In search of the BIG ONE

I heart Seth Aaron

My husband left this morning to spend a week in Alaska, fishing for the BIG ONE. While this would not exactly be my idea of a fun vacation, he is as excited about this adventure as I would be, if, say, Seth Aaron called and asked me to fly to Milan with him for fashion week. And that? Means really, really, really excited.

Under the guise of someone needing to cover his work commitments, he forwarded his phone calls to his secretary. Which means he has a cell phone, but I can't call it. If I call it, his secretary, here in town, will answer it. Tim can call me. But I can't call him. Frankly, I find this quite unacceptable. Also, wherein *under the guise* = he basically told me, neener, neener, you can't call me as he did the dance of sweet freedom.

What if there is an emergency? What if I can't find the checkbook (already happened)? What if I need to know what that song was that we both said we wanted to download from iTunes (already happened)? What if he forgot to take out the garbage and recycling before he left and I want to let him know that he forgot (already happened)?

Do you see what I mean? Unacceptable.

Last night I told my husband that I would miss him while he was gone for a week. Like, really, really miss him. Like, miss him so much, I probably need some kind of distraction to keep myself busy while he's gone. He thought that it was sweet, the fact that I would miss him, because he doesn't plan on missing me. At all. Let's set that aside for the moment, though.

At the heart of this conversation is the fact that he didn't tell me NOT to buy an iPad to distract myself from my lonliness. Which basically means that he probably WANTS me to go out and buy an iPad in his absence. Right?

I'd call and ask him, but, yeah, that whole phone thing.

I also heart the iPad. Plus? I would totally read the NYT, like, every day, if I had an iPad, and not read, like, James Patterson and Janet Evanovich novels. At all.

Delinquent

How I spent my summer vacation... predominantly in the ballroom

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I've had so many things to write about, but no time to write them down. Which is, ultimately, a good problem to have, versus nothing to write about. I guess it's called "being present" in my own life, or some new-agey crap like that.

I did have a huge burst of creativity at about 4 a.m. recently, with an idea for a story so tremendous I was giddy. And when I woke up, the idea was gone. Gone, but it left a shadow that has nagged at my brain for days. I have a feeling that *the big idea* is just on the outskirts of the shadow, waiting to be rediscovered.

Do you watch Mad Men? There's an episode called The Color Blue in which Paul has The Best. Idea. Ever., doesn't write it down, and then forgets it. Paul, brother, I feel your pain.

*********

We are in our last week of summer vacation. School starts a week from tomorrow for Carlie and for Erinna. Ironically, it's currently a dark shade of winter gray outside and the temp is 56 with a high of 66 expected. I've been obsessed with the crazy weather all summer long.

To celebrate the end of summer... a roundup of what my kids are doing.

Maggy is winding down her two-year college program and starts her second-to-last semester of school today, in Texas. Iris continues to be unbelievably cute, even though we only get to soak up her cuteness through Skype. They were here to visit early in the summer, and it seems like it was a very long time ago.

Taylor is still living in Santa Barbara, firmly on the grid despite earlier rantings to the contrary. But in a bold showing of distinct counterculture behavior, he has just moved into an unconverted warehouse with two roommates. They have no kitchen and they have a shared bathroom with the rest of the building, with no shower. I asked where they would shower, and his answer was the beach. At least he has a plan. He has not been home since Christmas.

Erinna starts her senior year a week from today, and is embracing all that that entails. She is back to a good tennis practice regimen to get ready for the season after a summer of not playing. And she has her first job, bussing tables at a restaurant, where they pay her money! She has her senior portrait photo shoot scheduled for Thursday with the ridiculously fabulous Amy and a back-to-school shopping trip scheduled with Carlie for later this week. Because Carlie needs new school clothes. Clothes which are not uniforms. Because...

She was (finally) accepted into VSAA, aka, Vancouver School of Arts and Academics. Can I get an amen?

We spent Sunday at Carlie's third Ballroom Showcase. I've linked the videos and told the sad tale of how her dance partner was sick and couldn't make it on Facebook, so it feels kind of repetitive to retell it here. If you're not on Facebook, though, and interested in seeing her dance videos, here is a link to her Viennese Waltz. She did five dances, but I think once you get to You Tube for the V. Waltz you'll be able to see all five videos, right? I am many things, but You Tube savvy is not one of them.

It's time for me to go to work on my stack of transcripts that need finishing. Thanks for sticking with me to the bitter end of the most boring blog post of all time. I'll do my best to recapture that elusive big idea and come back to dazzle your asses soon.

We're going camping... yay?

Tomorrow morning I am leaving for an overnight camping trip. We've had a pretty busy summer, and school starts up again in 1.5 or 2.5 weeks, depending on where Carlie goes, which is still up in the air. So this will be our last outing for the summer. I wish it were something a little less camping-ish than camping. But whatever. There will be beer and oysters and s'mores, so I can't complain too much.

We went camping a couple of weeks ago and I didn't say much about it because it was pretty uneventful, wherein uneventful = I wasn't crying and gnashing my teeth to get home, but when it was time to go home I was pretty happy to get on with it.

So Carlie and I happily hopped in the car while Tim locked up the trailer. We are in the car, motor running, ready to pull forward through the gate to the street, waiting for Tim, and yay, we give a little cheer when Tim finally gets in the car and, BOO-YAH WE ARE GOING HOME, where there is soap and towels and the internet, you know, civilization.

We're sitting in the RUNNING car, about to PULL FORWARD TO THE STREET, when a huge ass 18-wheeler comes barreling up that very small two-lane rustic road. He passes our property, brakes, and backs up. And then the dumb ass cracker mo fo pulls into OUR DRIVEWAY which is made of LOOSE ASS GRAVEL with his GIANT 18 WHEELER and blocks my car in on our OWN PROPERTY.

What? The?

He gets out of his truck, asks if we are address WHATEVER and we are not, so he gets in his truck and backs out to the road, unblocking our path, and then we merrily cruised home.

Yeah, right.

He gets out of his truck, asks if we are address WHATEVER and we are not, so he gets in his truck and ATTEMPTS to back out to the road, but only succeeds in DIGGING GIANT RUTS into the LOOSE ASS GRAVEL DRIVEWAY until he is finally and irrevocably STUCK in our driveway BLOCKING US IN as we are trying to go home.

(Insert 45 FUCKING MINUTES of wheel spinning, truck cargo removing to lighten load, shovel digging around the wheels and "huh, go figure, this has never happened to me before" in lieu of an apology.)

Eventually (45 FUCKING MINUTES LATER) the truck was able to exit our driveway, at which time we (where in *we* is *Tim*, as if you didn't know that) were then able to spend another 15 minutes raking gravel and recreating the now destroyed driveway to the best of Tim's ability while I sit in the car honking the horn saying SCREW THE DRIVEWAY, LET'S GO HOME.

So, yeah. We're going camping. Again. Pray for me.

Back to school

Carlie spent her day today planning her fall makeup color pallette. I am not even making this up. Have you met me? My makeup color pallette consists of brown/black mascara and -- oh wait, that's all.

Middle school. God help us.

The stress of our back to school situation is not helped by the fact that we still do not know which school she is going to. Her current school (Catholic, private) starts one week before her potential new school (Art School, public), which means if the Art School waits until the last minute to let us know that she is in, we will have to (a) purchase unnecessary school supplies from the current school's list (b) buy 6th grade uniforms (which we have zero of, because it is different than the 5th grade uniform and (c) pay the first month's tuition.

I don't want to do any of those things.

I am considering homeschooling her, except I get hung up on the part where we are (a) at home together and (b) doing school type stuff. Other than that, homeschooling is our backup plan.

I am really very much not ready for summer to end. Or for my baby to grow up.

Carlie goes Gidget

Carlie in the Flowrider

Maverick's in Sun River, OR. Not to be confused with Flo-Rida. He wasn't there at all.

Chillaxing

www.seventhmountain.com

Hiking

www.seventhmountain.com

Greetings from vacation. Can someone please tell me how to post from my iPhone?

UPDATE: Summer Snapshots

The summer fun continues on. I was going to add these to this post, but, meh, lazy, who?

I had to work yesterday. On a Saturday. In downtown Portland, at a real office with other people. When I got home, we went out for sushi. Conveyor belt sushi. Yum + Fun = Yay!

Sushi Tsunami photos borrowed from Yelp

Following dinner, we decided to hit the Golf-a-rama. For those not local, that's really the name of the putt-putt place.

Tim, exhibiting Tiger-like form.

Carlie, concentrating on making the hole.

Me (and Carlie's finger) mugging for the camera. I swear, I had a really cute top on under my grammy sweater. But, hello, it was 70-some-odd degrees on this summer night of fun.
What? You don't golf in heels?

Summer Snapshots

Kind of like Wordless Wednesday, except it's not Wednesday. And I've got words. But, you know what I mean. Alternate title: shit I did this week that was photoworthy. This would not include the unphotoworthy stuff, like a $800 dental visit. Oy.

This week we had an unexpected week of vacation, wherein vacation = three days worth of jobs cancelled and, boo-yah, hanging at home, until the next paycheck comes and the boo-yah becomes boo-hoo.

In any event, there was some grilling...

And some swimming. And yes, that's my thumb. Shut up. But seriously, note the perfect herky form of Carlie's jump. She inherited the cheer gene. And yeah, again, shut up.
Visiting the river with a friend...
Blackberry picking...
And eating blackberry shortcake. On the deck. Can you see the river? It's in the far right corner. It's not as far away as it looks.
So, how's your summer coming along?

PS: Contrary to the photographic evidence, my husband is not a serial killer. I swear.

I saw Inception, when what I apparently really need is a Hot Tub Time Machine

I saw Inception this week. Can't find to exercise or get my transcript pages done, or do laundry and grocery shopping, but found time for a movie. What can I say. I have uncanny time management skills.

If anyone knows what this movie is about, let me know.

Just kidding. I got it. Mostly. But I still have one big question.

When did these guys...

Become these guys?

Am I really that old?

Ramona and Beezus

Selena Gomez and Joey King

I'm not going to lie. When I was first contacted about attending the press screening of Ramona and Beezus in my area, I had mixed feelings. Feelings like, woot! free movie and press? me? and Ramona? really? is there not a Johnny Depp flick that needs reviewing? But if you know me, you know that woot! free movie won and, hello, I have an 11-year-old daughter, so of course we would be first in line to see a Selena Gomez movie.

Also, until the movie began, I was not certain I could tell the difference between Selena Gomez, Demi Lavato or Mirando Cosgrove. Frankly, still not sure. But I digress...

Carlie and her friend Hannah and I headed off to the *free* movie, wherein *free* = we did not pay for tickets, but we spent $32 at the concession stand. Free? Heh.

I'm not going to lie. The filmmakers knew exactly what they were doing when they cast this film. Selena Gomez? The two 11-year-old girls with me could not have been more thrilled. But mommas, fear not. Your needs were not overlooked in this movie.

SIDE NOTE: Have I ever told you about the time I wept openly while watching Sex in the City because my beloved DJ Chris from Northern Exposure had made a grand comeback as Carrie's boyfriend Aidan? True Story.

DJ Chris Stevens of Cicely, Alaska

Not gonna lie. Had to stop and process the fact that one of the men from my Top 10 Hotties of all time list is now playing the dad character. Way to make a gal feel ancient. But any movie casting John Corbett in a leading role is going to, at the very least, get my attention.

It was somewhat less traumatizing to have Leo from All My Children play the hot-and-reformed bad boy next door. OMG, do you remember the Leo & Greenlee love story? Swoon.

As for the movie. The girls loved it. And I am willing to drop my hardcore rock-n-roll-mom persona (bwahaha) long enough to admit that I enjoyed it to. Both of my girls cried at the sad part. And then they both cried at the happy part. And then I said oh, holy hell, preteen hormones, someone save me.

As far as finding a movie suitable for the preteen girls that I had with me, this movie was the perfect mix of goofy little sister, pretty/cool teen sister, cute boy/innocent crush and family. It was definitely more Junior Chick Flick than kiddy movie. Which suited my girls just fine.

Between the three of us we give it six resounding thumbs up (as opposed to the last movie I saw with Carlie, which she gave two thumbs down and one finger up the nose. It was that bad.)

Ramona and Beezus opens nationwide July 23.

Jealous

My nest. Emptier, but not quite empty. Yet.

In unrelated events, recently two of my friends posted old photos of their fabulous college-aged selves with their now-spouses. And it made me jealous --

When Tim and I met, I had two kids, he had one, and by our first wedding anniversary, we'd already welcomed Carlie to the family.

-- And I found myself envious of those friends and their days of being young and in love and not a parent and enjoying that time together and having it to look back on in later years when life becomes harried and crazy with kids and schedules and drop offs and pick ups and OMG how did this become my life. In my envious fantasies, I imagine meaningful, knowing glances as you pass each other in the hall, calling out, "I'll be home by 6:00, don't forget to drop her off at dance," and having those memories of way back when to pull from when you're looking for something to hold on to.

All of our memories, Tim and I, are of a family. We were never a couple. That's the way it is when it's your second time around and you've already lived a life. It's not a bad thing, it's just a different thing. And thank God we're old enough to have the empty nest in our near-future (seven years!), and will still be young enough to enjoy it when it happens.

Carlie is currently obsessed with my high school year book and old photos of mom and dad as teenagers, which only adds fuel to my what if I knew you then fire. Of course, the reality is, things would not have worked out between this troublemaking chick and that churchgoing boy circa the 1980s. But still, it's fun to think about. Maybe I'll write a story...

Meanwhile, I can't get enough of Swell Season this week. I don't know why.

In which I am a grown up.

"Did you see who had the NERVE to sit next to me in church?" I pseudo-whispered to a friend at the coffee maker after mass. My friend looked at me, pretending not to know what I was talking about. As if. "You know. Remember? I can't stand her."

Flashback to a little event that I like to refer to as O Holy Clusterfuck, otherwise known as the Annual Children's Program. I won't go into the logistics of the now defunct ritual (praise be) other than to say that it was, a-hem, somewhat chaotic. And also needless to say, my daughter pleaded with every fiber of her being to be included. Every. Single. Year.

This particular year, she was playing a violin solo at OHC (aka ACP) before the actual mass began. Several children with varying levels of musical ability were playing solos in a half-hour *presentation* before mass, a mass that is always full to capacity with overflow seating in folding chairs ringing the perimeter of the church and spillover folks standing in the hallway outside of the church. The way that OHC (aka ACP) worked was, mass starts at 5 p.m. The Program begins at 4:30. The children in the Program had to arrive by something ridiculous like 3:30. As a result, all seating for the 5 p.m. mass was completely filled to capacity by 4 p.m. Oh, and this all took place on Christmas Eve, the one night of the year when everyone that has not been to church in a calendar year comes to church, and those who come to church every weekend point and stare and mock and judge. But I digress....

My child, wearing angel wings and a Christmas dress, was standing at the front of the church playing her violin solo. I was sitting in a near-front pew, videotaping her. And this woman walks in, stands directly in front of me and my videocamera, and does not sit down. Just stands there, looking around.

I choked down my roar of hey lady, down in front! and instead said, excuse me, I'm trying to videotape my daughter. To which the woman responds by ignoring me completely and talking to her husband in her *outside voice* about how ridiculously crowded the mass is. Meanwhile, my daughter finished her solo, took a bow, and left the altar, and I not only didn't get it on video, but barely got to see it.

Needless to say, I memorized this woman's face and vowed my vengeance, wherein vengeance = being totally passive-aggressive and snubbing her at every occasion. Heh. Also, no need to comment on my unchurchly like behavior. I know.

Back to present. I am standing at the coffee maker with my friend, who is pretending not to know what I am talking about. As if.

"You know. Remember? I can't stand her. The one who stood in front of me at the Christmas Program and wouldn't sit down? Totally rude? Remember?"

And my friend looked at me and said, "Seriously? That was, like, five years ago. Let it go."

What?

I drove home thinking about the last time my now 11-1/2-year-old preteen wore angel wings, and I'd say five years sounds pretty accurate. Seriously? Am I that fucked up, that I have been harboring a grudge against someone whose name I do not know for five years? Oy.

So in the spirit of embracing the message at church today, which I could barely focus on because I was so busy being mad at this woman sitting next to me, and , hence, in the spirit of preserving my mental health, I am letting go.

Poof. Gone. Goodbye. I am done. I am letting go.

Dear obnoxious lady, I forgive you. You're welcome.*

*I actually wrote "you're welcome, bitch," and then realized that might be contrary to the spirit of letting go. So I deleted it. Because I am letting go. Like a grown up, albeit in baby steps.

The Daily Awesome

image from despair.com, apropos of nothing

I was on the phone with a friend earlier today, and it came to light that much of the joy I derive in life comes at the expense of others. Like, when I think of things that would really make me happy, it usually involves someone else becoming quite unhappy at that exact moment. For example, my wish today was for my friend's new business venture to annihilate the business of someone I don't like. That kind of shit. If something goes wrong (for someone else), I generally find it amusing, and then hide behind the guise of I'm laughing with you, not at you. Like, OMG, I am so sorry that you just tripped and fell ass over head over your baby's jogging stroller while passing me on the trail. So sorry, in fact, that my laughter is just an awkward attempt to help you heal from the humiliation.

That concept, coupled with the fact that my life seems to be made up of a continuous string of tragic yet random events led to the thought... I wonder if other people are getting a kick out of my misery? And the answer, after a scientific survey of asking three people how funny they thought it was when I went to work yesterday without my equipment**, was yes, indeed, people do enjoy my sorrow.

So in order to spread love and bring peace to the land, I decided to start the Daily Awesome, wherein *awesome* = OMG WTF seriously? did that just happen? dripping in sarcasm.

I was going to make it a blog feature, but then decided to make it a Facebook page, that way, when something awesome happens to you, you can share it with the world too. Because nothing helps one feel better about their current suckage than to have others point and laugh at it.

You're welcome.

So go to Facebook and join the Daily Awesome. Right now. And if you're not on Facebook, then go join Facebook. You too can be awesome.

**I am a court reporter, and yesterday I went to a deposition without a steno machine, or laptop, or anything. If you're not familiar with this industry, the best example I could give would be imagine you get your entire family together for family portraits, the kids are dressed up and clean and everyone's hair looks good. And the photographer shows up and says, Crap, I forgot my camera. And that photographer has no camera, or back up camera, or even so much as a camera on his cell phone. That's what I did yesterday. But to lawyers instead of your family. Awesome.

Aging Well

I am in love with Eddie Vedder. I have been since my first Pearl Jam concert in 1992. And dayum, he is aging well.

Then...

And now...

Skinny Bitch, my best friend this summer

Everyone. Right now. You need to be drinking a skinny bitch. Seriously. It's that good. Vanilla vodka is the secret. PS: drunk blogging, who? PSS: Yeah, it's a Jonas Brothers tee-shirt. You got something to say?

It was the best of times... it was the worst of times

For some reason, the gods of cool were smiling down on me today and many cool things came my way, making me quite giddy.

I received an email today informing me that my chicken fajita soup recipe had achieved runner-up status in a contest that I forgot I entered. $25 cash prize. Holla.

Also through the wonders of the Internet, I have been mistaken for a real blogger and have received not only passes for a press screening of Ramona and Beezus, but a chance for a phone interview with Selena Gomez. This has upped my cool factor in the eyes of my child by about 200%.

Because I have a new pastime of hanging at the pool, I have been in search of the perfect insulated non-glass pitcher for taking a batch of cocktails to the pool. And today I found it. At Goodwill. For $3.99 in all of its retro glory.

With that $25 cash prize burning a hole in my pocket, I also hit the fabric store to purchase fabric for a quilt I am planning for my oldest, Maggy. And guess what? Didn't even know it, but all quilt fabric was half off. Are you seeing a trend here? I am golden, people. Gold. En.

My bargain mania took me on one final stop to Ross, in search of a case for my iPhone and a spare pair of sunglasses for the pool. Found both. On sale. Cha-ching.

And when I got to the register, the twatty little cashier asked, "Are you 55 or older?" to see if I qualified for the senior discount.

BITCH.

What crows feet? What divet in my forehead? Bags under the eyes, who?