote" because I'm so fancy like that), roasted rosemary red potatoes, sauteed broccoli, more French bread with butter, wine, and of course more chocolate
Sunday breakfast - see Saturday breakfast minus the steak
Sunday lunch (sniffle...our last meal at the cabin) - mixed green salad with leftover salmon, cucumber, homegrown tomatoes, avocado, feta cheese, and the last bit of French bread...and more chocolate because it's a girlfriend weekend away with no children around, for goodness sake!

Two days before we leave, and with my shopping list in hand, it's time to place my online order. Setting up my account is a breeze and so is shopping either by a search or by aisle. I easily find everything on my list plus extra snacks and drinks, including lots of organic options and most importantly, plenty of dark chocolate and milk chocolate varieties (scoring myself some major bonus points with the ladies). I even get $7 off my first order plus free delivery from my special Vons promotional code "SMLLSTFF", and you can all use my special code, too.

The morning of my getaway, as the friendly delivery guy hands me my bags of groceries, my main thought is "Why didn't I do this when I was exhausted and struggling with newborn twin babies with the darkest and scariest circles under my eyes and zero energy to go out in public and grocery shop?!" I'm not so horribly sleep deprived anymore, but instead I'm busy entertaining my energetic and demanding emotional seven year olds in the home stretch of a considerably long twelve week summer break with a glaring lack of time to myself and the last thing I want to do with my precious "me" time is run errands when I would rather go to yoga or shop for a cute new purse or hunt for thrift store treasures!

I am grateful and fortunate to be at home with my wonderful and precious children, but, well, can you tell I desperately need a weekend away with the girlfriends?!?

And that we did. The three of us stayed at one of the lady's neat rustic cabin, where we feasted on fantastic food (if I say so myself), good fortune and synchronicity, interesting books and magazines, great conversation, CHOCOLATE, a picturesque walk around the lake, fun shopping, lack of responsibility to anyone but ourselves, movies, neat wildlife viewings (bats!), facials, laughter, relaxation, and just the fact that we were away...together...as friends...as women...as ourselves.

Legos and corn dogs

2010-08-04T16:21:00.000-07:00

My daughter Talia got whisked away this morning by one of her favorite bff friends from school for a day filled with hiking, lunch, swimming, and almost certainly lots and lots of giggles. Can you say squeals of happy happy joy joy from my super social girl who loves her silly and sweet friend sooooo much?!

Me? I am glad for her. The hardest part about summer is missing her school friends and I don't blame her. If I had to go three months without seeing my girlfriends I'd wallow in misery and depressed emptiness. I need my ladies! And, it just so happens to be one of those fantastic lady friends that is graciously entertaining my daughter today. I can't wait to hear how it went since it's a totally new thing for her to have such long a day without her twin brother.

It's weird. My precious twin babies are venturing out into the great big world without each other. I know it's healthy and good for them, but, well, it's new for me and I'm just a mixed bag of emotions over all of this. Next thing I know, I'll be helping them submit their college applications. I'm not ready for that yet!

Is her brother Quinn jealous? Sad? Lonely? Mad that she gets to play while he's stuck alone with his mom? Ha ha ha! Uh no. He's relishing the break from all that is his sister. He's all smiles and relaxed and talking. A lot. Granted, it's mostly about Star Wars trivia and the scientific realities of the universe but I'll take it. I absolutely love to hear what he's thinking without interruption and how his amazing mind works.

Did we spend our day kicking the soccer ball around? Studying dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum? Geocaching in our local mountains (although it's sounds really neat)? Nope. We hit the far away mall to specifically visit the very cool Lego store (for the first time ever!) and eat some lunch. Not exactly creative, educational, or deep, but for a big Lego fan and an even bigger Star Wars fan with a wallet full of birthday money begging to be spent, it's a pretty great combination.

And for lunch? Corn dogs and lemonade. I forgot how good those are and how much I enjoyed such a special treat when I was a kid. In fact, sadly, I don't ever eat those now because the chemicals do very bad things to my digestion (I believe it's one of those almost forty things that no one told me about). But, today I "splurged" because I wanted to fully experience the day with him, and, well, those corn dogs are really yummy. So, yes, we bonded over corn dogs and I don't care if it comes back to haunt me later because it was worth it. Just look at that smile on his happy face. And, ya, I was smiling right back at him.

Update:
My usually smiling Talia came home a little while ago with a rather serious expression on her face as she greeted me, not with a 'hi mom!', but with a cautious proclamation: "I would like to get my ears pierced".

You see, her bff friend that she spent the day with just got her ears pierced, so, well, uh, and she is very seven. I answered her with a "We'll talk about it", to which she was not all that happy with at all. She obviously wanted a "Sure honey, let's go get your ears pierced first thing tomorrow yay!!!" and did not appreciate my lack of commitment. I told her it's not something we jump into just because her friend did. It's a big decision to think about. PERMANENT. However, she hasn't stopped seriously talking about it with a slight tear in her eye since she's been home (or is the chlorine from the public swimming pool?). Did I mention she is very seven?! Is this only the beginning of what to expect from all this new independence? Oh my.

As fun as cake

2010-07-27T20:00:00.000-07:00

I am one post away from the Big 200th Post. If you are a television show and talking 'episodes', you present a big celebratory cake for the cast and crew, toast champagne, and applaud the major accomplishment. If you are me, you do a review of all of the keywords people used in their online searches that brought them to my blog. Here are my top 25 favorites:

big wiggly things
butt squished
squished under her butt
squished under my butt
dare to be brave
i know myself but that is all
a boo about a father talks about sons and how he missed out on the small stuff
joan cusack's teeth
braces extremely near sighted
breakfast television packing tips
how munch supplies is needed to build a small home
christmas story that's right, oink oink. show us how the piggies eat
poo head and other names
eaglets feces sticky
it’s kinda funny do you know? love’s an odd thing to feel, the best and the worst i’ve ever known. and it doesn’t make compromises at all. it’s not fair at all, that i have to crave for you and that even the smallest smile drives me insane
indan small boy looking to her anty in bathroom taking the shwer
don't sweat the small stuff and it's all small stuff pink monkey
party like the irish
husband power washer fetal position
squealing lizard
freeeeeedom!!!!!!!!! im single again!!!!
the misery of small boobs
vintage small boobs
how did r2r2 help c3po?
damn piles

A dig into my past

2010-07-22T14:58:00.000-07:00

The other day, I was having lunch with my kids and they were talking about school (they miss it), and I wondered how I was as a student when I was my kid's age. When I reminisce about the early years of school, my academics aren't first on my mind, instead it's mostly about my friends, the teachers, the fun stuff. Do I remember how I did in French class? Not at all. Language arts? Umm, nope.

I dig out my old school reports, which turn out to be a revealing window into my past, full of happy surprises, shock, and questions. See, my beloved Waldorf school didn't give grades, instead, I got an annual hand-typed report listing every subject and how I did according to the teacher.

This is the first sentence I read from my first grade report: "Daria's exemplary behavior, sensitive nature, and diligence made her a great asset to our class."

Oh yay, this is going to be so much fun! Aaah, but of course I was a wonderful student that all of my teachers loved!

I read on that in first grade I was "a good listener" (language arts), "has a rich imagination and an ability to express it" (drawing), "pleasure to watch Daria work" (woodcraft), "participated fully" (French), and many other most excellent remarks.

Only once did I feel a little concerned, but then kind of relieved when I read this: "What at first seemed like shyness is in reality an inner strength which already at this tender age can discriminate against participation or can enforce it, for I found out that Daria has 'a mind of her own'."

A "mind of my own", huh? That's good, right? Or was my teacher just forcing the words to sound nice? I clearly remember that if I didn't like something or the teacher, I would protest, not in a tantrum snotty way, but sort of manner of fact. Stubborn? Not! My young mind of my own had very discerning taste and stayed true to myself, that's all!

Moving on...

Second grade, here we go with the first paragraph: "...This year, however, one felt, that the opposite of this confidence and at-oneness with the world was also experienced by Daria - much too soon. A conscious setting one's self apart, a shutting one's self in, and 'I don't care' attitude - all these were painful to behold, for they do not properly belong to this young age. I suspect a deep lying sadness in Daria, which even at times would surface in a show of attempted cynicism."

Wow. How sad. What in the world was going on with me then? I'm really not sure. What is also hard is that I recognize myself in this young child - the setting myself apart (feeling like an outsider), the shutting in (putting up walls and cocooning), being rather cynical (just ask my husband), and sometimes the unexplained sadness and lack of joy. Have I always been this way?

Sure, the rest of the yearly reports produce wonderful insightful remarks which I relish (I had no idea I was so good at math?!), but the negative words mostly during second and third grade stand out like a sore thumb: "talks back in a disrespectful way", "easily frustrated and discouraged", "shows disagreement to almost everything asked of her in Eurythmy", "talks a great deal out of turn", and many more comments that are pretty harsh, even to the point of making my jaw drop in dismay. Ouch.

In all fairness to myself, many of the teachers were old school Waldorf to the extreme who lived 100% under the philosophy that embraced the whole individual, well, as long as they didn't challenge the traditional Steiner methods or beliefs. Honestly, I thought the scowling Fraulein German teachers were mostly cold and mean. Eurythmy made me giggle because, well, it was weird and way too serious. Sports was lame - the revolving door coaches never really taught us how to get better, so what was the point? I had a hard time not expressing my disapproval.

Luckily, I came around and did much better in fourth and fifth grades. Are my kids anything like how I was described as a child? Academically, I see plenty of resemblances. Many of the subjects that they excel in are the same that I loved, too. I also see a lot of my kid's traits in the positive comments, but not so much in the negative.

What's loud and clear to me, is that my life was vastly different from theirs at that age. When I was seven, I was profoundly affected by the divorce of my parents, I moved several times, I longed for the elusive affection and attention from my father, no siblings to take out my aggression on, and I was forced to grow up much too quickly. These life experiences shaped who I was...and who I am today. There's no blame here (please don't cry mom!), just the honest facts. After all, I think I turned out okay, for the most part anyway. I grew up striving for a different life for my kids, just like my mom did for me, and I see so many qualities in my children that I was missing in my youth, like loads of joy and confidence.

Speaking of my sweet kids, they listened intently as a read the best excerpts (both good and bad) from my school reports to my husband. They just love hearing stories from when I was a kid, and I like them to hear that I wasn't perfect. About an hour later, I ask them to get on their shoes for a walk to the library. Talia struts out of her room announcing out loud "I am Talia and I have a mind of my own and I will wear two different socks if I want to". I couldn't help but giggle. It is obvious she wants to be just like her mommy. I'm thinking she deserves an "Excellent" mark for her adorable cuteness.

Glasses

2010-07-19T13:29:00.000-07:00

"Excuse me, but I seem to have misplaced my glasses. Did you happen to see them anywhere?"

Happymiss school

2010-07-05T20:13:00.000-07:00

When it came time to picking a kindergarten for my children, only a single school came to mind: my dream of all dreams was for them to attend the beloved private Waldorf school of my childhood. Just a few miles away from our home resides the beautiful hilltop campus, full of all that is Waldorf - creativity, nature, nurturing, music, art, wholesomeness, and an abundance of warm fuzzy memories. I want my sweet deserving children to foster similar memories and experiences, so I put on my rose-colored blinders and dream really big, figuring there must be a way to make the out-of-our-league price-tag for tuition more reasonable and affordable. I am determined, darnit!

Of course I realize the school is no longer the easy going hippy-crunchy school from the 1970's that generously allowed children of teachers to attend for free (that's how I got to go). Despite receiving free tuition, I fit in well with children from wealthy families, famous celebrity families, and ultra-hippy families. That's just how it was then (money didn't matter) and I am lucky for such a gift.

Now, the school is mostly run by boards and committees and accountants. But with the basic values still intact, they'd be thrilled at the prospect of a family like ours - an alumni family of a well respected teacher that gets and loves Waldorf. Right? They'd bend over backwards to offer financial help so we can afford the huge tuition. Right? Good karma, right? Please pretty please!?

So, ya, umm, that doesn't happen.

Not even close.

And, I sobb. I boo-hoo tears of utter disappointment of squashed dreams and deep sadness. I cry and cry and cry and cry and cry. I am depressed for days. Totally crushed. I can barely talk about it without getting emotional. I am a mess.

Eventually, I pick myself up, shake off the upsetting and humbling experience, and get a grip. I visit and apply to another much smaller (and when I say "much smaller" I'm not kidding) and newer private Waldorf school more within my relative price range. Honestly, I'm not all together thrilled (scared to death!) about scraping together every last dollar to pay the tuition and I also notice lots of red flags with the school, but I look the other way, convinced this familiar and comfortable Waldorf education is the best for our family.

Out of the blue, I remember somewhere in the cobwebs of my almost-forty mind, that about a year or so ago, my mom sent me the link to a website of a public (and free!!) charter school near my house. I pull up the website. Humm. I drive by the school a few times. Humm. I take the tour. Humm. It's alright for a public school, nice and small, but it's not pretty Waldorfy yummy fairy goodness. I decide what the heck and apply anyway, knowing full well about the lottery system for the few coveted slots, but happy at least it's an option...what the heck...just in case.

The lottery happens in April, and...we don't get a slot. Damn.

The summer rolls around and with some (well, many) reservations, we make plans to attend the second choice Waldorf school, reluctantly resolved to make the best of it.

Then I get the phone call that changes everything: we got two lottery slots at the public charter school due to an additional kindergarten class that was added. OMG! No way! Wow. We are given one day to decide to accept or not.

This is a difficult decision, after all, we already made up our minds to attend the private school, and now there is another option thrown in the mix. Hummmmmmmm...

In the end, we realize that these lottery slots will most likely never come up again - once we give up the slots there is no going back. However, we can basically attend the private school at any time. We decide...to take a huge leap of faith and give the charter school a try.

I have never regretted our decision. Ever. Our school is wonderful. It's like the best of both worlds - free public education with the freedom to teach a progressive whole-child approach integrating art, music, democracy, and a wonderful diversity of students. I feel like we belong there with our peers, and now many good friends- like a sort of cosmic destiny.

Thank goodness my beloved childhood school of choice didn't offer us much in the way of tuition assistance, making my big dream impossible to afford. Besides the huge amount of money we saved (I calculated we saved over $265,000 for kindergarten through 8th grade tuition!!!), I can see now that it wasn't best for our family in many many many ways. Who would've ever guessed I'd go from a sobbing heartbroken mess about losing out on my dream school, to happily thinking that if I was offered two full scholarships from the Waldorf school today, I would turn them down in favor of our little beloved charter school. This fall, we will be entering our third year at the school, and...I'm still smiling.

Lady's night

2010-07-03T18:49:00.000-07:00

What's a lady to do on a Saturday night when her children are sleeping over at gramma's house, her sweet husband is out hanging with a friend, and she is blessed with a glorious solo evening of welcomed peace and quiet after a busy and emotional week of struggling to keep the energetic kids entertained and happy while balancing her own personal sanity during the third week of summer break? Why, take-out yummy spicy sushi rolls from her favorite local sushi restaurant, a tall glass of red wine, and a chick flick in her comfiest jammies, of course!

Hamburgerock

2010-07-01T19:38:00.000-07:00

My son, Quinn, found this "rock" last time we visited our local beach. Obviously it's not a natural rock. My best guess is that it's two bricks with concrete in the middle that tumbled in the ocean for who knows how long, forming this neat and unusual shape.

As far as my kids are concerned, it's a hamburger rock and...it's really really cool.

I think it's special, too, but I can't help but wonder and daydream about where this came from originally. Was it from a brick wall or walkway somewhere far far away that crumbled into the ocean during a horrible storm? What kind of amazing story would this hamburgerock tell if it could? How lucky we are to be the first ones to find and touch such a treasure!

People line up to buy fancy newfangled gadgets when they hit the stores; items that excite and wow making our lives "easier" and more fun (I always smile at the "flame" app held up during the slow song at concerts - Bic lighters always did get hot after a while). I am sadly and admittedly way behind the times. I can't even (gasp!) check email and facebook on my phone! Ya ya, I know, hang my head low in embarrassment. But, how many people can say they have a hamburgerock like mine? Anyone? Anyone?

The Happymiss project

2010-06-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

All year I planned the perfect family summer vacation in my mind. It would be a road trip up north, maybe even going into southern Oregon, stopping at neat places along the way - an almost two week adventurous vacation to remember. Only, well, ummm, the closer I got to the days when I needed to start mapping it out and making reservations, and after hours and hours of sitting in front of the computer, the more I started getting upset and anxious and hesitant and stressed and undecided and unhappy.

I just couldn't do it.

The more I thought about it, the more I imagined a much simpler and relaxing scenario: check into a nice hotel with lots of amenities, like a great pool, room service, spa, and maybe some kids activities. I'd be willing to sacrifice the length of our vacation for quality of time together...and my sanity.

Then it comes to me in a divine moment of clarity. I remember hearing about a great hotel within walking distance of Legoland - an upscale resort in Carlsbad with a fantastic pool area for kids, game rooms, and plenty of activities. I look it up online and cha-ching - they offer TWO BEDROOM condos! Hooray for the kids having their own room and us grownups having our own space. Yay for putting them to bed and closing the door and being able to enjoy a quiet evening alone without worrying about waking up the kids. From past experience I know that the extra money spent for the luxurious extra space is soooo worth it.

Done deal.

So, last week we finally hit the road. On the way, we stop at the historic and beautiful Mission San Juan Capistrano - a place I've always wanted to visit. LOVED it. Another check mark on my places-to-go list.

That afternoon we eagerly arrive at the resort, ready to settle in for three nights of fun and bliss. However, like a bad nightmare, the polite front desk clerk says something about guests not checking out and some emergency or something and here are the directions to your new hotel and breakfast vouchers blah blah blah have a nice day buh bye.

WHAT??!!??!!!???!?!?!?!!!

This was not in the perfect family summer vacation that I planned! I didn’t sign up for this! I only want to stay at this hotel! How can this be happening?! This can't be real?! Our big summer vacation is totally ruined! Nooooo!! Booooo!! Whaaaaa!! WTF?! *&#^%$#!

There is no choice but to suck it up and check into the consolation hotel ten minutes away and hope that the unfortunate situation gets happily resolved the next day. However, the room is sadly still occupied the following day (overbooked?), but the apologetic manager offers up free Legoland tickets and a voucher to return to the resort in the future. I still can’t help feeling rather bummed out and disappointed. I know I must let it go.

Eventually, I come to the realization that I must accept that it is what it is, it could be much much worse, and to make the best of it. Our small hotel isn’t that bad – a one bedroom condo within steps from the beach. We can still take advantage of the desired resort, pretending that we are staying there and we do just that – kids have a blast at the fun pool and game room and I get in a few glorious hours of relaxing and reading in a comfy lounge chair by the pool. We fully enjoy and appreciate our free breakfast (yummy!), our free Legoland day (sooooo much fun!), and our completely free three nights in our room by the beach (score!). Oh, and they gave us a SEVEN night voucher to return in the future. Basically, we got two free vacations. Not so bad after all. So good in fact, that my daughter didn't want it to end.

It turns out that our “misfortune” is a fortunate blessing in disguise - a fortunate misfortune. A lump of coal that is actually a diamond in the rough. A happy accident. A huge gift. I found a true “happymiss”.

When I reflect back, many stories and events like this come to mind, both in my life and in others. Feeling rather inspired, I’ve decided to feature those stories once a week, whether it’s my own or a friend’s or a story I read in the media. Welcome to my happymiss project.

**Thank you to my most brilliant friend Andrea for personally coining the "happymiss" term for me.

Star Mom

2010-06-25T19:53:00.000-07:00

I love me a local library used book sale. I especially love a library used book sale when I walk up thinking about what I want to get, like "find Star Wars book, Star Wars book, Star Wars book..." and I hit the epic jackpot. Oh ya baby, an original 1980 copyrighted The Empire Strikes Back Storybook with "full-color photographs" obviously well loved by it's previous owner. Cha ching! Score one for mommy!

I don't know how much it cost, because I fought through the hoards of book fans, ebay sellers, strange characters, fellow moms, and teachers and bought a big bag full of various kid books for a mere $5. It's priceless to my son, the 2nd biggest Star Wars fan (next my husband), who gasped and let out a smile inducing "oooohhh!" when he held the treasured book in his excited hands. He doesn't care that it needs a bit of tlc and tape - he just thinks he's the luckiest kid ever.

Crying over spilt cereal

2010-06-18T17:12:00.000-07:00

Not to butter my own toast, but I can cook up a great morning meal. Oh ya, I totally rock the breakfast menu. Helped by two early birds who wake up about 6am EVERY SINGLE DAY regardless of what time they go to bed, I find myself with plenty of time in the morning to make a variety of good warm home-cooked stuff, I even wrote my first blog post about my fabulous Friday pancakes.

Honestly, I enjoy cooking a nice breakfast for my kids and it's important to me (and their growing bodies) to start their day with healthy satisfying meals, full of variety and flavor. It's not about being a bragging Super Mom that's trying to be better than anyone or get bonus points. It's more about being proud that I am able to provide what I didn't necessarily have growing up being raised by a single mom who did the best that she could.

But then there are those mornings.

I'm talking about those occasional mornings about once a week (gasp!!) when I don't want to cook or be creative or do anything for anybody that's more than the bare minimum. Believe it or not, I get tired and burnt out and cranky and I just don't have it in me. Or, I simply don't feel like it. After all, I'm certainly entitled.

So, on those days, I put two bowls, milk, and a banana on the table and inform my young customers that it's a cereal fend-for-yourself kind of breakfast morning - thank you very much for coming and have a have nice day. My excited daughter runs to the cereal cabinet so she can get there first, choosing her favorite from a variety of different cereals, shakes out the correct nutritional portion into her bowl, pours the perfect amount of milk, gets her own spoon and napkin, and starts eating with smiling pride that she's such a capable independent big kid that can do it all herself.

My son, on the other hand, throws a humongous tantrum full of tears and how can you do this to me and "now my whole day is ruined!!!!" guilt trips like I've just served him his beloved puppy in a bowl. And, every time he does this for the last few months now, we go through the same banter back and forth with me saying this is what he's getting today, and he says he hates cereal because it's too cold, and then I say that he needs to be more grateful and just eat it, and comes back with more pathetic tears, until eventually he gives in and eats the cereal under protest. There is no glorious victory here. It sucks.

Yesterday's cereal tantrum was the last straw. I mean it was soooo off the charts ridiculous. It took all my will not to yell back at him "What?! Seriously?! You ungrateful spoiled rotten !@#$*! how dare you give me so much sh#!@ over this g#*^%! cereal you have no idea how good you have it!!!!". Of course I didn't say that, but it was so damn tempting! When it comes down to it, it's not about being a martyr or doormat mom - it's about feeling under appreciated, taken for granted, and frustrated. So, instead of causing an even bigger scene, I keep my feelings to myself, fester about it all day, and eventually (after two glasses of wine and four cookies) craft my genius master plan - Operation Cereal Busters.

So the next morning, while he is happily eating his banana blueberry chocolate chip walnut Friday pancakes, I sit down and look at him in the eyes and say we need to discuss the issue of The Cereal. I calmly explain there will be no more tantrums over cereal and it is no longer acceptable to act the way he does. Ever. I go on to say that while I love cooking for them because I'm so good at it and modest (just kidding!), but sometimes I just need a break. Besides, cereal is not a bad thing at all. Most people love cereal and up until a few months ago he did, too. And, does he know that most days growing up, I had to make my own breakfast and it was almost always cereal and sometimes there was no milk and I had to eat it dry or use orange juice or apple juice and I would've never ever thrown the kind of fit that he does because I was grateful for what I got because I knew there wasn't much money and if I got anything else other than cereal it was a special treat? And if he ever gets mad over cereal again, then he will have it the next day, and the next day, and the next day after that until he gets a grip.

And you know what? He took me seriously. I'm pretty sure he got it. He promised to change his behavior in the future. As a bonus, he was an extra happy kid the rest of the day. I honestly don't expect another cereal tantrum again. So ya, I realize that I pulled a story from my childhood, much like the typical "I used to walk ten miles to school up a hill in the rain/sleet/snow" story with the intention of being humbling. But, in my mind, I appealed to him as a human being with feelings, brought him down a notch, made clear boundaries, and took back control. My only regret is that I didn't do it sooner.

I'll keep making nice breakfasts because I enjoy doing that, but I might just give myself more of a break and let my kids fix themselves some extra cereal days in between. We all benefit. I think they'll survive, I know I did.

***picture is of me at age six with my very own mom

Summer bounty

2010-06-09T21:12:00.000-07:00

It's two days before the end of the school year. Like me, my twin first graders are all over the place with mixed emotions. Luckily, our backyard is a great place to play out some of that wild (driving mommy crazy) energy, and also to check up on our garden. We pluck twenty eight blueberries from our bush (a new home record!) and marvel at our rich and yummy bounty.

On my little plot of backyard land in the city, we grow lemons, mandarin oranges, limes, figs, avocados, blueberries, apples (our latest addition), and whatever seasonal fruits and vegetables we attempt to grow like tomatoes, strawberries, lettuce, and squash. Walking out a few steps from my back door, I can savor warm ripe blueberries right off the plant or peel an orange and slowly eat it right on the spot or devour a ripe strawberry that tastes like candy. It's those sweet moments that elicit many warm feelings - I feel blessed, a sense of pride and satisfaction, a connection to the earth, gratitude, a happy tummy, and simple delight.

Our house came with the fig tree, but we had no idea when we bought it. Then a few months later, we look up at the tree totally surprised to see a tree full of ripe brown figs. But, uh, what in the world do you do with a fig? Well, I soon discovered my favorite recipe and now it's an annual tradition - candied figs dipped in chocolate. Soooo yummy!

A few months ago, I eagerly planted an apple tree. I figure it will be a few years until it produces anything. It's a small skinny tree about an inch thick, staying securely attached to a wood support until it gets thicker. The first week it showed beautiful blooms, then soon after I saw little beginnings of fruit, and it's now growing about a dozen apples in the warm spring sun. I can't wait to eat them!

People marvel and ask me what my gardening secrets are, saying I have a green thumb and will I please teach them what it is that I do. I'd like to say I use the precise fertilizers for each plant, like bat guano, seaweed powder, and fish emulsion exactly when/where/how much, but, honestly, I don't. I do know I don't use chemicals or pesticides, even when I want to annihilate the damn rollie pollies that eat so many of my precious strawberries. So, yes, I totally wing it. I go to the nursery, buy plants, put them in the ground or pot, water when I can remember, maybe fertilize with a general organic fertilizer, and hope for the best. Sometimes I get lucky, but other times I shrug my shoulders and throw the brown plant into the compost bin and start over with something new...lesson learned.

After the fruit trees and berry bush are done producing their delicious fruit for the season, it's kind of sad to goodbye. Of course, I know I can buy all of this fruit year round at the grocery store that's shipped from all over the world, but it's not the same. Mine are so much more satisfying and better tasting! There is some consolation and comfort in knowing that my homegrown fruit will come back again (hopefully), ready to be enjoyed year after year.

Tomorrow is the last day of the school year. My children are growing up so quickly and it freaks me out sometimes if I sit and think about it. How did this year whiz by so fast!? They aren't supposed to be second graders so soon?! But, as sad as it is to say goodbye to school (and my six hours of daily freedom), like my backyard bounty, I know the return of summer brings with it all kinds of good times. I love the long beach days, swimming and floating in the pool, popsicles, watermelon, family vacations, camping, barbecues, hiking, getting really messy and dirty, playing with friends, spontaneous outings, carefree days, and splashing in a cool creek. School will start up again in the fall as scheduled, but for now I'll just kick off my flip flops, breathe deeply, and enjoy the full bounty of the glorious days of summer.

Up your nose with a water hose

2010-05-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

Our family didn't travel anywhere fancy over this Memorial holiday weekend. Like the majority of people, we mostly just stayed home and chillaxed. Plus, I'm perfectly okay with that because we are saving up for our much anticipated and well deserved summer vacation...out...of...town (yay!!!!). I laughed out loud at the blunt honesty from the hilarious Modern Family's Claire as she was preparing for a big family trip to Hawaii: "I'm a mom traveling with my kids. For me, this is not a vacation. It's a business trip." So true, but still worth it in the end (I hope).

Until then, who says you can't have fun in your own backyard squirting a water hose loaded with squeals of delight and contagious giggles? The calendar says it's still spring, but it looks and feels a lot more like summer around here.

Dove love

2010-05-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I noticed a dove walking around my patio, right by our sliding door. Normally, it would just fly away, but obviously it's injured, probably a broken wing that's sticking out, and it just kills me knowing I can't do anything for it. I even did an internet search for a rescue group or advice, and basically I have to just let it be. It's not an endangered animal. It's nature. Maybe it was attacked by a cat or got tangled in a wire or was born with a bad wing - I will never know. It's still sad, though.

With the monumental man-made oil spill disaster in the Gulf of Mexico right now, I purposely avoid looking at the heartbreaking pictures of the affected wildlife. It's just waaaaay too much to stomach. And then this placid mourning dove sits there on my patio and it's impossible to ignore.

It reminds me the time a few years ago when an opossum felt compelled to curl up in our planter bed and live out it's last day right in front of our eyes. Of all the places, it chose a spot right in front of our door. I knew something was wrong for it to be out during the daytime and just look up at me without flinching when I took it's picture. It didn't look injured, more like wanting to rest in peace.

I'm not going to fly to the Gulf Coast to help clean up oil soaked birds and wildlife. There was nothing to do for the opossum but let it be. I can fix a lot of things around the house (and with two kids a lot gets broken!), but I cannot mend the dove's broken wing. However, I can be sad for it and feel empathy. I can bury the opossum, and the dove if it comes to that, and give them back to the earth. I can admire their beauty and appreciate their life. I can be humbled that wildlife is all around us in the big busy concrete city, whether we ever see it or not, and that we share this little plot of earth together. I can plant lots of bird-friendly flowing plants (I am a big hummingbird fan) with no chemicals to help them thrive and help feed their offspring. Hey, I can do lots of good things after all!

This morning, I didn't see the dove (I can only hope it flew away), but in neat synchronicity, we met up as planned with some friends at a local nature center for a walk and live animal presentation. This is our much loved little gem just outside of the city - an easy escape into nature and wildlife. Here, they feature animals, birds, and reptiles that would otherwise not survive in nature. They are all rescued and are well taken care of and in turn, used to teach the public about their awesomeness. I always learn something new, and the kids have a blast. It's not every day you get up close to a magnificent Great Horned Owl.

It felt comforting to see such good being done on a bigger scale that I'm not able to do myself in my own little backyard. These amazing creatures get a second chance thanks to loving caretakers and generous supporters. Seeing all that good was a beautiful thing...and I feel much better now.

Tea zen

2010-05-28T09:29:00.000-07:00

I'm still in peaceful mode after my me-retreat to Ojai. Despite a week full with school volunteering, a sad but sweet funeral, tackling the scary Paper and Bill Pile, with a total lack of physical or creative motivation, I'm still rather zen in the midst of it all.

So, when an afternoon tea planned weeks ago by a girlfriend at one of my favorite places in Los Angeles comes up on Thursday and the sky opens up with a massive downpour of drizzle and cool weather (it wasn't even 70 degrees - oh the horror!), I honestly just want to cancel and stay home. Wearing slippers, sipping on my own hot tea, and catching up on my guilty pleasure soap, uh, umm, I mean, reading a meaningful book, sounds so much nicer and way less effort.

I know so many people sitting inside their offices or cubicles or home with little babies only wishing they could sneak away in the afternoon to indulge in a lovely tea service with girlfriends. And here I am wanting to get out of it because I don't want to drive the thirty-five minute car ride in the cool drizzly weather?? Silly silly me. It's not like being forced to drive through a hurricane and mudslides to Chuck E Cheese's or something! I luckily come to my senses, throw on a pretty outfit, trade in my slippers for cute flats, and go.

In spite of the less than stellar weather, waiting a while for my later than expected friends, being extra conscious of the now more limited time constraints (kids have to be picked up from school), and not being able to stroll around the beautiful gardens that I love so much, I still relish the experience and am grateful I went. The tea service in this special place was yummy, with lots of good girly talk, and we all felt happy to be there away from our worries, kids, and to-do stuff.

It honors that fact that not every day can be like my soulful three day experience in Ojai, but it's about making the most of and appreciating those "little" moments when I can get them. Sure, I can have a nice zen day at home in my fuzzy slippers, but it certainly is more fun out in the big beautiful world with friends.

Ojai and I

2010-05-25T10:22:00.000-07:00

Last week, I gifted myself a solo me-retreat to Ojai, CA, which is about eighty miles from home. When I booked it many weeks ago, I was in desperate need of a change of scenery, rest, and rejuvenation. When I found this place during my online search for possible destinations, I knew immediately that I had to go...and I had to go there alone.

The Pepper Tree Retreat is the former home of the Eastern philosopher J. Krisnamurti. This quote by him on the homepage of the website spoke to my depleted spirit: "It is essential sometimes to go into retreat, to stop everything that you have been doing, to stop your experiences completely and look at them anew, not keep on repeating them like machines. You would then let fresh air into your mind. Wouldn’t you? This place must be of great beauty with trees, birds, and quietness, for beauty is truth and truth is goodness and love." It's like it was written just for me...a true sign indeed.

So, when the time finally came, I drove to Ojai and I went home two days later just like I planned. I survived. I did totally fine. I loved it. Did I experience some divine epiphany about the meaning of life? Did I see a profound vision of my still undiscovered passion that will make me both intrinsically happy and a wealthy woman? Did I find deep meaning or even remotely understand this philosopher's abstract deeply intellectual teachings that were honestly a bit over my head? Uh, nope. Not at all.

Not to be cheesy, but what I loved and relished about it was really all about the small stuff.

The peace and quiet was incredible. The first night I was there, I was completely alone in the building (which felt like a large home) for a few hours. The staff went home at 6pm and the other guests weren't there. It was stunningly quiet - no dogs barking, no cars driving by, no music, no people talking, no noise at all. It was just me in my room without a usual crutch for mental escape. I felt uncomfortable yet liberated. I could've easily called someone or put in my headset and listened to music, yet I was compelled to just be there with myself...to just be. I will never forget that feeling.

I took two naps. TWO glorious drooling deeply relaxing and rejuvenating naps. I take maybe two naps in a whole year! I never make the time for an indulgent daytime siesta, leaving them only for desperate times resulting from sick kid sleep deprivation or a bout of insomnia. It became obvious to me while I was there that I was exhausted. Spent. And the naps actually made me more tired, like my body was all YES!! that's what I needed - give me more more more! I realize now that naps don't have to be a desperate act. Naps simply feel good and I don't need some major justification for them. I can just do it if I want to and I vow to nap more...just because I can. In fact, yesterday after I dropped the kids off at school and cleaned up, I curled up and took a mid-morning nap and...it...was...divine. I totally get it now.

I read outside on a lawnchair on the grass in the immaculate garden surrounded by chirping birds, lizards sunning and doing push-ups on the rocks, the scent of orange blossoms, and warm sunshine. There was not a single other person within earshot or view for hours. I was completely unaware of the time and there was nowhere I felt I had to be. Why don't I ever do this at home? I have a pretty backyard, but also a house and life full of Things To Do. It's good to take a break from all those lists and obligations. Aaaahhh...

The last night I was there, I ate at the nicest restaurant in Ojai for dinner. I will admit that I cringed a bit when the waiters ceremoniously (and loudly) removed the other three place-settings announcing to the rest of the patrons that THIS WOMAN IS HERE ALL ALONE! But, I wasn't too ruffled when I didn't even look at or worry about the prices - I just ordered whatever sounded yummy. Butternut squash soup, fresh salmon with roasted vegetables, and a tall glass of locally grown Cabernet to savor with my food. All of this was just for me, surrounded by impeccable service and interesting conversations at other tables. I felt well treated and happy, but honestly, a little odd. A casual sandwich shop is easy to do alone, but a fancy restaurant at nighttime is a whole different thing. Despite that, I held my head high and smiled with deserving pride. During my drive back to my retreat, I started talking to myself and giggling - a sign I was either silly giddy, totally losing it, or ready to return to my "normal" life and the people that I love.

The next day, I took the coastal route home and made a point to stop for a walk on the beach. Oh how I miss the beach and I can't wait for summer! While I sat there wiggling my toes in the sand, breathing in the sweet ocean air, and listening to the waves, I had a moment to reflect on my time in Ojai. Wow, did I feel an amazing new sense of empowerment and peace. I pushed past the uncomfortable feelings, embraced the solitude and freedom, and truly enjoyed my time away. I feel confident that I can carry this through to future moments where I might feel fear and hopefully not be so afraid. Bring it on!

Would I do a solo me-retreat again? Absolutely. Perhaps an annual gift to myself? We'll see. But, as I'm looking out at this beautiful sea, I'm thinking that next time an ocean-view room with a balcony and room service, and possibly a pool would be a most excellent idea. Not that I don't appreciate the beauty of my rather soulful experience in Ojai, but I realize I can find that almost anywhere, as long as I bring my whole self, mind body and spirit, along for the experience, wherever that takes me.

Me retreat

2010-05-16T14:01:00.000-07:00

This week I leave for my first ever self imposed solo retreat all alone by my brave self for three whole glorious well-deserved days in a beautiful place away from home. The following words sum up how I view my trip:

1. Lazy: If I lounge around all day doing nothing, who cares? The lazier the better. A long drooling nap is practically a requirement.

2. Selfish: I'm going to do only what I want to do with my time and I don't care what anyone else thinks about that. It's all about meeeeee!

3. Naughty: Unlimited carbs, red meat, decadent desserts, martinis - calories don't count on a solo retreat.

4. Disconnected: That's right - no computer, internet, social networking, television, bills, gossip, or news. Life will continue on without me while I'm away, and will be there waiting for me when I get back.

5. Reckless: I might just stay up really late, like past 10pm. Or explore an unknown hiking trail and see where it takes me. Or eat at a restaurant that is not recommended or thoroughly researched. Or take my chances and not set my alarm in order to wake up in time for the complimentary breakfast. Or buy a piece of local art from an unknown artist. No agenda or schedule! That's me, so wild and crazy like that.

6. Forgetful: It's a time to escape and forget my fears, worries, stresses, responsibilities, doubts, frustrations, to-do lists, and expectations.

7. Discriminate: I will go with an open mind, but only do things that make me happy, relaxed, content, and true to myself.

8. Criminal: It would be a crime to not get the most out of my retreat, no matter what I do or don't do. I cannot beat myself up, rob myself of this opportunity, or steal away from a good attitude. I must rehabilitate any feelings of loneliness, doubt, or self sabotage and replace them with contentment, confidence, and empowerment.

9. Envy: Knowing that most of my friends don't ever get this wonderful chance to take a trip alone like this and probably wish they could do it, too, I consider myself a lucky woman, but will remember to remain humble.

I am blessed and grateful for my very supportive husband, mom, and friends, plus the financial means and available time to go. Ultimately, it's truly a loving gift I am giving myself, one that I can't wait to open and enjoy.

Artist block

2010-05-11T14:36:00.000-07:00

It's nearly impossible to get any Artist's Way reading done under such hostile conditions.

Pie in the sky

2010-05-10T12:00:00.000-07:00

After dropping off my kids at school, I meet up with a girlfriend and we go to the much loved The Getty Museum . It's an absolutely beautiful place, and especially neat for me since I remember watching it being built during my daily commute several years back. They just so happen to be featuring a Leonardo da Vinci exhibit. According to wikipedia, he was an Italian polymath, painter, sculptor, architect, musician, scientist, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist and writer. Gee wiz. I know I wear a lot of hats, but damn, that's beyond impressive - I'd take just one of those titles. And, on top of that he's considered to be one of the greatest painters of all time! Of...all...time. I feel good about myself when I can make a good pie crust from scratch and get my kids to school on time every day.

I know, I know, I should not compare myself to this absolute genius. He's super smart and all that, but I'm not sure he could've handled raising twins, so, it's all relative. I do know that I am fascinated as I walk around the exhibit. I totally appreciate his astounding attention to detail and vision. If he needed something, he invented it. If he wanted to understand better than anyone, he studied it endlessly. Such tenacity! Such foresight! Wow.

While I am there, I also admire works by Monet, Van Gogh, and Tissot, among many many others. I was particularly moved by this emotional painting by Abraham Soloman called "The Acquittal":

I learn my friend, Emi, loves the color and simplicity of this painting by Claude Monet called "Wheatstacks":

We joke that after I'm done with my Artist's Way work in a few weeks, I'll paint a similar painting for her to hang in her newly remodeled bedroom, along with baking her one of my soon-to-be famous meal pies like I keep promising:

I'm not so sure about the painting part yet (it's on my to-do list to take a painting class), but I do know I can make a mean pie. Just look at that color and texture! Can you even imagine the complexities of the different flavors coming together as one as a grand symphony of yummy mouthwatering goodness? Granted, it's still a work in progress, as my expanding pie crust thighs will attest to, but each time it gets better and better and that's what counts. Yep, that's me, channeling a teeny tiny bit of Leonardo's inventiveness.

I didn't exactly commit to twelve weeks of the Artist's Way to find creative success making meal pies, at least I hope that's not my only calling in the end. I want more than that for sure. But, from what I've found true in the past, is that one creative expression can lead to another and another. It's about the process and feeding the creative longing that matters the most. In the Getty gift shop, I saw a magnet that had a fitting quote from Da Vinci that read: "For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return."

If all I do for a little while is continue to feed myself with increasingly better and better meal pies, then that's just what I'll do and try not to be too hard on myself. I think I'll be okay, as long as I keep looking and dreaming upwards with an creative open mind...oh, and step up my visits to the gym.

*the Monet and Soloman pictures are from getty.edu

The pants

2010-05-04T16:02:00.000-07:00

I've got a giddy smile on my face as I prepare to visit the latest man in my life. It's relatively new relationship, so I'm extra thoughtful about how I get ready, from the hot steamy shower, to the simple flowing clothes, the easy-to-remove jewelry, and a healthy breakfast. After all, I want to be at my best – I’ve got to get the most out of this time with him.

Before I can go to see my fantastic new chiropractor, Dr. David, I drop my kids off at their classroom, then leisurely head to my car, saying my good mornings to lots of parents making their way to class. I stop for a while and chat with a few mom friends in the busy parking lot, talking about this and that, bullies, budget cuts, etc. Aware of my impending appointment time, I say my good-byes and start my twenty minute drive to the doctor’s office.

On my slow way there in crappy traffic, I think about how grateful I am to find this doctor. He’s exactly what I ordered from The Universe (thank you Universe!!). He’s mild mannered with a light sense of humor, a little “crunchy” but not totally out there, well practiced and skilled, and interested in all-over health and well-being. My beloved chiropractor, Dr. Diane, retired a few years ago and I haven’t quite been the same since then. When I regularly go to a good chiropractor, I feel better because not only do the treatments help tremendously, but I take better care of myself, too. It’s like getting in a great workout at the gym and for lunch most likely skipping the burger and soda in favor of a nice salad with a tall glass of water. I care more about my body and health - I’m more aware and I like feeling better, so I want to keep the positive momentum going forward.

When I arrive, I sit in the waiting room for a few minutes, already feeling more relaxed as I listen to nature sounds coming through the speakers, take in the interesting art work, and marvel at the large sand pendulum hanging in the middle of the room. Not your typical doctor’s office, but rather expected and welcomed at this alternative practice. I make a mental note to google “hanging pendulum with sand” when I get home since I’m not exactly sure about the purpose and I don’t want to ask the doctor and sound really lame and not with it. I grew up around lots of crunchy, so I most certainly should know these things.

Dr. David escorts me into the treatment room, and hands me a hospital green gown to cover my top half. As I’m getting on the gown, I reach my hand around the back to secure the ties and that’s when I stumble upon The Situation. I feel a massive rip in my pants right next to the middle vertical seam...right...where...my...buttocks is! My rear is totally exposed! How many people saw my jiggly ass peeking out this morning? A few dozen? Hundreds? Flashback to junior high when my close friend Sandi got her period for the first time all over her white pants on picture day of all days and having to call her mom to pick her up and me loaning her my sweatshirt to wrap around the awful red stains . Yes, it was really her, not me. Okay, well, put into perspective, my pants story is not as humiliating as hers and definitely not as bad as The Fear, but what the heck do I do now? Do I take off my pants, too, and just wear the short gown. Nope. Do I wrap and hang my shirt around my waist like poor Sandi? Nope. My plan of action...come clean to the doctor and hope for the best as I'm sure he's seen far far worse than a little butt cheek reveal.

So, I put my pride aside and calmly tell him about The Situation and that I'm a little embarrassed and "just try your best not to look, okay?" He smiles and chuckles a bit and goes on to tell me about his first ever chiropractic adjustment on a patient. He squatted down and heard a big rip and his pants split and now he has a long lab coat in his office for just such occurrences. I feel much better. I really like this doctor.

Maybe it's kind of like when you are first dating and you are on your best behavior. You don't dare burp or fart or get food on your face - that kind of stuff. The first time one person has a slip up, then the ice is broken and you can both let your guard down and start getting more real. Me and my new chiropractor? Yep. We bonded alright.

I don't know how I would've felt if The Situation happened in my early twenties. I probably would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay more horrified. Now, I feel like more of a veteran of such things, after all, I popped out twins for the ENTIRE maternity floor to see. I'm not kidding. Walking down the street to my car after the appointment, I didn't even cover up. Who cares, really? So much so, that I can go home and write about it for all the whole world to read, or maybe just my five loyal readers. It's totally fine. I've changed my pants and I'm okay. Really.

Come what may

2010-05-02T11:14:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday afternoon and my man just left for a week long work trip. My kids are fully entrenched in their loud and messy playfullness, while I am in busy cleaning mode so I can throw myself into something other than sitting around sulking that I'm on my own again. Five days flying solo is not that long in the scheme of things, but it's still hard when I'm used to having a partner around shouldering some of the cooking, mediating, driving, disciplining, bribing, reading, homework, waking up at 6am, parenting duties.

I've got a load of laundry in the washer, a load in the dryer, a dusting cloth in one hand while trying to explain to meaning of the word compromise and why they need to do that RIGHT NOW or ELSE! Suddenly, I hear a loud crashboom!! in the laundry room. I cock my head in a "huh, what was that?" motion, then cautiously make my way toward the source of the unknown noise to find out for myself. I slowly open the door, with the same trepidation like when I tip-toe down the hallway when my kids are being oddly quiet and I'm fearing I'll find them doing Sharpie drawings on their bedroom walls...and the cat. Oh, but it turns out to be far worse than that. I see the enormous Costco sized plastic container of liquid laundry soap that I bought two days ago, that was once on top of the washer, but is now on the floor, gulp gulp gulping out, wait...more dramatic...rapidly gushing the contents all over the floor. The bucking bronco washing machine must've launched the container and then it hit the floor at precisely the right angle - hard enough to rip off the cap, which is now shattered in pieces. The walls, washer and dryer, cat food, and step stool are all splattered. Fantastic.

I stand there jaw dropped and completely frozen. I flashback to the similar what-the-hell-do-I-do moment when my daughter barfed all over herself in her carseat in my car and all over the floor below her was about an inch thick layer of fresh puke. I could pull her out of her seat and straight to the bathtub, but how in the world do I clean up the rest of the nasty stuff? It took me about twenty bewildered seconds to form a plan consisting of kid/tub, gloves/towels, soapy water/sponge, and tall glass of wine/me.

Finally, I get my wits about me and jump into action. I go to the kitchen and grab a large measuring cup with a spout. Back in the laundry room, I get down on all fours and start scooping the soap into the measuring cup with my bare hands cupped together. Again. And again. And again... To add to the glorious scenario, my well-meaning daughter stands in the doorway adding her running commentary "Ooooh, mommy. Eeeeeewwwww, what a mess!! How did that happen?? Did that fall on the floor? Maybe next time you shouldn't put the laundry soap on the washing machine like that. Hey, you missed that area over there." I look up at her, and in my best trying-not-to-be-totally-mean-but-I-really-want-to-curse-and-growl tone, I calmly say through clinched teeth, "Please go away and leave me alone." She doesn't say a word and walks away.

Sometimes being a grown up is not fun at all. If I was a kid in this situation, I'd probably just close the door and pray that my mom wouldn't notice the soap covered floor. Or, maybe just cover up the mess with towels and then the soap would magically go away. Now there are no cleaning elves, no housekeeper who won't complain, no mommy to make it all better, no husband to rescue me, no one to blame - no one around but me. But, what can I do? It is what it is. Life is messy. It's not a broken leg or a burned down home. Life is a continuous round of clean then dirty then clean then dirty again. If this is the worst that happens this week, then it's kind of laughable. Really it is. I can think of far worse things that I don't want to deal with, like finding a new job, dealing with a mother-in-law's deteriorating health, my husband's painful back problem that's not getting better, and the fact that I'm turning forty next year! This soapy mess is nothing that some homemade chocolate chip cookies and the Annie soundtrack to sing and dance to can't make all better. And my kids are more than happy to help me make that happen, so I'm not totally on my own after all.

*The blueberry covered face about is Quinn at about 11 months, and the winking is a six year old Quinn being cheeky.

Sew what

2010-04-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching the season finale of Project Runway and was happy to see (spoiler!!) the eclectic dad win the grand prize, as he seemed genuine and stayed true to himself and his style. I watched all season long, every week beyond impressed that the designers can whip together an original (often crazy themed) design in ONE DAY and have it look better than anything I could make in a year. And, all that with cameras in their face while sleep deprived and dealing with drama- seeking fellow designers/competitors and the pressure of the competition with so much at stake while away from their home life (aka support system). I'm pretty positive the producers would find me in a tear filled fetal position in the corner of the sewing room crying for my mommy on the very first day.

I'm working on a relatively minor sewing project - new curtains for my bedroom closets. In an effort to make my bedroom more comfy and warm feeling (Spring nesting), I finally took off the very outdated gold mirror doors (courtesy of the previous owners) and am replacing them with simple curtain rods and four curtain panels with grommets for easy opening and closing. Not too complicated, right? Only, these store bought panels are about four feet too long and need hemming. Okay, not too hard. It's a measure it, fold here, pin there, iron flat, and a simple sew kind of project. So, a week or two after I buy the panels, I do exactly that. I hang, measure, fold, pin pin pin, iron, and then sit down at my sewing machine full of confidence and ready to go. Only, now that I'm at the "sew" step, I realize that I neglected the part about buying the matching thread. The panel is a deep purple wine color and I have nothing remotely like that. Darnit!!!! What didn't I think of this before??!!? $!@#&*! Grrrrrr.

I could easily just use the black or brown thread. Humm, would anyone even notice? Yes. I would most definitely notice every time I walk into my bedroom when my eyes dart straight to the hems with the wrong color thread and I would regret my lazy choice and I don't want that because it would totally defeat the purpose of calm and cozy. Not good.

Three days later I drive the to the fabric store to get the darn matching thread. I easily find the right color, then get lured over to the seasonal section of summer items, with every isle full of 40% off signs. An hour later after almost buying a wind chime, garden owl, picnic set, aloha decorations, and wind twirly things that I don't need, I pry myself away and check out with only my matching thread in hand. A satisfying victory of sheer will-power indeed.

A day later, I sew the hem on the first panel. Yay!!! I hang it up and admire my excellent sewmanship. The next day I finish the other three with immense pride. Hooray!! Finished at last! And they look darn good - waaaaaay better than the gold mirrors for sure. I can hear Heid's words now, "Daria. Good job. You've made it through." And, as a bonus, I have plenty of leftover fabric to make throw pillows...ha ha ha...someday. Thank goodness I can take all the time I want.

Styrofoam trees

2010-04-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

My Rodgers and Hammerstein movie appreciation series only has one movie left, one of my top five favorite movies of all time, The Sound of Music. This past Saturday night, however, we watched the second to last movie, the made for television movie version of Cinderella from 1965.

Starring a much beloved and long time actor from General Hospital (one of my, uh um, guilty pleasures), Stuart Damon (isn't he handsome above?), Ginger Rogers, and the breakthrough performance of the totally adorable Leslie Ann Warren, it has to be great, right?The consensus in the room was that the movie was not good. At all. Honestly, laughable. The actors were the best part, wonderful and sweet, but the styrofoam cone trees, odd costumes, high school theater sets, and a rather wimpy and whiny Cinderella left us feeling very critical...and kind of silly. Are we totally spoiled by modern cinema and strong female characters? Are we too cynical? Standards to high? Are we, gasp!, total movie snobs???

I looked up the movie on imdb.com, and the reviews are glowing - "Absolutely enchanting", "Magical", "A true classic", "Mesmerizing", and so on and so on. Wow. I am really shocked. Did they watch the same movie as us?

But, if I take a look a little deeper, most reviewers say they loved the watching the movie as a child. Humm, interesting. Do these glowing reviews come from sentimentality? Nostalgia? Is their judgment clouded by fond childhood memories? After all, it's been known to happen.

A few weeks ago, I was thinking about favorite childhood food. So inspired, in fact, that I dragged my kids to the grocery store to buy a few of these food items. I head to the Hostess section to buy some partially-hydrogenated memories in the form of cupcakes, Twinkies, and an apple pie. My man mentioned his favorite, frozen french bread pizza, so I pick one up for him while I am buying some creamed chip beef for myself. Of course, as children, me and my man loved homemade food made by grownups, but us latchkey kids made ourselves a lot of frozen dinners and when we found ones that we liked, we ate a lot of them. Can you say $.25 Swanson pot pies anyone? The worst thing at the time was choosing between chicken or turkey and waiting the forty-five minutes they took to heat in the...gasp...oven!

My kids got in on the sampling of goodies when we got home, as they are more than happy to help since they never tasted them before. I slice each one of the sweets into bite-sized pieces and it is really fun to share. Of course, they think they are all yummy. I think they are, uh, just okay. Certainly not OMG! soooooo delicious!!!, but not yucky poo poo. Just okay. The creamed chip beef? Salty! My man's review of his pizza? Mediocre at best.

Ya, so maybe I am pretty cynical. Or, maybe, just maybe I appreciate the finer things now as opposed to when I was a kid. I actually teared up over eating a slice of real New York pizza in Brooklyn, and melted over every single bite of the most perfect piece of thin crust Margherita pizza in Cortona, Italy. And, I will toot my own horn, but I make a pretty darn good homemade pizza myself. So, of course a frozen "pizza" with chemicals and no flavor is not going to cut it anymore!

Same with the classic Cinderella story. I can see how in 1965 a made-for-tv movie was a new concept, expectations were low. A theater play on my tv!? How glorious! Now the standards are much much higher. The lovely The Slipper and the Rose filmed in beautiful England or Ever After with a strong and smart Cinderella are two updated versions that totally trump the 1965 version. Even the magical Enchanted, which was not only fun to watch (love the Central Park musical scene and that damn song gets in my head), but Giselle realizes that falling in love is about compatibility and choice and not just some automatic feeling because he's all cute and charming and is all into you and promises you the world and stuff. Aw...sigh.

I guess part of the fun watching these older movies is seeing how far we've come and appreciating that and especially being able to laugh about it among wonderful friends. After all, Cinderella only wishes she had friends like this. She's stuck with only an evil step-mother, two mean and jealous step-sisters, a few mice, and a prince that probably won't encourage her to follow her dreams or appreciate her beautiful female soul. Although a big castle with endless staff who make your bed and draw your bath and cook for you and take care of all your needs so you don't have to lift a finger wouldn't be such a bad thing...ummm, well, once in a while anyway...

Super R2 coming soon to a theater near you

2010-04-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

Having his R2D2, Super Hero! animated movie idea rejected by George for the last and final time, R2 takes matters into his own gripping tool. "Surely this well respected mouse studio will understand and appreciate my creative vision. Once George gets word that my movie gets the green light and a mega budget, he'll be begging...no groveling...for me to come back. Too bad, so sad, Georgie Boy!"

Happy dance

2010-04-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

The Sunday morning right before my husband leaves for a week long work trip out of town, I am looking for my missing indoor cat outside (long story) and notice water pouring out of our water heater. I take a wild and crazy guess that this is a very bad thing, and yep, $500 later and a lost morning, my handy hubby installs our new water heater. Only, despite all of his manly greatness, he cannot get the pilot lit. I schedule an appointment online with the gas company, and get this, no appointment until Friday, with the customer friendly (ha ha ha) time range of 7am to noon. Fine, whatever, do I have a choice? Luckily we have another water heater that supplies the kitchen, laundry, and guest bathroom, so at least we are not totally up a cold creek.

Slowly fade to Friday morning. Finally. I get up, get dressed, make coffee, and what? What is that?! Could that be the sound of the gas company truck in front of my house at 7:19? Hooray!! Happy dance!! I don't have to spend my entire morning held captive for an appointment that will take five seconds!!

I take it as a gift from the universe. There is no way I can just putz around and clean, or play on the internet, or be a boring recluse. It means I should get my butt outside and do something something artsy and cultured and sophisticated. Or totally indulgent? I research my many many options online. I pose the question on my facebook status, and a friend mentions a foot massage...ooh aaah. All of those ideas sound nice.

In a flash, it's two hours later.

I'm frozen. I can't peel myself away from staring at the tv. Those nice ideas don't sound right anymore. I want to cry. What is wrong with me? What am I not taking advantage of this glorious gift? Get up! Get out, girl! Go be fabulous somewhere great!

I turn off the tv and the computer. I march my butt to my bedroom and tell myself "just get on your favorite new sandals, fix your hair, lip gloss, and get moving! Just drive. Just do it!!!!!"

And, that's exactly what I do.

On a total whim, I drive to a thrift store a few cities away that I always wanted to explore. Turns out, to my happy surprise, it's on this neat funky street with vintage/antique shops, mom and pop stores that have been there forever, a prop/costume store, and many other little gems that cater to the nearby entertainment studios. My first stop is the thrift store and it doesn't thrill me at all. Oh well. Unfazed, I stroll down the neat street, window shopping, browsing, admiring the warm weather, daydreaming...

And, of course this leisurely stroll works up a major appetite and at the end of the block I see this legendary bakery/casual cafe that I've read about so many times.Every table outside is full and people are eating on benches. Inside, every table is full, the place is crowded, bustling with cool pretty studio industry people everywhere - obviously a very popular lunchtime destination. Ya, I'm like so hip and happening like that.

I take my order 'to go', never expecting to get a table in any decent time. I figure I'll go back to my car and find a nearby park or something. As I'm walking away outside, I spy in disbelief an empty small bistro sized table with one chair. It can't be. No fricken way. I look around and no one is waiting. It's like there was a "Reserved for Daria" sign on the table. I want to do my I'm So Happy to See the Gas Guy at 7:19!!! dance, but I decide it's best to just sit down and quietly smile.

My roasted veggie with hummus sandwich is totally yummy. The weather is almost as good. I start thinking about the long proven fact that I'm waaaaaay too hard on myself and usually the best things happen when I least expect it. I want things to be perfect, and then I get stuck because it's just too much to bear. It's like the ten loads of laundry screaming at you or an overflowing sink full of dirty dishes. So what if I'm not at the world famous Getty? Who cares if I'm not strolling through a museum exhibit or the cultural event of the decade? Those things are lovely and all, but so is my unplanned, spontaneous, simple, low key and cool, very me kind of day.

Berry beautiful

2010-04-07T09:44:00.000-07:00

There is just something so lovely about buying a little blueberry bush on a whim last summer, planting it in a container in my garden without much thought or attention, and now seeing it covered it blueberries. I can't wait until they are ready to eat!

I just love the Spring so much, and I'm not just saying that because my birthday is this month. I'm saying that because it's all about awakening and new growth and renewal with a bounty of vibrant color and soul reviving fragrances. It's so many little things all put together to make one spectacular season...my favorite one of all.

She's got legs

2010-04-06T08:53:00.000-07:00

On Easter Sunday (see my fancy egg tree?) my man left for a week long work training class in Sacramento six hours away. That's five whole days plus ten hours of flying solo time. I am an only child raised by my single mom and I totally appreciate my alone time because that's what I'm used to, but being reminded about how hard it is to be a single parent is not my favorite thing. It's a lot of work for sure.

I know, I know, five and a half days is nothing. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Suck it up Daria. Dance and sing. Watch chick movies at night and wear my ugliest underwear and pajamas with unshaven legs. Personal empowerment. Freeeeedom!

So, a week ago, we get this new mattress. I'd like to say we felt compelled to contribute to the economic recovery, but, unfortunately, my man desperately needs a firmer mattress to help his ailing and aching back. The cost of a new mattress is far less than the profound cost of getting medically retired. Yikes.

We get our mattress from that particular Swedish store with funny names and questionable meatballs. The store that always seems to be out of the one item that you drove thirty minutes to look at and that took you two hours to finally decide on and another hour to navigate through to the end and then you find out they won't have it in stock for an eternity and you want to scream at the top of your lungs WTF is wrong with this humongous place, the biggest store in the city, how can you not have any Skortigs in stock?!

Or is it just me?

Anyway, we buy the very last king sized environmentally friendly and firm latex mattress in the style we want (whoo hooo yippee for us...victory!), only, well, the bed frame legs that we want are out of stock. Ha ha ha...of course. Hey, but great news, in only 3-5 days and another inconvenient trip all the way back to the store, they'll have plenty. Fantastic.

After checking online every day since, finally I see thirty-three in stock - the day after my man left. But, I can't take any chances that they will have a run on bed frame legs, so I quickly make the trek back to the store with my full of energy kids in tow and buy them. Once home, I grab the little yellow screwdriver, turn on Food Network for background noise, drag the what feels like four hundred pound mattress to the floor, flip over the two bed frames - totally confident that it's an easy ten minute job for this fully capable flying solo woman. Only, there are these eight metal corner pieces that need four screws each and they aren't easy to reach and the screwdriver is not doing the job and the $@%#!&! wrench thing that was included sucks and, and...where is my man!?

Once I get a grip, I decide it's time for a mighty manly power tool. I can do it. Oh yes, I can. Even though I had to clear the room of my impressionable young children because I could not be responsible for random outbursts of cursing, I would not be deterred. A ridiculous two hours of non-stop work (I know because listened to Paula Deen, Giada, Rachel, and the Neely's) and I successfully attach eight legs and I'm proud of myself. And exhausted. Totally spent.

I know I'm fully capable of such things and I prove it. After all, I take care of 98% of the daily needs around the house. I survived raising two baby twins! I'm not complaining or blaming anyone, it's just the truth. But, I can't do it all, and the 2% that I choose to not do I leave to my handy dandy manly man. So, when I am forced do the other 2% power tool/dirty/fix-it/muscle stuff and do a damn good job if I say so myself, it just confirms how much I can rock it...and how much I'd rather go shopping for the new linens and accessories instead. Just sayin'...

Say it with a sign

2010-04-02T10:47:00.000-07:00

It's getting toward the end of a week long Spring break from school. We are keeping a nice balance of being busy and relaxing - getting outside in the beautiful weather, seeing friends we don't get to see enough, doing crafts, and just hanging out at home. I've even got multi-colored egg dye fingers to prove it. Man, did we need this break from the regular routine to get our footing again.

Inevitably, the Spring break bliss is slowly fading and we are all letting our guard down and throwing out all kinds of emotions other than happy happy joy joy like in the beginning of the week. We went from "you are the bestest brother in the whole wide world" kiss kiss hug hug to "I never want to play with you ever again...ever!!!" tears and tattletales. Umm, can we go back to last Monday please pretty please? This mama who is used to her relative free time is losing her sanity - grrr...

Yesterday morning, a friend from school came over to play for a few hours. I listen to giggles and imagination for about an hour, and it's all good. Then, I suddenly hear my Quinn talking louder and louder saying "why are you ignoring me?" and "why aren't you playing with me?" and "I'm feeling soooo frustrated!" and I look over and yep, the girls are doing their girly thing while he stands next to them being completely ignored. I call him over to me and tell him that maybe it's best to play in his room on his own for a little while.

He comes out about twenty minutes later, confidently marches up to them, shows them this sign and says "I was using my words and you were not understanding me so I drew this picture to show you how I am feeling."
I am stunned. Blown away. Very very proud. Thrilled. He wasn't being heard or understood, felt emotional, and expressed it in an artist way completely on his own. He conveyed his feelings without violence or blame, but simply and effectively through art. He got lots of my praise and positive reinforcement. Love love love it.

Lately my emotions are all over the place, you know, the almost forty unemployed what am I doing with my life wanting to get more in touch with my creative side major transition kind. To make sense of it all, I read and work through books to help understand and deal better and grow. I share and relate with those close to me. I shut down and push people away. I journal. I meditate. I hike. I drink too wine and eat too much sugar to escape. I cry in the shower. I listen to my favorite music and sing out loud. I shop. I say I'm "okay" when I'm really not and keep it bottled up. I do things to help other people feel better. I'm all over the place.

And my kid, my six year old sweet boy, makes a heartfelt sign that reads "sad" with tears. We all understand him. And he smiles at that and goes right back to playing with everyone without incident or tears until their friend leaves. He felt, he expressed, he was heard, he moved on...end of story.

Of course life gets much more complicated as grown ups, but I can't help but daydream about making my own signs on occasion. Instead of resorting to making a fattening sugary cake when I'm cranky, what if I just wore a sign that says "PMS". Or next time I'm feeling ignored or unappreciated, a sign that says "Invisible". What about a "Lonely" sign for all those days I could use some company and wishing someone would invite me to do something with them. Many times an "Alien" sign would be helpful when I'm feeling completely out of place.

Alright, well, I know that's not quite realistic, but maybe that's where art and being creative comes into the picture - a way to express ourselves, but beyond just simple words. I know when I'm being consistently creative I'm a much better person - a more fulfilled person that doesn't need to make many sad signs at all.

Clarity cake

2010-03-18T08:39:00.000-07:00

Three days ago I had a major breakthrough with my recent work on The Artist's Way. I'm talking epic. Life changing. Exciting! Yea for me!!! With the reason for my creative block realized, I'm now ready to take giant steps forward, right? Right?!? Only, well, ever since my revelation, I haven't touched my book. I have not picked up a pen and written a single thing. It's almost like I'm frozen with reluctance. And I have no idea why.

Perhaps it's because my son has developed a nasty cough/cold/minor fever thing for the last few days. You know, the kind of frustrating cough that lasts for an excruciating hour at least twice during the night and you just lay there and listen with heartbreak because there isn't much that can be done to help. I would pay big bucks for a cough remedy that actually works. Last night he was crying and moaning because he was so miserable with the nonstop cough. After several nights of this I'm just so so soooo tired.

Oh, and did I mention the particularly bad pms? Last month was a total breeze, you know, the kind when you get it and you are blissfully like "oh, I had no idea it was that time already?"...tra la la la la. Silly me thinking to myself that maybe this was a sign of things to come now that I'm almost, gasp, forty. But, noooo, oversensitive, overemotional, cranky, tired, craving massive amounts of sweets, avoiding my Artist's Way coursework me is getting the last laugh. Or tears is more like it.

And, AND!!, to top it off there is a scary lack of decent sweets in the house. Oh the horror!!! It's like going to change a baby's poopy diaper only to find out you already used the last one. Trust me, I would love to blame my husband or cat if I could, but it's all my fault - a total lack of proper preparation on my part.

What's a pms'ing girl to do? I can't exactly run to the store when I'm home alone with a sick kid. So, I dig in the waaaaay back of my pantry and find a box of backup emergency white cake mix. Whew! I'm saved!! Less than a grueling hour later (it feels like an eternity), my decadent custom chocolate covered white chocolate chip pudding pms cake is ready to eat, ehh, devour!!! OMG it tastes like the best cake ever made in history of my kitchen. I feel totally protective over it like a starving lioness who just killed her prey after hours of hunting only to be surrounded by a pack of hyenas. Stay away! Stay far far away or else! Roarrrrrrrrr!!!

I'm okay, right? This is perfectly normal behavior for a mostly rational woman? I'm allowed my moments of less than perfect weakness, aren't I? It could be waaaaay worse, I mean white cake isn't that bad since I only used egg whites. Oh, who am I kidding. I can't help but be reminded of the classic scene from Sex and the City where Miranda disgusts herself with overindulging in cake. It makes me laugh every time because I get it. I think most of us at one time or another has been there, too.

At least when we are grownups we can make cake for no reason other than to satisfy a crazy whim (my inquiring kids were wondering who's birthday it was). We can eat pizza for breakfast or pie for dinner or make your husband drive to Fatburger to get your favorite turkey burger and fries that will make it all better. A lot of adult life stuff does suck, but other times it has it's rewards, that's for sure.

I have to admit, though, that after eating MY cake and writing this post and "talking" it out and looking for a positive spin, I am newly inspired to turn off the computer and return to the coursework and deal with my creative block breakthrough. Since I'm home with my sick kid, the laundry is finished, the bills are paid, the cake is eaten, there is plenty on tv for him to watch, I honestly have no excuse to keep avoiding what truly is a huge blessing. It can't be wasted. The pms cake can (and should) go in the trash with a dose of dish soap, but not this. After all, it's only the beginning. I need to stop with the excuses. It's time to get back to work.

The time is write

2010-03-08T11:47:00.000-08:00

I just got back from my annual family trip to our local snow covered mountains. A friend owns this quaint cabin in Big Bear and rents it to family and friends on the cheap. So, an extended weekend away doesn't break the bank and we can vacation with minimal stress and expense.

I went to Big Bear many many times during my teen years with my best friend's family, so returning to this place always gives me a sense of calm and warm fuzzy feelings. The school fundraiser I co-chaired was a huge success last weekend, both for the school and for my personal pride. Boy, did I dig deep for that one, but it was worth every bit of it. So, anticipating a well deserved and much needed post-fundraiser getaway to decompress and regroup, I deliberately booked the trip months ago for the weekend after the event. Thank goodness! I was physically exhausted and mentally drained. I love perfect timing, both planned and unplanned.
Two years ago, me and my mom attended a crunchy, but legitimate and popular convention downtown. We didn't go to have our tongue or aura read or to buy goddess clothes or to discover the next miracle pill/technique/invention to solve all of our problems (don't laugh, there were plenty to choose from). We went to see and hear Dan Millman speak. Being huge fans of his books and philosophies, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see him face-to-face, with an added bonus of interesting crowd watching and a treasured day spent together.

With a thick booklet full of scheduled lectures before our main event, we decide to check out a lecture called "Everyday Synchronicity" by a life coach. We were immediately taken with Mindie and what she had to say - she was young but grounded and positive, insightful but not way out there, and totally made sense. Since she practiced out of state, I signed up for her newsletter, figuring I would keep her on my radar and get some good ideas now and then.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago, in the height of my crazy fundraising stress and frenzy, I get her monthly e-newsletter with information about her new twelve week online class created around the book The Artist's Way . I wish I could remember why I bought this book FIVE years ago, but sadly this unread book sat on my shelf collecting dust all this time. Maybe it's because it's not a book you just read, but more like a guide that takes a lot of work and I wasn't ready yet. Or perhaps I was subconsciously waiting for the remarkable timing of this class that starts the Monday right after the fundraiser. A time where I am newly freed up to, gasp, work on myself and figure out what to do with my mostly neglected creative self. A class that starts the same week I plan to relax and unwind in the beautiful mountains. A class that has my name all over it.

The well-known author, Julia Cameron, claims to be able to help with all kinds of grand revelations and creative breakthroughs. The surprising amount of people I know that have worked the book all have nice things to say about it. I'm only a week into the course work, but so far so good. I am ready to do the work so I can move forward. You know how you can just feel a major life shift is on the way? Nothing major yet, but I feel a welcomed sense of calm. Or am I just still smiling from a wonderful and relaxing weekend away with my great family? My children are definitely happy that their mommy is back from the land of the time-consuming fundraiser. My husband is relieved to have his way less cranky wife around again.
Funny how they are happy to have the old "me" back, but I'm excited to hopefully discover a new me. Will that new me turn out to be a business owner? A painter? A collaborator? An inventor? A teacher? A (paid) writer? An event planner? Ouch, wait, way too soon to think about that, but, well, the possibilities are endless, right? In the very least I'd love to more inspired and creative, and then I'll just have to see where that takes me.

A chair and a pew

2010-02-22T10:56:00.001-08:00

This week is the home stretch of my co-chair duties of a major fundraiser for my children's school. It's a fancy night out at a country club for us grownups, with drinks, dinner, auction items, community awards to our honorees, and dancing...all for the cause of raising much needed money for the school's endangered programs. I'm not sure I would've ever signed up for such important duties if I was still working, but with getting laid-off in November, the perfect timing and opportunity was hard to deny. Besides giving lots of money, I can't think of a better way to give back to the school then to give of my time...and wow, lots of it!

Being a fundraiser co-chair is high-pressured, all consuming, stressful, demanding, challenging, scary, and overwhelming. This pushes my comfort zone to new limits, tests my patience and character, makes me dig deep to do my very best and beyond, and helps me find out more about myself, both good and bad. I'm forced to draw boundaries and limits, say "no", and give up a lot of my free time.

Am I having fun? Well, I'm not sure yet. Perspective after the fact will probably make for some good writing. In the meantime, I will say some positive things. Like, how my photo project presentation (funny pictures that I took of the students set to music to be played at the fundraiser) makes me proud and I get to be creative and show off my 'stuff'. The two women I'm working closely with (my co-chair and adviser) are amazing and inspiring and I'm better for knowing and learning from them. Tons of good life lessons. The pride of stepping up to the plate for a good, wait...the BEST cause. It's kind of fun being in charge - a new one for me. Friends that step up and not only genuinely offer help, but follow through and do it. Even if we make only $1, I'm better for the experience. But, damn, we better make more than that!

Talk about timing. This past weekend...the WEEKEND BEFORE THIS HUGE FUNDRAISER, I not only hosted the 4th installment of my Rodgers and Hammerstein musical sing-a-long with the ladies ("South Pacific"), but I was also invited to attend Catholic mass (for the first time ever) with a good friend. Now, some people might avoid anything remotely social and away from the fundraiser focus, but for me, detaching and forgetting the fundraiser for a little while is just as important as table assignments and meal choices. I'm certainly no good for the event if I'm found in a fetal position in the corner of a dark room frozen from completely losing my mind. Not. Going. There.

I went from a house full of fantastic ladies with a table full of yummy delicious potluck food and drink with tons of laughs and potty-mouth humor over a less than enjoyable movie but who cares, to a serene and calm church service on the 1st Sunday of Lent with a grateful friend. The service was far from preachy and was instead full of comforting ritual, beautiful song, and Bible verses. The message? Getting by with less and appreciating what we do have, and all the other 'stuff' can be handed over to a higher power where you can find peace.

I left the church feeling calm and peaceful and centered - ready to take on the week. Even though it's not my religion or place of comfort like how my friend feels, the end result is certainly universal no matter what you believe. The fundraiser can make $1 or $100,000, but in my mind it's all about the school and helping the kids and being charitable. I'm glad that I was reminded about that and whatever I get out of it all is an added bonus. While the recent and upcoming education budget cuts are beyond hard to swallow, we are still extremely blessed compared to the rest of the world, where many would be grateful for just a simple bag of rice to feed their family. Kind of puts it all into perspective.

Guitar lessons

2010-02-08T11:30:00.000-08:00

I promised myself that when I became unemployed, I would learn how to play the guitar. A goal, a sense of purpose, doing something on my life "wish list", a challenge! My sweet man gave me a basic guitar for our anniversary in October, I became unemployed in November, then December came and went with a busy blur, January I was umm, recovering from December, and now it's February. It is time.

Not being able to afford guitar lessons or find a class time that works, and since everyone says the guitar is so simple, I'm attempting to learn the basics from watching a "learn to play the guitar" dvd. Or am I just making excuses because I don't want to feel totally lame in a class full of teenagers? Am I really that insecure? Humm... Anyway, several viewings and practices later, I'm not feeling too confident that I will ever be any good. In fact, yesterday while trying in vein to switch between A and D chords while strumming and singing Frerachaka, I burst into pathetic tears. Considering that I just baked fresh chocolate chips cookies for myself for no reason, everyone is getting on my nerves, and I'm feeling quite blue and horribly cranky, it might not be the right time of the month to remotely attempt to master the guitar, if you know what I'm sayin'.

My kids are fascinated that I want to learn the guitar and how much there is to it. At least someone in the family is enjoying the process. They see that pressing down on the strings with different fingers makes different sounds, guitar picks are fun to play with (and easy to lose...grrrr), and there are these odd things called callouses that develop on fingers so it doesn't hurt so much. No way am I giving up ("winners never quit and quitters never win") not only because I want to learn the guitar, darn it!!, but I want to be a good example to my kids that once you decide to do something you should never give up and must try try try again. I'll admit, though, it's hard to stay motivated...

My daughter can get pretty emotional. Yep, she's a girl alright. The biggest trigger for tears are feeling left out, frustration, feeling sad (needing cuddles), getting hurt of course, and when we call her out on her bullshizzle. The bullshizzle (a word I made up because I don't want to curse on this blog) is when there are the most opportunities for teaching. If she grabs the toy from her brother, he gets mad, we tell her that wasn't very nice, then she starts crying because two years ago he took the last strawberry yogurt so she should be able to play with the red car at this very moment. She's not taking responsibility and making excuses. Ummm, not so good but very much expected at this age.

My man is more concerned about these "excessive" emotional outbursts than me. After all, I just shed tears on my guitar and drowned my sorrows in chocolate chip cookies. Anyway, a few days ago after a particularly emotional bullshizzle moment, he sits her down on the couch for a daddy-daughter talk. I was soooo close to stepping in, fearing that he would make her feel bad for being emotional, but decided to hold back and wait to talk to him (protest) later. But, then he asked her if she remembers what callouses are. She remembers. He said when you learn the guitar you develop callouses on your fingers as you practice more and more and soon it gets easier to play because it doesn't hurt so much. He went on to explain that life is kind of like that - when you want to cry or give up, if you practice being stronger, then the more you do it the easier it gets. Of course, he said it better than I'm typing it, but hopefully I'm relaying the gist of it.

The main point is that she understood the metaphor. She smiled and laughed and took it to heart. Applause to her dad for that sheer moment of genius. He recognized the perfect opportunity for a life lesson with love. I smile at the thought that my little guitar ambition can have a positive impact in more ways than one. It certainly gives me motive to keep practicing and developing those prized callouses. Perhaps those callouses will give me the courage to sign myself up for some real lessons, too.

Dude, are you hitting on me?

2010-01-26T13:21:00.000-08:00

After running a few necessary errands this morning, as I'm on my way home I decide to stop at the nearby thrift shop as part of my Quest for Wine Trivets 2010. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, my make-up is minimal (under eye concealer and mascara only), it's the first day of my monthly visit from aunt flo (not exactly my best day of the month), and I'm focused on finding trivets and trivets only.

Soon after I discover two pretty trivets (score!), this soft spoken nice looking older gentleman approaches me and mumbles something in my direction. There are always interesting characters at thrift stores (part of the fun). Is he talking to me? I switch my focus and turn to him and say nicely "excuse me?". He repeats "I hope you are looking for something as pretty as you are?" Surprised, I smile and say "why, thank you" and return my focus to the crowded bric-a-brac shelves. Aw. Sweet. Then he mumbles again. I ask him to repeat. My admirer says "Are you married?", and I say "Yes, but thank you", and then he says "Oh, he's a lucky man", smiles, and slowly walks away. I'm thinking he's a lonely guy looking for a nice conversation and a smile.

This sort of thing might happen on a regular basis for some ladies, but for me it's RARE. The last time I can remember was when my kids were around two and I was pushing them in a shopping cart towards my car in the Target parking lot. This guy approaches and totally hits on me and I'm all "dude?" and point to my kids and say "I've got my kids with me" and he is all "oh, that's okay" and I give him a strange look and write it off to just being a weird guy with a thing for moms with young kids. And this was oh, I don't know, four years ago? Geez.

My mom says that in her experience, after age thirty-five women become invisible. It's not mean, just the facts. Men are now looking at the still cute perky women in their twenties and after thirty-five we start to show our age. And, well, I'm okay with that, I guess, because it's not like I want to go around getting hit on seeing that I'm married and stuff. But, I have to admit, getting approached it is a nice compliment, even if it comes from lonely or weird guys. I get it. Being an almost forty-year-old unemployed stay-at-home mom can sometimes make me feel invisible, and a little bit lonely, too.

*I took the picture a few days ago of our local and rarely snow-capped mountains after a series of recent cold storms. Rare, like getting hit on rare. Get it?