Life with Birk

Happy Birthday, Lovely Husband

2012-01-26T09:59:00.000-08:00

Today is my husband's 45th birthday. Now that I've known him for almost 23 years, I think I can tell you a few things about him. Perhaps, 45?

He is the kind of guy that will pull over on the highway and help a stranded motorist.
He is the kind of dad that will hold you accountable AND hold you tight for a hug.
He is the kind of husband that will bring you a latte, flowers AND jelly donuts on Saturday mornings (even though you should not be eating donuts).
He is a kind and caring friend who is a good listener AND always has sound and steady advice.
He doesn't dislike anyone.
He is very traditional and sentimental.
He likes to play Angry Birds.
He loves a great hike and a great view.
He is an adventurous traveler.
He is an excellent photographer, painter and artist.
He is a fun date.
He can read with the kind of concentration and retention that would put anyone to shame.
He loves his dog, and she loves him.
He has an excellent sense of humor.
He likes the thrill of the Indiana Jones last minute, roll under the garage door entrances and exits.
He is graceful under pressure.
He loves Michigan football.
Actually, he loves anything Michigan.
His favorite place in the world is the cottage.
He secretly likes shopping, once you drag him out there to the mall, once a year, at Christmas.
Christmas is his favorite holiday, and he is the best Christmas decorator you will ever find.
He is an excellent cook.
He is totally fine with staying in his pajamas and watching TV all day on a Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday...you get the idea.
He is super smart.
He is so super smart that he can talk like he knows everything and anything.
His family loves him like crazy and he loves his family like crazy.
He is the guy you want in your cheering section--he cheers very loudly and enthusiastically.
He is an awesome dad that always has time for his kids.
As Ruth says, "He is a good cuddler."
He holds the door for everyone.
He has kind words for all and is very friendly.
He does NOT like horror films.
He is an extremely hard worker.
He plans to clean the garage every Saturday, but it rarely ever happens.
He is a total softy.
He loves lemon meringue pie and would trade me in for our friend, Deborah, who is queen of the lemon meringue.
He loves the water. Boats, swimming, kayaking, paddle boarding, or just gazing at the view.
His secret favorite color is dark green. Oops, not a secret anymore, I guess.
He has two shelves of ball caps in his closet.
He loves to go to brunch and read the paper.
Supertramp is one of his favorite bands.
The hammock is his favorite chilling spot.
He also is very romantic and loves a good, cozy fire.
He tolerates Halloween.
He is the best husband ever and I'm very thankful to be lucky enough to hang out with him and be his wife.

Yes, happy birthday to my handsome, wonderful husband. I can not imagine my life without you.

Hello from California January 2012

2012-01-24T09:16:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,

We are back into the swing of things. Our biggest news is that our renovation is finally over. Actually, all of our renovations are finally over, as far as I know. Now we are at the last bit of the hard part, reorganizing and getting things functioning in some kind of functional state.

High school applications are in. Winter activities have started. Sounds kind of boring doesn't it? Well, it is run of the mill and not very exciting, but after so much excitement, it feels kind of nice to be boring.

It won't last for long. There are tons of trips and activities on the horizon. It makes me tired just to think about them. I am still determined to take a sleeping vacation some day.

You can always drop me a line and let me know about your excitement. Now that we are so calm, someone has to spice things up around here!

Kindly,

Deb

Glass Half Empty or Half Full: The "Honor Bar" in the Fairmont Gold Lounge

2012-01-19T11:14:00.000-08:00

Flashback: three weeks ago to my last lounge experience in the closing KLM lounge at DTW. The hostess threw her hands in the air and declared to her co worker that the last costumers had opened two water bottles, dumped them into a plant, then filled them completely full of Grey Goose Vodka. The co worker shrugged and walked off.

Meanwhile, in the present, I was pouring myself a glass of red wine, and realized, this wasn't an open bar, it was a no host bar. The lady next to me filled her wine glass to the brim. Seriously, she had to sip before she walked away in order not to spill. I have been schooled well in the art of the pour, and you never fill more than half way.

I looked at my little ticket. I had to tick off my wine brand and initial my 5 oz. pour.

5 ounces? How much is 5 ounces? Maybe it is a whole wine glass, but somehow, I doubt it.

So, am I stupid to be pouring half a glass? Should I be filling it up, because I can and no one is watching?

Cat Pee

2012-01-11T08:38:00.000-08:00

A while back, we had to replace a mattress. While on vacation, one of our two cats decided that it made a really, comfy cozy litter box. If you know the smell of cat pee, you know that there was no saving that mattress. Of course, we pointed the finger at our grouchy, territorial older cat Patch:

She is not a cuddly cat. She is thin and wiry. She hunts and wanders the great outdoors. She is also a very vocal cat--she will let you know.

Years ago, when we first brought home a new kitten, Sara, Patch was having nothing to do with it. We followed all of the directions. Put the new cat in one room and blah blah blah. We tried everything. Nothing worked. 3 years later, we still have the warring kitties.

They openly stalk each other, and it is no game. Sara wants to be friends, Patch wants to get the heck away from her. After a while, when Sara had given up the idea of friendship, Sara was just trying to drive Patch crazy.

Yes, this is Sara. You can carry her around by her tail, dress her in all kinds of crazy clothing and she will be purring in your arms. But, like all super nice people, Sara has a dark side...

Her dark side is peeing all over the place now that we are done with the renovation. I unrolled a brand new wool carpet, and Sara walked right over, looked me in the eye and peed on it. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it.

The next day, she peed on the next new carpet. I freaked out, but didn't let her know it. But, I freaked out. The next thing I was on serious carpet inspection. There is a cat pee spot on every new carpet in the house. The spots I saw right away, seem to be doing fine, but the pee that has sat there for I don't know how long, is not going away.

I've scrubbed and sprayed and tried all of the internet advice on cat urine. Two carpets I'm pretty sure are completely ruined. Now I'm just terrified about what I haven't found yet, and I have one more carpet yet to come. Ugh!

We are all experiencing Post Traumatic Remodel Syndrome. I understand where Sara is coming from, but I can't afford to replace one more thing.

A New Favorite Spot For The Dog

2012-01-10T11:16:00.001-08:00

Since our renovation, Kiki has found a new place to hang out!

The More You Change, The Longer It Takes: Ending The Remodel

2012-01-05T13:28:00.000-08:00

Things are looking pretty good around here. Our house is truly transformed. Even though we live in a cool, landscaped place, I still wouldn't recommend the remodeling process to anyone.

People keep asking me when it will finally be done. I tell them, when the check bounces. I think these guys will keep finding things to do until we are completely bled dry.

Of course, we were the stereotypical home owners during a remodel. "Wow, wouldn't that doorway look better over there? It seems like this window could be better if it was bigger. Why don't we paint the living room puce. Oh, wait, paint over that puce color and make it green again, please???"

We keep finding things to "change order." A couple of years ago, I didn't know what a change order was.

Yes, I did say a couple of years. We have been in flux for two years now. We've been quite flex with the flux. Now, we need to put the last boxes away and settle back into real life.

We can't afford food, furniture or utilities anymore, but we have a lawn and a fountain and a non-leaking roof over our heads.

Good Bye 2011...Possibly. Hello, Hopefully...

2011-12-31T09:58:00.001-08:00

It's finally time to say good bye to a lot of things:

1. Good bye to to the POD that has taken up most of our drive way for the last 7 months. We will see if it is truly gone in two days. Possibly...

2. Possibly, good bye to the contractor, though I do love our team of great guys. I've had enough of coming face to face with them every morning. Rain or shine. Happy or grouchy. I have to smile and look sane, even if I'm in bunny slippers and and a fluffy robe yelling at my kids to get to school.

3. Possibly good bye to not knowing where anything is. My life has been shuffled and stuffed, hauled and mauled for the last two years. Complete strangers viewing my bra and underwear collection is bound to be over soon, right?

4. Possibly think about why I do not need to deal with miscellaneous crap and meaningless drama. Who needs that extra baggage? I've packed and lifted enough lately, forget bringing me extra stuff.

5. Possibly re-lizing and re-aligning what is truly important. I'm tired of running in circles trying to keep up with the invisible hamster wheel of craziness. Just because you are on the road, don't mean you have to keep driving in the wrong direction.

6. Hopefully saying hello to lots of time with family, good friends and quality time.

7. Hopefully saying hello to regular sleep and a life full of no boxes, packing or unpacking.

Fa La La La BLAH! My Christmas Dreams & Thank You Very Much!

2011-12-19T20:09:00.001-08:00

OK, I have my own Christmas dreams. They include simple things, like watching Scrooge with Albert Finney once a year. I love the idea that you can be a total Scrooge and the spirits can fix you in one night. It just is not a total and proper Christmas without the song Thank You Very Much sung by the townspeople through the streets of this re-hashed musical version of the Dicken's classic.

Right now, my husband needs a visit from the three spirits, and Marley, too. I'm trying to get him to watch any version of A Christmas Carol with me. His reply: "We have at least four versions of that stupid movie, I'm going to watch football."

It doesn't take much to crush my Christmas dreams, but I need someone who finds the hope and magic that comes with the ghosts. I need to believe no matter what hair brained things I've done throughout the long year of 2011, that even I can be transformed into a new and better version of myself.

And if I'm looking for improvement, why can't everyone? Why can't we all thank the spirits and get on with it? Why can't we all buy into a little magic now and then? It's free, or maybe just a small fee on Netflix.

Thank you very much! Get rid of the Fa La La Blahs, grab some hot cocoa and watch A Christmas Carol.

Holiday Spirits: Get Out Of The Way

2011-12-06T21:35:00.000-08:00

I hate shopping at this time of the year. This is essentially when I feel like online shopping was truly invented for me. I would rather sip my coffee, point and click and order than go anywhere near a mall in December.

I have already had my car backed into. Watched a lady get rear ended. And, if I listen carefully, I can hear all kinds of honking. Drivers are not patient, they are crazed and just want you to get the heck out of their way. Fast.

Beyond the parking lot, are the lines full of anxious shoppers. Today, I thought a man had only one item, I asked if he would like to go in front of me. "Thanks," he said, and proceeded to go in front of me and ask for something out of a special cabinet. I know, because I had to wait with my three lonely items on the conveyor belt while they got his "special" tequila out of the back cabinet.

Now, generally, if you know me, you know I appreciate good tequila. Please don't, however, accept to go in front of me in line if you are going to take 10 minutes finding your item while I wait for you. Not cool.

That tale tell energy is out there again. People are crazy, impatient and kind of mean. Ladies seem incredulous if I hold the door for them. Salespeople are incredulous that I'm not yelling at them about charging me for someone else's avocados.

Ugh. I do love hibernating this time of the year. Stay home, bake cookies and dream about the good old days with Web Van, that sounds about right.

When Can Kids Be Kids? High School Applications and How They Can Impact Your Entire Life

2011-11-29T08:51:00.001-08:00

Well, I have to say that I've pretty much had it. If it isn't hard enough to be 13, we've added a whole new dimension to the teenage twilight zone: high school.

My own middle school years flowed seamlessly into high school. I never thought much about it. There was the high school on Baker Road, and that is where you went after 8th grade. My 9th grade teacher did tell my parents to get me out of that place and get me into a private high school, but I was in 9th grade, I had my friends and there was no way that I would switch.

Now my 13 year old daughter is taking SSATs and writing applications and having interviews and visit days. Even I am writing essays about why my kid is so fantastic that they should be dying to have her at their school--despite me forking over the $40, 000.00 check for tuition. No matter how fantastic my own essay is, or my kid is, the old boys network still exists: if you know somebody or ARE somebody, you have a significantly better chance to beat the regular process. It's like the elite line at the airport.

Welcome to the real world kiddo, you might be 13, but this is how the world works. Welcome to decision making and test prepping and acing an interview. We send our kids to a school that treasures childhood, now it's like WTF? Grow up and grow up fast.

Ruth was playing Lego's with her 10 year old sister. I had to break into a litany about homework and getting it done and done right. No Lego, no movie, just study. There words are hard to spit out, because I don't believe much of this pressure cooker practice, but we live in a world that is steaming up.

There are people out there that are playing the game every minute. They are networking like a flu virus and they are teaching their offspring to do the same. If you go to the right high school then you can go to the right college. Heck, I know this starts at preschool for some families.

I think I'll take Ruth to Toys R Us this weekend, at least there, a kid can be a kid.

The Lost November

2011-11-27T22:32:00.000-08:00

My husband said something very interesting tonight, he said that we've lost all of November. Yes, now where did November go? Every year, we hit November and have what we basically can call the birthday month.

Deb 11/2

Francesca 11/3

John 11/4

Beth 11/6

Michelle 11/11

Rick 11/13

Birk 11/20

Lynda 11/23

It is the birthday onslaught. When two people in your family and some of your very best friends all have birthdays in this kind of succession, it is one big birthday month. One big birthday extravaganza. Non-stop, all of the time fun and frolic full of gift wrap, champagne, and party hats.

Once we hit the end of November, we are ready to slow down and take a breather, but oh, whoa, it's now December! December and the Christmas countdown has started ticking as soon as we finish the turkey leftovers.

Funny enough, we just had a week off with the kids. We slept late, stayed in our pajamas and had no routine, which was our ruin. You basically get nothing done when you aren't forced to get up and get on the move. We were slugs, but we were birthday celebrating slugs.

On a cheerier note, we learned that 6 bottles of champagne for 8 people in a limo is not enough to help us finish off the end of the birthday extravaganza month. Oh birthdays, birthdays, birthdays. Older AND wiser, what a treat.

Getting Locked In A Spa Locker At Midnight On Your 10th Birthday

2011-11-23T09:07:00.001-08:00

Wow! That's a title that says it all, doesn't it?

It was Birk's 10th birthday. She crossed into double digits, excited and happy to be leaving 9 and all that baby jazz behind her.

Around 11 PM, her dad took Birk, her sister, Ruth, and her best friend to the pool to finish off what was a pretty terrific day. It was time for the famous night swim.

What we didn't expect, was for her best friend to lock her into a pint size spa locker and forget the combination.

No staff on duty, no manager at the front desk of the resort, and my baby trapped in a locker. This puts "use at your own risk" in a whole new light.

Luckily, after 10 minutes of panic, the smartest of the group on the outside of the locker (which included a 9 year old, my husband and a security guard), 13 year old Ruth, figured out how to talk Birk through opening the locker from the inside.

I was blissfully cleaning up from the happy day when Birk arrived shaken and tear ridden. The story was outrageous. We, of course, went on and on about how you would never put yourself into that kind of situation.

Then, we also remembered, kids get into trouble. They get into all kinds of trouble. They get into the kind of trouble that you can't begin to think of warning them about.

Even after 10 years, parenting is still a tricky job. It will always be a tricky job. Things just keep changing, and you never know what is coming up next.

Distressed County French? How 'Bout Distressed American?

2011-11-15T21:14:00.000-08:00

We are trying to pick new furniture. I thought this was supposed to be fun, but it's only distressing me out. We only want something to sit on, why is it so complex?

It really comes down to the fact that as a family, we are not all that concerned about the "statement" that we are making. Do we want a couch that screams 2011 Ikea modern, or, are we looking for something traditional straight from the farm, er Barn?

Maybe something from a Crate or a Barrel? Perhaps, we are all just Lazy Peoples?

I'm contemplating a bench from a catalog. A bench that costs more than my first car. All I have to go on is a picture and some measurements. How does one know what that's going to be like when it arrives on my front porch?

Wish me luck. I say me, because, that's what it comes down to. Of all the people that don't care about the furniture in our house, I'm the one that cares the most.

Why, Lion, Why?????

2011-11-09T21:41:00.000-08:00

I am an Apple customer. I have the iPhone (only 4 mind you), an iPad and a Mac computer. For a little while, my iPhone has been acting up. My calendars were not syncing, my photos were doing wonky things and my music kept disappearing.

Then, it was time to move to the "cloud." I was not so excited about the "cloud" because I was having trouble with mobile me. On the other hand, maybe the "cloud" would solve all of my problems and my life would return to normal.

I fearlessly figured out how to buy and download Lion. It was not exactly a bargain at $29.99. I clicked all the buttons. I waited hours for it to download.

Now?

Now I can't open any word documents. I'm a writer, half my life is written in word documents! My calendars still aren't syncing properly, even though I'm following everything step by step. I can't even upload my pictures to blogger. Otherwise the picture that you would see here would be a very inappropriate picture of me giving the "cloud" the bird.

Why I Love Teenagers

2011-11-04T14:11:00.000-07:00

I was tidying up the house when I found the lyrics to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody taped to the outside of the sliding shower doors. I love teenagers!

Halloween Cat Costumes By Birk: Happy Halloween?

2011-10-31T06:47:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what your cat can morph into for Halloween? Birk can help you. Perhaps, give these a try:

Ghost Kitty

Cool Cat

Pioneer Kitty

Yay! It's Monday! Marvelous Monday!

2011-10-24T09:22:00.000-07:00

I've written many posts about depressing Monday mornings. However, today, I'm quite glad it's Monday. I have the house to myself (along with a construction crew pouring cement and using some kind of saw) and there is a strange peace in knowing what I'll be doing for the rest of the day.

On the weekends, there is no real schedule. It shifts and changes all of the time. I plan nothing, because if I plan something, it doesn't happen anyway. We go with the flow, which might sound both difficult and nice, but this also means that we get nothing accomplished.

Yes, I have hopes and dreams on the weekend. Maybe we'll visit that museum exhibit that I want to see--and do it as a family and impart fabulous culture and knowledge upon our children. Maybe we will sort the last lot of boxes, take the donations to Good Will, or actually cook a nice Sunday dinner?

Those are my dreams, but none of those dreams ever really come true. I am a little water plant in a quick moving stream. If the wind blows in one direction, my fronds go that way. I have no power against the tide.

However, on Monday, I am once again mistress of my own destiny--to a certain point. I am in charge of myself. I can only blame me if nothing gets ticked off my list and I get ticked off. Marvelous Monday. What do you think of that? Is a certain place freezing over?

Thinking about Halloween: Life, Death and the First Day of 3rd Grade

2011-10-18T11:07:00.000-07:00

It was the first day of school for Birk today. We were making eggs over easy on the stove together, cooking and chatting.

BIRK: Mom, when you're reincarnated, what would you like to come back as?

MOM: Reincarnated?

BIRK: You know, after you die, you come back as something else. I'd like to be a bunny or a Pegasus.

MOM: The thing is...

BIRK: Do you get to come back to the same family? Can I be in this family when I'm reincarnated?

You have to wonder where these ideas come from. I know we've discussed Heaven, so this reincarnation thing side swiped me.

Over coffee with my friend, she said her son created his own idea of Heaven after his grandmother passed away. In his idea of 6-year-old Heaven, people lay on their backs in the grass and stare up at clouds. He was also insistent that his cremated grandmother have a "stone" somewhere with her name.

It must be like being a little explorer in this vast world. Ideas and images fly around and you have to grasp and grapple. His mother wondered where he got the idea of a tombstone.

I guess we drive by cemeteries in the car and we put all kinds of freakish decorations out for Halloween. TV and movies probably add to the it and there is a bevy of information about religions and beliefs that is discussed at school.

I'm quietly thinking about a conversation that I can have with Birk later. We live in a world where ideas are colors blending on the palette. Time to paint a masterpiece.

Computerless, Artless, and Landlineless

2011-10-11T19:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

It's been about 3 months since I've had a steady functioning computer of my own. I'm developing a permanent squint from gazing at the small, rectangular screen of my iphone. I pretty much can do anything with my phone now. It's not a skill I want to really keep honing, though.

I'm also, once again, living among the boxes. I'm tired of boxes. I'm tired of packing. I'm tired of unpacking. I'm tired of lugging. We've decided that we are not hanging any art until all of the boxes are sorted and put away. It's very weird to be living with bare walls. We have a lot of art and a lot of it created was by our kids. It feels dull and lifeless and very boxed in.

We also have no landline telephone. This is really no biggie. However, have you ever had to make every dentist, doctor and school visit appointment while squinting at your smart phone screen calendar and yelling into the speaker phone? It does not make one feel very together and organized, I can tell ya that.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that we have no tv. I probably miss this the least. It would be nice to see the fall line up, though. We did find the stereo, though.

I've gone both back and forward in time these last few months. I'm ready for good old down time.

Sign Me,
Don't Box Me In Again Until I Get My Sleeping Vacation

Greetings from Banff

2011-10-05T18:27:00.001-07:00

Dear Friends,

Here we are in Banff. George is at a conference, and I'm the tagalong. This is good considering our house is a wreck and my computer is broken...again!

Yes, the computer. I guess it's time to visit the Apple Genius people again. Oh, it must be nice to have a job where you are called a genius. Everyone looks up to you and wants and needs your attention. Nice. My job usually doesn't go in that direction, considering that I have two teenagers. (btw RIP Steve Jobs).

Banff is a beautiful place. Have to complain a little about the beautiful Banff Springs Hotel. For the second year in a row we ended up in the parking lot view room. We made such a scene last time, we figured that this could not happen again. AND...this was after George called 3 times to make sure that we were not in a parking lot view room. Not even if we were really looking at cars, we are looking at concrete walls. What is the point when you are in beautiful wilderness???

Now, we have been upgraded in room and price to the "best view in the house." It is truly spectacular. It is also because we have been in the "best view in the house" before that we whine so much about the parking lot view. My goodness!

House. Disaster. The renovation looks great. All of our crap? Looks bad. Need I go further? I think not.

We are celebrating 18 years of marriage. Still no one I'd rather spend my time with even after all of this time. He wants me to give up my land ownership and become a full time water girl. Love will always make you a fool. That is all I can say.

I'm going to run and watch The Help. Hope you are having a good week.

TTFN,
Deb

"Falling" In

2011-09-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

Usually, by the second week of September, things are adjusting to their own kind of normal. The routine gets rolling, all of the bills are paid and the necessary forms are turned in.

This year, the new normal is all chaos all of the time.

I'm on round two of a broken computer. I just fixed that thing and pumped money into it to do so. Now it is lifeless and needs some kind of repeat divine intervention from the geniuses at Apple.

I'm still living in my one bedroom, one tent abode with one husband, three kids and a big, hairy black dog. I now know why dressers and closets were invented. Everyone needs a sock and underwear drawer, if nothing else, unless you're a dog.

I hope to be back on track soon, if it's not overgrown and unrecognizable.

Mommy Angst: Cut-Throat Competition for Private School Acceptance

2011-09-22T08:12:00.000-07:00

Our kids go to the cutest, private school. O-k, I've said it and you, reader, are either cringing that I used the word "private" or you have private school in your background.

My kids did not end up at an "elitist" institution out of breeding. My husband and I went to public schools and I think we turned out pretty o-k. We kind of ended up at private school by accident. How does one make a ca trillion dollar mistake such as this? Read on...

Our first born, John, is an early September birthday boy. If you are a parent of a September boy, you know there is always one question before they enter kindergarten, "Do you send them early, or do you hold them back?"

If you are new to this debate, at the heart of it, a lot of people believe that you should give a child the "gift of time." This especially holds true for boys. I'm a Montessori preschool teacher, and when it came time for our son's third year of preschool, it was considered his "kindergarten year."

My husband and I, just figured that John would enter the public school kindergarten class with his "gift of time." He would be 6, and that would be around the age of most of the boys in his class. We went to tour the public school kindergarten and uh oh.

The tour guide said that they like the kindergartners to enter school being able to write their name and that most kids are reading by the time they enter 1st grade. John was over at Montessori school probably reading chapter books as we took our tour. This wasn't going to work out so well.

We toured 1st grade. The class sizes were small, but there were 600 kids on recess that border a public park. All we could picture was our little baby in that big class. He was quiet and shy and sweet and he was going to get lost!

Meanwhile, our Montessori teacher called us in for a conference. She told us if John entered kindergarten, it was going to be a disaster. Basically, we were told there was no way John could do kindergarten again.

She recommended that we tour a number of small private schools. We started touring, and the rest is history. We chose the sweetest school that was a cross between Montessori and traditional school. It actually was nick named the "Hippie School" a long time ago.

This was not a fancy school with a parking lot full of fancy cars. Being in Northern California, it had an eensy weensy celebrity attendance, but for the most part, you wouldn't know it was a private school, until you got the bill.

There is one class for each grade. Each class has a team of teachers, usually one male and one female. Every teacher at the school knows you and knows your kid. There is music and art and a wonderful projects lab where the kids use saws, hammers and drills. It has been a lovely place for our now 8th grader to grow and learn.

However, this school ends at 8th grade. Now, we are being catapulted out of our comfort zone and into the land of high school. Public school is large and excellent and facing big budget cuts. Private school is uber competitive and exceedingly expensive and excellent--it faces no budget crisis as the prices just keep going up.

Now we are on that age old question again, what do we do? Do we sell the farm, and maybe a couple of siblings to afford an excellent secondary education? The competition is so fierce for so few spots, you can't go anywhere around 8th grade parents from our school and not have the "High School Conversation."

Where did you apply? Do you think you'll get in? How many recommendations? Test scores? How many times did you child take the SSAT? Did you take the SSAT courses? How was the interview? What did your child write their essay about? Grades?

Calgon! Take me away! We will get letters from the schools about acceptances March 18th. Until then, oh boy. There is tension among the best of friends. There is parental angst over who will get the coveted one or two spots at the top schools.

Then the rumors fly right alongside the circus. If you give more money, you have a better chance. If you have this zip code, you have a better chance. If you play such and such sport you have a better chance. If you have siblings you have a better chance. If you're famous, if you're friends with so and so, if, if, if...

If this is high school, we are going to need Valium to get through the college application process.

Overdue Greetings from California: 9/2011

2011-09-15T09:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

September is a high action month. We are on the go, and usually don't know where we are going. I have two calendars, one paper and one electronic. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a magic system that combined them flawlessly? Oh there is, it is called organiztion! Oops, clean out of that in my mental cupboard.

We are still in the one bedroom, one tent ark. It's all ok. Every once in a while I feel like I really have things under control. The next millisecond, things are falling on me in the closet and I know I absolutely don't have ANYTHING under control.

We actually have no furniture in our regular house. We have a big, expensive job ahead of us to try to fix that situation. Since we are all so bad at trying to choose things, it may be that way for a long while.

Kids are back at school...I think today made it the ninth consecutive day that we tried to get to school somewhat around the time it starts. We usually are a little more punctual at the beginning of the year and slide backwards to being Indiana Jones rolling under the closing stone door late. The pattern already set for this year scares me...if we are this bad now, imagine where we will be by Christmas?

I know that's not a lot of info. Add a broken computer and a smashed phone, and you get a clearer picture to why this blog is suffering.

That's all I can say for now.
Kindly,
Deb

Blog: Canadian Chronicles: The Turn

2011-09-09T10:34:00.000-07:00

Every summer there is a turning point. There is a day, and suddenly, I look up from my gazillionth load of summer laundry and I’ve just had it.

I’ve had it with laundry and figuring out where the next meal is coming from out of the jumble of food in the pantry. I’ve had it with scrubbing the toilets. I’ve had it with picking wrappers up from the floor.

I’ve had it with searching for batteries that work and flashlights and towels and socks. I’ve had it with making beds and unmaking beds. I’ve had it with trying to be polite and remembering my gracious hostess (oops typed hostile) manners.

I’ve had it with trying to make brilliant conversation with strangers and smiling blankly at passers by, when I just want to lock myself in my room.

And the kids…
The kids start saying how much they miss their pets and their favorite pizza place. They are kind of done.

It’s like being on a crazy road trip, and sometimes it’s time to turn that car around and head home.

September 1st: School and Back to the Race

2011-09-01T06:34:00.000-07:00

We are back and back to breakneck speed. If I think of everything on the to do list individually, it seems completely sane and doable. When I stand back and look at the forest that the trees make, it is a dizzy-fying Monet painting.

I guess that you could look at something like that and say that there is beauty in the chaos.

Right now, all of see is a field of crows.

Catch up and keep up are my varsity sports. I think I'm lettering in neither right now, but I'll keep you posted.

Haha.

Technical Difficulties

2011-08-26T15:32:00.000-07:00

Hi, I am so close to civilization I can taste it. Yet, I have no computer and no Internet. I'm limping along, but will hopefully be up and running soon.

Canadian Chronicles: Where The Heck Is The (Fill In The Blank)?

2011-08-15T11:48:00.000-07:00

We are almost to the two week mark in the Canadian wilds. What was I up to today? Matching sets of sheets.

Can someone please tell me why I have the bottoms to some sets and the tops to others. One matching pillowcase here, no matching pillowcase there, and no quilt to match any of the shams? WTH?

Thank goodness for my fancy college education. Thank goodness I never went for my masters degree. How could I explain to myself that I am matching sheet sets with my years of sweat and tears of study.

Yes, I was having a worse time finding matching sheets than I ever have with socks.

Well, what is the big deal you may ask. The big deal is that we go through this stupid exercise every year and every year we come up with some big, new, wondrous idea of how to organize this linen disaster so that it never happens again.

Well, it happens again every year.

Every year, I wonder what the sheet fairies do with my icky, leftover sheets.

What the heck do they do with them? Where do they go?

If you’re coming to the Taj this summer, please bring a hostess gift of a set of Shabby Chic Sheets from Target. This kind dries the best in the dryer in this humid environment. Then you know for sure you’ll have a matching set of sheets, just like at a normal hotel.

Canadian Chronicles: Eyes Ahead: What Is Coming Down the Pike? Goofy adages and the Y2K Teen.

2011-08-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

My son recently returned from a trip to China. He cursed me about my little “sayings.” He said, when he uses them, no one knows what he is talking about.

Hmmmm? Cooking on the back burner? Doing something like a house on fire? A month of Sundays?

Well, today, as I changed and washed sheets after our first round of guests, I was thinking about the next jump.

The next jump you may ask? Yes, when I was riding and jumping on a course, you always kept your eyes ahead and looked where you were going next. Look where you want to go…

I have a gazillion sayings that come just from me and my own experience. I suppose they are not written down anywhere and no one else in their right mind uses them, but they are a kind of short hand scrawl in my family.

My kids certainly know what “putting a bounty” on an item means. If we have to “fly like an eagle” they had better hurry up and get out the door or we’ll for sure be late.

Someone asked how I felt when all of the guests leave and I’m alone. My mind is always on the path to the next item, I’m never in the moment of the leaving, I’m approaching the next jump in my mind.

Canadian Chronicles: Family Feud Garbage and Recycling Style

2011-08-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

Garbage is monitored in a police type state in this sector of cottage country. The local dump is filling up, and it is all about policing our own garbage and recycling if we want to keep it open.

This is garbage up close and personal. In the city, we fill our garbage cans and roll them out to the corner. The very nice garbage men come along in their truck and presto change-o, gone-o.

Two months a year, I really think my money that is paid to Marin Sanitary is quite a bargain—ever with the new rate hikes. There is a sterility and detachment that is akin to buying bologna in the supermarket.

Sometimes we think about where our garbage goes, but there is nothing like seeing a mama bear eating it with her babies. When that big momma is eating your leftovers, how can you not contemplate what your leftovers are.

On the abyss of the pit, there is very little that is poetic. Pieces of trash and more trash co-mingle in a tangle of stinky, smelly mess. Where do old toasters go to die? Just look in the hole of the garbage dump.

Maybe if were all confronted with actually putting our own garbage bags in our cars and driving them to the dump and then adding them to a cesspool of crap, we would all be recycling more vigilantly.

My son is pretty good about being in charge of the trash and recycling. That was, until some fellow Americans visited us, and 2 weeks later, when we were getting ready to take the recycling and the garbage to the dump, or a dump run as we call it, we realized, that our relatives are not very good recyclers.

Yes, old moldy orange peels, diapers and meat wrappers co-habitated with the cans, paper, plastic and glass.

Somebody had to sort it, posthumously, so to say. As the main working mama at the B&B we call the TAJ, I was stepping back from that one. All of the kids tried to pass that one on, but my eldest daughter was the worst. She was adamant that SHE was NOT sorting stinky, rotting garbage.

I told her we all have to do jobs that we’d rather not do and that is it is part of life. Not very impressed with my little speech, she resisted royally or princessly. Let the feud begin.

Canadian Chronicles: Arts and Crafts and Kayaks, Grown Up Style

2011-08-03T11:41:00.000-07:00

As I sit on the floor of my bedroom, ripping through packing tape and sorting small parts, I think about being old and less crafty. Gasp, can that be true?

There was a time, when I did needlepoint, crocheting, sewing, rug hooking—you know the kinds of stuff that were considered hobbies. At one point, I got a new hobby, the granddaddy mac of all hobbies, I call it children.

Part of the children hobby, is assemblage. Instead of the gentler crafts, my grown up arts and crafts session feature things like today’s project: assembling a fan.

I am reading pictogram directions, twisting and turning L keys, and looking for small bolts that somehow, seem to be always missing. I know full well, if I screw this one up, the plastic fan blade could hurl across the room and kill me quicker than I can say, “read all of the directions.”

Yes, these days, I am putting together furniture, children’s toys and small household appliances as my crafts.

This makes me think of a funny story. One time my friend, Deborah, and I decided that we could pick up the two-man kayak from the local wilderness outfitter’s store by ourselves. If we DID NOT wait for the husbands to do the job, we could be enjoying the kayak that evening.

Deborah is not one to shy away from any task. She is the type of Girl Scout that you want right by your side when the zombie’s attack. We are always doing things I am sure that I would never be confident enough to do on my own. Things like fixing showers, toilets and making cement.

Anyway, we got to the kayak store, and needed help getting the giant sized kayak on top of her van. A nice man offered to help us out. Just as he was hoisting it to the top of the van, a storm cloud broke out over us Addams family style.

Half under the car, tying the rope to the frame (his bottom half was quite dry, but his top half was dripping drenched), he looked up at us and said, “Where are your husbands?”

The answer to that, my friends, is the story of my life.

However, I am sitting here with my new fan blowing on me in all its windy glory.

Bless us crafty gals. We kayak faster and get cooler quicker.

Canadian Chronicles: My Wicked Groundhog Kind of Wednesday

2011-08-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

The cot-TAJ (from here forward, just TAJ will be used) comes complete with a sweet little guest cottage. This is a cottage in all the usual, regular sense of a Canadian description of cottage. The furniture is shabby, not even shabby chic and there is that telltale cottage smell.

You might not be familiar with the cottage smell in regular real life. It smells musty, a little moldy, stuffy and cabin in the woodsy. When you smell that smell, you know that you have arrived at a bona fide cottage.

Right now, a ground hog is living under this little piece of Canadiana. If you’ve explored some of this blog, you might know that Birk is an animal lover to extreme limits. She was mauled by a wild cat and still insisted that we adopt it, for just one example.

Sooooooo, I found the girls cornering this little ball of wild fur in the garage. They were discussing names and how they could transport him back to California.

As if.

The 2011 Canadian Chronicles: What Did You Do On Friday?

2011-07-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

Here is my Friday blow by blow:
1. Wake up at 5:30.
2. Ruth asks what that terrible sound is. Turns out our bazillion year old beer fridge (which actually holds more meat than beer) is making a sound loud enough for the neighbors to hear. This sound can only be described as a pre-EXPLOSION sound.
3. Transfer all food and drinks out of unplugged beer fridge and squeeze everything into our kitchen fridge.
4. Round up donations for the Salvation Army, four bags of garbage, luggage for three, dog food and road trip breakfast snacks. Put all of that stuff in the car.
5. Drive two hours to Ottawa. Almost run over a bunny somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
6. Stop for gas.
7. Scope out random locations to put garbage in different garbage bins. One at Quiznos. One at Harveys.
8. Make a u turn for a donation drop box. Darn, it only took clothing! Still driving around with 4 boxes of books.
9. Stop and visit an ATM.
10. Battle construction and arrive at the dog groomers early.
11. Hit a greasy spoon, find two hairs in our food.
12. Walk around neighborhood, decide to drive to a store.
13. Drive 15 minutes & get call from groomer...dog ready!
14. Maneuver second u turn of the day.
15. Drive all of the way back.
16. Can't find parking, give girls $60 to run in and get dog.
17. Dog's bath actually costs $63, but the guy was feeling nice???
18. Drive to parking structure.
19. Check in early (thank you Westin!)
20. Go for walk with dog, eat lunch at Memories.
21. Pass out at 1:30
22. Freshen up, make a dinner reservation and out to dinner.
23. Get to dinner, no reservations to be found?
24. Watch the Lion King at the NAC.
25. Walk dog.
26. Fell into bed.

Past Canadian Chronicles: Travel Compatability

2011-07-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

The first holiday debate ended amicably years ago. We chose a civilized approach to the holidays and trade off celebrating with each side of the family each year. It is very predictable and works very well for all concerned.

The other classic debate we have is over travel: do you fly the red eye or do you take the 6 am flight?

I get no sleep either way, so I might as well fly the red eye and have my kids at least sleep while we are making time to our destination.

I think this is much the same debate that parents have about night drives. Do you drive all night to take advantage of the peace and quiet of sleeping children? I grew up with a night driver, so I, of course like this idea.

George is a day driver. He is a speeding, maniac day driver. He has the tunnel vision of a coal miner with a headlight. He points the car in the direction of the destination and it takes a medical emergency or natural disaster to steer him off course. This includes use of the bathroom and eating.

If you need to go the bathroom, you have to make it abundantly clear that it's an emergency and you have to do it at the first twinge. If you are not direct and clear on this front, you could wind up trying to pee into a ziplock bag, and this is very tricky and mostly doesn't work.

In my family, eating is one of the best parts of a road trip. You buy all of the secret forbidden snacks and proceed to eat them randomly and continuously for the duration of the road trip. Of course, rules dictate that the trip must be over four hours in order to buy entire bags of doritos and assorted childhood favorite candies that you no longer allow yourself to buy in public daylight.

Shorter trips beckon fast food restaurants with poutine, onion rings and double cheeseburgers with bacon. I used to buy my snacks on the road from shady gas stations, but now I have to pre-hoard. There is no hairy eyeball to contend with from George if I pre-plan my menu.

This man believes in not eating the whole trip. You don't get the big gulp or the supersize fries, because then it warrants the aforementioned stop at the bathroom. Why would one leave their speed train and have to pass all of the semi trucks that you just got around again? You eat when you get there, even if it takes 7 hours.

Over the years, I've corrupted him a bit. He's put me more on the straight and narrow. The best thing about 15 years plus of marriage is that you can prepare and strategize for the arguments or roadblocks ahead of time.
I'll tell you one thing: if you try to pee one time in a ziplock bag and it doesn't work, your husband is more likely to make a genuine pitt stop in the future.

Twilight

2011-07-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this thinking that it will be about vampires and werewolves, you are barking up the wrong tree. Sorry for deceiving you.

This is about the light in our cottage closet.

I love this light. It has the most gorgeous glass and ironwork. It is from before the turn of the century. I saw it at my favorite antique lighting store and instantly fell in love. I tried to find a place for it somewhere in our light fixture void and came up with the perfect locale, the walk in closet.

However this light, it…it…it…doesn’t give off much light.

However, every time I see it, I sigh and feel romantic.

People that know me might say, especially my husband, that I have a light fixture fetish. It could possibly be less bad than other kinds, right?

Now, as I search for my clothes in the twilight of my very own closet, feeling romantic, I have something to blame mismatched socks on.

Afterall, we all look better in romantic lighting, am I not right?

The Princess and the Perception

2011-07-15T20:53:00.000-07:00

There is something funny about perceptions. We just finished a nice dinner (with a lot of coaching on the art of having kids cleaning the kitchen), and my in laws stopped by after attending a party.

They were talking about their world travels—you know, the usual stuff, spelunking through caves, water travel trips that are billed as adventures where you are never dry, torches, malaria, sleeping with strange families in the jungle.

Good Lord, once again, I was reminded just how different people are. If I knew that I was marrying a descendent of India and Indiana Jones, I would have given this family fair warning.

They all looked completely shocked when I said that I am pretty sure that I will NEVER take any trip where I am in the wilderness in a full bug jacket with two sets of clothes: one wet and one dry.

This shock still gets both sides of the equation—on one hand, after almost 20 years of marriage I am shocked that they do not know me any better than this. On the other hand I think my in laws are shocked that my husband found me, dated me and proposed marriage.

I am not a princess. I do not crave twenty mattresses not piled on a pea. I am just damn tired. I like to have a shower from time to time. Although, if you ask anyone I know, I am not a fashionista girlie girl, I do like some girlies things, like baths.

I grew up dirty. I roamed the countryside. I rode horses in the sun, dust and grit. I mucked stalls daily. I baled hay. I waded in creeks. I swam in ponds, oceans and lakes. I picked wild raspberries. I am over it.

For goodness sake, I was working a full schedule of shifts as a waitress from the age of 12 to 25. I have three kids who are just now getting old enough not to have constant supervision.

I’m ADHD, I can barely find my car keys, let alone manage the schedule and ever shifting possessions of a family of 5.

And then there’s my husband. He is high tech and lives at high speed. Everything comes down to the wire. Our life together is fast paced and ever changing. I have to be ready to pull a bobby pin out of my hair at a moment’s notice to pick the lock when I’ve lost the keys for good.

Yes, I don’t know why I’m still surpising anyone at this point. I’m as transparent as transparent can be, and I’m the first one to admit that I am just too tired.

Note that the sleeping vacation that is my ultimate goal. I am tired. I want to be bored gosh darnnit! I want to wake up and say, “Wow, I have nothing to do today, what should I do?” Then I would go back to bed.

Sitting at the Fun Table

2011-07-13T19:23:00.000-07:00

9.999 times I am sitting at the Fun Table. You know, if there is an event, and the entire room is full of stuffed shirts, I can be found at the loud, rambunctious table that is being shushed.

I seem to be a small-time trouble magnet. I'm not usually getting arrested or anything, but I drive the people who are not having a very fun time in life insane. This includes crabby drivers, whom I love to smile and wave at while they are having a fit, and gnarly curmudgeons that complain about both rainy AND sunny days.

My glass is always at least half full, and if I'm grouchy, maybe my glass is half full of wine. I would never have described myself as a party girl for the first 30 years of my life, but let's take a look at this...

Most of my life, I spent with my BFF sidekick from preschool all the way until college...right on down to skipping down the wedding aisle. She thought nothing of our days spent in the freezer section of the grocery store at lunch time, choosing a Sara Lee frozen cake. Then it was two girls, two forks and frozen cake in the car for lunch.

We went to concerts and found that if you go the night before a final exam, you can just stay up, go to class and ace that test the next morning. Who said that hip hop isn't educational? Or maybe it was our late night stop at Denny's on the way home for the all nutritional brain food called Hot Fudge Brownie Sundae?

In any case, maybe I didn't go to the fun table, but the fun table came to me. Whatever, I just hope my place card keeps ending up there!

Greetings from Ottawa!

2011-07-08T20:34:00.000-07:00

Here we are. We made it to Ottawa, drove like gangbusters to Plevna. Did a little bit of work getting our lives out of boxes and bins.

Now we're back in the big city. The boys went to the Ottawa Bluesfest to see Cage the Elephant, Rage Against the Machine and the Black Keys perform in concert. Last I heard, the fans were enjoying the music, but were very wet.

The girls went shopping and then had dinner at our favorite Ottawa restaurant, Sante. Then we got to see the movie, Zookeeper. It was cute. The young girls enjoyed it--for a jaded 42 year old, it was better than I expected.

Tomorrow we forage for food and head back to the lake.

I'm back to blogging from the iPhone. Typos and crazy phrases are surely found above!

Circle of Friends

2011-07-02T10:08:00.000-07:00

We had a fabulous gathering of friends last night. The weather was post card perfect. It really was a gorgeous, gorgeous night. It is in those occasions that I really feel blessed by the family that is our "friend" family.

When I was growing up, it was my cousins that I saw at each and every holiday and event. At these gatherings, my aunts and uncles chattered in the background, while the kids ran amok. Most of my relatives ALL live within a 15 mile radius of each other. There were, and still are, only a handful of exceptions--uh, like maybe 5, including me.

Food was always homemade and potluck. Everyone had their signature speciality. Every once in a while a fantastic new dish would appear, and the recipe was instantly shared on recipe cards. They still all do this for birthdays, graduations and holidays. That is a very hard part about living across the country from your childhood home.

When we moved to the west coast, I had to leave behind the occasions that defined my ideas of celebration and family. I also left behind the network of support that you don't really realize is there until you don't have it. Especially, after I had my first baby, I realized that I was alone. There was no one to bring over a casserole in the special sharing basket. There was no one to hold that baby while I had a shower.

Last night, I looked around the late night circle of faces on the patio in the candle light. There was so much big history in that little circle. We were all comfortable, the way that family is comfortable. There is a comfort and grace that is so reassuring.

If I had a baby now, there is no doubt that casseroles would appear magically on my doorstep. There is no doubt that any woman, or man, in that circle would hold my precious newborn so that I could take a shower.

We are not afraid to call each other out on the good. the bad or the ugly. There is no fear. We all have seen the highs and lows, and we know that these are solid, friends for good. These, are our west coast family...and we love you!

Noah, I Can Relate: Life on the Ark with 3 Kids and a Dog

2011-06-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

Well, we are officially ark dwellers. We have crammed our family of 5 into 700 square feet. One queen size bed, one full size pull out and a loft that is meant for storage, but now sleeps two, are our accommodations.

The ark for two is perfect and romantic. The ark for three is cozy. The ark for four is a bit squished. The ark for five, need I say it?

The ark for 5 is a small scale comparison to what Noah felt like on his ark--minus all of the animal pairs.

What once was minimalistic and sleek, is now crammed with at least five of everything. As usual, the pairs that are taking over this family ark come in shoes. Two or more pairs of shoes for each ark dweller adds up to, well, adds up to a lot of shoes.

One thing is for sure, life is an adventure. If Noah could do it, so can we. We at least have much better weather. I don't know if I prefer goats to teenagers, though.

Pictures off the Walls, Undeck the Halls

2011-06-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

Let's think about this rationally: I started packing up the house in, oh, April. Things keep changing around here, and now I'm still packing and it's, oh, end of June!

I finally had to take down the African Linsang from Birk's door. This is the kind of home that we have. Things are taped here and there. Like I've said before, we live here.

It was sad to take this little piece of the rain forest down. Our home is starting to look more like a house. The vibe is there, but it's empty and lonely without our family and our "stuff."

Up, Down, All Around, Latest Reno Pic

2011-06-22T08:44:00.000-07:00

Still packing, still trying to get things squared away. Crazy, just crazy I tell you!

Happy Father's Day To My Dad

2011-06-16T07:14:00.001-07:00

My dad has always been the biggest kid. He always has a smile on his face, and in fact, he worked with high school students at his A&W restaurant most of his working career. Not everyone wants to work with teenagers, and not everyone has the patience and skill to do it so well.

I worked with him, and the rest of my family, at the A&W for 13 solid years. Not only did I learn from him as my dad, I learned from watching him handle so many situations. He always trusted me and had high expectations. Life in the fast food lane is chaotic, and he taught me how to handle the chaos with class, time after time.

Now retired, he was the guy that was tough, yet a teddy bear to his employees. Working at the A&W was the first job for a lot of kids, and he gave them their first shot, and sometimes their second chance, after they royally messed up. Yes, his mantra of "You are never too sick to work" is stuck in my brain and my own work ethic.

He also taught us simple things like, when you are on the schedule, you have to show up. However, if no one teaches you this, it's very easy to ignore responsibility--especially when you're a teenager and you'd rather go on that date with a cute boy. Yes, he was my dad, but I think he was dad to a lot of young people during that phase of his life.

My dad is also a finder, and I definitely think he passed this on to me. He can find anything you need. If it's help after you crash your 5th car, he's your guy. If you need a ticket, a missing piece to an old train set, a place to take horseback riding lessons--he will help you find a needle in a haystack, even. Even if you lose yourself, or your way, he can help you find you.

He is always excited about things and life. He loves being a grandfather, or Bompa, as my kids call him. He loves those kids with a passion, and they know it! He embraced grand parenthood with his arms wide open and full of love. No hesitations, no reservations, no crazy advice--he actually is 100 percent in my corner no matter what life throws at me.

Speaking of kids, he is the biggest kid himself. He always has time for people. He always is kind, and a good listener. He will talk to anyone (for a very long time, I learned at a young age) and he is always interested in meeting new people and hearing what they have to say.

One thing that stands out in my mind, is that after I was married, I went directly to Canada. Don't pass go, don't collect your $200 (has inflation effected that?) and don't cruise around on a honeymoon. Get yourself to Canada and hurry up, and well, wait for immigration.

I couldn't work. I couldn't go to school. We had one car that went to work with my husband each day and no money. On my birthday, my dad drove 11 hours to take me out to lunch and take me shopping for "whatever I wanted." I chose new mittens and a hat--it is cold in Ottawa. I think that was one of my best days ever.

When we needed money for our first house, he was there with his checkbook, no questions asked--and I believe most of this was his nature. I think it also was the fact that he trusted me to do the right thing, and the right thing was to pay him back as soon as we could, and we did.

Actually, my dad always expects the world to do the right thing. He is kind and generous with his time and spirit and I think he expects that from the rest of us. Sometimes he is disappointed, but most times not. He will go out of his way to help a stranger, take in stray cats and dogs, and find a silver lining when you're sure that all that is there is rust. When these are the standards, we all try our best to rise up and meet them.

There is so much more to say, but mostly, the biggest thing is thank you. Thank you, dad, for being who you are and teaching the rest of us to be better people by example. Thanks for sticking up for me all of these years, being in my corner, and teaching me how to look at the sunny side of life.

Retro Kitchen Artifacts: the Antique Kavoorkaa

2011-06-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

If you remember back to the Seinfeld days, you might remember an episode about Kramer and the "kavoorkaa," a Latvian word for "the lure of the animal." Like many things in pop culture, I've modified the definition, and apply it liberally to my own life.

Seriously, I've taken Seinfeld-isms to the next level. I've bought the complete series dvd set and make my children watch them (when appropriate) so that they can understand why I would ever use a word like "kavoorkaa."

Now, when I am shopping, especially at antique stores, I think about the kavoorkaa. When I touch an item, and linger over it, I know better than to think that it will be there when I return. By holding it and giving it my longing energy, I've kavorkaa'd it.

The next person that comes upon said item, might feel my energy. It will lure them to the purchase, because the positive, longing energy exists.

OK, I am crazy, but I also feel that there is negative kavoorkaa. Sometimes I touch an antique and drop it on the spot. The energy is negative. Creepy. Evil.

All to say, after many visits to one of my favorite antique spots, I finally purchased this thingy as pictured above. A 1950's spoon rack in the shape of a ceramic flower pot. Oh boy. Lucy, this needs some explaining.

I am a woman who has grandma plates. If my grandma ever comes down from heaven, she will find me based on the grandma plates that she purchased with me on a shopping trip in the last months of her life.

I love the old life. The fact that there can be individual salt cellars. The fact that there are so many kinds of forks and spoons and plates. I want the old life. The complicated, but simple. The importance of a beautiful dinner. The slower, more complicated, yet a firm set of rules that establish the next move.

Blowing the Roof Off of Things

2011-06-09T10:16:00.001-07:00

This is the latest pic. Kind of crazy, but on it's way.

What Your Husbands Are Saying When You're Not Around

2011-06-07T16:19:00.000-07:00

I overheard two very nice things this week:

I was sitting in the stands of a baseball game, and two men were talking about their bucket lists. One of them wanted to see a particular sport's team before he kicked the old bucket.

Man 1: That's on your bucket list???

Man 2: It's true, that's one of the things I really want to do.

Man 1: No super models or anything? You don't have a super model on your list to sleep with?

Man 2: I'm married to her.

What you need to know most of all is that his wife wasn't at the game. It was so romantic...and it was a baseball game for goodness sake!

The other thing: I was talking with my Super Dooper Contractor. We were talking about how different people are good at different things.

SDC: Yes, I'm very good at some things, but my wife truly is the other half of my brain that I didn't know I was missing. Yes, she's truly my right hand and I wouldn't know what to do without her.

Awwwwwwwww, shucks! How wonderful and wonderfully romantic to have such things said about you when you're not even around!

That was a bit of sunshine in a week filled with banging, clanging and clouds of construction demolition dust.

Out With Old Memories, In With The New?

2011-06-03T08:46:00.001-07:00

We've been moving out of the rooms in our house in stages. Mid-stage, we were due to be out of our master bedroom by June 1st. On June 2nd, we were mostly out, I had a few odds and ends left to box up, but it was looking pretty good.

I came home from errands yesterday, and the entire upstairs hallway was boarded off.

Ugh! No fair warning, my contact lenses were still in their container. Dirty towels, shampoo, a full garbage can--it was all in there. To be clear, we are not remodelling the bathroom, so I was not thinking so much about the "crap" in there.

Ohhhhhhh, but I need that crap. Especially my contact lenses and glasses! And of course, a girl needs her concealer!

Our super dooper contractor (this man seriously should be wearing tights and a cape, he's that awesome!) kindly unbolted the wood and peeled back the plastic and let me go in to clean out my essential lotions and potions.

As I finished boxing up I spied this:

Years ago, we had visited Mrs. Grossman's Sticker Factory. These were some of the treats we brought home. As I was working on some project or another on my bedroom floor, I looked up to see that Ruth had decorated the inside of the closet door.

Yes, I am the type of mother that would let her kid's willy nilly creation remain on the inside of the closet door. I often don't have the heart to part with any of my kid's creations, and I simply didn't care or mind that this adorned my closet door.

It will all soon be a memory in a matter of minutes. The banging and clanking has started for the day.

My new memories won't be as colorful and childlike in my new bedroom, I'm sure. I'm also a little bit sad about that...

This is why I may have to, HAVE TO, go back to teaching pre school!

It's Not Going To Happen To Me...Remodel Denial

2011-05-31T11:22:00.000-07:00

I'm beginning to see this project in a different light. Remember before you had kids? Remember how you thought it looked so easy? Remember how you wondered why it was so tough for these whiny, new parents?

And then, you had a baby. And then, you knew.

I heard the same rumors about remodels. How tough it was. How much fighting and stress there is. How the logistics are so difficult. How so many people just give up and buy a new house.

I'm starting to get the picture.

My house is literally upside down. I spent all yesterday packing boxes of "crap." There is no way to sweetly sidestep that, I'm packing what clearly is crap. I have no more patience for sifting through all of it and trying to make sense out of it.

When you take ALL of the stuff (or crap) out of your closets and have to look at it in daylight, it is quite an experience. Not that all of it is that atrocious, but you realize just how much stuff your closets hold.

Just like babies, remodels have a whole new reality when you are holding it in the palm of your hand. It looks easy from the outside, but come in my front door (mind the bright yellow caution tape) and take a look around. It ain't so pretty right now.

Hopefully this is all worth it. I'm convinced that the babies are worth it, but this remodel thing? Maybe we should have just bought the new house?

The Beginning...House Remodel Picture One

2011-05-26T13:05:00.001-07:00

Summer, We Are On Our Way, Except, I Forget...

2011-05-25T20:33:00.000-07:00

The chaos around here strangles the gentler, slower life until it is gasping for air. There is a pregnant PODS container in my driveway, boxes piled around me and unpaid bills stacked willy nilly. I have 1212 unread emails in my inbox and most of those I've saved as "new" because they represent some type of action item.

Instead of ramping into a fury of craziness, I've struck a calm, zen place. That is one of the best things about my ADHD, I just forget.

I forget that the guitar teacher is coming at 6:30, so all of the banging that I heard wasn't the construction, it was knocking at what is left of the front door.

I forget that Ruth has piano on Wednesdays. I kept staring at the clock, dialing her cell, and wondering where the heck she is.

I forget that I'm supposed to call the doctor for a follow up call on one of my exams. I re-remember every few days, but never actually remember to do it.

I forget to actually buy dinner food at the grocery store. We can snack and throw an amazing appetizer party, but dinner food? Forget it.

I'm the absent minded mommy. My brain has shut down from overload. Maybe this is Post Traumatic Remodeling Syndrome. PTRS?

Yep, I'm PeTeRsed out. No wonder they say that ignorance is bliss.

Ripping Down the Walls

2011-05-22T20:40:00.000-07:00

Well, you haven't heard from me in a while--we are fully into the reno. Walls are being ripped out, windows removed, and now, there are two very nice pieces of plywood in my kitchen and front doorway.

My parents spent two weeks with me boxing up two rooms of the house and boxing and moving out anything that needed to be shipped north or out of the house in general. It certainly was non-stop action.

Now my house is partly empty, partly turned upside down and just down right more chaotic than usual. We have one more room of furniture and stuff to pack up. Then we will be officially living in 4 rooms of our house. Nice.

Each morning I drink coffee and start packing. Each night I fall into bed.

There are things in the recesses of the attic, that were hard to part with. One in particular was a project John had done for school. It was a little village, mounted on poster paper. He built the village that was featured in the book. Each house was made of popsicle sticks. The roofs lifted off, and inside each house was a character.

I had to crack that baby in half and throw it in the recycling. It almost killed me, but who needs a 2 foot by 3 foot village made out of popsicle sticks?

I kinda do.

I might need it to live in soon.

Construction: Demolition and Deb, When The Going Gets Tough, This Girl Goes To Napa

2011-05-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

Well, it all started today. My own personal crew of demolitionists began hacking away at our foundation and garage wall. Digging and banging continued all day and all afternoon.

I dubiously was inside the house trying to put the furniture from one half of my house all into the other half. This is not going to be as easy as I thought.

Meanwhile, in a moving office somewhere, another Deb was emailing me and about shipping furniture to our cottage. I have various items earmarked for the journey, mixed in with my regular stuff, mixed in with the stuff I'm trying to "stuff" into the non-demolished rooms of the house.

All along, my life as usual life keeps chugging along at the end of the school year rate. Papers and bills are piling up on my desk, food is rotting in my refrigerator and the social obligations of the weekend loom ahead.

Outside the house, my super excellent contractor is fixing this and that, helping me along with the process, and valiantly trying NOT TO FREAK ME OUT.

What does a girl do that has half her house in shambles, a little bit of it packed, and a lot of it waiting for some direction? She goes to Napa with her girlfriends. On a Wednesday.

Yup. Off to Napa. Will deal with this all later.

XOXO.

Starting Construction, Again...

2011-05-09T06:50:00.000-07:00

We are starting our third project. It is a remodel of the house that we actually live in, that almost overlaps with two other projects. One completed, one finishing up, and this one beginning.

Our belongings have been in a state of constant shuffle for over two years. I am pretty good with chaos, but now it seems like a sad fact of life that papers will always be everywhere, bins will always be half packed, I will always need more boxes and tape, and I can never find the mate to my husband's shoes.

We tackled the garage last week. Well, I tackled the garage with the help of my very excellent friend, our steadfast and patient contractor and his co worker. Not as many things as I was hoping went to donations and the dump. There is still enough stuff for at least three good garage sales.

Questions like, "Deb, where do you want the skulls?" and instructions like, "Be careful with the tombstone" scattered into the wind as we tried to organize years of, well, basically JUNK. We made progress, but it was only the first step in a sequence of total packing up.

Today, we are working on the attic. Luckily, my parents are here to help me haul stuff out of a sloped crawl space. However, as we work on these areas, the rest of my house is showing signs of spontaneous combustion.

You never realize how much your regular life demands of your constant attention until you focus on something else for a while. Well, the crew arrives today to start their part of the beginning, I'm here working on my part...and I'll keep you posted.

How Much Halloween Is Too Much?

2011-05-02T22:10:00.000-07:00

We are just about to start a remodel. Perhaps the best thing about this entire project is that I am going to have to finally go through all of our JUNK and sort it out.

You know the 3 usual categories, right? JUNK, DONATE and KEEP. Yes, I know these categories, too, but I'm having a hard time with the most important ones: JUNK and DONATE.

As I spent hours this morning dragging bins out of the garage, I had to ask myself, "Just how many Halloween decorations does one family need?"

I have bins of skulls, jack o lanterns, costumes, candles, well, you name it, I probably have it in there somewhere. As I stacked the bins as high as I could, to eye level at least, I found none of the Halloween decor migrating toward JUNK or DONATE.

Maybe I will star in a special episode of Halloween Hoarders? I can't bring myself to give one little iota of my Halloween JUNK away.

Friday. Schedule. Strategy. Bathroom Stall Silence.

2011-04-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

In Disneyland, I like to visit the restrooms. I wait in a long, hot sweaty line with other desperate women. When it is my turn, I race into the stall, lock the door and am overwhelmed by the sense of peace I feel in my 2 by 3 foot space.

As long as I remain in that stall, with the door firmly locked, it is all mine. No one can cut me off, step on my toes, give me a sideways disapproving glance or ask me for ice cream. Nope. I am calm, quiet and as alone as one can ever be at a theme park.

Which brings me to, well, here we are, another Friday. There is a full weekend ahead with lots of fun and activities. The schedule is tight, though, and it won't feel like a lazy, old weekend, that's for sure.

Our schedule is our guide book around here. I constantly need to check what our next strategic move will be: can I drive to softball, race to baseball and watch a few innings, fly over the hill to carpool pick up and be back in time to softball? How can I split my schedule so that I can be in at least 2 places at once?

It used to be that I looked forward to the weekend. I wanted to sleep in, be lazy, hang out and get a few things done around the house. Now I rest up the rest of the week so that I have a shot at surviving weekends.

It's funny how life is, here I am on Friday, knowing that tomorrow, there will be moments that I'll wish that I could lock myself in a bathroom stall and just breathe.

What Is It About Men Liking Women In High Heels? Bad Purchases, Bad Shoes

2011-04-25T17:40:00.000-07:00

Do men like women in high heels so that they can just knock us to the ground and drag us along back to the cave more easily?

Seriously, my closet is full of shoes that I will probably never wear again, that is if I actually ever wore some of them in the first place.

Do you purge? Save them for your daughters? Take Advil and three shots of tequila so that you can dull the pain and wear them anyway?

Is anyone out there spring cleaning? I'm saying "Ugh, in my Uggs." today. I hate to part with anything that I got a good deal on even if I'm never going to use it.

Thank You Friends and Family! Our Michigan Trip Part One

2011-04-19T09:01:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like a trip to the Midwest that makes you long for a spin class and a trip to the farmer's market. Ruth asked on the way home from the airport, "Why do we have better vegetables in California?"

Yes, even the girls were feeling the yearning for green vegetables. Ruth asked for some beet juice. Go figure.

We had a great time, and I'm including some shots to let you see what our little trip was like:

The grandkids visiting Great Grandma Smith.
The required trip to Kilwin's Chocolates in Ann Arbor. My dad told the salesperson I was engaged in that shop window 19 years ago. She said, "That's very interesting." Her tone said, "Now why would someone do that?" Long, romantic story.
Dinner at the Blue Nile. Birk declared Ethiopian her new favorite food.
Greenfield Village with cousin Maddie.

Mamma Mia with Godmomma Wendy at the Fisher Theater.

Girls on a plane!
Nana on the way to the airport in style!

Memory Lane in Photos

2011-04-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos of Michigan memories:

1. My childhood home, from the time I was 8 until at least 20...
2. I worked as a car hop here for 13 years! The family business.
3. My little brother. Always playing hockey and going to tournaments. I guess I was destined to marry a Canadian.
4. My little sister on the front porch with our cats. We always had a lot of barn cats. It looks like Twinkle Toes, but she'd be pretty old if that's her.

Detroit Here We Come!

2011-04-13T08:22:00.001-07:00

We leave the house and my husband arrives as we leave. That is the reality with split spring breaks. The girls and I are headed to the Motor City. Motown!

Stay tuned for some Detroit updates. We are going to see Mamma Mia and possibly visit Greenfield Village or the Detroit Institute of Arts and have Christmas in April at Frankenmeuth.

I Love You, Lady With The Purple Paisley Suitcases

2011-04-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was out shopping in a desperate way for one more table to match my patio set. This is sometimes what happens when you buy your patio furniture from Ross. I love the store, but you know if you are a Ross/Marshalls/TJMaxx shopper, you better buy it when you see it or forget about it.

A couple of months ago I bought four chairs and a little table. Last week, when actually trying the set out for the first time, I realized that I needed one more little table. Of course, when you are sipping wine and having snacks, you need room for it all. This meant the county wide search of all of the Ross stores was on.

On my third and last stop, I spied the matching table. Success! While waiting in line to swipe my visa, a very blond lady in front of me was purchasing two suitcases that were big enough to fit all three of my kids and our dog in.

Not only were these the biggest suitcases I've seen this side of a steamer trunk, they were the brightest paisley print of purple and hot pink that you can imagine. The woman was kind and friendly. You could tell she was just a little ray of sunshine that shared her warmth with everyone around her.

We are lucky people in this world to have these pockets of human kindness. There are so many scrooges out there that this Earth Angel gave enough light to blind one of them at least.

When Am I Too Old For This? Vomit, Taxi Cabs and Hotel Lobby Bathrooms

2011-04-04T21:46:00.000-07:00

Another night of silly costumes, dancing, and bidding. Just when the night was winding down for some, for our crew, it was just beginning.

Ahhhhh, but I've learned my lesson. There are cameras everywhere. There are people and conversations that you NEED to remember in the morning. At my age, anything that I NEED to remember at all is in danger.

Speaking of memories, for more years than I can remember, we have all booked a room at a local hotel with awesome views of the San Francisco Bay. We've worn costumes when most of the guests did not. We pre-party--this year with a nice bottle of Dom, AND, we post party.

There are infamous years. Wild limo rides, people stripping on stage, strangely acquired items that need to be returned on Monday, and stories, comments and conversations that you can never erase from the mind.

This year, we held it together pretty well. No crazy stuff, the wives left the husbands behind and took off for the comfort of a warm, cozy bed. We took a 3 AM cab back to our hotel, I climbed out of the car, and the hem of my skirt was wet! My friend said, "I thought I smelled something in that cab."

I touched the hem of my skirt, sniffed my hand, and almost passed out from the puke smell. There is nothing like human bile to make a person's own stomach turn. Luckily, it was an outer scarf of a skirt. I took it, and my long shawl off right away, right there in the hotel lobby.

I headed to the rest room to wash my nasty hands. Well, what do you think I found there? Two out of the three sinks were a red vomit wasteland. It looked like a crime scene. Holy Toledo. I tried to use the most sanitary looking sink, but it was out of soap. I had to totter over the chunks of vomit, but was thinking the soap was worth it.

I told the front desk that their restrooms needed immediate attention. The guy said, "Well, it is a Friday night, and the bar just closed." Oh, that explains it. I'm so old and out of it.

We all headed to our separate rooms. Being 3:30ish, I dropped my soiled shawl and skirt in the hallway, stepped in the room and removed my under skirt and dropped it in the hall as well with my shoes. My plan was to get the plastic laundry bag and stuff those puppies in.

First, I needed a shower. I couldn't imagine the nice, pukey germs I had been in close quarters with, so I took a shower. Feeling much better, I put my comfy jammies on and went back to the door to get my nasty off casts.

Gone!

Hmmmmmm. Not that I want them back, but isn't that the strangest thing?

I Dream of Genie? Not Really.

2011-03-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

We are a fun-loving group of friends. We've known each other forever. We've worn ridiculous costumes (why, we just dressed like grannies and mooned our friend with diaper-covered adult butts that had letters that spelled out her name). We've partied. We've puked. We've laughed. We've cried. All together.

Each year we attend the school auction. We've dressed in sarongs, togas, wigs, cowboy garb and more. We are a spectacle. We are spirited. We have a wild and crazy time.

This year, I was hoping for a little black dress, some simple shoes and passing the torch to some other crazy kids. Nope. I was just informed that my husband and his friends are dressing as sultans.

My friend turned to me and said, "You know what that means..." No, I'm not sure what that means. I kept quiet. "We have to be harem girls."

Yikes. A harem girl? Seriously, I am waaaaayyyyy too old for this. A genie? A scantily clad harem girl? I am 42 for goodness sake.

Part of me can't refuse the challenge. Part of me is quite sure that there ain't enough Spanx in the world that can make this old gal fit for a harem. Jinkies, Thelma, what's a girl to do?

She goes out and finds a harem outfit. Stay tuned for pictures of our 9th school auction. Still crazy after all these years.

Saturday Mornings

2011-03-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

There is something about Saturday mornings that makes me want pancakes. This requires butter and pure maple syrup. Bacon is an extra bonus, but it is not always worth the time commitment.

We used to cook big breakfasts around here. The kids would be up early and running around the house. The TV would, of course, be blaring kid's Saturday morning shows in the background. We made hot chocolate, squeezed fresh orange juice and actually set the table with plates and cutlery.

By noon, taking one look around at the kitchen damage, you knew you had just eaten a real breakfast. I swear I worked off all of the extra bacon and pancake calories just doing the clean up.

Now it is Saturday. It's 10:30. The house is as quiet as the local library. I can hear a bird singing. Someone out there in the neighborhood is using a blower. It is me and the dog. Husband, asleep. Girls? Asleep. John? At a friend's house.

There was a time, before baseball and sleepovers, that we really had family time on the weekend. The weekend was a sigh of relief after a long week. We could relax, hang out and spend some downtime together.

Now, Monday is a relief. The weekends are a rapidly changing schedule and there is never one Saturday like another. There is always a different practice time, slumber party, play date or game.

If you have young kids, treasure the weekend. It becomes a logistical nightmare that I think only will change when I have an empty nest. And then, well, the nest will be empty.

Feeling the Amazon Burn

2011-03-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

I am a pretty experienced online shopper and a pretty loyal Amazon aficionado. I love typing in exactly what I want and have it pop right up within seconds. I can comparison shop, I can have it shipped in two days with Amazon Prime, and I am usually very happy.

This is until my last purchase and thanks to one of Amazon's secondary suppliers. We all know to read the fine print, but gosh, really do read it. I bought a toaster recently, thinking nothing of clicking on the purchase button.

It was being supplied by an outside supplier--not being shipped directly from Amazon fulfillment. It was a toaster. I've bought many toasters in my life. Never had any problem. However, this fancy, semi-expensive toaster was a problem from the word go.

It burned every piece of toast. Even on level one, it burnt the toast like it was a flaming marshmallow over the open campfire. Never once did it "pop" up before I had to press the cancel button to save our home from a kitchen blaze.

I notified the seller. I could return it, sure. I only had to pay to ship it back, then pay a 15 percent restocking fee and pay the seller back the "free" shipping that it had been sent to me with. All of a sudden, my $60 dollar toaster was costing me about $33.00 once I returned it, and I ended up with no toaster!

Friends, returns to Target, Williams Sonoma and Crate and Barrel are free. Buyer beware.

Monday Morning Blahs: Overwhelmed As A Life Choice? Don't Read This Unless You Want To Hear Some Whining

2011-03-21T10:05:00.000-07:00

The weekends are kicking my butt around here lately. Maybe they always have, but lately, I'm feeling the pain more than usual. Just when I think I have a handle on things, the handle breaks off. Maybe this is all part of being 40 something.

This entire year, I can not seem to get grip on any kind of routine. I used to think I wasn't a routine girl, but as I get older, I can see that I clearly need one. I haven't exercised with any regularity. I haven't written with as much regularity as I'd like.

I'm falling off the healthy eating wagon--I bought Chex Mix yesterday, and sat down on the couch next to my husband with the intent of eating it all by MYself in ONE sitting. He luckily grabbed the bag away from me and saved me from MYself.

I feel like I need a lot of saving from MYself lately. I'm back to two cups of coffee, lots of take out and little premeditated cooking and cleaning. I know it will all be OK, but I feel a little like I'm slipping off the cliff of no return.

I suppose I could put the brakes on a bit and slow things down. I am pretty much the churner that whirls and allows the chaos around here. Can Overwhelmed be a life choice? What if sometimes it isn't voluntary?

Speaking of returns, anyone up for a little Monday retail therapy? That might be my next stop...

Spring Re-Organizational Fever: Hoarding

2011-03-17T11:02:00.001-07:00

I am shuffling the stuff lately. I am tired of the bric a brac that sneaks into my house when I'm not looking.

Does anyone else have this problem? Oftentimes, I know I'm in trouble because one of my girls says, "And I got it for free!" What? Just what did you get for free? And, their version of free is imprisoning me in my house on a Thursday morning.

I live in a very creative environment. I have very creative kids. I love the half-finished stories about elves and the half finished sketches of horses. The sculptures made out of the "free" stuff. It is hard for me to part with any creation. I know the feeling of loss, when I've lost a story, or a list, or even a bill. I try to keep it all.

Thus, the shuffle. Is there a Hoarders show about kid's artwork and school projects? Won't we need that diorama someday? Ruth just might finish that half-sewn skirt from scrap material donated by my neighbor. What if, what if, what if?

And, because we are so creative, I am the most creative of all--thinking up scenarios where all of this "stuff" might be needed.

It's true. I need medication, therapy, or possibly both!

This Is What We Do Around Here For Fun...

2011-03-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

Hi Friends,

Lucy is so sweet to treat us on her birthday to such a rocking concert. What about turning the tables just a little bit and treating Lucy to some entertainment of our own!?! We have some ultra talented friends in the crowd, and if the stage is set, how would you feel about combining forces and coming up with a few "acts" and trying to get in on the show as a birthday surprise?

One idea that comes to mind, is to think about the different decades of music that Lucy has enjoyed throughout her life. They are all distinct and lend themselves to great songs, costumes and props. What do you think about trying to do some kind of tribute to Lucy in the themes of the 1960's, 70's, 80's and 90's-present? Even magic or comedy?

There are 20 or so of us--and Ricky wants to be included, as well, so we could divide into teams, couples, girls only, boys only, whatever we are inspired to do.

Myself, I'm wondering if anyone would like to tackle the 80's and do a "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" thing with me-- a la the school play's Daddy Lear--could be girls or guys? Any guys/couple want to do Sonny and Cher? Lady Gaga? Kiss? I don't know, this is all off the cuff and I haven't completely thought it through. I just wanted to throw this out there and see what people think. I know Lucy loves the talent shows, what do you say?

I am not a singer, an actor, or anything except silly. No pressure, only if you'd like to do it, but please let me know quickly, we don't have long to plan, collaborate and connive!

Cheers,

Deb

Avalanche, In My Garage

2011-03-11T13:31:00.000-08:00

I realized, as a suitcase was falling on me, that it is really time to clean the garage. We have a crazy life, and we are usually throwing down one thing, grabbing another and rushing off to the next activity.

I can get somewhere, have the proper equipment (mostly) and look prepared--but behind me I've left the trail of a war zone.

I'd like to eventually stop living in the chaos, but then I will stop living?

Good Dogs?

2011-03-07T08:36:00.000-08:00

Well, you might tout the necessity of a good dog, but let me tell you, I have a good dog and she's the queen around here. On football Saturdays, she's the one cuddled up on the couch next to my hubby. In the summer, they are out in the hammock and they're snoozing together in the sun.

Where am I? I am certainly not in a hammock. I am fully upright, managing the small things that add up to my big domestic life. You know, the life where most of the sentences start like this, "Mom, where's my..." and then you fill in the blank with some item that requires the detective expertise of Sherlock Holmes to find.

Our dog goes on runs with my husband. She goes out for coffee at the local cafe. She rides around in the car with him on his errands. I think my husband is actually dating the darn dog!

Am I jealous? Of course I am! I wish I didn't have to be the fun police of the family unit. Someone has to kick that man of mine off the hammock and make him change the freaking halogen light bulbs. Which is another topic, but, I think men invented those for sure!

And...every time I kick him out of the hammock, he loves me just a little bit less and that darn dog just a little bit more.

I'm 40 and Falling Apart! Old People Yoga

2011-03-03T15:27:00.000-08:00

Well, it was the hip. Then it was the lower back. Then it was the upper back. Now I've got an ingrown toenail. The workout gods certainly are twisting fate cruelly lately.

Today I tried a gentle yoga class with my friend, Pilar. It was so gentle that we were the youngest "kids" in there and I still couldn't keep my hands up over my head for the fully allotted time.

I knew if I made eye contact with Pilar at any given time, I would burst out laughing. Afterwards, she said to me, "No more old people yoga." I agree. However, I'm starting to feel like an old person myself.

My friends are breaking, too. There is always a knee, hip or skin surgery on the horizon. Next I'll be reading the obits, looking for dead people that I used to know.

Tomorrow I'm going to try a new yoga class. This one is sure to have me twisted in a pretzel and convulsing on the floor. I'll let you know. I'm an old dog, and there are sure to be new tricks.

The Grandma Plates

2011-03-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

In my cupboard is a lovely set of earthenware dishes. They are blue and white with scenes of different castles and little flowers and leaves circling the outer edge. The pattern is Johnson and Brother's Old Britain Castles.

Sometimes when I'm having a cup of tea, I stare into the distant castle-scape and imagine myself in a little white farmhouse with a front porch and white picket fence. My kitchen is decorated in white and blue with lacey curtains. Through the screen doors birds are singing and I can see an apple orchard in the distance.

The caffeine brings me back to the Brady Bunch 1970 reality that I live in. Somehow, I married the man with a penchant for 1970's homes. Weird, inexplicable architecture--he loves it three times over. Open concept, boxy awkward rooms--he loves it. Me? I--hate it.

It's not like he forced me to live in these places. No. He just kept falling in love with houses in GREAT locations, and I am a practical kind of girl. So, here I am. Great location, crappy Brady Bunch house.

Yes, if I were to put myself in an old sit com, it would be the Waltons. I would live in that big, airy farmhouse and gladly yell "Good night, John Boy." I could feed chickens, muck out stalls and even help at the sawmill. Yup. I could do all those things, except I'm in suburbia.

As you may have read before, I rebel in little ways. I wear clothes that people refer to as "grandma clothes." I have a love affair with the "grandma car" and I also possess the "grandma plates." I serve dinner and snacks and tea on these blue, old-fashioned beauties.

The grandma plates were actually bought with my ninety year old grandma. We went shopping together and I bought them on that memorable trip. I think about her pretty much every time I pull one out of the cupboard or put one in the dishwasher.

Sometimes I even see my plates in antique shops and e-bay auctions. They really are the best plates. They are light and durable. They go in the oven, the dishwasher and the microwave with no fuss. As I've said before, there's a reason we all love our grandmas.

Oh My!

2011-02-25T16:16:00.000-08:00

Just To Let You Know--Holiday Cards Are Finally Sent

2011-02-17T12:56:00.000-08:00

Ruth right before her ears are pierced!

Russian River Getaway!
Mother-son trip to Europe--the London Eye
Ice Cream at Balderson, Ontario, Canada
Proper sun protection in Mexico

Holiday Angel--painted by Ruth

It's taken me this long, but I'm sending out the last of the holiday cards today. I got a late start, I'm getting a late finish, and please don't be offended if you didn't get one. I got a little mixed up, and I'm not even sure who got one and who didn't.

My list is missing. My official Ye Olde Handwritten Christmas Card Address book is missing. I am a loser in this category this year. Do I get points for trying?

Above you'll find Ruth's excellent Angel. I love this painting! Also, all of the pics we've included on the card...just in case you didn't get the card and wondered what you might be missing.

Two Beers and a Hot Tub?

2011-02-15T12:22:00.000-08:00

Here was tonight's dinner conversation while eating with a good friend:

Me: John (age 12, in Little League) is having trouble with his back.

Birk (age 7): His coach told mommy to have him go home and have two beers and a hot tub.

Good Friend: What?!? What did your mommy say?

Birk: Mommy told the coach that she told John he could have a hot bath and a margarita.

John: Yeah, and the coach said that margaritas don't work because kids don't usually like them.

Oh, boy.

Friday

2011-02-11T17:46:00.001-08:00

Here it is Friday, and I haven't accomplished much this week. What's new? I feel like I'm one step forward, two steps back all of the time.

Booking camp is the one thing high up on the to do list. It amazes me every year the fear I have of committing my summer to a schedule. I love the wide, open feeling of the whole summer spreading way ahead of me like a lovely, green field.

The Long Slippery Slope

2011-02-07T14:30:00.000-08:00

I realize that time is winged. I saw a friend in passing this morning, and we both skirted each other with the same words: we thought things would eventually slow down, but they don't. There is only so much time and only so much you can do. No matter how much you want to. The road to Hell, blah blah blah.

Not to mention the crazy factor. The crazy factor is huge. By this I mean, how much can you handle and not need medication or hospitalization? How much is too much?

I'm starting to feel like this theme raises its head around here over and over. How many ways can you say that too busy is just too busy? How do you trim the towel, without throwing it in?

My house is a hodge podge of evidence of the busy, disjuncted life that we lead. No one has time to really take those old computers to the dump. No one has time to weed through the excess and the outgrown (both adult AND kid).

My husband showing up for dinner is a mixture of shock and surprise. I never plan on him, because he's never here, therefore, there is never really enough food to cover the situation. I am happy to see him, but feel guilty that he's kind of written out of the nighttime storyline.

I'm an adult with ADHD. I was a child with ADHD, but now I'm all grown up and I can tell you it still effects my life in ways that are functional in a disfunctional way. I can do it. I can get it done. It's not always pretty, but here we are.

I am over-caffeinated, sleep deprived and mostly exhausted. I read other blogs and wonder at the fresh ideas and ability to write day after day something brilliant and witty--well, at least something interesting.

Back to the ADHD, my friend says that if I just got the medication, I would be so much more organized and productive. I keep thinking, maybe I just need a different lifestyle? You know, the kind you don't have to medicate yourself for? If I truly slow down, can I enjoy a life that doesn't require medication for me to keep up with it?

My adult friends with ADHD swear by the medication. I would like to avoid that kind of situation, I would like to be able to manage my own situation.

Mommy Dating

2011-02-03T13:47:00.000-08:00

Last week, I went to lunch with another mom and her kid. I barely survived the experience, I felt stressed, harried and flustered. There was no aura of calm surrounding the event. It was, in a word, chaos.

Her young child was yelling, screaming and kicking up a fuss. The waiter was giving us the evil eye, customers were complaining and I felt trapped in a bad episode of Super Nanny.

As we left the restaurant, I thought we might share a moment of relief, thrilled that THAT was over. Whew! We'd never do that again, right? Instead, with sincerity, the other mom gushed about how wonderful the lunch was.

Look, there are times that it is better, in fact, to stay home, make a lot of dirty dishes and pans, and be up to your elbows in soapsuds whilst screaming bedtime marching orders. Horrifying other people and myself, is not my idea of a good time.

However, it looks like this is all a personal perspective.

I found myself back on an awkward date with a boy that I really did not want to see ever again. This could be referred to as the "Don't call me, I'll call you, and then I won't call you," situation.

This statement is only party true. I like the other mom a lot, I just did not want to ever go out to lunch with her kid again.

Maybe I'm dating myself? I'm older, my kids are older, we do not live in the world of Pampers and throwing food in public places anymore. Maybe I'm a dinosaur. Maybe I forgot what it's like to eat with tiny tykes, because my tykes are towering over me now.

That's not the surprising part. I get that kids will be kids. I get that you can't expect angels. What I don't get is that the other mom thought it was a lovely afternoon and was oblivious to the mass hysteria we caused the waitstaff and fellow diners.

Despite my rant, I'm speechless.

My High Horse: What Are YOU Teaching Your Kids

2011-01-31T20:21:00.000-08:00

Although I'm not a gainfully employed teacher at the moment, that was my pre-SAHM profession. I feel thankful to have found a niche of the world that I enjoyed so much and I definitely felt an immediate connection as soon as I entered teacher training.

I taught grades 7,8 and 9 English and Journalism. Then I moved to Canada and took my Montessori teacher training and degree for pre school ages 3-6. I am a bit of a jack of all trades, I enjoy all age groups, but especially love pre school and junior high because it is such a time of transition.

In pre school, a lot of the kids are leaving mom and dad for the first time. They have to navigate a new landscape on their own and figure out how this new world works. Junior high kids are the same--they have to figure out who they are separate from their parents. They start to make tough decisions that challenge their thoughts and ideas.

It really is a fascinating process to witness. That is one of my favorite things about Maria Montessori's philosophy--to observe and not always interfere. My other favorite saying from my Montessori teacher training is "Trust the child."

How often do we not "trust the child?" We rush in. We pre-empt any situation that looks like it could cause pain.

Example: While standing outside the 3rd grade class years ago, a mother approached me close to tears. Her son had not been invited to a birthday party. I told her my son hadn't been invited either. She was all over the emotional board: furious, fretful, sad, incredulous... She was bound and determined to call that mother and give her a piece of her mind, right after she complained to the principal of the school.

What? Here is the skinny. You are not invited to everything in this life. There will be parties, you will hear about them, you'll see pictures on facebook, your feelings will be hurt--but that doesn't change the way of the world. If you teach your kid to wheedle their way in and invite themselves, what are you teaching them? What are you setting them up for later?

I am not invited to stuff all of the time. Of course, sometimes I feel sad about this and left out. However, in the real world, invitations don't always have to do with someone liking you or not liking you. Sometimes, you are standing in the right place at the right time. Sometimes, there are only 8 place settings of china. Sometimes, your friends want to enjoy a different group of people.

I try to tell my kids early on, life is not a popularity contest. What you really have to do, is enjoy your own company. There are so many people that can't even stand themselves that they must fill every moment with a social event or obligation. If you can be happy reading a book or renting a movie, then you can be happy.

One Foot On Land, One Foot In The Swamp: Two Things

2011-01-28T12:25:00.000-08:00

Thing 1:

Swamp House is looking pretty good. It is getting comfier and cozier every day. It may not even be able to be called "Swamp House" anymore. It is actually better than my own house at this point. Better views. Better appliances. Better finishes. No one ever said that life is fair.

Well, and it is technically our place, but a place is not the same as a home. It's kind of turned into our mini vacation home. We go as a family. The kids play games. I can avoid the mess that is naturally generated in the home of a family of five.

Thing 2:

We have new neighbors renting across the street...again. The homeowners are living on the east coast, so they've been renting out their home for about 3 years. We've had three different families move in and out.

The first time I baked brownies, wrote a little card, knocked on the door and introduced myself. The second time, I introduced myself--gave the family a little card with our contact info.

The first two families we invited to our parties, went out as couples and spent some time together. They were very nice people. Then they all moved and sincerely, we will never see them again.

Now, I'm on the third time around, and I'm tired. Do I need to bake brownies? Show up on the doorstep? I'm generally very welcoming, but for now I'm lazy and crabby and they only are going to live there for 5 months. Can I just smile and wave?

If you know me, sigh, we will bake the brownies and do the whole thing all over again. That's just the way that we are, or I am anyways.

Kicking Coffee To The Curb...Again

2011-01-25T08:43:00.000-08:00

At one point during the holidays, I realized that I was on my 5th cup of coffee for the day. To be truthful, I don't even like the taste of coffee, but I sure was liking the added energy it was giving me. My caffeine driven state perked me up enough to get all of the items on the holiday check list checked off.

Many people look forward to the quietude of the New Year, but January is never boring and dull for our household. There is the De-Christmas factor, The Back to School Routine Factor, The Brother and Sister In Law's Birthday Factor, and most of all, The Husband's Birthday Factor.

I am well into 2011 and I was still sucking back the coffee like there's no tomorrow. Sometimes, it was the only thing propping me up and propelling me to the next activity.

On Saturday, I made a conscious decision. I put the coffee machine away. Well, I actually moved it out to the ark. I moved three modes of coffee making out to the ark. I left myself with a kettle and my Raspberry Earl Grey Tea.

I'll let you know how that works out for me, my family, and a thousand little volunteer things that I'm responsible for. I'm optimistic...but I also know it's only a matter of time.

Chivalry Is Not Dead:Thank You Random Stranger

2011-01-20T21:08:00.000-08:00

I try to teach my kids the mechanics of being nice and living in a world where they treat others as they wish to be treated.

I teach them to hold the door, even if you have to wait an extra 10 seconds for the person who is coming behind you. I teach them to really think about what they say and how they say it. I also teach them to NOT cut in line at the grocery store and to sometimes let that person behind you with one container of milk go ahead of you.

All of these things are dying arts as far as I can tell. People are rude, more often than not. The door slams in my face. People push their way in front of me in line and pretend not to see me. If a new check stand opens, instead of letting the person waiting the longest go to the new line, people race as if chased by tigers to get there first.

Today, I was loading two rather large folder chairs into my car. They were heavy and awkward, but I was making progress. Along came an old man. OK, I wish there was a better way to say that, but he was elderly. He was shuffling along and looked like he might need a walker.

He shuffled right up to me and said, "Miss, can I help you with that?" I can tell you right now, it was I who felt like I should help him cross the street.

I politely declined, but was secretly delighted that some people still just have good old fashioned manners. My husband is that kind of guy. He will pull the car over and help you change your tire, he will get your kitten out of the tree, and he will wait an extra 10 seconds and hold the door for you.

I hope to teach my kids to do the same. Thank you very nice man wherever you are, you made my day!

The Guest List: Add Your Name to the Ark Roster Now!

2011-01-16T07:51:00.000-08:00

The Ark, or Swamp House, is almost finished with its construction odyssey. I've been an errant bloggeress, life is doing it's usually January undertow and I'm going under.

We are setting up camp, so we need to figure out what kind of things we need. You sure think about necessity when you have to drag your worldly possessions out a boardwalk by hand or in a little cart.

The project has turned out beautifully. If you are on the potential guest list, get your request in early... I have this feeling that once someone stays here it's going to be hella hard to get them to leave.

It's better than my house...so it might be me that you'll have to boot out!

Three Kids, Two Adults, One Ski Week

2011-01-12T19:22:00.000-08:00

Guess what Midwest folks, Northern Californians are taking a whole extra week of holidays. They call it Ski Week.

Maybe it's stupidly simple, but it is just what is sounds like--a week off to go skiing. Michigan? Are you having Ski Week? Ohio? Let me know, because I did not grow up with this holiday, and every time it comes around, I feel disbelief that there is a whole week off of school devoted to skiing.

Maybe this holiday was created to boost Tahoe tourism? I don't know, but I can tell you, most people I know are headed to the slopes in search of fresh powder.

Anyone out there know how Ski Week became a holiday?

Guest Blogger Ruth's Poem, "I AM"

2011-01-07T17:17:00.000-08:00

I AM

I am from cherry pie
and from deep woods exploring
I am from swimming
and two wheeled bikes
I'm from tossing and turning and lat night snacks

I am from Debra and Chris
and from chocolate and hammock
I am from "are you scared?" and "you're so brave!"
I am from "I love you" and "Kiki, dust bust!"
I am from maple syrup and Canada

I am from Barbara and Jerry
I am from coke cans and paint cans
I am also from John and Shirley
from "tough it" and "rough it."
I'm from cats and dogs

I am from walks with dogs
I am from lakes and pools
I am from forests
I am from Earth
I am from...LIFE

Smoke, No Mirrors: The Ulitmate Culture Shock

2011-01-06T07:04:00.000-08:00

During our winter holidays, we spent 2 weeks at our almost finished Cot Taj. It is out in the middle of no where, hours from civilization in the deep woods. Everything is coming along beautifully, but, as I said, it is still not complete. One of the things on the to do list is to get mirrors for the bathrooms.

As a contact lens wearer, I kind of need a mirror. As a woman, I definitely need a mirror! I dug through some boxes in the basement and found a 7 inch diameter, magnifying cosmetic mirror. That was our only mirror for two weeks.

After a while, you get used to not looking at yourself. There was no hair stying, no make up, no nothing. A blissful ignorance crept in and became comfortable.

Now that I'm back at home, that's another story. I can see myself in all directions. Every pimple. Every wrinkle. Every hair out of place and mismatched outfit. Hmmmmmmmmm. This is the ultimate culture shock.

New Year's Resolution? No, Thanks, I've Got My New Year's Diet to Attend To

2011-01-04T11:00:00.001-08:00

Every year, I find myself sitting in my kitchen in early January surrounded by the leftover spoils of the holidays. It varies slightly from year to year, but thankfully not all that much. It is from this pool my diet plan begins.

My New Year's Diet (NYD) plan is an easy one. How does it work? Let me tell ya:

1. Eat at least one piece of leftover holiday candy each meal. Quietly work your way through the remaining chocolates first, stale truffles aren't good for anyone.

2. Candy canes are especially good in lattes and hot chocolates. Have at least one of each a day. An added benefit to sugar and coffee is an extra surge of energy to put the Christmas decorations away or face opening bills.

3. Cookies can make a meal. A special shout out to my friend Wendy for sending my the Cherry Republic Boomchunkas. These cookies are packaged in twos. If you eat just one, the other goes a bit crunchy. These cookies are so good that they are even good crunchy, but why would you do that to yourself? Go ahead, eat two. I just did. These also pair excellently with the candy cane hot cocoa mentioned in step 2.

4. Fudge. If you can, hide this early on in the season--that leaves more for you to enjoy in your NYD plan. If the fudge pieces are cut smallish, eat about four. This can be repeated throughout the day. It is especially comforting when you need a pick me up after the bills are opened and spread before you in a sea of hopelessness.

5. Order pizza. After the holidays, pizza is the perfect food. I usually don't get to have it for a couple of weeks. After your complete sugar crash at the end of the day, you don't feel much like cooking anyway. Go ahead. Also, forget trying to provide a vegetable with the pizza. Come on, there is at least tomatoes in the tomato sauce. Baby carrots aren't going to save anyone at this point.

6. Repeat any of the steps several times daily. If you order enough pizza, it could last you for many meals and many days.

7. Also, drink all of the gift wine and champagne that you have left over. Not all at once. Spread it out over the course of your diet with the evening meal.

Good luck. I'm off to have my second candy cane latte, or, oops, make that my third. Happy New Year!

Biggest Blog Vacation Ever!

2011-01-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

Well, I haven't touched a computer in over 2 weeks. I haven't had access to email for a week and a half. Cold turkey. No TV, either. I'm sitting here with my iPhone in the Air Canada Maple Leaf Lounge, finally reconnecting with the cyber world.

Did I miss it? Did I suffer withdrawal? The short answer is yes and no. I missed writing, I missed chatting with friends, but I did not feel a massive void in my day.

I read a book. I cooked. I still had the renovation chaos swirling around me to keep my stress level occasionally spiking. I even had a mild case of the flu.

I've been blogging for over 3 years now. I'm not a daily poster, but I've been writing regularly for quite some time. Once I get home, get ready for more news from the Canadian Chronicles. Vacation over.

Wally Has A HOME!!!!

2010-12-13T20:11:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note to let everyone know that Wally has been adopted. Ruth and I are especially excited to know that Wally is on the next leg of his adventure.

Go Wally!

Wally & Santa: Anyone Looking to Adopt a Dog for Christmas?

2010-12-12T09:14:00.000-08:00

I'm hoping Santa brings a new home to Wally for Christmas! Are you Wally's new home?

Greetings From California: The December 2010 Edition

2010-12-11T08:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,

Holiday Greetings from the California chaos. I am caught in the whirl of Christmas prep, construction and real time drama, as in the school play.

Christmas cards seem like they have gone the way of the dinosaurs. It's the 11th. I haven't sent any and I've received only a handful. Of course, my mystery friends sent their card. It arrived on December 1st. Gorgeous card. Cute kids. I still have no idea who these people are.

Our construction projects are nearing the end. They've been nearing the end for quite some time now. In January, they still could be nearing the end. Maybe our construction crew is facing separation anxiety? We've ordered some furniture and light fixtures. Just add all of that stuff to the good old VISA bill. January is going to be hella fun.

The school play puts on its final performance today. Pride of the Pickle Factory will hit the stage this afternoon. The kids have been working so hard and they had a terrific performance last night. There are some parents that have been slaving away for months, along with our talented and dedicated drama teacher. The children that have the opportunity to work in this program are truly blessed.

Next week we are on for Martini Friday. Just a small group of moms and some holiday sweaters. I'm hoping for some good pics. Recipes should be sprouting up here next week for some truly festive cocktails.

I hope this finds you well in this holiday PREP season. More to come later.

Cheers,

Deb

Being A 3rd Grade Girl Is A Lot Like Baseball

2010-12-06T06:50:00.000-08:00

On a rare Friday, I had the pleasure of walking to the grocery store with Birk. It was one on one time, on a cool, damp and dark night. She just turned 9, and I was getting the scoop on 3rd grade social dynamics...

MOM: What did you do on recess today at school?

BIRK: I played with Ava (her best friend). Mom, I don't know what I'd do without her. I'd probably sit in the corner all by myself doing nothing.

MOM: Why do you think that? You could always ask someone else to play.

BIRK: It's not like that mom.

MOM: What do you mean?

BIRK: Well, it's a lot like teams. Some people pick other people. Ava picks me. No one else would pick me.

MOM: Who decides who picks who?

BIRK: The people in charge.

MOM: The people in charge? Why couldn't you be a person in charge and pick who you want to play with?

BIRK: That's a lot of responsibility.

MOM: Why is that?

BIRK: Well, then you tend to get bossy when you're in charge. I don't like being bossy.

The more things change the more things stay the same. Being a girl isn't always easy.

My Friday Dilemma: Adopting Ugly Dogs

2010-12-03T09:45:00.001-08:00

We have a wonderful 11 year old collie-lab cross named Kiki, but maybe, just maybe, she needs a friend. This new dog discussion is floating around our household. Ruth especially is excited about the idea of a new member in our family.

Some stupid parent (ok, it's me), might have, just might have, mentioned that if Ruth did well in her studies this year at school that we might get a dog in the summer. My husband is not a fan of this idea. In fact, he called me out on my bad parenting in bold face.

Now, Ruth is glued to the Humane Society website. She tracks every adoption and calls it a "missed opportunity" when a dog she likes gets a new home. She knows that it's the best thing for the dog, but she is longing for a canine companion.

I understand her feelings. I love animals. I grew up on a farm. We had animals running around everywhere. There was space and food and love. Anyone remember the story of Ariel the Christmas Cat? Yup. Strays were welcome, there is always room for one more.

I stupidly took my daughters to our local Humane Society. We found a cute pup, fell instantly in love and called dad--he threw a fit. He called me out on "Bad Parenting Mistake" number 2. If you are going to make a deal, do not change the terms of the bribery, er, deal. So, that trip, no dog.

However, there was this dog for adoption named Wally. Wally is 3 and he looks like his head was cut off of one dog and sewn onto another dog's little body. He is not cute. My daughters didn't give Wally the time of day. He was just sad and lonely in his little cell, er cage.

Wally has been on my mind. I don't want to say that he's ugly, but as in life, if you're pretty or cute, sometimes doors open up for you. No doors have opened for Wally in over a month.

I am going with a friend to the Humane Society today to help her pick up a "cute" dog that she is adopting. This means I will have to walk past Wally. Lord help me.

Demanding and Unusually Stubborn Guests

2010-12-01T08:36:00.000-08:00

We were listening to Christmas carols at breakfast. Bing Crosby was crooning, "I wish you a Merry Christmas.

I was flipping french toast when Ruth said in a mock aristocratic tone, "My, now those are some unusually stubborn and demanding guests, aren't they?"

I looked up, lost in my world of french toast.

"You know, demanding figgy pudding and refusing to leave."

This kids just cracks me up.

Merry holiday preparations to you all, and may no one have guests that demand you whip up some figgy pudding and bring it right there.

Great Wine for $20 or Under?

2010-11-30T09:53:00.000-08:00

During the holidays, I am on a wine mission. When we go to parties, we take along a bottle of wine. We give wine as gifts. We serve wine at our own parties. We have wine with dinner. All good excuses to be trying wine all of the time. Afterall, this is northern California.

I've learned the hard way, and I keep learning this over and over unfortunately, that just because a wine costs $50, doesn't make it good. When I take a bottle of wine to a party, or to someone's house, I don't want to leave it up to fate or chance--I want a decent bottle of wine!

Over at my other little blog, I keep a running journal of cocktails, mocktails and wines I'd like to try. In December's Marin Magazine, they had a great article on local sommeliers and wine, so I jotted down the info to keep handy during my holiday shopping.

Wine can be an expensive hobby, so I like to choose with care. I've included the link above to Headed To Margaritaville, if you'd like to check out my quick distilled version. If you'd like to read the full Marin Magazine version, click here.

Cheers!

Thank You, Friends!

2010-11-27T09:11:00.000-08:00

Our family, and two others, just got back from our annual vacation to Napa. Each year we head to Calistoga, which is wine country's quieter, gentler town. It is still small and hasn't been dominated by fancy cars, over-priced restaurants and irrational, upscale boutiques. You know this is true if you can take 7 kids to dinner and receive minimal stares.

While there, we celebrated Birk's 9th birthday. (She is thankful that the Mariachi band wasn't at the Mexican restaurant for her birthday dinner!) What better way to celebrate your birthday, as a kid or grown up, than by floating around a huge, mineral pool that has got to be the world's biggest hot tub.

For the fourth time, all 13 of us, travelled to Indian Springs. While there, we always gel into one big, relaxed family. The kids hang, the grown ups hang, and we all eat and eat and eat. Oh, and the grown ups are surrounded by vines, so you know what that means. Happy kids. Happy parents. Happy life.

As a family, we are very thankful that we can spend this time with our friends. It's true, when you are so far away from your real families on Thanksgiving, it is amazing to have friends who love you like family.

This is not true of just our friends that travelled with us on this trip, but of all of our friends near and far. You support us each and every day and you mean the world to us. Life can be a big, messy, unmanageable place--our friends make it smaller, cozier and manageable.

Thank you.

Margarita Friday: Chambord Margarita Royale

2010-11-19T07:55:00.000-08:00

It Friday, and Friday around here isn't just Friday, it's Margarita Friday. This Friday's margarita is the Chambord Margarita Royale.

Chambord is a black raspberry liqueur. It's sweet and tasty on its own, but when mixed in a margarita, it's especially delicious.

Chambord Royale Margarita

1 1/2 oz Silver Tequila (Chambord recommends Herradura Silver Tequila)
3/4 oz Chambord
3/4 oz Pomegranate Juice
1/2 oz Fresh Lime Juice

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into margarita or martini glass. Finish with raspberries.

Pre Holiday Doldrums or My Life Is A Beer Commercial

2010-11-16T08:22:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here, contemplating my holiday strategy. It's almost a little depressing to have this mountain of holiday happiness in front of me. The decorations blare at me in vivid reds and greens at every shop and all I can think is STOP!

There is so much merriment to be had--but I've had so much merriment lately, that I think another party season is going to kill me. There's the planning, the prepping, the shopping, the pre cleaning, the post cleaning, the cooking, the driving, the checking the list twicing, the gingerbread house icing....whew!

Oh, and according to my magazines, I'm supposed to look fabulous while doing all of this. A new holiday wardrobe, haircut and makeup is on the horizon? If I keep reading same said magazines, there is also a diet and a way to go to parties and only eat celery so that you still fit in you old clothes in January. This is a lot of work.

My husband and I were sitting on the padded bench at California Pizza Kitchen on a Sunday night, waiting for a table. The world was moving around us at top speed and there was that din you can only hear at 7 PM at night in CPK. It was a mixture of kids that were up much too late past their bedtime, hungry kids who needed to be fed fast, and parents trying to control the circus.

Our kids were racing around outside. We were comatose. It had been a full weekend of excellent social fun. If Ebeneezer Scrooge was looking into windows on Friday and Saturday night, he would have thought we were the Fezziwigs. It was all laughter, smiles, fun, great food, dancing and delicious drinks. Sunday, though, Sunday is always Sunday.

I turned to my husband and said, "I feel like I live in a beer commercial sometimes." He found this comment quite interesting. If Ebeneezer looked into the window of CPK, he would had seen a perfect mock up for Degas's L'Absinthe.

And that is where I am this Tuesday morning.

Sorry, If You Know Me, Sometimes You End Up On My Blog

2010-11-12T08:58:00.000-08:00

I apologize to all those I've offended in the past. Most people that I talk about on my blog either:

Don't even know I have a blog.
Know I have a blog, yet never read it.
Or, know I have a blog and couldn't care less about this little waste of time hobby that I have.

It cracks me up when I'm sitting having coffee with someone, and I'm trying to figure out if they've really read my blog (like they say they do), or if I should tell them the story anyway. Sometimes, I'm just repeating things that someone has already read, or is pretending that they haven't read.

The blogosphere is such a weird corner of the universe. I am mistress here, at my blog. I am queen of my little worldly queendom. I can say what I want, within reason after my anonymity disappeared.

Actually, I have another little space where I say quite a lot that is completely anonymous, but that is for really bad days. If I'm writing about you there, you don't want to know about it. But, oh, friendly reader, if I'm talking about you here, you have nothing to worry about.

I know you might be here. I know you might be reading. I have a little inner censor working on my brain within the constraints of this public blog. Fear not, if you appear here.

P.S. This does not apply to any of the crazy clad Halloween friends who do not read my blog and have no idea their crazy picture showed up here right after Halloween!

The Help

2010-11-09T10:13:00.000-08:00

This summer I read The Help, by Kathryn Stockett.

This book had me thinking about the "help" in my life.

It's funny, when I'm off on summer adventures, whenever I mention the teeniest bit that I have some "help," I am immediately awkward. I feel like I'm complaining about spam to someone on a starvation diet.

Here, in my "normal" life, help is a staple of small talk. Either the "help" is outstanding, or not doing it's job. There is always something to be said about the "help." Maybe you need more help or maybe you need to cut back on the help. Maybe the "help" is no longer helping you the way that they should.

There are the women in my circle that are wonderful at managing the "help." There are women, like me, that are almost ashamed to admit that they need "help."

No matter what, we all wish for more help. We are not always sure what kind of help we need, but I sure could use some magical help that shows up and magically knows how to help me.

All I know for sure, is the some of the help makes more than I did as a teacher. What does that say right there?

Catcher in the Rye? It's Always Good To Have A Friend Looking Out For You

2010-11-04T17:28:00.000-07:00

"You know that song 'If a body catch a body comin' through the rye'? I'd like — "

"It's 'If a body meet a body coming through the rye'!" old Phoebe said. "It's a poem. By Robert Burns."

"I know it's a poem by Robert Burns."

She was right, though. It is "If a body meet a body coming through the rye." I didn't know it then, though.

"I thought it was 'If a body catch a body,'" I said. "Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around — nobody big, I mean — except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff — I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."

On Halloween, my 8 year old daughter was trick or treating with her best friend. These two have been constant companions since they were three years old. They even have the same birthday. For two little girls, there has never been a fight or cross word. It is a pretty special, unbelievable relationship.

Unfortunately, little Laura slipped and broke her arm at the beginning of the night. Her candy bag was empty and she was in immense, screeching pain. Birk was so upset. After the rest of the kids returned, they put a bag of candy together for Laura. Birk noted that she gave Laura all of her favorites.

Birk made her a card, and even included some money for her UNICEF trick or treating.

A couple of days later, we were driving in the car:

Me: What are you thinking about back there, you're pretty quiet?

Birk: Mom, I wish I could rewind time and do Halloween over again.

Me: Why?

Birk: Then I would rewind the time and catch Laura before she could fall...

That little conversation reminded me of this quote from J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. I hadn't thought about that book in a while. I love the idea of the Holden Caulfields of the world catching us if we are about to fall. May we all be so lucky.

Halloween...The New Christmas???

2010-11-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

I love Halloween. Everyone who knows me, or drives past my house in the month of October, knows that there is some kind of strange relationship going on with me and October 31st. I realize that is not grammatically correct, but I'm going with it.

I'm also lucky enough to have my birthday right after Halloween. Which is why I might like this event so much--all of my life, Halloween has signaled the beginning of a birthday. In the olden days, it signified homemade Angel food cakes and ice cream. Nowadays, it signifies a day free of guilt from cooking and cleaning.

I've connected with a few other people in my adult world who also like to celebrate the Black and Orange holiday. We dress as pirates, witches, or zombies in short skirts and creepy make-up. If the costumes are elaborate, you should be on the wild ride of costume production. October is filled with anticipation, decoration, preparation and tiny snickers bars.

We have as much fun as 12 year old kids. There are no wish lists, religious obligations or mandatory parties. There is only fun. And now we are tired. Very tired.

Good thing we have photos like this one to remind us how much fun we had and why we are so tired now!