La La Land

Small Adventures

2012-01-28T12:04:00.000-06:00

Raising children is a very big adventure. But when those children are raised, and begin to leave the nest, sometimes it is hard to imagine the rest of your life as having any adventure left in it.

A group of us, (friends because we have shared the adventure of raising theatre kids) decided to band together through this transition phase, by creating periodic "Small Adventures." A couple of hours, periodically, experiencing something we'd never done before, such as spending a sunny October afternoon picking apples on a farm, or in a warm kitchen on a cold November evening learning to cook Thai food.

Our most recent Small Adventure turned the tables on our close-knit group. As theatre parents, we are very at home backstage, we're used to building sets, and filling seats in the audience. Last night, thanks to our friends at Theatre B, we were the actors on stage in an experience called Reader's Theatre.

The owners, husband and wife, and theatre parents themselves, joined us for a potluck dinner in the lobby, then led us through the process. The play they chose for us to read was Almost, Maine. A play about a cast of eccentric couples who have conversations about their hurts, their fears, and their needs. It is set in a small town in Maine, but with it's sub-zero temperatures, and aw shucks attitude, it might as well be our very own FM. Even the emotional terrain covered seemed oddly familiar. This series of vignettes all take place at the same moment on a cold clear moonless night as the characters experience crucial, but every-day moments in their lives.

The first was "Her Heart." Glory, holding a bag looks up at the sky from the front yard of a stranger where she's pitched a small tent. East, comes outside to see why this woman is camped out in his yard. She's come to see the Northern Lights, which she believes is is a procession of the souls of the dead. She hopes to pay respects to her dead husband, who left her for another woman and broke her heart. Her heart, which she claims doesn't work anymore, is in the bag she clutches.

In The Story of Hope, Hope rings a doorbell and a small shrunken man answers. She had come to this house believing her old boyfriend Daniel would always be there. She pours out her heart, guilty for leaving town, and leaving Daniel's question to her unanswered. She suddenly realizes that the quiet, smaller stranger is Daniel, transformed because he's lost a lot of hope.

This Hurts introduces us to Marvalyn who is ironing in the laundry room and accidentally hits Steve, a fellow tenant with the ironing board. He tells her he can't feel pain because he has a technical sounding disease. He has a whole list of things to avoid, because they can hurt him, one of them being love.

Where it Went. After skating on a pond, Phil and Marci talk about disappointment and frustration with each other as they search for Marci's shoe. They finally confess they are both lonely and wonder what they are waiting for.

Seeing the Thing was the last vignette, read for us by our directors, the only two who felt comfortable on the stage. They portrayed Rhonda and Dave, snowmobilers. Dave has painted a picture for Rhonda, but she can't seem to tell what it is. She also won't admit they are anything more than buddies. Dave kisses her and changes her perspective, allowing her to see what the picture really is.

Whether or not they did this on purpose, the play our directors chose was very much like our lives. The lines we read were about real people who are honestly dealing with tough things - just like those of us gathered there on stage. It was a little scary, it was a little exhilarating, just like starting a new phase of life.

With our Small Adventures, we are not waiting for our lives to happen to us, we are choosing to experience life, and we're finding out that there are plenty of new adventures left!

Guilty

2012-01-26T23:33:00.000-06:00

Even now, as I'm doing something I tell myself is good - writing... (hell, not only writing, but writing a post two days in a row) I feel guilty.

You see, by writing this, I'm actually cheating on my other writing. But, in my defense, compared to my other writing, the one I'm cheating on, this kind of writing - a blog post - is easy. A blog post can be about anything I want. It can be as long or as short as I want it to be. And, if I can't make my point with words, I just throw in a picture, you know, because it's worth a thousand words, oh, and for irony.

I suppose you'd like to know what this "other writing" is that I am so eager to avoid. Well, I might as well tell you too, I've told everyone else in the whole world. One of those intentions I spoke of in yesterday's post, was to actually enter a writing contest, and not just any contest, no, I had to go and be specific about it. I am going to enter an original piece in the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. The deadline for which is February 14th which is rapidly approaching.

Not to sound cocky, but as writing goes, this really isn't that much of a stretch for me. For years, I've written letters to family, and notes to friends, and sometimes even blog posts that people think are pretty funny. "You're like a modern day Erma Bombeck" they say chuckling. So what's the problem you say? The problem is that this competition, like any competition I suppose - has rules! They want this piece not only first and foremost to be funny, and to have the voice of Erma, (you know "hook em with the lead, hold em with laughter and exit with a quip they won't forget") but worst of all, it is limited to 450 words! 450 words?!? I can't even effectively tell you what I had for breakfast in less than 450 words - well, that may be a slight exaggeration, but exaggeration is what makes things funny.... and wordy... way too wordy. Gah, I'm screwed.

The piece I've chosen to enter, started out as a three page hilarious but factual recounting of THE WORST Mother's Day I have ever experienced. The story is practically family legend, people who know me, often ask me to retell the story to their friends - it's hilarious. But back to the point, I have to cut it down from three pages to 450 words.

So, that is why, at 11:30 pm, I am punishing myself by eating Oreos and drinking wine, and I feel less guilty about that than I do about dilly dallying around with this cheap and easy blog post...

Daft and dewy-eyed dopes keep building up impossible hopes

2012-01-26T03:11:00.001-06:00

Goals. Resolutions. Intentions. Yadda Yadda Yadda. Whatever you call them, about a month ago you made them. Well, OK - I won't include you in this, I'll just go ahead and admit that yes, I made them.

I vowed, swore, or otherwise resolved to accomplish, do, or quit some stuff. To that end, I went and signed up for the cutest blog challenge, put on by some of the fanciest bloggers around. It's called "Imagine the Impossibilities." These creative women are challenging each other (and anyone else who'd like to join the party) to do something, one tiny thing they thought was impossible. So, I said to my self, 'Self, that healthy lifestyle thing you're about to embark on seems pretty impossible right about now, you should join.' And their blogs are so pretty, and the button was so irresistibly cute, I couldn't help myself, I just upped and joined in. Trouble is, their challenge is to accomplish one impossible thing in the month of January. Elegant, short, and to the point. My impossibility is a 13 month slog. I'd like to stay with the spirit of the Imagine the Impossibilities theme, but the truth is, the program I've pinned all my hopes on, is having some delays in getting started, so consequently, I'm experiencing some delays myself.

If you're new to LaLa Land, or don't remember what my impossibility is, I wrote about it here. I've gotten email assurances that the program is still a go, and will start in January, but there are only 5 days left in January, so... we shall see... impossible things keep happening every day!

Well, now I've gone and done it!

2012-01-14T23:11:00.000-06:00

I'll just come right out and say it. I'm a good 50 pounds overweight with a body mass index of 30. For my 5'4" frame, that makes me obese. Not obese in any debilitating way, or really so much so you'd call me that to my face (or behind my back, because you're polite that way), but I'm not comfortable in my skin - or my clothes for that matter! So, what am I gonna do about it?

A Google search yields headlines like:

Top 10 Foods NOT to Eat

Top 5 Exercises for a Flat Belly

Yoga

Zumba

Just Call Jenny

Spray Your Fat Away

OK then, what DO I eat? When? How much? I'm over 50, will those top 5 exercises really give me a flat belly? Will yoga help? How about Zumba? And the last one is just silly. It's all so confusing!

I've got to take control and start doing some kind, ANY KIND of exercise.... That Wii Fitness program that was going to change my life? Where is it? It's gathering dust in the basement. And the treadmill I made Downtown Dad haul upstairs so it would be more accessible? It's fulfilling its destiny as, what else? A clothes rack.

Motivation - I don't got's any.

It’s the first month of a new year. I’ve started a new job, as well as a new phase of my life. I've got a clean bill of health. I’ve got no excuses left – now is the time to makemy health, and well-being this year’s priority.

Here's exactly what I'm gonna do about it:

I have committed to a 13month non-surgical, healthy lifestyle weight loss program, sponsored andfacilitated by my employer – Sanford Health. Their motivation is healthier employees = better work force. My motivation is the refund of 50% of the program cost if I successfully complete it. I'd say its a win-win wouldn't you?

This program is scheduled to start at the end of January, and isstructured around a balanced three-legged stool approach.

The first leg is a support group made up ofthe people who have made the commitment, and led by a licensed counselor.
The second leg is a personal trainer/coachwho will make sure the fitness aspect of the program is covered.
The third leg is a dietician who will assess myindividual dietary needs and monitor what, how much and when I eat.

The whole key to becoming fit (which is the goal - the weight-loss will be the bonus) is changing my lifestyle.

It will be hard.

I will want to quit.

I will complain - a lot.

It will be fun!

My biggest fear is that I won't make any progress, or that I'm just too old for this to make any difference. My second biggest fear is that I'll fail, but I've told just about everyone I know that I'm doing this, so, you know, at least I've got the peer pressure working for me.

I'm stepping WAY out of my comfort zone on this, because not only will I be blogging here about my experience, but since I work in the marketing department, I've also agreed to do some video blogging inthe hopes that I can maybe inspire others to this, by honestly relating my pain andprogress.

So, check in every once in a while and follow along with me on my journey. I promise there will be embarrassing pictures - tasteful, but embarrassing. Oh yeah, and video... yeah, video.

Tangerine Tango

2012-01-14T00:18:00.000-06:00

I just read that Pantone's 2012 color of the year is Tangerine Tango. The name itself, while it does evoke a sultry Spanish couple, mashed together in a moving, maraca enhanced embrace, isn't what I would have chosen. I would have called it Salmon Boogie, or Apricot Hustle, or maybe Coral Jitterbug.

That peachy shade has always made me happy though, and as I read Pantone's adjective heavy descriptions, I started to believe that I could make the world a better place, just by bringing a little more Tangerine Tango into my life.

People might associate me with the color and start to think of me as "sophisticated, but at the same time, dramatic and seductive, with a lot of depth."

Like these shoes.

Or, "a bit exotic, but in a very friendly, non threatening way"

Like Shakespeare in brick.

Pantone goes on to describe their color of the year as "reminiscent of the radiant shadings of a sunset, and marries the vivaciousness and adrenaline rush of red with the friendliness and warmth of yellow to form a high visibility magnetic hue that emanates heat and energy."

Like Rachel Ray cookware.

I guess I would prefer my reddish oranges to stay in the mystical Sedona cliffs,

and red tile roofs.

What do you think?

My family's favorite sandwich

2012-01-08T21:57:00.000-06:00

Its a pretty good thing for a mom to have a secret recipe for the whole family's comfort food. The secret recipe that was handed down to her from her own mom. Its a pretty good thing to be able to whisper the magical name of that comfort food and bring everybody running. I bet you'd think it was a pretty good thing if I was to share that secret recipe...

Well, it's not so much a secret, in fact, it's pretty simple, it may even be written on the inside of the paper label that covers the Underwood Deviled Ham can. It by no means is health food. It's likely one of those depression era recipes - using white bread, butter, mayo, and a questionable meat source.

My mom called them Hot Denver Sandwiches, my family calls them delicious!

For four sandwiches you will need:

2 cans of Underwood Deviled Ham

6 eggs

8 to 16 slices from a block of Monterrey Jack Cheese

Hellmans (or Best Foods) Mayonnaise

8 slices of white, or potato bread

Butter

A non-stick 10 inch frying pan

For best results, you should make the sandwiches two at a time.

First, empty one can of deviled ham into a medium bowl with three eggs. Beat with a fork until combined.

Melt a little butter in the frying pan, and heat pan just until the butter begins to brown. Pour the deviled ham egg mixture into the hot pan and swirl gently to be sure it settles evenly. Let it cook until almost solidified, yet still a little bubbly in the middle.

Then, using a spatula, cut the circle into four equal quarters and flip each quarter individually. Lay the cheese on the cooked side immediately and either lower the heat or remove the pan from the heat as soon as the cheese begins to melt.

Stack two quarters per sandwich, cut diagonally, and serve. For two more sandwiches, repeat the whole process. Make your own in the second batch so you can enjoy it while it is still warm and gooey!

This makes me smile

2012-01-06T19:41:00.001-06:00

When all three of my kids are at the table. When DD and I can set "five plates" for dinner. That makes me smile.

What I Wore

2012-01-05T09:04:00.001-06:00

I was hoping that this picture-a-day thing would spark some inspiration in me to write something profound /funny /interesting or all of the above.... not so much. So, anyway, here is what I wore to work today. A black sleeveless shell, with black polyester pants. The only thing of interest here is the sweater. It is one-half of a lovely twinset that I purchased for $6 at a local consignment shop that I love called My Best Friend's Closet. Also pictured is my beloved Unicorn Necklace that hardly ever leaves my neck. This picture was taken with my Blackberry camera, sitting in my soulless, unadorned, temporary cubicle.

Just for fun, a photo a day

2012-01-04T05:19:00.000-06:00

According to some of the blogs I read, in order to be kind to ourselves, and stop setting ourselves up for failure, there will be no resolutions this year. There will be however, goalettes, and what I like to think of as intentions. I won't call them resolutions, but I am working toward some things this year, and in the process, learning some new things, and enjoying myself, and maybe, most importantly, giving myself things to write about! I came across a challenge for the month of January that provides just that, a small visual inspiration.

Of course I'm a few days late in starting... but in the spirit of kindness to myself, I will not let that bother me.

So here, via Spokalulu, via Patti, via Fat Mum Slim, is the January Photo A Day Challenge.

What do you think? There are no rules, just suggestions of something to take a picture of. You don't even have to write anything, heck, you don't even have to have a blog to do this. Just take a picture a day for your own enjoyment! Do you want to join me? C'mon, it'll be fun!

The Welcome of the Door

2011-12-29T13:14:00.000-06:00

The first day of January finds us standing on the threshold of a new year, and here we are, standing on our own threshold, in the first light of the first day of the new year. As we welcome the first light across our threshold, an invitation awaits us: to create a space in our lives where we can begin to live in the moment. In this sense, Downtown Dad and I are observing the thresholds of our lives, the doorways that mark our movement from one stage of life to the next.

Many cultures regard the new year as a time that signifies a "threshold" in time and space, the middle ground between here and there, neither past nor present, nor future, a spot where energies meet.

The Celtic people believe there is great spiritual power in these threshold places, they call it the "welcome of the door." In this space there is a significance of chance meetings and random events with an openness to new experiences, opportunities and people, of great possibilities. This is characterized by the expansive and generous nature of the phrase, "cead mile failte," a hundred thousand welcomes.

This new year we invite you to join us in the threshold, on the edges and boundaries and doorways of our lives. May we find the strength with each other and in each other, and in those who have gone before us to welcome possibility, change, uncertainty, even fear. There we shall find the welcome of the door.

Fra-Geeee-Lay

2011-12-26T20:49:00.000-06:00

Its kind of sad, as Downtown Dad and I clear the living room of the after-Christmas wreckage, saving the bows, tossing the paper, making sure everything is out of the boxes before breaking them down to better fit into the recycle bin; but A Christmas Story is on TV and it lifts our spirits. I know, A Christmas Story is ALWAYS on TV... but before long, we've stopped our labors to laugh, yet again with Ralphie and Randy, their Mother and The Old Man, in the days leading up to their 1940s Christmas. I love it because it makes me laugh every damn time I watch it! I have to admit though, I didn't start out liking it. Then, once "you'll shoot your eye out" became almost as common a phrase at Christmas as Happy Holidays, and leg lamps became a regular part of the Hallmark Christmas Ornament line-up, I thought maybe I should pay attention, and see what the REAL message was within this cute, but quirky story. Sure, on the surface, it's about getting the perfect present for Christmas. And, whether that is a Red Ryder Bee Bee Gun, or a Teach Yourself Gaelic DVD, if that's what you really really want, you have to make sure that the people who will be giving you gifts, know you want it.

For me, especially the day after the present-opening flurry of the day before, I feel a kind of let down, not that I'm disappointed, but its something I can't quite put my finger on. Winnie the Pooh says... "what I like best..." and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you begin to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called." Maybe that something is the message in A Christmas Story, that the anticipation you feel leading up to something might be just as good, if not better than actually having gotten that something. Think of the fabulous possibilities Darrin McGavin as The Old Man hints at, as the huge crate is delivered to his door, "Why, it could be anything!" he sputters, and might arguably be more excited before he opens the box, than after he finds out what is in there. Maybe the "Fra-geee-lay" stamped on the lid is a prophetic warning: that feeling of anticipation... that feeling just before IS Fragile.

The notion that the anticipation of something is somehow better than the realization, may be more common than we realize... Internet marketing guru, Seth Godin, says in a recent blog post "A wrapped present is transformed when it is opened. Anticipation turns into information, and frequently, one is worth far more than the other." Which one is worth more, he cleverly leaves up to the reader.

Our family had probably the best Christmas this year than we've had as a family for a very long time. Not because Downtown Dad and I finally both have full time salaried jobs, therefore more discretionary funds with which to buy presents, although that was part of it. Not because we were at home together as a family, although that was a big part of it too. The fact is, I think, not only that each of us we were able to put some magically mysterious wrapped boxes under the tree, but that we were able to give each other that fragile just before feeling, and each one of us, not just the person who's name was on the tag, was able to imagine the possibilities, and think to themselves... Why, it could be anything!

Holiday Homes Tour 2011

2011-12-22T07:49:00.002-06:00

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Gud Jule! Nollaig Shona Duit! Bright Blessings! Merry Christmahannukwanza! Happy Festivus!

I'm honored to be a part of the Jen on the Edge Holiday Homes Extravaganza, though I have to admit, I almost forgot! We usually go overboard on decorations with every surface flocked, decked, or wreathed in some sort of tableau of the season. This year, we've toned it down. So, Welcome to our house! C'mon in and have some nog, or cider and a couple of cookies.

Here's one of our favorite Santas. This was handpainted in the 60s by Downtown Dad's loving hands. This little guy, all of 2 feet tall, weighs in at about 30 pounds! Under Santa's watchful eye, a couple of elves climb a ladder.........

to fill the stockings, all hung by the chimney with care!

A few more elves are busy with some last minute gifts.

We have a few different styles to choose from for tree decoration. The kids usually pick the style - so this year they chose the gold and maroon "elegant" look. Truth be told, I prefer the "messy" look, with no real color scheme, using all of the old ornaments. To me, each one has a story, and it takes hours to do the tree because as we unwrap each fragile macaroni garland or pie tin Jesus, its like seeing an old friend.

And last but not least, wishing you and yours health and happiness in the coming year, are my favorite decorations. A pair of shabby chic snowpeople that we've named Herb and Pearl.

Love,

Lala

2011 Wrap up...

2011-12-16T21:46:00.003-06:00

It feels to me like 2011 was a cocoon that I'm emerging from. Not that it was a bad year, hell, not that it was a good year. It just feels to me like some kind of used up skin that is sloughing off. It was a year I started out, not with resolutions, but with intentions. I intended a lot of things, quite a few of which I got - not overnight mind you, but through some planning, some flexibility, some give and some take. Mostly I intended to do some deferred maintenance on my health and well being - body, mind and spirit, the rest happened, as they say, while I was making other plans.

Body - I had several gatherings to attend this year with people who hadn't seen me in a while, (or ever). You'd think I would have gone on some kind of strict diet or exercise regime to lose weight for these events. But I didn't. I didn't want to disappoint myself, and frankly, was more interested in connecting with the people, than comparing waist size. I did however embark on a journey of healthcare, having my hormone levels checked, the inside of my colon checked, and my skin and teeth checked. I'm happy to say that for having grown up frying myself in baby oil on foil paper, and eating a diet of Doritos and Coke, I was pretty lucky to only have one cracked filling that needed a crown, one instance of a relatively slow growing skin cancer, and a benign colon polyp, both of which I had removed! I'm also happy to report that while I now take a handful of supplements and plant-based, bio-identical hormone pills, potions and lotions, I am thinking much more clearly, and I am hot-flash free for the first time in about 5 sweaty years! I also made the decision to stop covering the grey in my hair. I noticed one day that the strands were a particularly shiny and pretty color, so slowly but surely, I'm working with my hairdresser to cut off the old unnatural colors and grow in the healthy salt and pepper, with a sassy style!

Mind - While I was happy as a little clam working at the Symphony with a covey of women my own age and temperament, and who loved to drink wine as much as me - it was only part time. I managed to add a second sweet part time contract job at the local healthcare corporation where Downtown Dad also works, with the Marketing Department's Digital Care Team, proofreading, and editing the website. This was a group of people quite different from my Symphony Babes. Mostly 30 somethings with decidedly healthful habits, like working out. I was able to hold down the two part time jobs for most of the year, but the hours, not to mention the wild mood and personality swings, were starting to take their toll. A few months ago I accepted an offer to become a full time member of the Digital Care Team, and quit the Symphony. I'm not quite what I refer to as a "real boy" yet, I'm still on a contract basis, but its getting closer every day! Benefits, retirement, and peer pressure to be healthy - YAY! I've also signed up to participate in a 13 month, non-surgical, diet and exercise program that is largely funded by the company.

Spirit - Through a series of events I would have never expected, I have had the opportunity to have some deep and meaningful conversations with my family and friends and the chance to look at my life quite differently. I learned that I like hoppy beer, and the mountains behind Goleta, almost as much as the beach. I learned a lot about classical music, and the people who play it, and that after all these years of dreading the winter, I find I miss the snow when it's not here. I've learned to speak and write in HTML, and to "dance with the digital natives," as well as that the emptying nest is not as bad as it seemed. I also learned that I am not a Baby Boomer, but a Generation Joneser; and that I should trust my gut, because I am a very intuitive person.

This probably won't be my last 2011 post - I just wanted to capture some of this in writing. I'm looking forward to blogging in 2012, and my intent is to post more regularly, with something worth reading. My 13 month program and progress (or lack of) should prove interesting. I will be making a few "organizational" changes to my blog as well. I want to add my 'bucket list' items, mostly as goals, but also as fodder for things to write about. It is also my intent (as always) to make time to read and comment on other people's blogs.

So, here's to putting the finishing touches on whatever you hoped to accomplish this year, and to whatever you hope the new year holds for you!

How I got my MoJo back

2011-12-06T18:26:00.001-06:00

My grandfather, Robert "Doc" Hinkley, loved bowling. It was his life - so much so that in the 30s and 40s he was famous for having his own bowling supply company in LA. He did what he loved and that was pretty cool.

He actually invented the original machine that measures and drills the holes in bowling balls - has the patent and everything.

Though he died before I was born, when I was growing up, my mom, his daughter, kept his legacy alive in her love of bowling.

She was a member of a bowling league as far back as I can remember, and subbed at least once a week, sometimes more. She lined her bedroom window with trophies for bowling 300s. She did what she loved, it was nerdy, but cool in it's own right.

I tried my hand at it for a while in the 80s. Even made up some nerdy matching bowling shirts for our team facetiously called The Guttersweeps. We thought we were cool.

You might say that bowling is in my blood.

But based on a few less than great experiences, and one movie quote that puts bowling in a less than great light, for a good share of my adult life I have been denying my heritage. I prefer more literary pastimes, like Shakespeare, and blogging - although of late, I have lost my muse. But blood, as they say, is thicker than water, and despite anything I had hoped to the contrary, my son Robert "Bobby" Duncan, who thinks everything nerdy is cool, loves bowling.

For his 30th birthday, friends and family gathered at a local bowling establishment to celebrate the day. We all bowled a game or two with silly names on our scorecard, derived from Facebook, and Twitter handles, like Whatshernameagain, and BM (for Bobby's Mom) and Skirt. They were all very cool, and I felt pretty lucky to be a part of that group of nerdy-cool people. Despite everyone's fears to the contrary, we all had a really great time - due in no small part to the adventurous spirit of those gathered there, who had no idea as to the royal ancestral bowling blood flowing through Bobby's and my veins.

Yesterday I had lunch with Bobby to celebrate my birthday. A couple of his friends who had attended the birthday bowling bash showed up and joined us, Skirt being one of them. She mentioned that she was disappointed that our bowling adventure hadn't shown up in my blog. Once again, something too personal, or just too nerdy to write about.... wait! What? She not only had read, but was looking forward to reading my blog?!?!

It occurred to me at that moment that I was wallowing in my own self righteous pity. Who was I to deprive people of knowing that Bobby and I were descended from bowling greatness? What was I thinking, keeping the story of a gathering of this magnitude to myself? Where were my manners? Whenever two or more of you are gathered in a bowling alley, there has got to be love! Why, as the theme song to Arthur (the greatest movie to ever pay homage to the kind of people you meet in a bowling alley) says, 'when you get caught between the moon and New York City, the best that you can do is fall in love' or, barring that, write a blog post!

Hallelujah

2011-12-05T15:50:00.001-06:00

Hallelujah, I'm another year older.
Hallelujah, I was right.
Hallelujah, I was lucky enough to know him.
Hallelujah, it was me.
Hallelujah, it wasn't me.

2011 has, for me, been an awesome year. One that has carried with it the satisfying fruition of much planning and anticipation, as well as bringing along with it some harrowing experiences that may at best be called 'learning opportunities.' And I am thankful for every single minute.

This year has had its minor falls, and major lifts, hellos, and goodbyes, amazing adventures, and stunning revelations. Summed up in a well worn adage... be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

With all that went on, in the space of the past several months, it would seem that I would have plenty to blog about. But somewhere along the line I seem to have lost my mojo. If the experience was too negative, then I couldn't write it because I always feel like I have to put a positive spin on things. If the experience was too personal, I fretted about writing anything at all. If the experience was too painful, I simply found it impossible to find the funny, or at least an entertaining aspect that would make it an acceptable post. So I just didn't.

Looking back, I wish I would have found the words, taken the chances, thrown caution to the wind, so that I could stand now, where I am, and look back at all I've climbed over, hacked and slogged through and say Hallelujah!

Someday, I may well be able to put all of my ragged, broken, golden, and holy thoughts together into something worth sharing. For now, this starkly beautiful rendition of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujia by KD Lang will have to suffice.

Hallelujah.

This morning...

2011-11-04T11:37:00.000-05:00

As long as I'm documenting my life this month, let me introduce you to the women I spend 5 hours a day with - affectionately referred to as The Symphony Babes

The three on the left are Lindas (yep, three Lindas) then Sara, and Beth. This being a non-profit organization, we all need to have one or more additional gigs on the side to make ends meet. One is a local actor, one an elected official, one an advertising executive, one an actual musician! A more different group of women you'd never find, but we do connect on one level... wine. Oh and the fact that we somehow manage to put on about 20 symphony and symphony-related concerts a year. Sure, the musicians do play a part - but we make it happen!

It's a great place to work because there is no shortage of drama, and stories, and opinions and we have bonded closely over this past year and a half ... it's a shame I just gave my two weeks notice. More on that another time.

Right now, I'll focus on the leader of this bevy of broads, my friend and boss, in the center (of course) Linda. I think I'll miss her most of all. She has endured probably the messiest and most grueling divorce I have ever witnessed. We've helped her through two of her soon-to-be ex-husband's suicide attempts; gutting and refurbishing basically every room in her house so it could be sold, and any number of minor by comparison disasters that seem to crop up. Through it all, she's kept everything running, continues to administer a local soup kitchen and their fund raisers, actively participate on the school board, and the Symphony continues to thrive, AND, she's even lost 40 pounds to boot, so she looks fabulous. I hate her.

From time to time, when one of us has something that keeps us from coming into the office, we send a group email explaining the situation. These emails usually have the subject "This Morning." The ones from Linda can contain anything from news about the suicide attempts, to the house renovation details, to printer disasters the night before a concert, and about once a week - something disastrous that has happened to her car. Here is an example of the one from today:

TO: Symphony Babes
FROM: Linda
RE: This Morning

Good morning Ladies andQuitter! (oh, yes, you'll be getting more of this in the next 3 weeks...)

I swear I should patent my ass andput it out for hire - for $100, I'll sit in the driver's seat of yourenemy's car for one hour.

Apparently the mechanic hasn't solved themystery of my car overheating yet. My son Keith and I made it to Oak Creek (to pick up pheasants for the soup kitchen fundraiser)when steam started pouring out of the hood. Coolant had boiled dry, we sat forquite a while to let it cool down after I got the cap off, then made it to agas station to buy a gallon to dump in. Smoking again by the time we got home,so clearly it's time for me to wreck another one of Dani's rental cars.

I planned to come in early, work onthe program, go to the Holiday Pops meeting with Jane and Theatre B, come backto the office for a bit more, then leave around 11:00 before I have to leave for Bemidji for my consulting gig. I think I'm just goingto have to give the office a miss today, except to pop in for a few minutes.With all my adventures last night, I didn't get the stuff done that I needed toin order to be ready for this afternoon.

I think I am in good shape with theprogram, though. Roster and music pages are done, John will have his notes tome Monday, and now that I can cut/paste the donor lists, it will be prettyquick work. Ad pages are virtually done, so I think we will be ready for anactual test run Monday afternoon when they come in to install that part.

Posters - how many are left to takearound? I didn't see one at Hornbachers Express last night, maybe someone couldtake that batch if that gal is not going to show. Also, PLEASE make sure thereis one at the Plains and Green Market, BernieBernieBernie mentioned that on myFB wall, argh.

See you latah,L

Gosh I'm gonna miss them!

Dermatology

2011-11-02T22:58:00.000-05:00

I went to a dermatologist for the first time today for a full body scan. I have some moles and suspicious looking freckles on the thin skin of my chest and my doctor thought I should have them looked at.

It is a wonder I haven't had anything serious crop before now, having grown up in sunny southern California basically on a rotisserie basted in baby oil. Sure, I gave all of that up years ago, but things do come back to haunt you now and then.

I fully expected serious tsk-tsk-ing, but the doctor and his assistant really didn't pay much attention to any one area. All of those moles and freckles were apparently just that - moles and freckles.

Until....

He looked at a little bump between my eye and my nose that I had never even given a second thought. In fact he looked at it with such concern I started to get worried. More worried than I'd been about the moles and freckles. He decided then and there to remove it and send it in for a biopsy.

I left with this.... lovely.

Transitions

2011-11-01T22:58:00.000-05:00

I vowed for the month of November that I would document my daily life with pictures, and yet....

...here I sit at 10:42pm on a Tuesday... a day FULL to the brim of TRANSITIONS that I'm aching to share, yet, again,

...here I am, eating pecans, drinking wine, watching TV and trying to post something on my blog... trying to make a connection with the first of November and all of the transitions that are taking place, or going to take place this month

...but did I take pictures today? No.

Then I realized that one of my most recent posts pointed out that Autumn IS transition.... and you can't have a transition TO unless you have a FROM or a BEFORE.

...so here I am wallowing in Before-ness...

Oversharing

2011-11-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

I have begun to realize that I'm starting to forget some details in my life. Not the big chunks mind you - the stuff like where I live, my kids names, or my husbands birthday are still, for the most part, locked safely in my cerebrum. Its just those pesky little things I'm starting to get fuzzy on. Like what color my arch rival's prom dress was the night she stole the boy I was hoping would be my boyfriend. Or what the weather was like the day one of the hunky football players split his pants in front of the whole school, trying to vault a chainlink fence at lunch. Or just how embarrassingly long my bangs were, and short my pants were in 7th grade. Sometimes, I just wish I had a taken a picture at certain points in my life, not necessarily so I could share it, but so I could refer back to it.

Alas, today, no one can ever hope to forget, even if they want to, the epic- or not so epic moments in their lives. Digital cameras are everywhere, and digital sharing sites make it nearly impossible for you, or anyone else you know, or even people you don't know to be intimately aware of ephemera that would normally have become fuzzy details in a year or two, or twenty.

I find that I need a theme for regular blogging, and now, I think I've found it. Oversharing. For the next 30 days, I'm going to document my details. Starting tomorrow, I am going to take a picture per day of what someone wore, or the sky, of something beautiful, of something unfortunate, even something I'm thankful for - considering the month and all.

All for your entertainment. Will you join me?

Halloween Revisited

2011-10-31T00:05:00.000-05:00

This is a repost from 2008. It also happens to be my second most popular story. Apparently people are very interested in the Snap Crackle and Pop outfits pictured further down! So, I figured, what the heck?

Since my kids won't be dressing up, and since I somehow never found the time to make the Liquorville costumes I was hoping to... and since we really don't have a party to wear them to anyway... why not take a little stroll down Halloween-costume-memory-lane?

So now, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy this encore presentation of the very popular Fun Monday, Halloween!

The host for this week's Fun Monday is Sayre of Sayre Smiles. She made me smile when I found out that this weeks participants would be posting pictures of Halloween Costumes! Here's what she says:

"Tell us about your favorite Halloween as a kid (pictures, if you have them!), and show us your costume for this year. If you're not dressing up, show us a picture of a pumpkin carving that really tickled your fancy or how you decorated your house. "

I know, she said my favorite costume, but Halloween is my absolute FAVORITE HOLIDAY and these costumes ... all hand made ... they're like my children, I can't possibly pick a favorite! Growing up, my mother made all of our clothes, so when it came time for Halloween, why wouldn't she make our costumes too? I learned everything I know from her, and continued the tradition of homemade costumes.

So, without further ado, let's bring out our first model...

Here we have my baby sister Vicki modeling a lovely pink pioneer woman dress. This dress, made of cotton candy pink percale, features white ric rack and had a matching bonnet when I originally wore it.

Next up we enter what I like to call my mother's "ethnic years." Here we see me, sporting a lovely bathrobe, magically transformed into a kimono with the use of a scarf, some rubber thongs and a live hibiscus flower. Yes, live.

Moving on, we see Vicki again in another selection from the ethnic collection. This time the fabric is purest white bed sheet, embellished with the finest felt tip markers. Her adorable curly bob is set off with a headband and feather, fashioned from 100% Safeway grocery bag. And pulling this ensemble all together are the blue fuzzy slippers.

Next, we fast forward in time to a David Bowie inspired creation. This stunning silver space suit was the result of finding silver pants at a thrift store for a dollar then spending twenty five more dollars on the silver material, thread, and makeup. A bargain compared to today's prices!

Here we see me sporting a traditional witch costume, lightened up for this festive occasion by the use of a red scarf jauntily looped around the hat, and some red earrings. The real star here is my BFF Kimisue who is channeling Sally Field in her Flying Nun costume. This white, on white on white habit is fashioned again from bedsheet. The hat, or wimple, as it is called, is made from cardboard box, and hours and hours of papier mache.

At yet another party, Kimisue and I are joined by our other BFF Tami! Kimisue, on the left, is respendent in her weathered chaps, with matching hat and ammo belt. Tami, in the middle, 8 months pregnant at the time, was the ball attached by a chain to her convict husband... a costume that proved to be only too prophetic. And here we see the silver pants from the space suit of a couple of years ago repurposed in this ringmaster outfit, complete with red satin waistcoat and tails!

Me again, modeling my whimsical wench wardrobe (at work). This fetching ensemble features a peasant blouse and skirt, dyed to match. Not visible are the white eyelet knee length bloomers which match the perky dust cap which (thankfully) covers my 80s shag haircut. Costume comes with black hose and shoes. Pewter drinking mug and cockney accent optional.

Next up, a splendid recreation of the cereal box heroes - Snap Crackle and Pop. Thats Cathy on the left as Pop! Mary in the middle as Crackle! and on the right, that's me as Snap!

And finally, closing out our Halloween fashion show, the lovely me, in my own rendition of the infamous "picnic dress" worn by Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The Wind.

There's my Halloween repertoire, what's YOUR favorite costume? And make sure you visit all of the other Fun Monday participants to check out their rogues gallery!

Autumn

2011-10-29T10:00:00.000-05:00

As autumn closes in, I can alreadyfeel the impending chill of winter.

Itis as if we are suspended for a moment, while autumn exhales a long sigh of submission,at the same time winter is inhaling its first eager, icy breath. Skies turn grey, leaves turn brown, and peopleturn inward. In this instant, poisedbetween light and dark, between abundance and death, transformation is allaround us.

Last night, my husband and I attended a memorial service fora vivacious 17-year old girl, who died suddenly this week of a brain aneurysm. She was the daughter of dear friends, but alsoa theatre kid, so she might as well have been ours. As we took our seats among the 1,000 othersgathered there, the shock and raw grief was palpable, as was the regret forlost chances and missed opportunities. Itbrought into stark clarity the need to live in the moment as much aspossible. But as we listened to thestories told by friends, and teachers, and songs sung by cast-mates, we beganto take what comfort we could in their common message, best summed up by herprincipal, who wished he would have said sooner, “Thank you. You made me a better person than I truly am.”In her short time among us, this bright and lively spirit, transformed us all.

Autumn is change; a closing, a shift. It is a kind of acceptance of the passage oftime, of our own mortality, which does not necessarily herald the end, butmerely a part of a never ending cycle. Lifenever really stands still, and we never know when that last warm day will be,or when that last hug is truly the last. So how do we cope with the whims offate and the relentless advance of time? Live in the moment. Seize the day. Make the most of now. There are simple moments every day to enjoywhile they last. In time, anothertransformation will take place, the sun will shine, the birds will return, the leaveswill grow again, and the cycle of life will go on.

Charli pays tribute with a song from "Hairspray"

"There's a cry

In the distance

It's a voice

That comes from deep within

There's a cry

Asking why

I pray the answer's up ahead

yeah

'Cause I know where I've been"

The pink in this picture is inspired by Beverly at How Sweet The Sound's Pink Saturday

Bra-Vada!

2011-10-22T14:24:00.002-05:00

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and everywhere there are benefits and fundraisers. Here in the FM all month long, teams and individuals can be found raising money and awareness by collecting old BRAs and of course money for our local FUNdraiser

BRAs of every size shape and color are strung together to create a BRA Garland that is draped across the front and sides of the Hotel Donaldson during the week of October 23rd in support of breast cancer
awareness month.

Last night, a group of BRAve and BRAssy broads gathered for a BRAnd new kind of party we called BRA-VADA.

Our BRAinchild was to use all of the spare beads, BRAcelets and BRAid we had lying around to make sure the BRAs we donated could be seen among the thousands in the BRA garland.
There was a lot of BRAgging, some BRAndishing of hot glue guns, but luckily no BRAwls broke out.

The end result was amazing!

Some were demure and almost wearable.

Some were fabulous.

Some BRAzen,

We weren't afraid to BRAnch out, and try new things.

In fact we had so much fun we're going to make this an annual event!
BRAce yourself!

BRAvo!

The pink in these pictures is inspired by Beverly at How Sweet The Sound's Pink Saturday
The shameless self promotion is inspired by Mrs. G at Derfwad Manor's Showboat Saturday

Do We Really Need to Keep That?

2011-10-18T23:58:00.000-05:00

I was raised by thegeneration that survived the depression. Both of my parents had learned, and continued to live by the old adage: make-do or do-without. They rarely threw anything away, in fact our family was reducing, reusing, and repurposing way ahead of today's recycling game.

When you'd paid good money for something that happened to break, or outlive it's usefulness, or (heaven forbid) wear out, my parents' generation knew there was a good chance you could fix it, or - better yet - make it into something else.

Old magazines were craftily folded and spray painted to become Christmas choir boys;

newspapers not only lined shelves and bird cages, but became papier mache strips; bleach bottles became piggy banks.

I once talked my mom into buying me a rather spendy (at the time) clear plastic raincoat, just like the one my best friend had. Unfortunately, polymers in the 60s not being what they are today, my beautiful mod raincoat began to crack. Frugal mom to the rescue! She took black electricians tape, and covered not only the cracks, but artfully lined the seams, cuffs and pockets, giving my already cool outerwear it's own individuality, and style!

Whatever happened to all of those magical creations, I can't quite recall... probably eventually ended up in a landfill I suppose. Which is too bad, not only for the environment, but because the coat pictured above is from a current designer's uber spendy collection, and I swear the one artfully altered by my own mother looked just like that!

I may have carried some of my parents' spendthrift tendencies into my own adult life... which prompts Downtown Dad to ask, in an oh-so respectful and I assume rhetorical manner, "do we really need to keep that?" I will confess that on the off chance I may need them someday, I do store a lot of things in our basement, and by things I mean items that were made or purchased, and now for one reason or another aren't currently being used. This does NOT mean that those items are useLESS!

For example, along with admitted trash, like the two fried computer cases, three monitors, and stray keyboards; and items such as boxes of important things like macrame books, unfinished needlework projects, and mugs from the 2005 Renaissance Faire; there hangs in the rafters a group of items with which I will not part...

every costume my kids wore in 6 years of theatre!

I do understand that there is little to no chance I will ever find a use for a two-tailed, orange fur Cowardly Lion costume that still retains the smell of 10 August performances; or a preteen lady-in-waiting dress; or a High School Musical Wildcats track suit - even if it has been to Scotland. I have, however, used quite a few of the 200 large safety pins that festooned a punk crow costume. And best of all, when a small cast in our local children's theatre production of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves afforded my son the chance for 2nd billing as not one but all 40 of the thieves, we became the proud owners of a 4' tall, hand-painted, round canvas, um ....cylinder. That cylinder, with the proper top rigging, and just the right kind of bulb, is destined for another starring role, as a floor lamp in our family room!

Boom! Why, yes, as a matter of fact we do need to keep that!

Be honest, what strange things are you not willing to part with? And, for extra bonus points - what creative ways can you think of to use those things to give them a second life?

Pink Inspiration

2011-10-15T09:41:00.002-05:00

This week, I'm linking to Pink Saturday where Beverly invites us to Share Our Pink Inspiration.

Well, this week, my inspiration happens to be my blog, where a lot of ~~changing~~ ~~swearing~~ reinvention is going on! Mainly because a lot of the aforementioned is also going on in my own life. So, excuse the "dust."

I firmly believe that just because a person is of a "certain age" doesn't mean she has to stop having fun, or being funny. There is a lot of potential for humor in the things I ~~complain~~ ~~worry~~ ~~dream~~ care about, and I'm willing to bet its the same for you. I'm aiming for this blog to be a place where it's less of a speech, and more of a community - or better, a conversation like you'd have with girlfriends over coffee... or wine... or martinis!

So, this week my girlfriends and I are planning for a party we will be hosting together at my house. Its a fun FUNdraiser for an annual event that takes place here at a local downtown hotel called Bras On Broadway. They literally drape the building with a bra-garland in order to draw attention to the fight against breast cancer. And DRAW ATTENTION they do!

Last year they had over 3,000 bras in the garland, and raised over $62,000! The focus of the event is on the artistic reinvention of the bra. Inside the building, at the actual event, local artists donate wearable and non wearable art bras which are modeled and then auctioned off. All proceeds are donated to the American Cancer Society to support local women in our area who are fighting breast cancer.

Teams form in the weeks before the actual event to gather donations and old broken down bras for the garland. The party we're hosting is a PRE-fundraiser we're calling Bra-vada. We'll collect donations, and bras, then over coffee, or wine, or martinis and a few hors d'oeuvres, we'll decorate, bedazzle, adorn, embellish... in other words - prettify our cast off brassieres to add to the bra garland and wave in the wind with the others! Be sure to check in next week - I'm sure I'll have at least one pink bedazzled bra to share!

Pretty cool huh? What do you think?

Harvest Chili

2011-10-10T14:13:00.000-05:00

When the seasons change, especially from late summer to fall, I start to crave the tastes, smells, sounds and colors that are associated with that season.

Over the weekend we changed our front porch decor, we lit the pumpkin and apple scented candles from last year, and we listened to the rustle and crunch of leaves (in the dining room, kitchen and living room, that the dogs had carried in on their fur) and later, the roar of leaf blowers and vacuum cleaners. The only sense I hadn't indulged yet was taste, so - In response to this month's The GOOD 30-Day Challenge (#30DaysofGOOD) Day 9 - Make a Big Batch of Soup. I decided to try a recipe I found in this month's Better Homes and Gardens magazine for Harvest Chili.

Now being born and raised in Southern California, I have to admit that to me, Chili ain't Chili unless it is a big beefy bowl of red - WITH beans thank you very much. So I must say that after looking at the list of ingredients which included squash, and apples, I entered into this with more than just a little trepidation.

I've linked the recipe above, and if you try it, you should know that it came together amazingly well. The finished product was a lovely golden color, and the combination of spicy cayenne, and chili powder with the sweetness of the squash and apples was the perfect way to top off a lovely autumn evening, with more than enough leftovers for lunch the next day!

TMI - Colonoscopy**

2011-09-24T00:01:00.001-05:00

**You were warned!

At least 20 years ago, my oldest son had an emergency appendectomy. They used the latest technology which allowed them to hand me a video of the whole procedure, as they wheeled my poor baby into recovery. It showed the entire 15 minute laproscopic surgery, which included a highly dramatic appendix explosion just seconds after it was contained in the bag attached to one of the camera's appendages. I was strangely fascinated with watching my young son's innards swim past the lens. That's just not something you see every day! So when it came time for me to schedule my dreaded colonoscopy, I actually found myself hoping that there would be an opportunity to get a video of my innards too - how fun would that be? The prep, however, took a lot of the fun out of the situation.

My instructions were clear, if not a little unnerving - "Two days before your colonoscopy, you must start on the prep regimen, and follow a low fiber diet. One day before, a no fiber/clear liquid diet..."

Wait just a doggone minute! I've always been under the impression that if you want to "clean yourself out" you need to eat things that are high in fiber.

Well, that's true if you're trying to maintain an equilibrium in your colon. To achieve the total clean out in the shortest amount of time, what they actually mean by low fiber is what leaves the least residue. After having gone through this clean out, I'm sorry to tell you that high fiber foods lead to what I can only call sediment, what flushes out last, in the wake of the prescription drink that empties you prior to the procedure. What you're aiming for is ease of, and lowest acidic content, for the evacuation.

**Seriously, I warned you.

This prescription drink I speak of is ironically named Golytely. When I first looked at the label I would have thought it was pronounced Go-lee-tell-ee. I would have been wrong. When the Endoscopy nurse called me to go over the instructions, she pronounced it Go-lightly. Which is perhaps the most misleading name ever. The Go part is accurate, the lightly part? Not so much.

The instructions are really specific about the timing of the prep phase, based on the time of your scheduled procedure. Mine was at 8am the next morning, so I was supposed to start drinking one half gallon of the Golytely at a rate of 8 oz every ten minutes, at 4pm, then the second half gallon at 2am.

I poured the whole manila envelope full of powder into an empty gallon jug, filled the jug with water, then proceeded to drink half of it, 8 ounces at a time. I was almost pleasantly surprised at the taste which, initially, was similar to a combination of Gatorade and a very dirty martini. About a quarter of the way through the drinking process I was able to imagine I was chugging three martinis. However, very soon into the next 8 ounces, the glitter had started to rub off of that fantasy.

The instructions were clear, you must drink the prescribed amount at the prescribed rate. Why? Because, as they ominously forewarned, after drinking the solution, a loose watery bowel movement should result in approximately one hour. They are not kidding. I won't go into great detail, since Dave Barry has already done so, much more hilariously than I ever could in his own colonoscopy story.

Suffice it to say that I got through the first half gallon, and it had the anticipated outcome. Pun intended. I was supposed to drink the other half gallon of Golytely at 1am, so I set my alarm. Turns out there was no need for an additional alarm, the urgent need to run to the bathroom every 5 minutes kept me from sleeping at all. I seriously wondered what was left to evacuate once I finished my second round of guzzling dirty martinis. Turns out there wasn't much, except the aforementioned sediment, and a few fingernails, oh and the bubble gum I swallowed in 7th grade.

8am arrived pretty quickly after that. I still hadn't slept much, so I looked forward, perhaps a little too eagerly to the sedation drugs. It wasn't that I was worried so much about any pain, it was the paralyzing fear of being well, you know, ...invaded! I know I must have asked way too many times to make sure they got enough drugs in me. Even more so when they flipped on the viewer, and I got a lovely close up view of the doctor's smock pocket, which then reminded me that I needed to ask for a copy of the video.

This is where the sedation drugs took hold. The next thing I remember was waking up, not feeling violated, and actually feeling pretty high, in a good way. I don't recall actually getting dressed, but amazingly, the next thing I clearly remember is wearing my regular clothes, sitting in a room with Downtown Dad and someone who was telling me that they had found and removed one polyp, and that I would have some gas, but to be sure to fart. I wanted to laugh at the word polyp and the fact that he said fart, and I wanted to remember to ask for the video. I apparently did none of the above.

I drifted in and out of the rest of that day, and I seriously have to agree with everyone who'd had one before, and told me it was a "piece of cake." It was literally painless, with the added benefit of a rapid cleanse, and a whole day of relaxation. Some people pay good money at a spa for the same thing, and it's not covered by insurance. Nor, do I expect that there would be any polyp removals at a spa. I couldn't help wishing though, that I'd actually asked for a video.

A few days later, a 5 page report came in the mail from the Endoscopy department. They'd received the pathology back on the removed polyp, and they were glad to inform me it was benign. Whew. I flipped the page over and there was the procedure report... complete with pictures of my colon! Everything was pink and shiny, and healthy looking, even that dern little polyp. Now that's something you don't see every day!

Begin With The End in Mind - Part 1

2011-09-18T07:21:00.001-05:00

I decided at my last doctor's appointment to agree to a barrage of tests. Not only the normal ones that occur annually, but also the ~~ones you dread~~ ~~invasive~~ ones that are necessary ~~for old people~~ as one ages. Sure, the ultimate reason for this is to assure I'm not carrying any life threatening, or communicable diseases. But as the list grew longer, I started to see the potential humor in experiencing some of this first hand.

I had just started with a new doctor, who, I began to notice, had a healthy, if not unnervingly gleeful curiosity about ~~human medical experimentation~~ fixing what ailed me. And as I got to the end of my list (yes, I made a list) I realized there is plenty that ails me. She made a few concerned doctor noises, scribbled some notes, looked some things up in a much-dogeared manual, scrutinized me over the top of her glasses, made some more concerned doctor noises, and scribbled some more notes.

Ultimately, she told me that 7 vials of blood needed to be drawn to test for everything from adrenal fatigue, to rickets. 4 vials of saliva needed to be collected in order to renew my hormone replacement therapy. I'd need a full physical, a mammogram, oh, and a colonoscopy. All of which came with varying degrees of what I could and couldn't ~~shoot up~~ ~~smoke~~ eat, or drink, and when.

Great. We all know what happens when I modify my diet in any way... my whole office, concerned for my well being of course, demands to know the reason why. So, I figured since I'd be sharing the intimate details about my bodily fluid collection, and the exploration of my inner recesses with them, I might as well share those details here with the whole world!

Now, despite a couple of large bruises that formed on my inner arms where the blood was drawn, I really had little to talk about for the first couple weeks in September. And really, you can complain about inconvenience, or pain all you want, but there's no one that actually wants to talk about spitting into a tube, or getting your boobs squished. It's not sexy, and it's not funny.

But, (pun intended) then the time drew near for the dreaded colonoscopy. You'd be surprised at what a bonding opportunity that turned out to be. It's like childbirth, every one who's had one has a story. Even relative strangers, once they know you're going to become "one of the club," feel like they can share the details of their personal experience.

And, when you think about it, I mean if you're healthy, there's nothing that's NOT funny about a colonoscopy. Seriously, first, there's the fourth grade butt and poop humor that just never stops coming... it just cracks me up... I started to write them all down, but I got a little behind... don't worry, I'm not offended if you don't laugh, I'll just turn the other cheek...

Bwahahahahahaha!

OK, enough jokes, that's the end. OK, since I mentioned end, one more thing... the whole department that performs these tests - it's name... Endoscopy?! Sure, they put the emphasis on the the do, instead of end, but you've gotta admit, even though the word is derived from the Greek "endon" meaning "within"... I mean, c'mon... End?

Bwahahahahahaha!

As I was writing this, knowing I would be talking about personal things, I got out my thesaurus to look up alternate options for the word intimate, since it seemed to be popping up frequently. Even that list of words started to make me giggle...

Main Entry: intimate
Part of Speech: adjective
Definition: private, personal

Synonyms: confidential, deep, deep-seated, detailed, elemental, essential, exhaustive, experienced, firsthand, guarded, gut, immediate, in-depth, inborn, inbred, indwelling, ingrained, inherent, inmost, innate, innermost, interior, internal, intrinsic, penetrating, privy, profound, secret, special, thorough, trusted, uptight, visceral, viscerous.

Bwahahahahaha!

OK, enough. So, a few days before my appointment, I got a packet in the mail from the Endoscopy Department. I opened it, eagerly expecting some hilarious potty humor. Inside were instructions, a packet of the powdered "prep" called Golytely, and a full color brochure titled "Understanding Colonoscopy."

In the brochure were lots of pictures of happy people, caring, white-coated doctors, latex gloved hands, a fleshy veined tunnel with an arrow pointing to a polyp which resembles a turkey wattle, and a lovely cartoon-like diagram of a colon, which actually looks more like a curvy lineup of those orange candy circus peanuts. Cheesy, but not funny. The written part explained the ~~ordeal~~ ~~adventure~~ procedure in a reassuring but decidedly non-humourous way.... like "examine the lining of your large intestine for abnormalities by inserting a thin flexible tube as thick as your finger into your anus" OK, as thick as who's finger? "slowly advancing it into the rectum and colon." Really? With so many words that can have double meaning at your disposal and the subject matter just begging for humor, they went with serious. Really? Really.

I will discuss Golytely, it's ironic pronunciation and purpose as well as the actual procedure in detail later. For now lets just say that the end was in sight, but the instructions on how to get there did not leave me feeling reassured, nor amused.

Photographs and Memories

2011-09-05T23:14:00.000-05:00

Call me sentimental, but one thing I love to do is look at old photos. Old being the operative word here. Old to me can be 50 or more years ago, or just a couple of weeks ago. The point being I just enjoy that moment (however awkward or adorable) that was captured in time.

One thing that had been nagging at me since I'd come home from California and the media storm that covered the opening of our elementary school's time capsule, was that I wanted to somehow gather and save all of the pictures and video that were taken that day.

I finally created a Facebook page that did just that. I'm hoping that this will serve as a digital representation of what the old scrap books of days gone by used to be. I hope that the others that were there, and some who couldn't be there can look at the pictures, and share their thoughts.

Ah, the magic of the Internet!

Everybody Has A Story

2011-09-03T06:40:00.000-05:00

I'm not very good at striking up a conversation. Downtown Dad on the other hand, well, he'll talk to anybody! Seriously, he's never met a stranger. I guess I should be thankful, after all, he struck up a conversation with me, and up to that point he'd probably never met anyone stranger than me!

I kid, I kid... sort of.

My point is, I want to have great conversations, but I tend to be pretty focused and driven, and sometimes I just forget to exchange even the barest pleasantries with those I come in contact with. I need to be less about getting things accomplished, and more about paying attention along the way. I should know better too, because I've always believed that everybody has a story, you just have to take the time to listen for it.

That's likely why I started blogging. Being in real estate, trapped in a car with perfect strangers was a great way to find those stories. For example, back in 2005, I met one couple so hilarious I had to write about them, and to this day, that's probably my favorite story!

My goal (for this month anyway) is to slow down and connect more. Yesterday, I wrote and mailed a postcard to some friends who are not on Facebook and don't have email. Today, I am going to make an effort to talk to someone long enough to find their story. You never know who you’re talking to or what they’re going to tell you. You just have to listen.

Greetings and Salutations!

2011-09-01T22:59:00.000-05:00

I am getting pretty good at using social media both in business, and to keep in touch with friends and family, but ... call me crazy, call me old fashioned... sometimes, I think I lack some important etiquette skills... like writing friendly letters.

Sure, some could argue that friendly letters aren't necessary anymore, since email and text messaging are the norm these days. Yes, electronic messaging is quick, its convenient, and easy to use, and there is the added benefit of not having to use good grammar or paragraph formatting.

But still, I find myself missing the tactile feel, and ultimate surprise of finding a real letter delivered to the box attached to my house. I think we've lost the personal touch that comes with writing and receiving a friendly letter from a friend, or relative. I mean I'll admit, it's rough if you have to find a pen that works, find decent paper, sit down and remember how to actually form the cursive letters you learned in fourth grade - not to mention think about a main idea, details, an introduction, and a closure - without a backspace or delete key - in full words and sentences no less, and - with no helpful emoticons! Whew! And don't even get me started on finding home addresses!

I must say though, I'm thankful that as a family, we have had the opportunity to use our penmanship in the form of thank you notes quite recently, due to two successive graduations. It has been an exercise in both creativity and discipline.

Mostly, I think Facebook has made me kind of lazy when in comes to staying in touch with old friends. Sure, it's a great way to find them. However, once they're found and I've viewed their newest profile picture, or read what they've posted on their wall, I don't really feel I've reconnected with them on a personal level. To do that, I think, requires a bit more effort. Short of whetting a knife to sharpen a goose quill, and dipping that into india ink every three or four words, what better way to reconnect and catch-up with each other's lives than through an old fashioned hand written letter?

I've decided to grab the closest pen, marker or crayon, and start now to hand write some personalized notes, or in some cases an entire friendly letter to a few close friends and relatives who aren't on Facebook.

Who's with me?

Pandering

2011-08-31T21:33:00.000-05:00

If my blog were a TV show, my strongest Neilsen ratings would be three facts and a fib. Not just any random fact triplets, or just any old untruth. What seems to be everybody's favorite show here on the LaLa Land network is the ice-breaker game, Three Facts and A Fib. I wrote about it once in 2008 and since 2005 out of the nearly 3,000 times someone either accidentally or on purpose accessed my site, 243 of those times was to read about Three Facts and A Fib.

What puzzles me is that its not the best example of my writing, it isn't funny, nor is it a good example, or even detailed instructions of how to play the game. Hell, the facts and fib aren't even interesting enough to have gotten more than 4 comments. And yet, it continues to draw in viewers from all corners of the Interwebs... mostly from Taiwan, where I can only imagine I must be some kind of cult figure.

California Adventure - Day 4: Bring me your tired, your poor

2011-08-27T01:53:00.010-05:00

The original intent of our California Adventure was for me to attend my 35th high school reunion. The focus shifted though, as plans for the Time Capsule Opening came together, and as one by one, every one of the people I usually attended these dreaded reunions with, decided ~~to abandon me~~ they couldn't fit it into their schedule this year. No matter, this allowed Downtown Dad and me the opportunity to have a few days to ourselves, and visit the more touristy attractions my friends and I otherwise would have ~~avoided like the plague!~~ steered clear of.

For the whole year leading up to this highly anticipated event, I searched high and low for the people whose names had appeared on the MIA list year after year. Armed with Facebook and Google, I'd fancied myself not unlike the brazen giant of Greek fame, with conquering limbs astride from land to land... digitally speaking that is. I ~~endured criticism from my friends~~ stepped out of my comfort zone, and ~~did everything I could to be accepted by~~ helped the ~~homecoming queen and her court~~ three people who always plan the reunions, with what I thought was the most important part - finding lost classmates. I was (in my own mind) a mighty woman with a torch, whose flame was the imprisoned lighting - my name, Mother of Exiles... (ahem, so maybe I got a little carried away).

Sadly, I learned that my impassioned goal, was not the same as the reunion commitee. Despite my suggestions to have a ~~potluck in a church basement~~ ~~bonfire at the beach~~ something affordable, - a posh party was planned, the price was set too high which excluded most of the "lost classmates" I'd found, and the free event the next day was cancelled. Alas, even after 35 years, the social strata was still firmly in place, and my inherently proletariat soul clashed, as it always has, with the upwardly capitalistic souls of my high school reunion's royalty. So, since there most likely wouldn't be anyone there I really wanted to see anyway, Downtown Dad and I decided to NOT attend the Saturday night party. On Facebook, my fellow peasants and I vowed to meet at the beach and have the free Sunday event anyway, despite the so-called cancellation. I promised to be there at the shore to welcome them, my people, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse, the tempest-tossed.

This then, freed up our Saturday for a leisurely road trip, and the opportunity to see our old friends in concert, in, of all places, Lompoc.

So, upon waking up in "the Poke" as Lompoc is sometimes known, it dawned on me that due to my recent media follies, I was probably busted if, while I was in town, I didn't go visit my oldest and dearest childhood neighbors who'd retired there. But, one thing led to another, and we were 40 miles down the road toward the coast before I thought of it again, and of course by then, it was too late. Its not that I didn't want to, if I had, I probably would have had yet more hilarious pictures and stories to regale you with. But I didn't, because we totally had to get back down to Goleta beach, where I was convinced that the hundreds of people who, like me, had boycotted the "official" reunion because of the exorbitant price, would gather (ploughshares, pitchforks and torches optional). From my beaconed-hand would glow world-wide welcome.....

So we waited....

and waited...

and waited....

Well, maybe those people were on the MIA list year after year because they chose to be. Maybe they didn't need a giant green statue to guide them to the shore. Maybe a 35 year reunion isn't really the biggest event in everyone's lives... Finally, just as I was about to run out of ~~rationalizations~~ ~~excuses for~~ nice things to say about my classmates, Obeerwan Kenobi who, with his family in tow, had driven 30 miles back down to the beach to attend, texted me "where you at?" We met up in the parking lot, listened to the crickets chirping for a second or two, then decided that you can lead a group of peasants to water, but you can't make 'em drink... and with that we were off to another authentic spot frequented by the aging local beach bums, like us, to have - you guessed it, more BEER!

An hour or so later, Downtown Dad and I bid adieu to Santa Barbara, and moved on to Ventura where we met up with yet another set of long lost relatives, these from DD's Iowa side. We had an absolutely lovely dinner on the pier, where they wouldn't let us take pictures of them, but they did snap these lovely pics of us.

After a little sightseeing,

We retired to our hotel room, a little weary, but much wiser, to rest up for our last full day on the Left Coast.

Change is the Only Constant

2011-08-19T09:03:00.000-05:00

The 5 people that are the core of what I call my family, all stand today on the brink of change. Some of the decisions are already made, and all that is left to do is to follow the path. Some of the decisions are still being made, even as the path unfolds.

Downtown Dad and I, torn between the holding on, and the nudging out of the kids, also are wondering how we're going to navigate our own lives when it's just the two of us.

Bobby is at a point where he must step out into unfamiliar territory, in order to pull his life together and move forward. A job search, particularly when you are dealing with emotional issues is a difficult process, but in the end, a daytime job, medical benefits, and a steady income will go a long way toward a healing process.

Tessie, as she always has, makes two great strides forward, then falters and takes a step and a half back. Her progress, though slower than others, is at least progress. She begins the college process reluctantly, but with resolve, knowing she must, to support herself and her art.

Bearly literally flies the nest on this day. His path, clearly, and meticulously planned, his carefully cultivated network, and his lifelong thirst for knowledge have him already a step or two ahead of others his age. He walks confidently toward what his compass has been aimed at for most of his life.

Funny, how all of these life changes have swirled around, coming to a head on this particular weekend.

California Adventure - Day 3: Behind The Mountains

2011-08-18T03:59:00.000-05:00

I still tend to think of the area around my home town in California as different ecosystems, in ascending layers. There's The Beach. The Neighborhood. The Foothills. The Mountains. And finally, Behind The Mountains.

The people who live in each of these layers are as different as the ecosystems that define each one. There are the Surfer Beach people; the Middle Class Neighborhood people; the Rich Reclusive Foothills people; the Crazy Hermit Mountain people; and the mysterious people who lived Behind the Mountains.

When I was young, occasionally, our family would travel Behind the Mountains, passing roads and landmarks with names like "Old Stagecoach Road," "Mission Canyon," and "Hidden Valley" which gave me the impression that the people who lived there must look like they had stepped off of an Eagles or Doobie Brothers record album cover.

I just assumed they all rode horses as their main transportation, they all wore flannel shirts, and they all hung out in taverns hockthooing tabacky into brass spittoons.

I was a Neighborhood kid, and the whole idea of the mythical Behind the Mountains people was very romantic to me...

...Until, my dad decided to uproot us and drag us kicking and screaming 40 miles away from the familiar friendly Neighborhood we'd grown up in, to the harsh, uncivilized, outback Behind The Mountains.

Never mind the fact that we moved into a sprawling ranch style home, with a pool, that sat on 3/4 of an acre and backed up to horse pastures and miles of unobstructed rolling hills. All I knew was that I was ripped away from the only friends I'd ever known, and forced to attend a school where they castrated bulls in a pen right next to the running track. We lived there for a year and a half and hardly a day passed when I didn't beg to move back "home."

Now all of this is just backstory to set up my mindset before what turned out to be an amazing day Behind the Mountains.

First, according to Downtown Dad, we HAD to visit the Sanford Winery. One, because he works for a place called

whose logo looks suspiciously like the winery's logo ... down to the font!

and two, well, it's a winery for Pete's sake! There must be some kind of healthful connection... don't you think?

And I totally had to get a picture of the "poppies" said in my best Margaret-Hamilton-Wicked-Witch-of-the-West voice.

And the artsy look down the rows of grapevines.

The coastal fog creeping over the ridge... reminding me again that we were in the mysterious realm Behind The Mountains... and that we should beware... after all, you never know what you might see.

So, we tasted some wine, then moved on, driving through some lovely countryside dotted with white fenced horse pastures, and fields of neatly growing crops, from grapes, to walnuts, to marigolds. There were lovely Spanish style ranch houses that popped up just around nearly every bend.

At one point Downtown Dad looked over and asked me, "You lived here and saw this every day? Tell me again, why did you hate it here so much?" The best answer I could come up with was that a gilded cage is still a cage, and, at the time, I was an angst filled teenager, bound and determined to play the prisoner part to the hilt.

The fact was that I had actually made some really close friends in the short time I'd lived there, and, had I lived there just a little bit longer, I might not have had to wait 30 years to meet one of them...

But wait, here's another one of those amazing stories...

A few years back, when I was spending a lot of time cultivating the list of blogs I read daily, I discovered one written by a small town mom. I liked her easy writing style, the great pictures she posted that were vaguely familiar, and her references to the small town she lived in which I guessed was somewhere in the Southern California area. We commented back and forth, as bloggers do, and then, I took a haitus from blogging. When I took it up again, under a different name, she was one of the few that followed me. Eventually we became Facebook friends, and I noticed her age was close to mine. Then I noticed that she'd gone to the same bull-castrating high school I had! At the same time!

And here we are, enjoying a bite to eat at a lovely outdoor cafe. It was just amazing to me that for two people who had never laid eyes on each other before, we could meet up and chat away like we'd been neighbors for years! I wish I could have met some of the other characters she lives with... at least Homer! But we'll have to save that for another time.

We said our farewells, and moved on down the road toward the place that most exemplifies the Behind The Mountains mystique for me...

Cold Spring Tavern. Its a little off the beaten track, just under the towering "Suicide Bridge," next to one of the many cold springs on the property - this collection of rustic log cabins really is like travelling back in time. DD and I shared one of their famous Tri Tip sandwiches and enjoyed a couple of frosty beers while we sat on a log, in the pleasant company of bikers long past their youth, a few locals, and group of young girls celebrating an engagement. The owner himself greeted us and even took our picture!

We listened to some live music and wandered around the grounds. I'd come here for a friend's birthday party when we were 13 or so, and it was one of those experiences that became an icon in my memory. I worried that it might have become commercialized or overly touristy, but I'm happy to say that in nearly 40 years, it hadn't changed a bit!

We finally tore ourselves away, and headed back toward Lompoc, where we were staying. We still had one more amazing connection to make.

When we lived in Sioux City, Downtown Dad got acquainted with the Young Dubliners, an Irish rock band that used to play at a local bar we frequented called Buffalo Alice. He liked them so much that he used to book them for many of the downtown events he put on, so he knows these guys pretty well. In planning our trip, DD happened to see that The Young Dubliners, or The Dubs as he calls them, were playing in a town just 10 or so miles from where we were staying.

We showed up and found a place to hang out in the very crowded bar until the band went on stage. They played their first set, and then Keith, the lead singer, wringing wet with sweat, took a break and went over to the bar to get a beer. DD stole up behind him and said, "d'ya know a place called Buffalo Alice?" Keith whipped around, sweat flying, and yelled in his Irish accent "Sioux City! What the fook are you two doin' here?" After DD told him, Keith looked at us, hugged us, and said, "Us fookin' here, and you two fookin' here... that's fookin' amazing!" Then he finished his beer and got back on stage.

When it comes to being in the right place at the right time on this vacation, I'd have to agree with Keith, it's fookin' amazing!

Claiming my blog

2011-08-16T19:21:00.001-05:00

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Technorati claim token.

The Almost Empty Nest

2011-08-15T09:29:00.000-05:00

...We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming of the California Adventure Chronicles to bring you something more current....

This being the last week before college starts for both kids, and therefore my first tentative toe-dip into the Almost Empty Nest, I just wanted to keep up with current happenings.... OK, yeah you're right... there IS more to it than that... I'm actually convincing myself that just because life as I know it will be changing, there will be interesting things to do.... there WILL be interesting things to do... there WILL be interesting things to do, there WILL, there WILL...

OK, so the first thing that comes to mind is that Downtown Dad, with his genealogy hat on, found me a brand new cousin on my mother's Hinkley side. This is a set of relatives I never even knew existed, and weirder still, who were all over the Iowa community we left 11 years ago. This new cousin also has a whole album of old pictures like this one of the grandfather I never met.

We are going to DD's high school reunion in September which just happens to be in Iowa. Maybe we can make this visit like our California Adventure, meeting up with a newfound, or long-lost friend or relative every day!

The dining room is "packing central" as Bearly prepares to leave for American University at the end of this week.

See, there's a positive... I'll have my dining room back! Not that we'd use it for meals again, I mean really, all people ever use dining room tables for is to stack stuff, right? Do you think Hoarders is casting? OK, not funny... well kinda funny. I could get out my sewing machine, and crafts I used to work on before the kids came along... do people still do Cross Stitch?

Tessie is in full preparation mode to start orientation at MSUM this coming week....she even cleaned her room! She will be getting her new college laptop soon, which means I get the full use of my computer back!

We will be minus one car in the ~~parking lot~~ driveway next week, when Bobby's car returns to its rightful owner. Which means I can finally park in the garage if I want to!

I uploaded the posts from my former blog into this one, because I was afraid it would go away and I'd lose all those years of writing - some of which was really good (yes, and some of which was really, really bad). I had a great time going over the comments on some of the old posts and bookmarking some blogs I've been missing! This has the potential for being really good, :) or really bad :( I remember how much time I used to spend reading and commenting on blogs - yikes! But, on the other hand, that really does increase readership :) and I've been thinking I'd like to build up a genre of bloggers - like "mommybloggers" only older, AARP-ier, Empty Nest-ier, without that "boring old lady" connotation. I just need to come up with a creative, fun sounding word to describe whatever that is. Any suggestions?

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming... where DD and I drink and drive - before 10am; where the Blog-world and the Real-world collide; and where DD gets a taste of the REAL historic Santa Barbara - and tri-tip sandwiches!

California Adventure - Day 2: In-laws, and Out-laws

2011-08-12T13:20:00.001-05:00

This may be a convoluted, long drawn out post, so settle in and grab a libation...

You'd think after the two previous California Adventures in the same day, that Downtown Dad and I would be face down, in the sand by now... but no! Truth be told, we hadn't even come within spittin' distance of any sand, let alone an ocean!

The truth is, we were moments away from experiencing, if not our biggest adventure yet, one I was most apprehensive about... We were about to meet up with some long lost friends and family! Not to bore you, but let me begin at the beginning... well maybe not that far back... how 'bout somewheres near the middle of the beginning...

Earlier this year I posted a picture on Facebook of my son (2nd from the left) in his portrayal of the shady "Uncle Ernie" in the Musical Tommy.

Though we'd seen snippets of rehearsals through the curtains as we hammered and painted sets, and over our shoulders as we flung hot-dish and bars at the hungry teenagers, when Jarrod stepped on stage at the first performance with his "mexistache" and chinstrap beardage, I gasped! DD saw the same thing I saw... he looked like my grandfather!

No wait, maybe he looked more like my grandfather's son, my uncle David...

hmmm, or maybe it was David's son Stan?

I know, Stan's son Craig?

Whichever one it was, I knew he was rockin' the Thomas family resemblance! I realized then that I missed my Thomas family. When we all still lived in Southern California, despite the sibling rivaly between my dad and his brother David, the Thomas clan used to get together more or less regularly for Thanksgivings and Christmases, telling stories, retelling family lore, and usually chatting non-stop well into the evening. That all brought to mind, the fact that I hadn't seen any of those people for ages and ages... OK, mostly because all of them were dead, save the last one, Craig, but still - I had visions of relatives dancing in my head during a high school rendition of a 70's rock opera... and I wasn't even taking any hallucinogens!

It got me wondering where they'd ended up....

Then, there was three weeks of putting on the show, and college visits, then graduation, and well, I just got plain distracted.

Until, one day when I was looking through an old binder of genealogy research. I pulled out an envelope I'd put aside years ago, that, to my surprise, I'd never opened. It contained a list of spouses, children and birthdates of my dad's siblings' children. I glanced through the 10 or so pages, which contained the names of the cousins and second cousins I'd grown up with. I was thrilled to see names of spouses and children that I had, up to that point, not known. Especially those of Kim, Craig, and the twins, Matt and Doug, the 4 Thomases that I was closest to growing up.

....OK wait... Let me jump back in time again, to the 60s, when I was a Bluebird. Don't tell me you don't know what Bluebird is... it's a junior Camp Fire Girl, kind of like what a Brownie is to a Girl Scout, only cooler.

We had so much fun back in the day. The 8 to 10 of us, who dressed up in our oh-so-red-white-and-blue uniforms, and wore them to school once a week, when we'd meet at the leader's house after school, where we'd pledge to do good, and always be friends, make crafts, and sing happy, yet vaguely Indian related songs.

OK, I said HAPPY, not GAY... just had to add that ....

The mother who was dedicated enough to take on this awesome leader responsibility was my classmate Janet's mom, Mrs. Paden. She not only knew how to do all of the crafts, but she played piano for the songs, made the treats most of the time, kept 8 to 10 little girls relatively in line for 2 hours, and somehow quelled our superiority, when we turned into a rabble spoiling to rip the brown beanies and spritely elves off of the rival Brownie pack, who met just down the street. And, she did this all while Janet's sister and two brothers carried on with their lives and activities under the same roof!

I was so happy when Janet brought her mom to the Time Capsule Opening earlier that day, it made me want to glue twigs to a tin pie pan and sing "Ah Woonie Coonie Cha Ah Woonie!"

OK.... now, back to the old binder of genealogy research with the names.... So, as I looked through the names I came to the 4 I'd grown up with and saw that Kim had married a guy named David Paden... Hmmmm, just like my Blue Bird Leader's son.... wouldn't it be funny if it turned out that after all these years I was related by marriage to them? I quick sent a message to my friend Janet on Facebook to confirm this notion!

Well tie me up and call me Shirley! As a matter of fact it WAS the same David! That sure puts a twist in the ole' family tree!

I was able to get in touch with Kim on Facebook, and she quickly started making arrangements for us to meet for our own little Thomas family reunion while I was in town. Both she and the twins still lived in town, but she never mentioned Craig... was he dead? I wondered...

As it turned out, one of the twins, Doug, was out of town, but lo and behold, Craig, who was not dead, just so happened to be in town! Serendipity!

Here we are with the proud leader cum mother-in-law in the back ground! Matt had to do double duty standing in for his absent twin.

The Thomases (and Downtown Dad) invaded the Paden house that night - the very same house the Bluebirds invaded weekly all those years ago! We talked over old times and retold old family lore, looked at pictures, and chatted non-stop well into the evening. Just like old times!

Over the years, I've learned that whoever the next generation is, what they most value, is not what we owned, but the stories and evidence of who we were, and of how we loved.

In the end, it's the family stories that are the true treasures.

California Adventure - Day 2: Beer and High School

2011-08-03T12:19:00.000-05:00

So, after that crazy story about my elementary school, you'd think that would be enough for one day... but you'd be wrong! Once all of our treasures were gathered, stowed away, and the doors to the Multi-Purpose room were locked, and the last of our classmates had slowly scattered,

"Bye bye Peter, Angie, Ben, Carrie, Jim, Dorothy, Mrs. Paul!"

that left Downtown Dad and me, and Jim and his two adorable kids, all of us still grinning like goofs, congratulating each other on a job well done. And while the success of the day was absolutely reward in itself, the original plan had included beer. Being the detail oriented person that I am, I was not about to leave off part of the original plan.

As luck would have it, Jim happens to be quite an authority on beer. He suggested we follow him to the Hollister Brewing Company for a congratulatory beer and duck-fat fries.

Here we are enjoying a lovely IPA Pope, ordered specifically by Jim, according to my preference for a "chewy" beer. DD, meanwhile savored a White Star (I think), anyhow, something light. He was pretty impressed with Jim's ability to point out the flavors and talk about the brewing process, dubbing him "O-beer-wan Kenobi" for the rest of our trip.

Now Downtown Dad, being a "sipper," can make one beer last longer than a vote in Congress, while I tend to "swill" when I drink. Hence the opportunity to have packed away half an order of delicious duck-fat fries, and two beers when we bid O-beer-wan farewell, and headed out across the freeway to our next adventure - DD wanted to experience my old high school.

Please let me preface this portion of the adventure by saying that if DD and I met in high school, we would not be the epitome of happy midwestern married couple we are today. He was, I am sorry to tell you, a Yell Leader, which is the male equivalent of a Cheerleader.

"We've got spirit - yes we do!

We've got spirit - how 'bout you?"

...yeah, whatever.

Lets just say his high school experience included much more of the school, and mine included much more of the high.

Dos Pueblos High School - or Hippie High, as it was called in the 60s and 70s - my alma mater. Ok, honestly, I really don't even know what alma mater means, presumably something having to do with school spirit, and fight songs, neither of which could I draw out of the dark recesses of my brain, unless by spirit you mean alcohol, in which case showing up at school half-buzzed was not a new experience for me. Shocking. I know. Some things never change... but some things were a little different...

This is where my locker USED to be.

This was Mr. Mooy's biology class. Mr. Mooy, otherwise know as Reporter #1, is immortalized for his Oscar-worthy delivery of the line "Ok boys, let's get some pictures" in the film Airplane. Great teacher, pronouced Wednesday "WED-ins-day." Weird what you remember.

The transom window over the door to Mr. Petrini's English class. He was famous for always asking for "collateral" if you needed to borrow a pencil. On the last day of school, I gathered a fistful of pencils and threw them through that transom yelling "collateral!" I thought it was hilarious. Maybe you had to be there.

Sad shape.

The Greek Theatre - pep rallys... again with the spirit thing.

Recreating lunchtime... although back then there would have been a little less of the lonely old lady, and a little more of the Rebel Without A Cause, portrayed in this scene.

"The field" minus the lemon-chuckers... and me without a smoke~! At some point, they built this bleacher apparatus... apparently people sometimes sit on the tops of these things to watch sports competitions... I wouldn't know, I'm much more familiar with this view.

So, feeling like the host of Amazing Stories, having taken my honey on an odyssey of my school years 1 thru 12, we still had one more story yet to unfold....

One that includes Bluebirds, Facebook, Genealogy, and a little dash of Serendipity!

California Adventure - Day 2: La Patera Time Capsule Opening

2011-07-31T09:00:00.004-05:00

What if someone you were in first grade with, got a hold of you and said "Hey, let's have an elementary school reunion!" Most people would remember being in first grade, maybe they'd remember the teacher pretty clearly, and perhaps the names of a handful of the students. But to go back, and be at the school, and rub elbows with 40 or so of your classmates... what would that be like? Answer:

The Best. Day. Ever.

I'm still shaking my head in utter amazement.

There we were, a bunch of 50-somethings, rockin' our greying hair, hard earned paunches and laugh lines, standing on the stage in the Multi-Purpose Room at La Patera Elementary School, about to pry open a copper box that had been sealed inside a wall since the early 60s, back when most of us looked like this...

...that's me behind the cotton candy in the front row.

And it wasn't just us, there were four generations present! Us, some of our parents and teachers, some of our kids, and some kids who could be our grandkids. It was a magical moment in time for everyone.

This day, to me at least, was the stunning realization of about 10 months of emails, Facebook messages, and phone calls, planning for and leading up to the event. And though the news articles, and TV stories that captured this day gave me the credit for coming up with the idea in the first place, all of the fancy footwork it took to pull this off was done by the superhero duo of Jim and Dorothy.

They tracked down and exhumed the Holy Grail, they secured the room, they marshaled the invitations, Dorothy brought the food,

and Jim brought the media!

and more media...

and more...

There were cameras, and reporters everywhere!

Of course we were there to open the time capsule itself, and to see what was in it. There were newspapers, and programs, and what we all vaguely remembered - a class roster of our names.

There's me - number 20...

But the part that was most amazing to me, were the people that came! And the fact that despite the time that had elapsed, we pretty much all recognized each other. Aided, no doubt by recent checks of Facebook profile pictures, but still... for Southern California, this group somehow had shunned the botox, boob-jobs, and other airbrushing that has been so obscenely obvious at the high school reunion level.

Here are Diana and Sue! Diana and I have known each other since kindergarten, when we each had the same red swing style dress, with two red and white polka dot pleats down the front. We swore then we were destined to be best friends for life. So far so good!

This is Craig and his lovely mom Dessiree, we grew up on the same street, along with the neighborhood bully named Bill. Mild-mannered Craig became my hero that day, as his mom told me a story about how, he beat the crap out of Bill one day after seeing him torture one too many kittens, and terrorize one too many little kids.

I think the general feel of this occasion can best be summed up by something Dorothy kept repeating to the reporters in our many interviews that day. It was that in elementary school, you are innocent, and unaffected by the cliques and peer groups that define high school. The friends and acquaintances you make at that tender age tend to represent who you really are, and not who you try to be in order to be accepted. The group that showed up on this day were the ones that had stayed in contact with their inner child, and therefore wore their age proudly.

Then, just to prove that even though we'd aged, we hadn't lost our marbles - we all walked out to the playground field to recreate a strange and unique version of a marbles game that, as far as we know, only existed at La Patera, and then only for a couple of years... It was almost a cross between a carnival game and a twisted swap meet, where marbles were the currency. Kids carried coffee cans and ice cream cartons full of marbles to class, then at recess they'd set up pyramids of marbles with names like puries, boulders, bumble-bees, and resins, for other kids to toss their marbles at in order to win them. I may have told one of the reporters that at the height of this craze, it was akin to a marble mafia.

Here is Ben with his pyramid of marbles set up in front of him while others try their luck at hitting it by tossing their marbles at it.

The cool thing was that the younger kids there that day caught on in no time, and vowed that they would reinvigorate the tradition of marbles at recess. I'm not quite sure if we inspired them, or corrupted them.

When we were running around playing handball, and wagon wheel, and marbles on this playground so many years ago, who in this group could have ever predicted we'd be posing for this picture? Like I said before. Best. Day. Ever.

I was reminded of Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town, which was performed in that very same Multi-Purpose Room, shortly before we graduated. The main character is a girl who dies young, but is magically granted the opportunity to re-live one ordinary day from her life. I think I can safely say I have avoided dying young, but if I, like that main character, ever get the chance to re-live one day, it would surely be this one.

California Adventure - Day 1

2011-07-30T09:00:00.006-05:00

The morning we were leaving for the airport, I had a little skirmish with Downtown Dad over baggage. Not the emotional kind of baggage, though that clearly could have been the root of our dispute. The details of said skirmish weren't nearly interesting enough to recount here, but suffice it to say that it was basically me telling DD that yes I DID need to bring 9 outfits, complete with different shoes for each one, on our 5 day vacation; and DD telling me that I might consider leaving a few things behind, since they do have a 50 pound limit on the one bag each we already paid $25 for to bring on our trip. I pointed out that if I had to leave any shoes behind, he might want to consider leaving his left leg behind, and not to worry, because I could always fit some of my stuff in his bag.

This discussion continued for most of the three hour drive to Sioux Falls, where he had a quick meeting at the home office before we were to board our plane.

He left me in the office parking lot to rearrange the weight in our bags while he went inside for his meeting. As he gave me a kiss goodbye he lovingly whispered, “That bag better not weigh more than 50 pounds." And an hour later as I heaved my giant bag onto the airport scale, the little red electronic numbers read 49.8. Boo-yah!

Upon touchdown in LA, whatever kerfuffles, tiffs, riffs, or spats we might have had when we left the Heartland had all evaporated into the pressurized cabin air. It was 100 miles from LA to my home town of Goleta, and 90 miles beyond that, was my cousin Mary and her husband Phil, waiting with dinner and 30 years of stories to share - if I remembered her right - over several glasses of wine. We'd be there in 3, maybe 3 and a half hours - right around 7pm.

Yeah. Right.

IF LAX weren't under a complete renovation, allowing us the opportunity to walk the ENTIRE length of the airport just to retrieve our bags.

And IF it there weren't a bazillion people renting cars at the same place and time as we were.

And IF there were no cars on Northbound 405 at 4:57p.m. Seriously. At what point in time are there EVER no cars on the 405? Good God! I grew up here. What was I thinking?!

So, we basically parked with a couple million of our closest friends for a couple of hours, while motorcycles zig-zagged in between us, then drove for three hours, arriving at in SLO around 10pm.

And here, I will get a little sappy. After not having seen or spoken for 30 odd years, it was like no time at all had passed between Phil and Mary and me. And true to form, Downtown Dad fit in like he'd known them all his life. They immediately became, as DD said later, his new favorite people. Something they have always been for me.

We drank too much wine for having been up for 12 hours, traversed a time zone, and having done battle with LA traffic. Never mind that we had to be up and gone early the next morning to drive the 90 miles back down to Goleta for the next chapter in our adventure.

That is 9 AM on the clock behind us... just enough time for us to arrive at tomorrow's chapter...

California Adventure - The Prologue

2011-07-29T09:00:00.017-05:00

Despite the fact that we have two kids starting college in August, and a backlog of ~~loan sharks~~ ~~gambling~~ medical bills to pay, plus the fact that we really don't make nearly as much as we spend, and even though we are on a tightly enforced budget - we went ahead with our trip to California.

Notice the confident "OK baby, we gonna have some ~~beer, wine, booze,~~ fun now" look on my face, and the "~~How much is this gonna cost me~~ OK, whatever she said" look on Downtown Dad's face.

Five days of sand and surf, and hills and highway. Five days of relaxation, and visiting with old and new friends. ~~Five days away from the kids,~~ Five days of .... well, if I told you all of what it was five days of, then you wouldn't need to read the rest of the posts would you?

Starting tomorrow, watch for posts where I regale you with the hilarious antics of two Midwesterners, one of them an expat Cali girl, traipsing around Southern California in search of adventure, family, friends, reunions, closure, beaches, and beer.

Hor-moaning

2011-07-19T03:12:00.001-05:00

I have been besieged by life this past month. (Besieged is such a dramatic word, don't you think?) Life, the ebb and flow of it. Not so much ebb and flow in a poetical way, mostly like my life was ebbing while everything else flowed past me. And that was mostly because I let my hormone prescription lapse. So here I am, perilously behind in not only progesterone, but in recounting - and therefore recording for posterity - the hilarity, tragedy, drudgery, expectation, and excitement that has somehow been just too overwhelming to write about.

None of it is earth shaking, or newsworthy - unless you're me. I just haven't been able to see the humor in much lately. This is possibly because I'm sleep deprived, likely because I can't sleep at night due to hot flashes, which is possibly because of the hormone deficiency, or honestly, maybe because I'm very likely insane. But honesty is the best policy, it may even be trending on Twitter. That was supposed to be funny, but now I'm not sure it was.

So, now as I sit in the dark at 2 a.m., unable to sleep, my perhaps ill-considered decision is to just do a bullet point list of everything that's happened, happening, and going to happen, in hopes of getting it off my mind so I can salvage a few hours of sleep. Bear with me, you've read this far...

Soroptimist Garden Tour - done. Yard looked great. Don't have to do that ever again.
Have been a part of the League of Extraordinary Women from my office who are helping one of the ladies in my office ready her house for sale, and ready herself for a better life as she picks her way through the minefield of her (soon to be ex) husband's suicide attempts, and messy divorce proceedings.
Still taking the high road, although seriously, you are missing out on some blisteringly funny passive- aggressive hillbilly humor.
Got some tough news about an ~~object of my Internet stalking~~, old crush, which will have to wait for ~~my hormone replacement drugs to kick in~~ a later post.
In exactly one month, my entire world will change when both kids start college. One, who will still be living at home, and one who will fly off to Washington DC all by himself.
Our California Adventure ~~looms~~ draws near with plans coming together quite well for the Time Capsule Opening at my elementary school. There will be marbles!
I was reminded that the cliques from high school never really go away, and that a part of me still wants to be accepted by the popular kids.
Conversely, I was reminded of the shallow thinking that causes cliques in high school, and why I wouldn't want to be a part of that, not no how, not no way!
I recently reconnected with a long lost cousin through Facebook. Through that connection, I found out that she is now married to the son of my old Camp Fire Girls leader. I am still pondering the relative implications of that one.
Excited to meet up with a small town mom I met through blogging, then found out that we briefly attended the same high school.
Excited to ~~mooch a free night~~ spend some quality time with my cousin Mary on one end of our trip, and my nephew Mark on the other end.
Happy that my daughter Tessie, helped me figure out my wardrobe for our trip when she came home to find me weeping over the pile of clothes I had strewn all over my bedroom. Hormone deficiency again. Ya think?

Maybe that list will give my muse some fodder... and maybe the hormones will help.

Glam-tastic!

2011-06-30T09:51:00.000-05:00

I have a friend who's husband runs an ad agency. When they shoot commercials, they use local actors for extras. And when all of the local actors are ~~too smart to take the job~~ busy, she calls me. Yeah, I'm an A-lister.... A for Available....

So she ~~roped me in~~ called last week and said that depending on the weather, they would shoot the commercial on Wednesday or Thursday evening. "You know the drill" she said. "Heavier than normal make up, oh, and wear black, we'll be shooting in a graveyard - it's for a local funeral home." Based on the forecast, they decided to shoot on Wednesday - yesterday. Weather-wise, we were expecting overcast and cool, perfect for the client. What we got was blazing sun, heat in the high 90s, and hot gusty winds. Difficult at best, then add in a cameraman shooting from a boom crane 30 feet in the air, that swayed and pitched in the blustery breeze.

The 30 minute shoot, turned into an hour and a half of 15 of us, all in heavier than normal makeup, wearing black, staring somberly at a casket, facing the sun, with the added reflectors and lights to minimize shadows, sweltering.

They finally got the footage they wanted. Of course we never get to see the finished product until it runs unexpectedly while you're watching reruns of Two and a Half Men. The best I can hope for is that the sweat that was streaking my makeup might somehow look like tears. Glam-tastic.

Distractions...

2011-06-18T23:28:00.002-05:00

For the past couple of days I've been craving something...

Its kind of like lemon bars, except with rhubarb, but with a crumbly oatmeal topping. Nummy? I hoped so, but I couldn't find a recipe. Not that I had a bunch of leisure time to surf the web looking for recipes. No! We have that stupid garden tour coming up next week and though he says he isn't overly worried about it, Downtown Dad does have a lot of ideas and plans and projects in the back yard to complete before then, which of course include me... hence this post:

I'm not sure he's taking me seriously - notice that he "liked" it.

Anyway, back to the craving, so this morning D D was off doing his daily social good deed, so I knew I had a couple of hours ~~off for good behavior~~ to myself.

First I made a shortbread crust with 2 cups of flour, 1 cup of powdered sugar and 1 cup of butter

(Aside to my local FM peeps: No offense to American Crystal Sugar, but I do prefer C & H powdered sugar, not because I grew up in C, but because it is made with Cane Sugar, not Beet Sugar, and yes, there is a difference)

Press the dough into a 9 X 11 pan and bake for 15 minutes at 350 degrees

Thaw, or cut up fresh about 3 cups of rhubarb (or Root Parp, as my son used to call it).

Next, mix the custard using 1 cup of granulated sugar (for granulated it doesn't seem to make a difference if you use Crystal, or C & H), 1/2 cup flour, 1 cup sour cream, 4 beaten eggs, vanilla and salt. Then fold in the rhubarb.

Then make the topping, which is 1/2 cup brown sugar (OK, really, the brand doesn't matter) 1/2 cup flour, 1/2 cup butter, and 1/2 cup oatmeal with salt and cinnamon.

Pour the rhubarb custard mixture over the crust which has cooled a bit, then crumble the topping over that. Bake at 350 for 40 minutes.

What you get is this...

.... and yes, it is NUMMY!

I Want My Boba Tea!

2011-06-17T13:52:00.000-05:00

In case you don’t know, Boba Tea, also known as bubble tea or pearl milk, is a drink made with tea, mixed with milk, fresh fruits and ice. What makes it special is the addition of small chewy balls made of tapioca called pearls or boba. You suck the round tapioca balls from the bottom of the cup through an oversized straw, and then chew them while swallowing the drink. It seems very weird at first, but I have to believe it is healthy with all its’ natural ingredients … much better than say, Diet Coke for instance. But that’s where they get you – it is specialized, rare, not readily available… In my small town, they are only sold in one small oriental shop….. at an exorbitant price.

This may not be the perfect time or place to bring this up, but confession is absolutely crucial for my recovery, and I can’t be afraid to take the next step…. I’m counting on you, my bloggy friends to get me through this.

Hi I’m Lala and I’m a Boba Tea addict. It's been two weeks since I had my last Boba Tea.

It’s hard to hear my own voice saying that, that I’m an addict. The first time, I didn’t really want to try it but I guess I felt I had to prove something, prove that I wasn’t just a small town hick, that I wasn’t too old to try something new. Where I’m from though, and at my age, people don’t drink Boba tea.

It all started when I followed some teenagers into this exotic shop. I was feeling down, and thirsty, and I thought these kids were cool and hip… all the stuff I wasn’t. After standing in the shadows watching what they did, I ordered what they ordered, an avocado banana Boba, not knowing what to expect. It was beautiful. A greenish smoothie of sorts, with a layer of black balls on the bottom of the clear cup. One suck. That’s all it took.

I was afraid to ask other people my own age to join me, since when I’d tried; their reactions were always the same. It was just too weird. Eventually it just seemed easier and better to go alone. At first, I felt great, my mind was sharp, I could lift heavy things, and leap tall buildings. As long as I was getting my fix. But at just short of 5 bucks a hit, my habit started to take its toll on my checkbook. Even with my punch card, it was getting hard to hide just how many times I found myself back at the Boba counter begging for more. I pretty much knew then, that I was hooked. Nothing else tasted good. Nothing else mattered. I found myself fantasizing about how I could knock over the joint, or kidnap the kid behind the counter, forcing him to make me Bobas for free. I cased the Asian food market looking for the gooey tapioca balls that held so much allure for me. But I couldn’t make a Boba for myself at home. My friends were right, it was just too weird.

So I decided to quit cold turkey. It was easy to stay clean at first. But recently, I’ve lost the superpowers those tantalizing chewy balls brought me. I’ve started to notice Bobas more often. Kids were sucking them up on the street, there were pictures of them on the Internet. I guess I’ll have to get used to the fact that Bobas will always be there. I just have to remember that for me, it’s always going to be one day at a time.

I just have to get through today without having one…

Taking the High Road... for now...

2011-06-15T22:39:00.000-05:00

Spent the better part of the day crafting a compassionate, yet ~~passive-agressive, venomous,~~ honest post exploring my feelings about all that was wrong with my mother-in-law's approach in her semi-recent attack letter to us...

Then, I read my horoscope...

"You’ll definitely have an urge to shake things up a bit today. But just remember that it’s really not in your best interest to be getting into unnecessary conflicts and arguments with others right now. If you insist on showing other people what’s wrong with their approach, it's only bound to lead to trouble and get you a lot of grief today."

What Is It With Irons?

2011-06-13T22:38:00.003-05:00

When and why people decided they needed to press cloth smooth is a mystery. We do know that the Chinese used hot metal for ironing before anyone else - probably soon after they used it to light fireworks...

Unfortunately for women, this cloth smoothing chore/talent fell to them. Some dark glass objects thought to be linen smoothers were found in many Viking women's graves... yes, even in the hereafter, wearing horns and fur thongs, men will still need to have their clothes ironed, and of course the women will have to do it.

Beyond that stereotypical connotation ... I have to admit I actually like to iron. Somehow, it is a task that calms my soul and gives me a sense of accomplishment. It is Zen-like. It appeals to the mulititasker in me, allowing me to watch a movie and still "accomplish" something. Sandra Bullock admits to enjoying it as well, but obviously we are a minority. A Facebook group called I Like To Iron has only 8 members.

But as my grandmother used to say, with every favor there is a forfeit. I have found over the 30 odd years that I have been applying steam heat to fabric, that the very item that makes this practice possible is horribly flawed. Maybe its just me.

Seriously, how many irons have most people owned? 2? Maybe 3? I have owned more than 20 irons. And that is a conservative estimate. Everything from the high priced stainless steel models, to the compact specials made of plastic. The first few irons I purchased were bought with little aforethought. When they crapped out, as they invariably did, I just figured it was unfiltered water, or fluctuating current that brought about their demise. Not until the early eighties, when a particularly feisty iron actually tried to kill me, did I start to think there may be a connection between my particular molecular make up and the entire product line of irons.

I am not sure why - maybe it's my ions interacting with the iron. Maybe it is some sort of cosmic irony that affects those who iron. Maybe its because I actually use the damn thing every week. But I seriously have never owned an iron for more than a couple of years without having it either blow up on me, or just silently give up the ghost. This is not a rhetorical question. I seriously want to know...

What is it with irons?

A to Z of Me ... or, as I like to call it, TMI

2011-06-10T12:47:00.000-05:00

OK its Friday, I don't have any great ideas to expound, or crazy stories to tell, so I'll do this! Thanks to my friend Small Town Mom for the idea.

Age – 53, but really you'd think I was 73, at least my kids do, and my knees. Not that there is anything wrong with being 73, it's just that I would like to have had the benefit of those 20 years of hard living before feeling the effects of it thank you very much.
Bed size - 1/2 of a Queen - sometimes all of it if I snore too much.
Chore you hate – Pulling weeds. See Age explanation above.
Dogs – Fur machines? The reason we own stock in lint rollers? The reason we can't wear black? Two.
Essential start of your day – Listening to Mika Brzezinski on MSNBS's Morning Joe. She is one smart cookie.
Favorite color – My first response is pink, but then I wonder, are you referring to clothes? Because I always gravitate to blue when I'm clothes shopping. But then I look in my closet and notice I don't really have all that much blue. I should get more blue clothes.
Gold or silver – Silver. And do you know why? First of all, because it's prettier than gold, and secondly, because you can buy silver costume jewelry and no one will know it's not real. Try that with gold, you will be found out in a heartbeat, and judged. Why set yourself up for that?
Height – 5'4"
Instruments I play (or have played) – I own a piano. I took lessons from a toothless bearded hag (I kid you not) for 11 long years. I work for our local symphony. I even bought a Takamine guitar autographed by the Eagles. You'd think I would have a list as long as your arm of instruments I play or have played... but nope.
Job title – I have two. One is Administrative Assistant. The other is kind of nebulous. It might be Digital Marketing Website Proofreader Social Media Dude. Yeah, thats it.
Kids – No thanks, I have three already that are almost out of the house.
Live – in the thriving metropolis of Fargo-Moorhead. Ya shure yooo betcha.
Mom’s name – Helen
Nickname – Lala (duh), or since I work in an office that is 65% Lindas - A. I'm also known as Mom, or Chop, or, if as I do, you prefer the Cajun version: Le Morseau de Corchant.
Overnight hospital stays – The one where I had amnesia after hitting a car with my head, and the three where my take home prize was a tiny naked human.
Pet peeve – Ignorance, Arrogance, and lack of curiosity.
Quote from a movie – "Excuse me, excuse me, what does God need with a starship?" From admittedly the WORST Star Trek movie - The Final Frontier.
Right or left-handed – Right handed.
Siblings – Three. The-two-who-came-before, and then, my younger sister and I who make up The-two-younger-ones.
Time you wake up – 3 a.m. Not by choice mind you. Its these damn hot flashes. Oh, you mean for the day? 6.
Underwear – on anyone and everyone, at all times.
Vegetable you dislike – Beets.
What makes you run late – Waiting for other people. I am NEVER late accidentally. If I'm late, whatever I'm showing up for isn't important to me, and I will assume the same of you if I have to wait for you.
X-rays you have had done – X-rays? Really? That's the best X word you could come up with? What about Xmen, Xfiles, Xbox, Xrated? Whatever.
Yummy food you make – Chicken enchiladas with green sauce.
Zoo animal – Monkeys. Any kind of monkey. I could have been Jane Goodall, but then I would not be in a zoo socializin' with my primate peeps, I'd be in the wilds of Africa, where they probably don't have a zoo.

Dave Days

2011-06-08T09:06:00.002-05:00

Give 'em an inch, they'll take a mile. Give 'em a week, they'll take a month.

Back in the dark ages, when Downtown Dad was just Dave, he and I got married. It ~~didn't occur to me at the time that I'd fallen for his evil plan~~ was amusing that his birthday was two days before our wedding, and that Father's Day fell on the same week. As the years ~~dragged on~~ flew by, I began to realize I'd set myself up for a week-long, almost daily occurrence of ~~paying homage~~ coming up with an appropriate gift for the celebration of each facet of his life. Not that he doesn't deserve that kind of treatment - honestly, satire aside (for the moment) he's a great dad, a wonderful husband, and an all around great guy. In fact, I personally think Daves in general are the bomb-diggity.

A few years ago, as the Fathersdaybirthdayanniversary week of gift giving approached, I jokingly referred to it as "Dave Days."

Katie bar the door.

We convened all the local Daves and Dave fans, at local Daveries for a week of celebrating Daveness with spontaneous events such as Thirsty ThirstDave, and cookouts on FryDave. It was a hit. Who knew these normally mild mannered representatives of the name could be so self appreciative?

Partially it's my fault. I didn't take into consideration that there are 3.4 million Daves in the US. Maybe inviting other Daves to celebrate with us was overindulgent. Maybe I shouldn't have passed out stickers with sayings like "What a difference a Dave makes" or "Catch a Dave and your sittin' on top of the world" or "These are the good ol' Daves" at the bar, ironically called Dave's Southside Tap.

Maybe creating a Facebook Group was a step too far.

This year though, I lost all control. One of our Dave friends also has a birthday in June. June 1st. In light of this, in his all-inclusive way, Downtown Dad took it upon himself to expand Dave Days from a one week celebration, to one that is a whole month long! This then, spawned the need for a tee-shirt which, by the way got 70 orders in its first day and continues to sell briskly.

So, if you are a Dave, or know and love a Dave (and who doesn't?) or, I guess if you'd like to be one of the cool kids, then you should start celebrating now what is sure to soon become a full-fledged Hallmark occasion - if the Daves have anything to do with it!

Please keep your hands and arms inside the car at all times

2011-05-29T08:07:00.000-05:00

When you ride a roller coaster, you have to stand in a long line with plenty of chances along the way to back out, or change your mind. But once you climb into the car, and that safety bar comes down on your legs and you hear that familiar clicking sound as you climb the first hill to the top, you really have no choice but to scream and hang on for the ride.

Throwing a graduation party in our little area of the upper Midwest is a lot like that.

Our standing-in-line time consisted of choosing a date for the party, then changing the date, then choosing a theme, then modifying that, then preparing the location, then, based on the weather, modifying that. Keep in mind that along with a couple of my girlfriends, I'm supposed to be the authority on this particular event. I'm in control... writing the book... so to speak.... But when you have two ~~control freak~~ type-A personality parents, and a ~~headstrong~~ determined graduate setting things up, there are bound to be a few ~~knife fights~~ differences of opinion, and control tends to shift.

So, when this past week drew to a close, and my son's dream of transforming the backyard into a late 1770's Americana picnic ground was threatened by a 60% chance of thunderstorms, we modified once again. We brought the plan and carefully laid out logistics for serving pie, lemonade and iced tea to roughly 300 guests over a 3-hour period, indoors. And I was happy with that. No last minute lawn mowing, pool vacuuming, yard sprucing. Indoors you don't have weather variances. Indoors you have control. And then, on Saturday morning, hours before the party, we modified yet again.

Weather forecasts be damned. 20mph winds? Pfffsh! 60% chance of rain? Hah! The graduate and his father's ~~maniacal~~ combined determination, and their outright defiance of Mother Nature took over. The party was going to be outside. Tents went up, chairs and tables were delivered, and all of a sudden I was in that car, and the safety bar slammed down on my legs. I could hear that familiar clicking sound. All I could do was hold on for the ride.... oh, and scream. Which I did only a couple of times.

All in all, it was a fabulous party, with a light breeze, minimal rain and a great turnout. Although we were all too busy cutting pies, and greeting guests to take pictures during the festivities, here are a few representative shots after it was all over...

The entrance...

The tents and tables...

The giant version of the Declaration of Independence we made for wellwishers to sign instead of a guestbook

The uber-cool centerpieces with the American University logo...

and finally, the obligatory "shrine to my kid" wall of memorabilia...

I came to the conclusion, as I was in the zen-like state of cutting pies, and monitoring drink levels, busy being busy, that my roller coaster metaphor also applies to the emotions that are inevitable in this life phase. All the hoopla and ballyhoo of the party provides a welcome but temporary distraction, because you know this ride is about to end.

Expect The Unexpected

2011-05-27T09:21:00.000-05:00

Usually when I complain about something, the Universe, in it's infinite ~~passive agressive~~ wisdom, shows me someone who is worse off than I am. Yesterday was no exception. After my whining publicly about the weather, and not knowing if our party would be indoors or out, I got a text late in the afternoon. It was from my friend MJ, saying her basement had flooded due to a cracked pipe, they needed help emptying everything out so Servicemaster could come and dry out the floors and walls. You've gotta love social media - 20 minutes after her text, there were 8 adults and 5 teenage boys forming a fire-brigade of sorts, handing boxes, and bins, and furniture up the stairs. And where do you think they had to stack the contents of the basement? Why in the garage of course!

The same garage in which MJ and I proudly posed for our article in the newspaper. The same garage that was to be the venue of her son's Garaguation party this Sunday. We are all learning to expect the unexpected and to ALWAYS have a Plan B.

Some days its just not worth gnawing through the straps....

2011-05-26T08:14:00.000-05:00

Seriously, I know there is unfathomable devastation in Missouri, and there are problems with our government, and there are people who are hurt and struggling, and orphan kittens with big sad eyes in dark alleyways - plenty of big important things to worry about. But I have to come clean here, and admit that I'm stressing to the point of insanity about our upcoming Garaguation party in 3 days! And while, again, following the do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do method, the party will NOT be in the garage, but it will be outside... at least that's the plan. The weather, though no where near as bad as impending tornadoes, is still not promising for Saturday, in fact it looks like rain. Which means we'd have to switch to plan B, which again, is NOT the garage, but the house. And the house, while not quite exploded by 200mph winds, does look a bit like some incendiary device has gone off. And there are still things to purchase, and order and prepare! If I didn't fear the devil (and some women's prison) I'd seriously consider a well placed match....

How I Killed Osama Nasty Tree

2011-05-15T07:48:00.000-05:00

A rainy day, an affluent weed infested area, and the family's approval--this is the story of how Nasty Tree was discovered and ultimately killed.

An infestation of shallow rooted terrorist weeds, has long held my backyard hostage. It became apparent that these weeds, which, if left un-pulled, grew into trees, had a complex underground root structure, and it was discovered that they emanated from one all powerful leader – Osama Nasty Tree. But which tree it was, I could not be sure. I made it clear that killing or capturing Osama Nasty Tree and the sleeper cells of weeds he spawned was one of my highest priorities - the family agreed.

According to my initial assessments, Nasty Tree could be hiding in a weed infested area in the northwest corner of my yard. We developed the theory of Nasty Tree’s whereabouts through leads gained from Nasty tree’s inner circle and from rogue weeds we had captured. Finally, I was able to track him down to a sprawling weed infested area in my yard, a relatively affluent enclave favored by weeds of all ilk. The area was massive, and tightly guarded, which raised the initial suspicions that this was more than just an ordinary weed patch. Many of his weedy associates in other parts of my yard and throughout the region are living in much more dire conditions, you have to be wondering what they’re thinking at this moment when they see that their leader was living, relatively speaking, high on the hog.

Early Saturday morning in my yard, despite the rain, the strike began, but we were doubtful that Nasty Tree would go down without a fight. We constructed a full-scale mock-up of the weed infested area in The Garage, to practice the most effective ways of breaching its perimeter and assaulting various numbers of defenders. I monitored the operation in real time. In The Garage, the mood was tense. A stealth raid wasn't the only option I considered. We had the option of Roundup bombing the weed infested area, but opted in the end for the stealth raid, so that no other flora would be killed in the operation. A family chainsaw was lost in the operation because of mechanical failure, creating more white-knuckle moments in The Garage.

While the killing of Nasty Tree is a huge milestone in the battle against Nasty trees everywhere, the battle ahead remains difficult. This does not mean we are putting down our guard as far as Nasty tree is concerned. It may be a mortally wounded tiger that still has some life in it, and it's dangerous. We need to keep up the pressure.

Friend Networks, and Recipe Sharing

2011-05-14T08:36:00.000-05:00

This past week we had a gathering of what was once the Mighty Moorhead High Theatre Parents. We meet socially about once a month now, having been thrown together, 120 of us, in 2007 by the happenstance of our kids being cast in a show. We're down to about 30 now, but what remains is the core, the heart and soul of the best, strongest, smartest, most successful parents I have ever been lucky enough to call friends.

Inspired by a recent question posed by Mrs. G. about friend networks, and this morning by Green Girl in Wisconsin's query about where people get their recipes - I decided to share one of my creations. Disclaimer: I am NOT a food blogger, and I have a crappy camera, what you are about to see is actually WAY more delicious than it looks.

For this impromptu potluck, I was asked to bring a side dish, I decided to share a dish that always goes over well. My made up Midwestern spoonable version of Elote, the delicious fire roasted corn on the cob sold by street vendors in Mexico and Southern California.

You start with a large bag of frozen corn, 1 bag of grated Mexican cheese blend, Parmesan cheese, mayo, 1 can of chopped green chilies, cayenne pepper, and lime juice.

Spread the corn out on a cookie sheet, then put it under the broiler until it starts to brown, flip them over so the other side gets a tan as well.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, mix about a cup of the mayo with about a third of a cup of the lime juice. Add a can of chopped green chilies - I also add 1 can of chopped jalapenos. Let the corn cool a bit, then pour it into the bowl with the mayo/lime/chilies and add the grated Mexican cheese along with about a third of a cup of Parmesean. Fold that all together and sprinkle with cayenne.

Serve with chips, or as a vegetable side dish. Trust me, this easy peasy dish always goes over well, and is fit to serve your bestest friends (both real and imaginary) in the entire world!

Social Media

2011-05-12T07:56:00.000-05:00

I have become a social media/PR/marketing ~~whore~~ maven!

I'm updating social network postings for my high school reunion, for our Garaguation venture, for the Symphony, for ~~the giant healthcare conglomerate~~ a local healthcare corporation, and for me. I'm ~~stealing~~ ~~plagiarizing~~ learning a lot from the advertising agency hired by the healthcare corporation I work part time for, and its not as difficult or as hectic as it sounds, if you're organized about it. It does take a fair amount of time, but I've found that most of my time is spent coming up with the ideas - kind of like blog posting. The cool thing is that if you make a schedule, and assign two or three themes or ideas that you can rotate, a lot of the work is already done. Then you use something like Hootsuite to schedule the postings to appear on specified dates and voila!

OK, maybe I glossed over some of the more tedious parts... like the parts between the schedule and voila. Like coming up with the rotating themes, and oh yeah, wording the actual posts. Alright, I admit it, I'm mired in collecting the seemingly effortless, lighthearted, brand statements, asking the thought-provoking yet innocuous questions that will inspire responses, hunting down links to newsworthy relevant topics, figuring out who to "Follow" and "Like" for greatest impact!

Thank goodness I have this blog, where there is no pressure and I can relax... now, what to write about tomorrow? Arrrgh!

I Coined A Word!

2011-05-11T05:13:00.000-05:00

I'm told that I say clever things quite often. Sometimes, I post those clever thoughts as my Facebook status. Even more rarely I write them down in a journal or in this blog. Most of the time though, my cleverness evaporates into the ethos. But once in a blue moon, the stars are aligned just right, and I happen to be in just the right group of people, and one of those people happens to know a reporter from the local paper....

Just Settin' The Stage

2011-05-04T19:42:00.000-05:00

I need to post this now, because at some point in June I will be complaining about the horrible burden this crazy woman has inflicted upon us, and why-oh-why didn't I just say no in the first place.

Let me start a little closer to the beginning....

Downtown Dad and I bought the house we live in 5 years ago solely because it had a pool and a basement with a large projection screen TV, with room for 60 kids if properly crammed, into either space. We purchased it not for it's aesthetic, but for the main reason that we were "theatre parents" and these would be fabulous spaces for cast parties. The home's prior owners were heirs to a local nursery fortune, but sadly were also do-it-yourselfers who did not know the difference between Oak Veneer, and particleboard, or it's indoor vs outdoor uses. Nor did they have a sense of style that had evolved much beyond the 1980's.

Last year, as I pulled into my driveway, I was met by an old hopping woman wearing cropped pants, garden gloves and green Crocs. Let me repeat the important descriptor... Old Hopping Woman. She was hell-bent on getting me to agree to being one of the homes on the Soroptimist International of Fargo Garden Tour. I let her Superball bounce slow, and, while backing up toward my front door, explained to her that while this yard may have been Garden-Tour-worthy a few years ago, we had certainly not had time to tend it as it deserved and surely they wouldn't want to include us... surely they wouldn't, surely not....

Two weeks ago, the same Old Hopping Woman appeared at our front door. Some ne'er do well had brazenly backed out of the tour and since we'd been on the Alternate List, well, surely we'd like to be included... surely we would, surely...

And, the rest is yet to be written history.

Sisters

2011-05-03T15:24:00.001-05:00

Today is my baby sister Vicki's birthday, and frankly, she has me to thank that she is alive today to celebrate it.

Yep, it is no secret in our family that Vicki is a saint. In fact, through some peoples' eyes, saint ain't even close. She literally makes a living doing good things for others as a life coach, a purveyor of medicinal herbs and potions, an author, and as caretaker of our mother who suffers from Alzheimers. She pretty much saves peoples' lives every day, but what some people may not know, is that I saved her life, not once, but twice.

I wasn't happy when she came into my life, in fact, I considered her an interloper. With two older sisters who were already graduated and out of the house before I was even born, I'd savored my 5-year reign as only-child, singular object of my parents' affection, princess of sweetness and light.

But eventually she grew on me. People tried to treat us equally, but somehow I knew they liked her best. Even though at every turn her cuteness outshone me, I dutifully shouldered the heavy responsibility of being ~~second fiddle~~ the older sister.

The first time I saved her life she was about 4. She couldn't keep anything in her stomach and was about to be hospitalized. As the bitter older sister, I admit, as I sat on the edge of her bed while my mother tended her, I was sizing up the wall space in her room, imagining what my furniture would look like in there after she died. (Shut up, I was 9.) Suddenly, I started singing a silly song but mixed up the words and she started to smile, then giggle, and the more rediculous the song got, the more she laughed. Finally, as I cavorted around the room, she sat up and started eating her Saltines - it was a miracle.

My next heroic act was a couple of years later. Our parents had left the house with the admonishment that we could go outside as soon as we finished our chores, but not before. Vicki's chore was to clean the bathroom, and mine, being the Cinderella of the house was of course to clean the fireplace. Having always been a bit of a chemist, Vicki closed the bathroom door, put the stopper in the sink, and singing all the while, set about mixing her own cleaning potion which consisted of Clorox, amonia, Ajax, and toothpaste....yeah, pretty much producing toxic fumes immediately. I think she started choking, which is what made me open the bathroom door to check on her. I dragged her outside, and then bravely went back in to drain the sink and open all the windows in the house.

We've had our moments, as all siblings do, but all in all, I'm ~~mostly~~ glad I was there to snatch her from the jaws of death.

So happy birthday Vick, and you're welcome!

Yet Another Reason I Don't Blog

2011-05-02T06:00:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, ~~Long, long ago~~ in 1964, in ~~a land far, far away~~ Goleta California, a school was built...

All the children who went to that school in the first year it was open, were asked to write their name, or draw a picture. Those names and pictures were placed in a brass time capsule, along with other artifacts, then sealed behind a brick wall and a metal plaque.

Time passed, the children grew up, moved away, and had children of their own, and sadly they forgot about the time capsule.... Until a magical thing happened - Facebook was invented!

One by one, the grown up children began to build their friend lists, and to reconnect with each other, and little by little they shared stories, and they began to remember the old school, and the time capsule.

It just so happened that some of those grown up children had stayed, or gone back to the old neighborhood, and they were able to visit there in person to ~~bribe~~ negotiate with the Principal to let them get the time capsule out from behind the brick wall..... This week they did just that.

Some of those friends thought that since there was a reunion planned for the high school this summer, it would be a swell idea to gather up all of the others who attended the school, since they would be there anyway, and open that time capsule. One of them, namely me, was ~~stupid~~ ambitious enough to try to coordinate this event from 900 miles away.

Wish me luck, because this is yet another reason I don't blog!

Why I Don't Blog - Part 2

2011-05-01T06:00:00.001-05:00

...and then there is food. I don't blog because who wants to sit in a cold dark basement and write, when you can prepare yummy food?

This past week, my youngest, Bearly, clicked "ACCEPT" on his invitation to attend American University this fall.

We decided to celebrate with a Red White And Blue breakfast...

In addition, last week, one of the Symphony Babes shared a recipe she found - Breakfast Kabobs with Apple Cinnamon Barbeque Sauce, that I was anxious to try, so....

For the sauce: 1 cup barbecue sauce, 3 Tbsp apple jelly, 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
For the kebabs: pork sausage links cut into 1 inch pieces, 6 strips thick sliced bacon, skewers

It helps to line a baking sheet with foil then top with a cooling rack. Coat the rack with non-stick spray.

Here's where me and the recipe parted ways: I used 1/2 cup of the BBQ sauce, and the ENTIRE JAR of the apple jelly, along with increasing the paltry amount of cinnamon to at least 2 tablespoons. Stir well, then warm in the microwave until the jelly is melted and the sauce is warm.

Thread sausage pieces, alternately with the bacon, snaking it back and forth onto the skewers. Brush the kebabs with the sauce and lay them on the cooling rack on top of the baking sheet.

Roast the kebabs at 350 to 400 until the meats are browned and cooked through, about 35 to 40 minutes. Baste and turn the skewers about halfway through to ensure even cooking... even in a crappy oven like mine. Remove from the oven, roll each skewer in the sauce that has dripped into the bottom of the pan and voila!

Deeeeeelicious!

Unfortunately....

THIS is why I don't blog!

Why I Don't Blog - Part 1

2011-04-30T07:01:00.000-05:00

It used to be my dream to be a popular, daily blogger like Dooce, or Mrs. G. Each day I would wake up with a ~~hangover~~ germ of a witty idea, and couldn't wait to head downstairs, into the basement, where my computer sat, waiting patiently...

The problem ~~was~~ is getting there.

As any ~~passive aggressive~~ woman, ~~indentured servant~~ parent, ~~or British Banker~~ knows, mornings are fraught ~~with purpose yes, and practicality~~ with peril...

well maybe peril is somewhat of a dramatic word... perhaps distractions would be a better choice.

There is this

TWMBFAN "They Who Must Be Fed And NOW"

and this

and... (to be continued)

Feeling The Need To Blog Again...

2011-04-26T20:31:00.002-05:00

Oh, yeah, it's been months - maybe even more than a year... I was inspired lately to write some more, although, sadly, I really have nothing to say. I just miss the daily interaction or the prospect of interaction. Have been embroiled of late with the back end of two different websites. One where I do nothing but follow directions, the other where everyone knows less than me and are willing to let me thrash around for a while to see what I come up with. Knowing only enough HTML to get me in trouble, I've somehow evaded any detection of my ignorance - and best of all, haven't hosed anything badly enough to be relieved of my duties. But it makes me miss messing with this blog, trying to get it to look just right. Anyway, I've opened the door to posting again, just enough to make it not so hard to dash off a quick one when I feel so moved.

Day 30

2010-09-30T09:05:00.000-05:00

My goals for September were:

1. Get up every morning at 6 a.m. 19 out of 30 days.

2. No Alcohol 30 out of 30 days!

3. No Coffee 30 out of 30 days!

4. Keep a Food Journal 6 out of 30 days.

5. Update this blog every day 17 out of 30 days

6. Do knee exercises 4 out of 30 days

7. Walk every day for at least 20 minutes 15 out of 30 days

8. Finish the days tasks before going to bed 17 out of 30 days

9. Read a piece of good literature I did read and finish The Great Gatsby

While I didn't really track these things here, I did (usually) put them in my daily planner. That turned out to be a better way to track anyway. I think if I'd have done a better job of tracking, I might now be able to look back and determine if there was any kind of pattern to where I accomplished, or blew off any of these things.

I think I will extend my goals to next month - with the exception of the coffee and alcohol thing. That is just too much outside of normal society! The one thing I'd like to add as a stated goal is losing 2 pounds per week. I have noticed that cutting calories or intake is absolutely NOT enough to take off pounds. You HAVE to add in the exercise part. AND, this walking 20 minutes per day - for me anyway - is also absolutely NOT enough to take off pounds!

Somehow actually doing strenuous exercise regularly is the hardest part for me. It will prove to be even more of a challenge this month because I'm going to be very busy! Rehearsal and set construction starts for the high school's fall musical "The Who's Tommy." My son is Uncle Ernie, AND the student leader in charge of promotion. This means that my husband and I will be spending many of our evenings til 11 at the high school painting, building and sewing. Plus, he is on the homecoming court, which means we have a parade and a dance to add into the mix. My daughter starts her new second job as an early morning barrista, which will throw off our morning routine established when she was peacefully sleeping til noon! For my work there are two concerts this month, one Chamber, and one full Orchestra. The great part about my job is that we have to attend promotional socials and receptions leading up to the concerts - it's a good thing I'm easing up on my alcohol and coffee restrictions! Also in the mix is a college visiting trip that my husband and son are going to take sometime in the middle of the month.

Phew! I'm tired already! Is it too early for a martini?

Decadence is my will-power's kryptonite!

2010-09-28T08:55:00.000-05:00

"Oh, I so admire your will -power!" Yeah, that's what all my friends say, in response to me turning down yet another lunch, piece of cake, glass of wine. For me, it's not really that hard to turn down some things, because frankly, some of the things that are offered just aren't special enough to warrant breaking my "vows." Emphasis on the word some! I can take or leave most store-bought birthday cakes, or cookies, or invitations to chain restaurants, or fast food places. And my frugality, more than my willpower is in charge when I turn down a glass of wine. But yesterday, my willpower met it's match, and I learned that I am quite easily swayed by high quality decadence!

Yesterday a woman in my office was celebrating her birthday, so my boss brought in treats. I thought I would be able to decline easily, since the small, but sinful sweet shop she usually frequents is closed on Mondays. But I was wrong. She went to an organic bakery and brought fresh, warm, whole-grain rolls - one of which, a cheese drizzled, sun-dried tomato jalapeno bun called to me loudly as soon as she walked through the door! After the satisfying experience of eating that, and just before the guilt set in, my son called and invited me to lunch with he and his girlfriend. I was pretty sure we'd go to a popular downtown artisanal restaurant where I'd easily be able to choose a healthy salad that might offset the extra calories oh so deliciously consumed along with that jalapeno roll. Wrong again! Yes, I could have ordered the local organic greens salad, but why would I, when the soup of the day is Lobster Bisque?! The trojan horse of thick buttery, velvety, creamy, sauce, and chunks of fresh lobster, easily carried four million calories past my distracted lips.

So, numbed and drowsy from it's guilty pleasures, my famous will-power refused to kick in - even at home. After the hour of eight o'clock p.m., when technically I am not supposed to eat, I opened the refrigerator. Inside was a carton of Greek style yogurt. Thick, creamy, velvety goodness... Shhhh! Don't tell my will-power it's fat free!

Saturday

2010-09-25T20:16:00.000-05:00

Oh, Hi! Life kind of got in the way of writing, as I suppose it does for everyone else. Still on the eating plan, still losing weight, still trying to fit the exercise and writing into my daily routine. Meanwhile, through some stellar networking skills on my part, my daughter was able to take the initiative to apply for and get a job before it was even listed! She also got her ACT scores back, and while they weren't really high, they were passing! My son was cast in the high school musical, not for the part he wanted necessarily, but still a major role, and a quirky character to boot! He also received notification that he is a National AP Scholar, and that he is on the Homecoming Court - all on the same day! Then, both of them took off separately to visit out of town friends who've gone off to college - one on the train, and one driving. Also, while working the phone bank for a local fund drive, I happened to meet a woman who lived in Goleta during the 70s and 80s, then moved to Fargo! It was really good to talk to someone from the 'hood! What a wild week this has been!

The Grass IS Always Greener...

2010-09-15T18:48:00.000-05:00

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it, and it's not going to be what you expected.

Sadly, I'm just too darn happy. As a result of my 'lifestyle change' I no longer have anything interesting to write about. All my life, I've wanted to - as my daughter said when she was three - 'get done with busy' but when you are not struggling, and you have the time to do the things you want to do, lets just say it - you are boring! There is nothing funny about losing weight. There is no story to write about when the house is already clean and people drop by unexpectedly. No one visits your blog to read about a woman of a certain age who isn't having hot flashes anymore. I'm convinced that the funniest blogs are written by depressed, overweight, alcoholics. Do you think it's too late to put the genie back in the bottle?

I'm Learning, And Making Progress

2010-09-14T17:37:00.000-05:00

I must say that while these posts have not been the best examples of my writing, or wit, I do appreciate the occasional person and regular visitors (I'm looking at you STM) who drops by to read. It makes me feel humble, and accountable.

My husband and I started walking outside after dinner for about 20 minutes. It's not the hour-long 3mph sprint on the treadmill I was aiming at, but it is a start. By not succumbing to the relaxing glass or two of wine after dinner, I actually have time to make and eat dinner, do the dishes, take a walk, and spend some quality time with family (whichever ones happen to be home that is). My stress level has dropped to practically nothing this week, because I (and the rest of the family) have been able to maintain a relatively clean house since doing a thorough "white tornado" this past weekend. I have read a good piece of literature every night, and have not eaten anything after 7:30 p.m. I hate to admit it, but cutting out the alcohol really has had a dramatic effect on my days.

Mmmmm Pie!

2010-09-13T11:27:00.000-05:00

I really feel like seeing that Dr. Oz segment yesterday really gave me the foundation, the guidelines, that I really need for this lifestyle change. I felt pretty good about myself (despite this post) because of the steps that are set forth on the Dr. Oz site, I've already done quite a few! He has a team of experts, a Nutritionist, a Personal Trainer, A Coach, and an Interventionist on this team. Each expert had one important point to share. The Nutritionist said to eliminate high fructose corn syrup. DONE! Checkmark! The Personal Trainer said to get moving, OK, easier said than done... I realized that I've done very well at cutting out things in the past 14 days, but apparently I've carefully avoided adding the physical fitness portion, which - I know - is perhaps the most important part, the part that when implemented will start to show the most results. The Coach said to exercise portion control... well, I'm kinda sorta doing that. And the Interventionist said to stop using food as a drug. I give myself a DONE! and Checkmark! on that one too. I don't think I am an emotional eater, but I did let myself use alcohol both as a stress reliever and a reward. After 15 days of no coffee and no alcohol, I'm not even missing it, and I haven't started snacking, or eating outside of my plan to compensate, so yeah, I've got that one covered!

There are essentially five rules to this "game." They are as follows:
1. Cut out sugary soda (another DONE!)
2. Don't eat after 8 p.m., or three hours before bed
3. Move for 10 minutes or more per day
4. No snacks larger than your fist
5. Track what you weigh and eat every day

For rule #5 I have been using an online food diary from Lance Armstrong's Livestrong website. It has thousands of foods built in to the database, and when you start typing in what you ate, it gives you suggestions of what that food is. The great thing is that it already has things like how much 1 serving is, and calories, sodium, fat, sugar, etc., already calculated. So, at the end of the day, once you've entered in everything you put in your mouth that day, you get a total calorie count, and a daily, weekly and monthly percentage of your nutrition, in numbers and in a colorful pie chart.... mmmmmm pie!

Where are those jumper cables?

2010-09-12T11:19:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the First Day of the Rest of My Life... I hope...

I just got some extra motivation to jumpstart the healthy new me I've been trudging towards. Dr. Oz! I am going to follow his Personal Health Plan and assorted challenges designed to encourage the things I'm already doing and provide help where and when I need it.

Let's go! I just have to remember, it’s not a race to the finish line, its a new life style.

And Now For Something Completely Different

2010-09-11T20:32:00.000-05:00

Today both kids took the ACT test at MSUM. Jarrod, because he forgot he'd signed up for it the first time and was three rehearsals into the Trollwood season before he remembered. Kelsie, because she'd originally registered to start at the tech college in culinary arts - perhaps because the tech college didn't require the ACT - but then decided she wanted to go to MSUM, which does.

I just have to say, I, for one, am really glad that the tension in this house is somewhat diminished!

Where Do I Go From Here?

2010-09-10T13:25:00.000-05:00

I get all excited when I read the subject of emails that say: Five Ways To Feed Your Family Healthier Food! or Five Ways To Live a Healthier Life! or Five Ways To Cut Your Grocery Bill! ... then I read it, and damn, if I'm not already doing most, if not all of their suggestions. Its rather disappointing. If I'm already doing everything right, how can I improve? Why should I improve?

I'm 10 days into this "grand" experiment and the biggest thing I've accomplished is to not drink coffee or alcohol, and to actually update this blog every day. I will confess that I truly believed that the alcohol and coffee were the biggest offenders when it came to loosing weight and waking up without aches and stiff muscles. Apparently I was wrong on both accounts. Besides the 2 pounds that I lost in the first couple of days, my weight has stayed basically the same. And, for some reason I continue to wake up with a neck and headache which really does not motivate me to get on the treadmill at all. I'll admit that my energy is up a little, and I don't fall over dead at 10 pm anymore. I've been able to cook dinner, AND clean up the kitchen before bed, which is something new for me, but beyond that, life is basically the same.

Maybe 10 days isn't enough time to make any difference. Maybe I AM perfect, and like all those emails suggest, already do everything right. NOT!

Thursday

2010-09-09T12:46:00.001-05:00

A little farewell to summer dinner on this lovely evening... grilled turkey burgers with bacon cheddar, coleslaw with strawberry vinaigrette, Texas beans, and strawberry shortcake for dessert!

Sucess in a small, but lovely way

2010-09-08T22:12:00.002-05:00

Went to a lovely dinner with the Symphony Babes last night. Had a lovely Indian dinner of Chicken Tika Masala, Curried Eggplant and Cauliflower, Massaged Kale Salad with Papaya, and some lovely gelato for dessert. Lovely conversation, lots of laughs. The babes drank wine and coffee - I, drank Archer Farms Blood Orange soda! Lovely!

Good Luck With That

2010-09-07T08:43:00.000-05:00

"It's not hard to make decisions when you know what your values are." ~Roy Disney Ordinarily, I'd agree with just about any quote that came from a Disney, but this quote, on this day puts me in a quandary. By definition, values are basic convictions of what is right, good, or desirable, they reflect what you think is important. For most people it's broad things like happiness, satisfaction in life, wisdom, peace and harmony. For me right now, the overarching value is sticking to my goals. The quandary comes in because while sticking to my goals is good and right and important, I also happen to value wine and coffee. Which isn't to say that wine and coffee aren't good and right and important, it's just that I have to make the decision to not value them quite as much for a while....which is why today may prove to be difficult.

I am going to dinner this evening with the girls from my office to meet and welcome to the community a cousin of one of them. Now really, there are no better people for me to be with than the girls from my office. When it comes to values, the broad important ones, we are in complete agreement. In fact we are also in complete agreement on the value of wine and coffee. A Wine and Coffee Bar, being the very thing that this cousin has come to the community to create and manage.

So here I am, struggling to maintain my abstinence from these two seductive substances, and I will find myself in a situation where there will be an abundance of both, discussing names, and menu offerings designed to seduce customers into partaking. And I have to decide not to partake. As my daughter would say, 'good luck with that.'

Patience and Small Steps Do Pay Off.... Eventually

2010-09-06T22:00:00.000-05:00

I'm seven days into my new lifestyle... thats what I'm calling it. A new lifestyle. Makes what I'm doing sound much more cool and interesting than it really is. Actually it makes it sound much less painful than it really is, like the new lifestyle is all tan people in bikinis frolicking on a white sandy beach saying "hey, come join us, we're thin and healthy, and never get winded or sore muscles!"

Well, being one of those beach people is the goal of all this, its just the miles and miles of trudging to get there that irks me. I have seen a bit of progress... I've lost three pounds in 7 days! So, I got that going for me...

Isn't Sunday Sposta Be a Day of Rest?!?

2010-09-05T20:42:00.000-05:00

The Universe appears to be with me on my endeavors. I had planned on a slight transgression this weekend, since I thought we'd be eating junk and greasy food, an at the Rollag Steam Threshers festival, but events have conspired in my favor. Turns out last night we dawdled around long enough for the concession stands to be closed when we got there. Then instead of going there again this morning for a million calorie breakfast of eggs, hash browns, pancakes, sausage and egg coffee, it turned out that we didn't have to give Bobby a ride at 5:15 a.m. like we'd planned, so we went back to bed and rose 5 hours later to the clean and healthy tea and oatmeal.

Got a lot done around the house today, cleaned out the garage, and got some healthy groceries to encourage eating at home.

Still No Magical Transformation

2010-09-04T17:37:00.000-05:00

And pretty much nuthin' to write about...

Aha! Just as I suspected! My muse has left me for someone who drinks coffee, and wine, and lattes, and martinis...

This is NOT what I expected

2010-09-03T07:55:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I'm an optimist and I'm finding out that I don't have much patience either. When I started this ~~torture~~ experiment ~~8 months~~ three days ago I kinda expected to see a little bit of the magical transformation begin to happen by now.

When the women in my office were ~~putting me through the Spanish Inquisition~~ asking me ~~why the hell anyone would voluntarily sentence themselves to 30 days without wine~~ what my motivation was for starting this, I explained that I wanted to wake up with more pep, and less aches. I pictured myself rising easily at 6:00 a.m. my blood hydrated by several glasses of water the day before and no wine, and serenely going about my morning routine enjoying the quiet before everyone else gets up. The reality has been sleeping fitfully, waking up to the alarm at 6 with a sneer, a headache and bafflingly sore muscles! I'm baffled since I have yet to do even one of the physical exercises I laid out in my goals.

Grrrr!