Deuces

We strolled the grocery aisles- a family of four. We were hungry and homeless-looking, coming straight from a run and play at the park.  Our hands were probably dirty. Our clothes were sweaty. My "messy hair, don't care" bun teetered to one side of my head, reminding the world I needed a cut and color immediately.  Within the store stood a small McDonald's.   Lloyd nodded toward the menu. "Do you want anything?" My face scrunched tightly, revealing my disdain for fast food. "It's still one of the things I can't eat, after all those years being a vegetarian..." I explained.  I took another glance at the menu, pausing thoughtfully as I scanned- the rumble in my abdomen reminding me I was hungry.  The look of disgust on my face didn't match the salivation in my mouth- the scenario took me back a year.  In that moment, I remembered. I remembered the random cravings I had while pregnant with Alana.  One of them wa...

Maria reprimanded me for lack of blogs... and it isn't because I don't have much to say...it is, perhaps, because I have too much to say.   Too many things in a year gone by too quickly... too slowly... too painfully in the growing department, too full in the raising of a daughter department.  Too many things I once wanted to share that I now hold too close.... privately, quietly, with great uncertainty.  But I had, for certain, one of the best days of the year last Friday. That... I want to share.   Each December my brother, Corbin, along with all local fire department and police personnel get gratis entry into our favorite amusement park.   It's a time to be kids, to visit the endless craft vendors in Ghost Town, toddle through Camp Snoopy and take a ride on Montezuma's Revenge- the roller coaster I first rode with Corbin nearly 30 years ago when we went with our parents for the Halloween 'Knott's Scary Farm' adventure.     ...

"I'm going to call my brother...he'll know... " I huffed.   I had given my husband far too many clues and I knew he wasn't even close to knowing which 1980's flick I was struggling to name.   The phone rang twice before Corbin answered "go".   I smiled, knowing my brother was being humorous.  "2 Things: are you still taking Sayler and I to Knott's Berry Farm this weekend?"   "Yes."   "Great. Second thing... what's that one movie from the 80's where there's a computer game and,   like, a  guy in a trenchcoat and, like-"   "..War Games?"   "YES!  YES!  Thank you."   And there it was.  The reason Jesus made me a little sister to someone (else) who watched too many movies as a kid.   I couldn't get that 1983 flick off my mind.  Lloyd, Sayler and I were on the strangest and sweetest movies-down-memory-lane adventure over the weekend: a tribute du Robin W...

I am grateful for these morning minutes to blog and journal and tidy the home I love so much. I am grateful for my healthy family.  I don't come from money or inheritance or even good luck, but I am grateful I come from hard work and hard-learned lessons and good health.  I am grateful that today my mom is well and my husband and daughter have everything they need.  I am grateful for my friends. Oh, Lord, what would I do without the women who make me laugh until I cry, the ladies with whom I talk at length and with brutal honesty with about our kids, our jobs, men and what we dream about, hope for, plan for, what ails us and what fails us? I am grateful for history- 24 years of friendship.  This girl I sat next to in chorus at Imperial Jr. High.  Our teacher, Mr. Beckman, wore a toupee that waved wildly with each baritone crescendo in class as he waved his wand. Is it called a wand when referring to music? ...

They're the only sounds I want to hear lately.  The trombones and trumpets and all the soul and Parisian-inspired, oft blues-flavored, full-bodied, soulful jazz and slow-waltz, smooth as fresh-cream harmonies.   It's getting lost between Louis and Django and moonlight harmonies with Dinah and Billie.     I recently asked Lloyd if, when considering instrument choices for Sayler to try, we might consider trombone or trumpet.  We're in hung jury status at the moment- though I expect a verdict in a few year's time.   The heavy brass is in all the music I tend to enjoy when I need to decompress in solitude, and in the scores that accompany my scat singing I reserve for when I'm a healthy distance away from friends or co-workers. Let's be honest- my cool reputation is at stake.  But it's recently become 'our' sweet compromise- something her and I both equally take solace in and the only typ...

The best part of the weekend was this:       Aidan made joyful by the home-made spice cake he wanted despite his working moms pleas, otherwise ("but I don't want a store bought cake, mom...") and watching, from a safely dry distance, the water balloon fight that my mom so eagerly joined in on. Sayler seemed  to smile the whole day through, enjoying her time with cousins and taking particular joy in her time spent with her adult cousins, Ariel and Bret, who never say "no" to whatever her heart desires.    CJ put burgers and dogs on the barbecue, always considerate of the several vegetarians in the family. And I took extra special joy in time with Cambria.  Her docile nature, warmth, sweetness and the simple joy and comfort she finds in being held close with unfettered allegiance to everyone that loves her:   And today, Sunday, Lloyd and I went to the mall for dinner and shopping.  We couldn't remember t...

It is Sunday.  I will do some shopping. Because the denial I was in pre-Thanksgiving that I wouldn't over-spend this Christmas went out the window as I sat in cyber-space Friday night catching online sales.  My nieces and nephews gifts? Check, check. I am an efficient online shopper.  I have played this game before.  I know the rules and I honestly always, always, always win.  I cannot lose. I have yet to buy Ariel's gifts-though I have a long list of what I want to get her.  I love buying gifts for people I know.  The ones who don't have to tell me what they need or tell me what they secretly wish someone would buy for them.  Those are the best ones. The joy of wanting to spend started on Thanksgiving- though let's not confuse the joy of giving with my abhorrence for Black Friday that begins any earlier than 6 a.m. on Friday.  I loathe, loathe, loathe the idea of anyone going shopping or camping out for a sale when w...

Pre- Friendsgiving... I needed to clean.... Desperately...  So I put on my cleaning playlist that plays  the bomb beats.  I thanked Ariel for recommending the Pandora station that made my house sparkle... Friends brought too much awesome food... And brought thee cutest kids. We took too many photos.... And kept the tradition alive. Love these friends. Love our Friendsgivings.

I am cleaning, I swear. I come up with these crazy plans. These obsessive-compulsive ideas that I cannot shake. And this idea I have dubbed "The Fifty". The Fifty is the number I have vowed I would undertake each day during the week of Thanksgiving, beginning today: the Saturday prior. From my home I would purge myself of 50 things every day. It started with twenty. But then I realized it would be easy to cheat since each scrap of paper I rid this home of would count as one. You know all those scraps?  The receipts you thought "just in case" you should hold onto... the mail... the coupons from Kohl's latest flyer (that turned into the flyer from summer now past...), the work faxes and memos and other idle paper messes that need to get into the recycling bin, like, yesterday. So 20 became 50, and I am intent on meeting that goal. Any combination of unused toys and unworn clothes that will make it to Salvation Army, any fas...

Things escalate really quickly when I don't get a reply from my sanchita. Ariel can be so elusive! But she's sweet too. We often have "sancha" days just her and I and a nice long hike or pedicure or run or massage... And like a good sancha she sends me texts like this: She can read my mind in an eerie way and sends me Groupon codes for massages and vacations and everything else she knows I dream about. That's my Sanchita.

There are those things that I just can't get enough of lately- these are 5. 1.  Chobani yogurt. Seriously: I purchase so many the cashier at Super Target probably thinks I have IBS.  I swear I don't: I just totally can't get enough (especially that chocolate mint one and the classic strawberry).  Yogasm. 2. The new Lorde album.  Ariel: big smooch your way for introducing me to them, you hip, hip, hip girl.  I am slightly troubled by the band's name, but they keep bringing out the bangerz so I can't complain. 3. Running in my new Skora kicks. My feet have never felt so amazing- my runs so effortless.  5 miles logged today all while pushing the most problematic umbrella stroller and 25 pound sleeping beauty (my jogger broke-damnit!) Please add a new pair of Skora Cores to my Christmas list.  Oh, and I am eyeing the Brooks Ghost 5 (or 6) Running Shoes. Size 7.5 please, please, please. I'll be your best friend.  If it turns out I can run...

I spend too much time thinking. Lloyd says I create my own anxiety, to which I respond with some anxiety. I spend too much time multi-tasking.  When I have only one thing to do, I am lost.  And then I decide to write.  So if you are seeing an inordinate amount of posts from me, give me something to do.  (Cleaning your floors not included in this trial offer). I spend my jogging sessions thinking about work.   And also trying to block out thoughts about work because I know that somewhere, some fitness guru is advising people to utilize their exercising as a way to block out stuff like work but I just can't seem to manage.   I spend my mornings cuddled up in bed with my daughter. She is extremely silly in the mornings and her smile is infectious enough to almost make me forget I need coffee. Almost. I spend my weekend mornings cocooning.  You are not familiar with cocooning.  This is my way of saying that I stare at a wall and t...

I take Penny and Obi for a walk every day. Okay, I take Penny... I don't get a choice with Obi. As I put the leash on the dog, the cat comes sprinting from the tundra (grass) and eagerly joins in. Obi has enjoyed these walks for the past few years.  We sometimes try to sneak out of the house, for worry he will get himself into mischief or a rogue dog will come chasing him, but all of our efforts are fruitless... He loves our walks. He trots behind us or sprints ahead and lies in wait for us to catch up.  Literally, he lies there. He might rub his back against the concrete, polish his paws, or enjoy the cool grasses of an unwitting neighbor's lawn.  If that neighbor has a dog, he will run up to the fence and encourage the little rascal to stick it's nose out from under so he can SWAT! it accordingly, in one fell swoop. I'm not sure why our next door neighbor's yorkie hasn't caught on.  Poor little Obama gets his wet nose swatted more times than Lind...

What's the deal with passwords?? Last night I projected an educational software program onto an LCD screen. My mission? To train and educate the adult minds of college students how to register their software, create a username, password, and subsequently log in to their accounts for a semester of access to homework and project assignments. I looked great, thankfully. Because as I smugly demonstrated how to navigate the log-in screen I proceeded to set an example of how to "easily" enter my username and password. And then it happened. Right there, for everyone to see... I couldn't remember my password. Blasted. I laughed just a little, assuming I had hastily entered a character wrong. No enchilada. I couldn't get in. I gave it 6 more tries, and each time the page hollered back at me that I was a buffoon, unworthy of being someone's wife and daughter, and each time in that bold red-color that suggested I shouldn't even bother to ever...

I got a B in that class.... But I should have gotten an A. Last night I sat in a class full of students.  They are wonderful students.  They have lives. Many of them have children or jobs or personal things happening in their lives that I will never know about. A student told the teacher that she needed a week off of school for a family matter.  The teacher thought about it for a moment.  Invariably, she wondered if telling the student that her absence was excusable would set a precedent for the rest of the class to take beach days off. But the teacher explained that she understood that things happen- but to be fully prepared when she returned- and that she would have to make up the work that was missed. The rest of the students seemed to understand.   They nodded in agreement when the instructor said that tardiness, absence and lack of participation sets the whole class behind, and as a courtesy to others to be on-time and respec...