labor pains

Disclaimer: None of what I am saying is a bid for compliments or comments to the contrary. I sincerely believe what I tell you, and I am pretty much at peace with it.

I am a lazy individual. I shun exercise unless it's disguised as fun and/or productive - strolling through Disneyland, walking around a neighborhood full of garage sales, moving furniture; I truly do not want to ever mow a lawn again (I think the last time I did it I had a Walkman, a Go-Go's cassette, very moussed hair and a sullen expression) and I rarely pull weeds or plant things; I must psyche myself into a housecleaning mood, which can take many days; and if I have made one move toward getting ready for bed (put on slippers, taken off watch), it is nearly impossible for me to do anything that feels like work, e.g. get my own tea or put in a Sopranos DVD.

Today I stood by while essentially every member of my church helped packed the place up (we meet in a middle school for now). I hoped to give off the "I'm waiting for my children" vibe but of course that begs the question, why the hell not offer a hand while you wait? For your 8- and 9-year old children who are gleefully taking apart the stage and rolling carts of chairs away. Why not though? Because I AM LAZY. Speaking of church, I also regularly avoid functions such as laser tag parties and cleaning the local lake; sounds like too much work. Here is what I can do for people: teach middle & high schoolers about God & Jesus; mobilize middle & high schoolers for action [I always admit that I, personally, am not Action Girl but they will probably be really good at doing whatever I'm asking]; give a portion of my paycheck to support the church staff and a building; bring food/gifts to anyone in need; hold babies or comfort toddlers in the nursery.

Frankly, I really don't deserve a Labor Day holiday; I should actually spend tomorrow mowing somebody's lawn. I think I've got some Go-Go's on my iPod.

Here's to the workers out there. Thanks & enjoy a day off!

the comforts of our homes away from home

Visit my Flickr page to read the hilarious comments on these photos.

The first row are images from London, specifically the Berjaya Eden Park Hotel at the top of Hyde Park, near Notting Hill.

Second row is Hotel Sully Saint Germain in Paris, on Rue des Ecoles in the Latin Quarter (Left Bank! I felt so expatriated).

Bottom row is the Eden Hotel in Amsterdam, on Amstel. (I totally did not plan that two of our hotels would be named after Paradise; nor did the owners seem to make the connection, either). Though to be fair, our last hotel was quite modern - going so far as to include free Internet in the rooms, a TV with remote & a screen bigger than my hand, plus a generous-sized tub.

I think it's important when traveling to get hotels not too luxurious, otherwise it becomes tremendously depressing to come home. By booking ourselves into places with tiny showers where the curtain is continuously sticking to one's body or where closets cannot fully open because the gigantic [unnecessary] desk chair is blocking the way, we 1) get out of the room and into the city faster and 2) better appreciate our roomy, practical house upon returning.

But I will forever miss someone else making my bed & washing my linens each day. And having fresh warm baguettes with cheese every morning. Sigh.

something wacky this way comes

A particularly kooky & fun set of statements from Janet & her friend Michelle this week. Feel free to do your best armchair analysis of me.

1. When I'm sick I'm a martyr to rival Joan of Arc.

2. When I take a walk, I think about how I would much rather be riding or driving, or maybe just back in my warm bed instead of walking.

3. Money can't buy happiness but it can take the edge off unhappiness.

4. Cotton makes me cozy and leather makes me think of cowboys.

5. The strangest person I've had lewd thoughts about was Tony Soprano. Or maybe Jason Lee.

6. My favorite color these days is scarlet because it's bold & intense (School starts Tuesday! I am revving up my boldness & intensity...).

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to nothing in particular (bliss!), tomorrow my plans include breakfast with a friend and Sunday, I want to watch more football.

You know - it's Friday Fill-Ins

13 views of my summer vacation

Upon arriving in London

The whirlwind tour with commentary

Left to right:

Globe Theater * London Eye * Turkish Delight @ Borough Market

Street Art @ Tate Modern * Topiary @ Jardin du Luxembourg * Picnic

Flower market in Latin Quarter * La Tour Eiffel * Rembrandthuis

Prinsengracht houseboat * Posthoornkerk * Canal & bike

______________________

Thursday Thirteens around the world

oh the humanity

Street performer along the Thames

photo by me, London 2008

Wordless Wednesday

back in the saddle

There is no saddle in my classroom, or at my school, or even near me in any fashion but I've always enjoyed that saying. I aspire to being back in a proverbial saddle at all times (of course that would be impossible considering getting back into it would mean I've gotten out/off it at some point). Digression.

Today was my first day back to school - just for meetings and organizing and seeing students as they picked up schedules, but it was still a first day and it definitely had that back to school feel (which will soon require the Happy New Year post). And, as usual, it was delightful with a side of anxious - I am so very blessed by my coworkers, fellow smart & funny [yes I just vainly called myself smart & funny] people who care about our students until our eyes burn; my classroom in all its wacky clutter continues to bring me great joy; I love to see the kids again, especially when they try to act all cool and distant but HELLO, you took the time to come by school while it's still summer - we know you like us; I'm excited about the classes I'm going to teach, the plans I've made.

Yet I get a bit wiggy when I start to think about the things I still need to do - little silly (yet strangely meaningful) stuff I meant to do these past couple of months, like make a birthday chart or sort bulletin board materials by month & season. Or things I wanted to establish at home before school starts, so I can maintain a feeling of balance - weekly menus, housecleaning system, exercise regimen. Suddenly the Hooray September! float I'm on has become a giant ball rolling forward; my feet are slipping and skipping to keep from falling off. Still thrilling but also nerve wracking and exhausting.

Hey, there's my exercise! What's the worry?

little piece of home abroad

My Grocery Store Hottie has been MIA for many weeks now - so many that he cannot possibly be merely ill or on vacation; it is evident he no longer works for Whole Foods [formerly Wild Oats, which was a far more appropriate name considering why I shopped there]. I have heaved grand sighs about this development (not to mention gone back to shopping the normal once a week, thus saving our family thousands of dollars in gas and random grocery purchases), and felt I had gotten over it.

But when in London, we stumbled across a little cafe off Carnaby Street where I could get a much-desired not-Starbucks coffee. When I went to place my order, I was struck by how much the barista reminded me of my long-lost grocery boy. He was jailbaitish on the young side, had rugged yet boyish looks (two healing black eyes - Edward Norton in Fight Club, anyone?), and most importantly, was absolutely indifferent to me. Even Stu was sympathetic and offered to take a picture of me with him in the background, but that felt particularly desperate and silly I said no thanks. And so all I have is this photo, along with my memory of our single bittersweet non-encounter. Because I swear I did not go back to that coffee shop again during our visit. I didn't even consider it. Really.

This cream-filled blueberry muffin proved a workable salve for my bruised ego.

photo by me @ Fair Grounds, London 2008

XL

File this under "Everybody looks amazing next to her" maybe, but I did go out with my sister and good friends Lisa & Sam last night and felt FAB.U.LOUS. At Darcelle's, the birthday guests have to stand up and announce to the audience name, age, and occupation; Darcelle him/herself held my hand and called me "lovely," with sincerity. I'm not saying a drag queen's proclamation means any more than what my family and friends (you kind & generous readers included) have been telling me throughout my laments this year, but who doesn't love a little extra boost from unexpected places?

Truly, I thank you all for the tremendously dear wishes - they twined into a virtual wreath of joy that I wore proudly around town throughout the day (manicure + pedicure + Goodwill shopping spree) and afternoon (Red Robin lunch with Stu & the kids + ice cream at Coldstone + swinging at the school playground) and evening (cocktails & yam fries at a funky bar + front row at the show). I traded the wreath of joy briefly for a sparkly befeathered tiara that my darling baby sister gave me, along with a blinking bedazzled wand. [Pictures to follow, never fear.]

I think I'm gonna like this aging thing after all.

the best of times

Stu has kindly been telling people I'm celebrating my "20 x 2" birthday. It's sweet, and just hearing the "She's twenty..." part lightens me; I tune out the rest.

But the fact is I have lived through four decades and they have been fantastic. Here are some personal highlights:

Decade the First:

• Going to Disneyland with my grandparents when I turned 5
• Loving kindergarten wholeheartedly, even though it was where I learned left-handers are a minority (only one pair of the green rubber-gripped scissors in the room; bumping into classmates's arms when we drew letters in the air)
• Gaining a superb dad
• My sister entering the world

Decade Two:

• Playing clarinet in an award-winning junior high band (Shut up, I was still cool)
• Going to 3 World Fairs - Spokane, Knoxville, Vancouver B.C.
• Acquiring a Canadian boyfriend
• Wild [for me] times at Washington State University
• Seeing Roy Orbison and INXS in concert
• Meeting my man

Decade the Third:

• First grey hairs appear; coloring frenzy begins
• Graduating WSU, despite wild times
• Marrying my man
• Teaching at a middle school & a group home for adjudicated youth
• Three whirlwind days in London
• Seeing Harry Connick Jr. in concert [TWICE!]
• Giving birth to this brilliant kid

Decade Four:

• Giving birth to this brilliant kid
• Earning my Masters degree in Education
• Going to Disneyland with my family & friends
• Teaching in my own classroom again
• Visiting Singapore, Malaysia, & Shanghai and London, Paris, & Amsterdam (just under the wire!)

Life is good.

vendredi, vrijdag, good old stateside friday

1. Dancing to the Beatles while hanging with my kids makes me sublimely happy.

2. The last time I slept 8 straight hours I nearly ...um, I can't actually remember this phenomenon.

3. When I drive I talk to myself and/or sing loudly [and badly].

4. I saw prostitutes standing serenely behind a glass door.

5. Give me Burgerville, give me my kids, give me a reasonable-sized shower & my own big bed.

6. Next week I am looking forward to getting ready for a new school year.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to seeing my kids & my sister (and sleeping in my own bed), tomorrow my plans include celebrating MY 40th BIRTHDAY (eeEEee!!) and Sunday, I want to sleep some more!

Friday Fill-Ins never quite felt so good

i amsterdam

I am not checking passports at the airport & letting everyone wander through customs without question.

I am not taking tickets on the train into town, even after you labored over which ones to buy.

I am continuing a conversation with my coworker instead of offering you assistance.

I am speaking English to you before making pointed remarks in Dutch to my friend.

I am an unexpectedly sincere face in antique stores, coffeeshops, and behind red-lit doors.

I am driving like a bank robber while you try to cross the street.

I am the whiplashed pedestrian anxiously avoiding speeding trams, cars, bicycles & scooters.

I am 750,000 people packed into a 3-mile-diameter city.

I am a conflicted history of strict Calvinism versus joy of the riches from commerce; of tolerance & acceptance at odds with conformity.

I am dirty yet lovely, like an orphan on the street.

I am the dedication of Vermeer, the anguish of Van Gogh, and the bravery of Anne Frank.

I Amsterdam.

ducks (and swans) in a row

Along the Singel, Amsterdam

photo by me, 2008

Wonders of Wordless Wednesday

welcome to bad mom international

Reflections from a weary traveler (methinks my imagination was bigger than my stamina...)

If I ran an airport:

• People wishing to work security must be able to answer the following question without grimacing: Who is your favorite superhero? AND they must be able to produce a genuine smile for five consecutive minutes.
• I would have a gigantic two-sided clock hanging right in the middle of each terminal. And throughout the airport, I would post clocks displaying the time around the world. There would be a fun object on every second hand – something that represents the place, like a Statue of Liberty for NYC time or Big Ben for London; Jerry Lewis for France.
• I would play relaxing music on the loudspeakers until there was need for an announcement; all announcements would be made by Antonio Banderas or James McAvoy. With video accompaniment on giant ceiling-mounted screens.
• I would provide water fountains every 30 yards, with big sinks so people could fill their water bottles. People without their own water bottles could purchase one from a machine next to the fountains and the money would be donated to homeless programs.
• For every high-end expensive store I allow to rent space, I would invite two small local artists or booksellers or bakers to set up shop.
• Restaurants would pay lower rent if they give leftover/extra food to shelters each day.
• I would have recycling bins everywhere and give rent discounts to vendors who use eco-friendly supplies or limit their packaging.
• I would have a display of flyers (recycled paper!) detailing current & upcoming events in the area so people arriving could enjoy some local culture along with the popular tourist attractions. I would have a directory posted featuring smaller restaurants, art galleries, bookstores, and other interesting off-the-beaten-path venues for people to patronize; I would also list such necessities as Laundromats, grocery & convenience stores, antique & thrift stores (for unique souvenirs). These businesses would be encouraged to leave their cards for travelers to take.
• I would have a staff of smartly dressed individuals continually wiping seats & sweeping & checking bathrooms & smiling pleasantly at travelers. They would be smiling pleasantly because I would pay them a living wage with benefits and give them a free flight each year as long as no one complains about them. (Though I would certainly take into consideration the nature & validity of any complaints received; some people like to bitch about everything in order to make their lives complete. Not that I've ever run into anyone like that...).
• I would require all workers to know key phrases (“Hello,” “Welcome,” “How can I help?,” “Thank you,” “Would you like a cocktail?”) in numerous foreign languages, and they must be able to adroitly direct travelers to important places within the airport (bathrooms, restaurants, gates, bars).
• Airlines would be mandated to give chocolate bars (or bags of chips for the crazy people in the world who actually do not like chocolate [hi, Jen, miss you!]) to all passengers of flights delayed more than half an hour. They would have to give drink vouchers when flights are delayed past an hour.
• Artwork & poetry created by local teens would be on display throughout.
• In-chair neck or arm massages would be offered to those who inquire politely and make a donation to a charity of their choice.

And the world would be a happier place.

onward

Tomorrow morning we leave for Amsterdam, via airplane that thankfully did not cost more than my bedroom furniture (and for those wondering - we ended up getting to Paris last week on the Eurostar train; it was a bit cheaper plus much more timely than a flight).

Thank you to those readers who are taking the time to sit through what is essentially a 21st century version of the neighbors' vacation slide show. And you don't even get watered-down drinks & pretzels with it.

I'm not sure what kind of Internet access we'll get in the Netherlands (the country's name leaves me dubious). We were awfully lucky to have a free [if weak & spotty] connection at this hotel; London was a Medieval nightmare where we had to deposit pound coins every 29 minutes in the lobby computer (or surreptitiously use the free Wi-Fi at a nearby hotel).

I still have lots of things to tell that you might find thoroughly entertaining, mildly amusing, or downright idiotic, depending on your state of drunkenness level of medication tolerance for boring neighbors. You may want to bring your own pretzels & cocktails.

eyeful

Peeking at us in Jardin de Luxembourg

Interrupting the urban viewpoint

We approach from a nearby alley

Up-close & personal

Looking up

What vacation is complete without an argument with my husband?

(Surprisingly it was not about the ice cream; it was about yet another pose in front of the Eiffel Tower - you're looking at Take 22)

Le make up

With flowers

The money shot

View after lots of wine

Bonne nuit

we're not staying on "school street" for nothin

Our hotel here in Paris is on la Rue des Ecoles - within a few miles, there is College de France, La Sorbonne, the Jussieu Campus which houses the Pierre & Marie Curie and Denis Diderot branches of University of Paris, among other intellectual-sounding things. There are even a bunch of little Auto Ecoles tucked between brasseries and cafes - tech schools for the French motorheads of the world. But classes are not in session, so no grease monkey hotties wandering around during lunch breaks. Le sigh.

I am surrounded by smart vibes and can't help but reflect on some things I've learned during my visit so far:

1. My French is not nearly as horrible as I imagined (People get me things! And don't roll their eyes too much)
2. I really really like olives
3. The stereotype of baguettes being sold every-fricking-where in Paris is mythology (we walked many blocks before finding a traditional bakery offering a plain loaf of French bread - the street vendors sell fancy sandwiches)
4. The dollar is bloody embarrassingly nearly-worthless against the Euro
5. I can restrain myself from buying $100 shoes and $60 underwear [barely]
6. I really really like wine
7. Wine is cheaper than Coke and sometimes water
8. People here do love their dogs like children (they're often welcome in cafes and on the Metro; not always the same for kids...ha)
9. Smiling as a form of communication (plus repeating "S'il vous plait" and "Merci") usually makes everything better

Now we are off to dinner at La Tour Eiffel (eeeeeeeeEEEEeee!). I am wearing my jaunty brown striped skirt, summery white button-down shirt, and black flats; I feel tres jolie (though no beret; seems like too much and I don't really look good in hats).

Au revoir, mis amis!

the holly & the ivy

Bloggers without borders

The Holly:

Tuesday last (don't I sound so European? heh), Stu & I met up with the lovely lady of Never Everland, aka Wales (via Wyoming), at an appropriately named pub in Hammersmith, The Salutation. She described our afternoon in delightful detail here; read that, look at her fun pictures, then come back.

She forgot to mention the issue of wind & falling umbrellas. We were nearly killed by this thing. (And the gent behind us was not amused with our reenactment for the photo op)

The Ivy:

After touring The Tower all of Wednesday morning, Stu & I made our way back to Covent Garden for lunch at "one of the most sought-after pieces of furniture in London." I was a little nervous because I didn't want to behave like the celebrity whore that I am seem out of place but we were instantly put at ease by the lovely older woman working the coat check. Because we didn't have jackets to give and she seemed so earnest about doing something for us, I was compelled to let her have my little shopping bag of Tower souvenirs [a move I will later regret]. We were five minutes early for our reservation (THIS I did plan ahead) and were greeted kindly by the maitre d' who told us it would be about 10-15 minutes before he could seat us. He offered a table in the lounge where no one famous was waiting. Not that I was looking.

We tried to get a glass of Riesling but it was only offered by the bottle [Have I mentioned that everything in Europe costs, oh, my annual salary? And the US dollar is worth about 5 cents]. I started to realize "10-15 minutes" was polite for "a very long time but thanks for making a reservation." But the waitstaff was extraordinarily kind - not the patronizing kindness that in the States means "I want your 20% tip and so will kiss your ass but really make fun of you in the kitchen." At least it didn't feel that way, and tips are actually not the custom in Europe. Finally, 40 minutes after our reservation time (and half an hour after lunch was technically over), we were given free drinks then shown to our table. Truly, I was impressed with their sincerity in apologizing for the lateness; I was dying to know who was hogging our spot all afternoon.

Our table was surprisingly not in a hidden corner, though Stu's chair was exactly under a very hot spotlight and somewhat in the path of all waitstaff passing by. But everyone continued to be polite & helpful (we needed to know what the hell "Bang bang Chicken" and "pork belly" were exactly), and the lady maitre d' gave me a copy of the menu when I asked if I could take a quick photo of it [no mobile phones or cameras are allowed in the restaurant]. I had left my camera in the souvenir bag anyway so alas, no pics of the marvelous bathroom suite.

After an hour & half (dinner was supposed to start seating within 30 minutes and there were plenty of parties looking nowhere near ready to leave; we were curious how the very polite staff would kick them out), we shared a Sticky Toffee Pudding then made our exit, a few pounds lighter (HA - economics joke).

It's fun to pretend you're somebody sometimes.

another golden oldie

Sorry for the reruns, dear readers (though you ought to be used to them with summer TV and all). I am currently tied up trying to figure out how to get from London to Paris without mortgaging our house and/or selling the children to Nike GAP a third world country. Remember how I was trying really hard to not overplan our trip to Europe? Turns out scheduling the Eurostar online six months ago actually would have been a great idea. Never again will I be sheepish about my OCD plan-ahead ways.

Anyhoo (that's British, I'm pretty sure), read this for laughs while I cry into my fish & chips. [Click on the this; either one]. I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully from France. And not destitute.

rainbow

Notting Hill flats

photo by me, 2008

Wordless (but not colorless) Wednesday

checking in

I have to make this fast because a) we're jacking free wi-fi in the lobby of a hotel that is not ours (the desk clerk keeps making pointed glances at us) and b) I forgot the plug adapter for our charger in the room of our hotel. Plus, oh yeah, I'm in LONDON so there are a few other things I want to do today...

But I love you for loving me, so I will post a couple of details that we have enjoyed so far.

1. Dragging three suitcases, a laptop, two backpacks and a toiletry bag from Heathrow to the city center, which in theory seems reasonable (we saved about $40 taking the tube instead of a shuttle van) but in practice? Let's just say London is a very "fend for yourself, ya pansy" kind of place. Lots of steep staircases and a few gaps to mind, not to mention the looks ranging from amusement to disdain that I tried not to notice on locals' faces.
2. Our rabbit warren of a hotel where, in order to get to our room, we take a narrow staircase up a floor, wander down a [narrow] hallway, take an [unbelievably narrow] elevator down a floor, then follow another [narrow? Why yes, I have gained weight...] hallway around a corner. There are a few fire doors in this journey as well. We're getting pretty quick at getting there & out again without issue, but I still find myself checking the brass plaques to make sure I'm headed to our room number.
3. Water pressure? Forgettaboutit. But it is running water, and it does get warm so I'm not really complaining.
4. Breakfast at the hotel offers a most heavenly muesli mixture (with WARM milk for it!), berries & fruits, warm baguettes and real butter. Kind of makes up for the winding wandering path to our room...

Okay, that will have to do for now. OH - I get to meet Holly today! She is driving into the city to MEET WITH ME! I am so fricking honored. So another reason I've got to go now (besides the increasingly agitated looks we're getting from the desk clerk).

Cheers!

please hold

I am currently experiencing jet lag from my flight. I appreciate your patience while I get my bearings in jolly old England (perhaps you'll also have to wait while I recover from a friendly British beating for saying "jolly old England").

In the meantime, enjoy a past hit from the Bad Mom archives:

• About a boy
• About a store
• About an adjective
• About a girl

And please come again.

leaving on a jet plane

This is why I'm heading off to London, Paris, and Amsterdam tonight. It's a birthday present to myself, a 40th birthday present. I've been self-deprecating about becoming "old" - lamenting that nobody cards me anymore when I order drinks, or grimacing about how students get a horrified look on their faces when I reveal my age (the good news being they didn't realize I was THAT OLD). But generally, I like to think I'm okay with aging; it seems pretty silly to worry about something that just happens, inevitably. It's natural; everyone experiences it.

Everyone except those who die young. And then I think about that - it is, undoubtedly, supremely sad when someone exits early, but how are they remembered? The only way they possibly can be - as youthful, full of potential, usually beautiful. James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, River Phoenix, Heath Ledger. Now imagine some individuals who have lived much longer: Brigitte Bardot, Marlon Brando. I am in no way trying to diminish what people have brought & continue bringing to the world regardless of their age, and I certainly don't feel the need to clock out of this life because I might become gray and wrinkled (um, check & check, actually) or my boobs will start sagging or I'll have to shuffle because of arthritic hips.

The deal is, although I technically don't want to stress about the number 40 and its association with me, I stupidly can't help but care that I someday soon won't match my own definitions of attractive. It's outrageously vain and impossibly callow; frankly, I'm embarrassed to even admit it. Maybe I hope by saying it out loud [sort of], I will shake my shallow self out of this foolish mindset. Honestly, I would be pleased to have the kind of old age bestowed upon the likes of Sophia Loren or Sean Connery or even the remarkable Ruth Gordon. Okay, any old age would be fine. How could someone possibly complain about being allowed to stay on Earth longer?

I'm being ridiculous; age knows how to book a flight to Europe, too. I think I will invite it to sit by me and share my wine. [Here's hoping I get asked for ID]

dude, i love bromosexuals

I went to see Pineapple Express tonight with my man & my bff Jen. Seriously, I was sold on the preview with James Franco (adorable always, and smart in real life) asking Seth Rogen (cute-like-a-wacky-cousin, or hotel security guard), whose character is a Process Server, "You're a servant? Like a butler?" Something about his delivery of that line made me say YES, I must see that movie. And I wasn't even stoned, swear.

The premise and ensuing action are, of course, completely & utterly absurd (see "Judd Apatow movies") but the movie clearly doesn't expect to be taken seriously - the opening scene is black & white footage of a pre-WWI study of the effects of marijuana in which a stoned soldier pantomimes a decidedly inappropriate act to his superior officer. Ridiculous yet hilarious, away we go.

The casting, even of the smaller roles, is inspired. Beyond the obvious choice of Seth as Everyman Dale and the more adventurous move making the usually serious [hottie] James our lovable Stoner Saul, Gary Cole ("Ahhh, I'm going to need you to go ahead and come in on Sunday, too") is deliciously smarmy as the Drug Lord Ted, Danny McBride is a scream as Middle Man dealer Red, and Dale's girlfriend's parents are Ed Begley, Jr. and Nora Dunn - brilliantly funny as Good Middle-Class People (though they both get to spiritedly drop the F-bomb a few times).

I could have done without the selling of weed to school kids, although all of them busting their breakdancing moves in slo-mo was pretty funny. But from my teacher point of view, I would have been kicking some stoner ass if I'd caught them. Overall, though, there were many comments made to the effect that pot smoking is really not the best avenue to greatness. It was pretty clear - like when watching any episode of Beavis & Butthead - that brain cells were being irretrievably spent with every toke.

In the end, it was a weirdly, awkwardly violent yet goofy-sweet buddy movie. I wanted to squeeze their cheeks then smack them all upside the head and sent them off for showers. Which I guess means it was a good time.

guess what day it is

1. You know you're old when you say "Twenty years ago..." and you're talking about something that happened in college.

2. My heart is divided between a French manicure and an American (my life is so hard).

3. A few extra hours in the day is what I need RIGHT NOW!

4. I have felt the edge of sanity, I have known the depths of wits' end [Knock wood].

5. Gah, won't these people - What people? There are people? Where?? (See #4).

6. Decide to be happy as soon as you can!

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to my man & boy returning from Scout camp, tomorrow my plans include a movie with girlfriends, and Sunday I want to look good & feel mahvelous all the way to London!

It's Friday, it's Friday. Do the happy dance!

good times

Beware the rapid turns of thought in this post. My brain is breaking under the pressure of washing every piece of laundry in the house, packing for Europe (What to take in carry-on? Is three pairs of shoes [just for me] ridiculous? Should I bring my own pillow & blanket?), packing the kids for visiting my parents, printing & double-checking packing lists, cleaning the litter box, watering plants, remembering to pick up daughter from day camp, remembering my dentist appointment tomorrow, and trying not to microplan every second of our trip. I'm a tad scattered. Here we go.
____________________

Yesterday's trip was positively lovely. I enjoyed six hours of in-car-conversation with my very good friend Lisa, offered few occasions for her to jam on the imaginary passenger-side brake, and had relatively positive experiences with the Garmin GPS. All that in addition to meeting Melanie from BeanPaste, Angie from All Adither, Nora Bee from Whopping Cornbread and Stacy from Mama-Om. We gathered at a funky bar in Seattle where we partook of outrageously delicious garlic truffled popcorn (seriously; it was all I could do not to shove my face in the bag) and chatted about everything from writing (surprise!) to families to MILFs until Lisa & I had to get back on the road home. This is the kind of stuff I especially love about blogging - creating & developing these Six Degrees of Separation connections. But I will not start singing "It's A Small World." You're welcome.
____________________

I found this book at Goodwill today for $1.99. Hooray! I mean, Fantastique! It not only has the most relevant information (like, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French.") but also includes pronunciation guides. Hello? [Bon jour?] How is it that other books leave that part out? I am tres contente.

________________________

I ran into a former student working at our fabulous local greasy spoon today. He just graduated and seemed a little self-conscious about having to flip burgers, but I reminded him that I had a similar position for two years - most of us go through those less-than-ideal jobs and come out having a greater appreciation for hard work plus a more vivid vision of where we really want to be (and not be). This kid is a brilliant artist & musician, a sensitive & thoughtful young man; I have no doubts he will go places, do things. Before leaving I showed him my tattoo, at which he sputtered "Holy shit, Mrs. S! It's awesome!" Ah, the poetry in that statement; I beamed.
________________________

Tonight I'm going to a Pampered Chef party at the home of our school secretary. I love that I consider all the other (7) teachers and my principal plus our secretary & counselors & custodian & maintenance people friends; it makes life richer and more pleasant. I wish everyone could have this - I think the level of rage & angst would lower significantly in the world.

Amen, shalom, Godspeed, good night.

it's good to be clean

My house is pristine, a joy to behold. (Except the porches; they are still rather spider & beetle infested, don't look).

After dropping off my daughter at day camp [and buying the Extra Bathroom Breaks-sized Soy Chai Latte], I will be on my way to meet a Very Interesting Person (and perhaps some others) in Seattle with Lisa. We're very excited!

If you are so inclined, because I've left you with nothing but a funny cartoon and a brewing jealousy of my good fortune, feel free to read a past post - perhaps a movie review, something vaguely about fashion, or a brilliant dissertation on sensitivity & raising daughters.

Or not. I let you choose.

Thank you for the comic, Dan Goodsell; you rule.

she works hard for the...acclaim

Yay, me:

• Kids' bathroom scrubbed within an inch of its life (puzzling parts: toothpaste and something suspiciously like ear wax smudged on the door jamb)
• All sheets washed
• Fridge emptied of potentially hazardous waste

Darn:

• In my cleaning frenzy, I ripped not one but two substantial holes in the knees of my beloved capri jeans:

I guess considering this is their fourth summer of wear after I found them at a garage sale for $3, they have served me well. Now I'll be the best-dressed toilet scrubber in the West.

Back to the trenches. I love the smell of eco-friendly cleansers in the morning; smells like victory.

caution: detour ahead

Today:

Plan A for tomorrow:

Plan B after phone call from mom & dad who are going to stop by on their way home from Reno and stay here until Saturday so they can take the kids while Stu & I are in Europe:

I got a lot done in my classroom this afternoon and was looking forward to spending tomorrow in there again, but instead my housecleaning duties will be kicked into overdrive to avoid having my mom, bless her soul, do everything for me thus a) potentially throwing off my OCD groove and b) inciting pre-trip guilt. Look how long that sentence was - I'm already buzzing. Here's to the Naughty Mom playlist blasting in my iPod all day, and here's to a shiny happy household.

bad mom time

So, in regards to the movie rental just for me I chose one with both qualifications in P. S. I Love You.

Not entirely horrible; predictably sweet and thoroughly manipulative in the crying arena. But HELLO, all is well with this one on the screen:

Where have you been all my life, Jeffrey Dean Morgan from Seattle?

And a chaser of this one:

Something about those Scots...Blimey.

Okay, carry on with smart things.

girl time

Stu & Mason are off to Boy Scout camp this week so Paige & I have big pink-flavored plans. First, we had to get our fave drinks at Fusion Bubble Tea after church today. Actually, in our wild excitement about going there (the boys just never appreciate the yum-factor), we arrived before it was open so we popped into the bagel shop next door for a Cinnamon Delight to share.

After a round of Blended Almond Milk Tea (the mom choice) and Passionfruit Slushie with Passionfruit chewies, we headed to Goodwill for some back-to-school shopping. That sounds kind of mean, I realize - taking my kids to a thrift store to get their school clothes. I'm not a miser, and it's not that we can't afford new stuff (and not that I don't go completely crazy occasionally and purchase entire clearance sections of GAP). But I want my kids to understand that a) fashionable & quality stuff can be found secondhand, b) saving money wherever we can means we have extra $$ for vacations & birthday parties and other times we want to splurge, and c) reusing whenever possible is an earth-friendly mindset to get into, whether or not we see the effects in our lifetime. I found 4 pairs of pants for Mason, a pair of Italian leather shoes for Stu, and a few school supplies while Paige scored 4 pairs of pants, a sweater, and two dresses. Grand total (after my 25% Birthday Month discount!) = $61. Trying not to be smug.

We came home after Goodwill because even though there was much booty for her, Paige is not a dedicated shopper and was ready to be done. She proudly showed off her finds to neighbor Jen then retreated to the solitary joy of Return to Never Land.

Now we are returning the extraordinarily overdue Return to Never Land, getting a new mindnumbing Disney tale delightful children's movie of her choice and something for me that Stu will not care to have missed (read: Anything that induces sobbing and/or has the word "Love" in the title). Then we will take ourselves out to eat and talk about boys. Or the new clothes. Or kittens. Regardless, it is a time to relish.

cooking complex

Let me start this story by reminding everyone that I really love my mom. (Why do I get the feeling many therapy sessions begin this way? Except Tony Soprano's, I guess).

So. Growing up, I understood that my mom and grandma were Good Cooks - because the food they produced was tasty and they could make pretty much anything in the world, usually without a recipe card or cookbook in front of them. And because they didn't really need or seem to want my help. I realize now, as a grown-up, busy and occasionally brain-fried mom myself, that it wasn't meant to be a slight - their brusk "do it this way or get out of my way" manner - but really more a reflection of trying to get things done right & quickly. Yet I got it into my head pretty early that I was not a Good Cook and it has taken me a lot of years and experimentation and accepting compliments to convince myself that I'm at least a Fine Cook; now I'm working hard at making sure my kids feel comfortable & capable in the kitchen.

I realized in college that I had a complex when roommates would pop in while I attempted to make dinner. If they asked anything about what I was doing, I got defensive. "So, what are you going to do with that macaroni?" "I KNOW EXACTLY HOW TO BOIL WATER, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!" [So sad you missed the fun?] It occurred to me after alienating several friends a few irrational outbursts that I didn't like people questioning me because that is what I had dealt with every time I ventured into the kitchen as a kid. Whenever I had attempted to make something, my mom was hovering next to me, telling me which tool to use, how to mix the right way, when to flip or stir, what to do first or last, admonishing me when I wanted to clean up as I went. Once I moved away from home, anybody entering my culinary vicinity was suspect, and I tensed up, ready to roar my justifications.

Now I sometimes feel myself starting to do the same things my mom did whenever I see my kids obliterating eggs into a mix or creating a massive flour cloud around a bowl; it seems so much easier to take over the job and just do it right. But I have to stop, unclench my jaw, and give them calm reminders and gentle tips. It makes my heart happy when Paige jumps up to help make banana bread (my grandma's recipe) or Mason offers to fix scrambled eggs for everyone - I know I've created a relaxed and safe place for them to work out the mysteries & joys of cooking on their own. Even if I can't resist following a few paces behind with a dishcloth.

photo & flask courtesy of annetaintor.com

a fair day

Stu played hooky from work a bit and we headed over to our county fair this morning.

What weather report?

Lunch time!

Who doesn't love carnival rides after a meal?

High flyers

SPIN IT, MOM, SPIN IT!

Swingers

Sharpshooter

Tall tale teller

No Get-Out-of-Jail-Free cards?

Oh how I love little pig butts

(They're delicious!)

Finding the queen

Sassy & sweetness

We really did love those pygmy goats

__________

Then home again, home again jiggedy jig.