There was delicious lemonade (quite delicious at its largest size in Flickr).
There was a marble in the soda.
Why do I keep making them take photos together? I am so mean.
County Fair
Today I Am Here
I’m drove Joe to work, then Alex to see friends, then back to see Joe for lunch, then back to get Alex, then back again to get Joe and go home. Here is the drive on the map.
The coffee shop has free wifi and checkers.
There is lots of this stuff between Ojai and Fillmore.
But it sure is pretty in parts.
She looks happy, no?
Hair
My daughter is sitting in the car, telling me all the things about her hair that she hates. She’s pointing out this strand and that strand, discussing color, highlights, non-existent split ends and the terrible, terrible length. Obviously something must be done. And done quick to avoid catastrophe before people see her later that night at the coolest party ever.
I suggest we drop into the local haircutting chain which rhymes with Poopercuts because they are cheap, close and cheap. You have never seen a look of such distain and disbelief in your entire life. She wailed and gnashed her teeth exclaiming that no one there would even have a real hair cutting license and that if one of them touched her hair it would never, ever look good again because they don’t know what they are doing and then she would be ugly and have no friends and it would ruin everything for ever and ever. And then she spontaneously combusted *poof* leaving only a charred mark on the passenger seat of the van. I told her we could go check the place that is more expensive and where there seems to be all manner of importantly tanned women with long, fake and shiny nails encrusted with jewels toddling around on high heels two sizes to small*, talking on their cell phones and carrying their tiny dogs in little purses. Why must this rant include small dogs? I don’t know, but it does.
After 2 hours and an unmentionable amount of money, of which she paid half because there is just no way I can justify paying that much for hair, she had the hair she had always wanted (for the past entire morning) and she gushed and looked at herself in the mirror all the way home pointing out how it was just exactly how she had always dreamed hair could look. I was pleased to have been able to facilitate this momentous occasion for her. And also, world peace.
Fast forward to the next morning when I pick her up from her friend’s house where she spent the night. She is tired from all the antics and lack of sleep. And then she asks me if I notice anything different about her. Now, I know that this is a historically bad question and the bane of the sexes in some circumstances. I’ve been asked how old I think someone looks and how much I would guess they weigh before creatively turning the conversation towards something safer like, oh I don’t know, penguins. Or Monopoly. But this is my first experience hearing it from my own daughter.
After a lengthy and uncomfortable pause, during which I’m trying to figure out how to remain calm when she tells me they snuck out last night and got matching tattoos with the words ‘Tiffany + Alex = BFF 4EVR’ across their hips, she interrupts me mid-nightmare-thought with, ‘My hair, mom! Look at my hair!’
Since I’m driving, and people that know me, love me and have my best interest at heart, Alex included, know that me just paying attention and going forward and staying within the dotted lines is sometimes as much as I can handle, she quickly follows it up with, ‘Wait. Look when we get to the light.’
The mile between that comment and reaching the light was very looooong. And when we got there, I turned slowly to look at her. And looked at her. And saw…..nothing.
She says, ‘So, after you dropped me off last night, we were getting ready and M told me that my hair was, like, totally, totally great except for that my bangs were too long and I needed some more layers right here? in the back? so she and T, who are both, like, totally into hair and going to be professional hair cut people when they get out of high school, are, and I’m not even kidding mom, genius with hair. So they gave me some more layers in the back and fixed my bangs for me. Don’t I look great?’
*The other day I was out and about and noticed a plethora of people walking around in sandals because, hello? it is hot. But more than half of all the people wearing sandals, flip-flops or other manner of toe-exposing shoes were allowing some part of their foot to touch the ground as they walked. A big toe here. A little toe there. And heels of all kinds. I think that is odd. They must go home and find that they have a mostly clean foot with only the usual wear and tear on it and then that one part, that slice, that is completely covered with black tar and sidewalk filth.
You Can Touch My Weenis at Blogher
What’s really, really funny is to walk around saying ‘weenis‘ all the time. Just ask my kids. They come up to me and pinch my elbows and say, ‘Oh, sorry. Did I hurt your weenis?’ and then laugh and laugh. And laugh. And then they do it to each other and laugh some more. Not only do I not find it funny, I think the word ‘weenis’ should die a quick death. It’s a dumb word. Who invented it? I’d like a few minutes of their time. Creating a word that sounds like another word, that happens to be what we in these parts call a Potty Word, is just dumb. I’m living in a sitcom laugh track over here. Come on!
I have Blogher on the brain. I’m a little nervous about my panel but since I’m doing it with such great women, I’m mostly ok with that. But, in an insane moment, Alpha Mom asked me to do interviews with some pretty choice women. These are FILMED interviews. And I’m nervous because, dude, I am not used to being on the other side of the camera. All I can say is that it’s a darn good thing there is a makeup artist there to help me when I have something on my chin that looks like cheese doodle. So, if you’re going to Blogher, I’ll be the one that is going up and down the elevator every fifteen minutes before, after, and in between the workshops trying to fit in time to speak with all of my internet rockstar idols. I can’t wait to meet them all and I hope they don’t think I am too much of a dork. Unless they like dork. And then, my friends, they will be blown away and fall in love with me.
Here is a list of all the wonderful women I get to interview in no particular order besides the order that I had them written down in Notepad:
Marrit, Yvonne, Amy, Tracey, Tracey, Alice, Angela, Eden, Kim, Jen,
Grace -n- Molly, Andrea, and Catherine. And probably Heather, if I can get her to put down the martini and sober her up with some coffee. Or, I could just film her while she’s sleeping.
There are some other women that I can’t wait to have a drink with and do their hair and nails and if you are going, this probably includes you. I’m driving up Wednesday. Anyone else around that early?
End of the Fauxcation
Ah, Internet. Have you missed me? Thank you for your nice notes. I have so much to tell. I’ll have to break it into parts.
I dropped the kids off just moments ago and already The Sad has infected my heart. Yes, I’ll see Devon tomorrow and Alexandra in a few days and Tyler and Tony in a little over a week, but WOW it is so great when they are here 24/7.
We had fun. It was hard some days. We didn’t Go anywhere or Do anything but we did spend lots of time together hanging out. As Tyler said out of the blue, ‘It’s not what we do, Mom, it’s who we do it with.’ And then my heart exploded and I died. The end.
We went to Universal Studios one day and City Walk a few times. The kids have a season pass which includes discounts on anything you buy, including food. Score! I find most of the ‘Rides’ and ‘Adventures’ to be lame, but what can be better than walking through Van Helsing with your daughter who is so spooked that she insists on having your arms wrapped around her waist the entire time? When we walked out she tried to act all cool and smooth her hair back, but dude, she and I both know she wanted me to hold her hand, so she does still need her mommy.
Speaking of my daughter, she has just gone through one of those major growth spurts. The kind that leave you, the mother, a little breathless and off center. Dizzy, even. She has had her learners permit for a few months, so I’ve known that she is moving towards being a Real Driver. I know this, and yet I persist in ignoring it. But late Friday night, her father drove her to Phoenix to pick up a car he got her in an auction. They got back Saturday evening and she is now the proud owner of the cutest, yellow, ’71, automatic, convertible VW Bug you have ever seen. She even took me for a ride. She was a little nervous but she did great. And she looked so OOOOOOld. And I want to throw up my hands and whine, ‘When did this happen??’ but I actually know when it happened. It’s been happening.
She has her first real crush. He lives a few towns away and she is all giggly and cute and so liking him, like totally. I told her she better change the phone plan to unlimited texting because her hand is now permanently attached to her cell phone. I asked her one day to turn her @#$%@!!* phone off for a few hours because @#$&!@#! it is just unreasonable to text every 3 minutes the entire live long day and she will die from carpal tunnel. She acquiesced and actually tried to take part in what the rest of us were doing but sadness descended upon her and my heart couldn’t take it! I looked at her sad puppy eyes and her itching fingers and her spasms and ticks from withdrawal and I gave the phone back to her for resumed texting. Her smile cleared the skies and the sun came out. You can blame her for this heat wave we are having. Thanks a lot, Alex. Thanks a. lot.
But I look at her manner and her speech and the way she carries herself and she is Older. Sigh. Here she is right before she went to see her BF.
And here we are in our maiden voyage.
But, back to Universal Studios. I sat for about 45 minutes in front of one of the stores near the entrance waiting for a couple of the kids to meet up. During that time span I realized that I was listening to the Jurassic Park soundtrack and that I had been listening to it all day. I could hear the rousing refrains of music meant to inspire me to trek across wild and prehistoric terrain in search of T-Rex but all I wanted to do was sit in the shade away from the 150 degree heat. After I noticed it, I couldn’t stop being annoyed by it. Why? Why are you trying to make me jump up and march? Stop it! See me? I am sitting!! Also, there were very, very, Very annoying people that try to highjack you upon entering the park to ‘Give you a free bag! Waterproof! For the Waterworld Adventure!’ when what they really want to do is ‘Have you fill out a form’ which is really an application for a MasterCard. The Douchebags! It was good fun to watch people shoot them down. It was strange to watch one of the guy’s eyes as he tried to Make Eye Contact and draw fellow park-goers in. And it was sad to watch them demean themselves. But then sometimes I started feeling really bad for them because surely, they must have no other options because, Dude! who would want THAT job? No one, is the answer to that question. No one wants it. And I bet no one keeps it for very long because your soul dies the death similar to the telemarketer and then you get a job at Geico.
I made the kids take a photo with Frankenstein. Sorry, Mr. F. You prolly hate your job, too. But not as much as my kids hated me making them stand with you for this photo. Thanks for the Franken-hands!
Taking the Bull
Alpine Skate Park
In the interest of doing activities that are free and close by, the kids and I went to check out Alpine Skate Park in Ventura. It’s all housed within one building. They have a very large area to skate, a concert area, a gaming room and a place where the other people can hang out with some pretty great murals throughout. They also have a beauty parlor and a smallish store, but they weren’t open. They have free wireless. The evenings get quite hoppin with the odd and punk people in the area. Sadly, I had left but Devon reported that I would have loved it.
Devon took us there in his Thing. I haven’t been in a convertible anything in quite a while and it was fun for a short trip. Of course, I wasn’t in the back.
We ate at a nearby bar and grill where a man got kicked out for being disorderly during Happy Hour and trying to pick a fight. We ate Gator Eggs and extremely hot Hell-O sauce. The water tasted slightly of Sprite, which is so irritating. I want it to be either Sprite or water, not a sad, weak combination of both. The ice was the really good kind, though.
Tony and Tyler are both battling a bad and snotty cold. Today, both of their throats are yucky and they are hacking at each other and filling the entire trash bin with used tissues. So far this week we’ve gone through 5 tissue boxes. I’m kind of glad we aren’t traveling since they would be hating it, which means I would be hating it. But I’m still looking for something for next week. Something local-er than Oregon and Utah. Maybe Santa Barbara or San Diego. Hopefully something inexpensive due to someone else canceling at the last minute due to unexpected hardship. Not that I’m wishing hardship on anyone, Strike that. Let’s say they have to change plans because they just won the lottery and have so much paperwork to sign, they can’t possibly get away. Our vacation budget is quite small this year. And when I say small, I mean tiny. And when I say tiny, I mean pretty much there isn’t one. I mean, if you think about it, we can’t afford to go anywhere or eat out. Or for that matter, eat in.
Everyone, stop eating.
Because our vacation plans have been cancelled and changed about 20 times over the past week, I refuse to plan anything else ever again. Ever. I am not just a semi-planner. I am a Planner. I use an itinerary complete with maps, directions, phone numbers, approximate costs, highlights of the activity, expected weather and a packing list. And that is just the first 20 pages. I number the pages and create a Travel Book. This is so beyond just making plans. This is deep in the sad OCD place that drives those around me crazy. And because of the depths I go to to create these Travel Books, it is not a simple thing to just change plans. This makes me a pain. And I am sorry.
My daughter is….my daughter. She likes my Travel Books. She likes to see what we will be doing and who we will be doing it with. She would even like it better if I had the hours written down, but I only use generalized parts of the day, like ‘early morning’ and ‘after dinner.’ She is my spawn. She is the one hollering at everyone to get in the shower, to get out of the shower, to shower faster, to leave the door open so she can do her hair while they shower and to shut the door because the Axe in the air is killing her. She doesn’t mean to be bossy. She just knows the right way to do things and wants to help you to achieve your personal best. Huh. That sounds so familiar……
If we survive these two weeks with each other with no concrete ‘Vacation, Summer 2006’ plans and no money to do anything or go anywhere, we might just be translated and go straight to the Celestial Kingdom. And then I’d miss out on more of Alex with her permit, driving our huge and very heavy van in the same area as other cars. That are moving. Towards us. But, it’s a free activity, which makes it at the top of the list of things to do. Hold me.
Licking the Night Away
Dear Heather,
To take your mind off the painy crap happening in Utah (where we aren’t) we thought we’d send you a virtual hello from California (where we are) where we spent the night licking everything at City Walk just for you.
Tony started with the freaky carhead lady:
Alex was a little hesitant, so she warmed up with a high-five:
But quickly transitioned to the Hulk:
Tony went in for the pretzel:
And the camera:
Even Joe gave Yoda a nice big wet one for you:
Ty allowed his photo to be taken (I’ll take what I can get):
And, um, Devon played DDR (he cares deeply, and hides it well):
xo,
l,j,d,a,t,t
Things Stuck in My Head
“After much deep and profound brain things inside my head…”
From Madagascar, which I didn’t see when it came out because I thought it would be so dumb, and also, my kids are older and weren’t interested in seeing it and to go to an animated movie by yourself is making a bigger commitment to my inner child than I’m willing to make unless I really, really like it. And, as I said, I didn’t think I would. Oh, how wrong I was. It’s on HBO right now and I think I’ve seen it about 15 times partially and 3 times all the way through. Ali G is the voice of the Lemur King, who says the above quote. It drove me crazy trying to figure out who the voice was, since I couldn’t quite place it but I knew I knew it. Why didn’t I look it up right away, you might ask? It’s a dumb game Joe and I play – where we try to name the voices without needing Google. I feel so much pride in my victory when I recognize the voices all on my own, and most importantly, before Joe.
“I exuberate fantastic-isms.” “Mer-man! *cough* *cough* Mer-man!”
Zoolander. I do not like most of Ben Stiller’s work. But I do love this movie.
“I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind. There was something so pleasant about that phase. Even your emotions have an echo in so much space.” and “And I hope that you are having the time of your life. But think twice. That’s my only advice.”
Gnarls Barkley, Crazy Nelly Furtado’s live version is pretty nice, too.
By the way, it’s summer. Things in my life have been turned upside down in so many ways but the best way, is that the kids are around more. Yes, they tease more. Yes, it drives me crazy. Yes, I end up threatening to ground someone, after which, we all have a good laugh because the last time I actually grounded someone was about 8 years ago, and even then, they might not have deserved it. Now when I say it, it’s a way to introduce humor. My kids are so easy going and usually exhausted by whichever sport they are in and by the increasingly alarming amounts of homework they bring home. But right now, homework and sports-less, they use their energy for evil by teasing each other. Devon, age 17 is the worst one. I know exactly where he is in the house because of the screaming coming from that direction.
In a week, we should be in Oregon on a sandy beach enjoying the vacation we’ve had planned for a year with my sister and her family. But we won’t. Extenuating circumstances have created a world with no Oregon beach in it and the loss of a $500 deposit. When I get done sobbing, wailing and gnashing my teeth I might try to figure out an alternate vacation plan. And I better hurry because if I don’t figure out what to do with my 2 weeks of endlessly open vacation time with four teenaged and very adult-sized and hungry children with bottomless energy in a positive and creative direction, someone is going to get SO grounded.
Movie of the Week
I took Alex to see The Lake House. She liked it. I was a little bored since this was the second time I’d seen it. Although, that didn’t stop me from crying a little but that probably had more to do with my hormones and less to do with Keanu’s touching moment. The movie is pretty predictable and I knew what was going to happen about 5 steps ahead of the action* the entire movie. I’m not really surprised.
The first time I saw it, I went with Joe. It was Friday night. And you know what that means. Alas, I forgot for a second that every single freakin teenager within a 20-mile radius would be at the theater just because it’s Friday night. But even when I saw them all milling around outside, gathering in herds and carrying out their mating dances, I just didn’t think they would be in MY movie. I figured they go see The Omen or Tokyo Drifting Crap or something else that didn’t have some slow parts in the middle. So, imagine my surprise when we walked in midway though the previews to see the entire place packed. Except for two seats in the very front row on the very right side.
As we sat down in the sea of young females, we exchanged looks and made a pact with secret codes so that in case of emergency, if he made the correct hand signal and eyebrow lifting sequence, I would know to drag him out and contact life support.
About 10 minutes in, I could feel my neck starting to kink. The view from the front row is VERY LARGE. The view from the front and very most right seats is VERY LARGE and VERY SLANTED and VERY TO YOUR LEFT. I slouched down in my seat to give my neck a rest, which worked pretty well as long as I didn’t move because the girl behind me put her feet up on the back of the seat and her black flip-flops caught my hair. When I moved my head upwards, I lost at least a one-inch area of hair. And that happened three times, even when I turned around slightly to give her my ‘GET YOUR FEET OFF THE SEAT’ face, which anyone knows, I totally mean.
And then she started sneezing. And sniffing. And I no longer cared what was happening on the screen that I couldn’t really see that well anyway. Remember that kid in 4th grade that sat across from you in the quad-desk setup? That kid that hadn’t learned how to blow their nose yet so they sniffed sniffed sniffed SNIFFED sniffed all through class? Yes. That kid. And it was she, behind my seat. And lo, I was so far passed getting pissed that I laughed.
Joe nudged my arm and showed me that in his right hand he was holding napkins and he kind of motioned like he was going to give them to her. And I nodded my head vigorously in support. He turned slightly around, thrust the napkins her way and asked, ‘Need these?’ because going herself to get napkins or asking her friends that were sitting RIGHT NEXT TO HER with some in their laps just didn’t occur to her. The girl said, ‘Thanks!’ very enthusiastically, which made me think that maybe she was just a little slow and it actually hadn’t occurred to her that her nose was dripping down her shirt and I should quit being so mean. And then all the girls giggled. And whispered.
I think we totally ruined her weekend. She was probably planning on sleeping over at her friends house and her friend was all, ‘You can’t come over now because the two old people in front of you gave you napkins! You are such a tool!’ or something that I can’t fathom because I think we all know that I really don’t know the lingo…..
An aside here: does anyone else think that Sandra Bullock is looking more and more like the long lost daughter of Joan Rivers? Did she do something to her nose?
*I use the term ‘action’ in the most general sense of the word where it means that something, anything is happening, like breathing or talking or tying shoelaces.
Happy Birthday, Tony. xo
Happy Year 12.
13 Year Old Hormones Boys
Tyler is my affectionate kid. He always has been. He’s the one that would fight to sit next to me on the couch and not just hold my hand, but move his thumb up and down on the side in a tiny caress when he was only 5 or 8. In the car, when we were driving 4 hours each way for drop offs at his dad’s, he would run his fingers through my hair from over the back seat to keep me awake. He gives great hugs.
But that was yesterday. Today, he’s 13. He doesn’t want to sit by me on the couch. He won’t ever reach for my hand. Kissing? His mom?? No way. I’m sure he’s had some momentous Freudian revelation. I’m positive that he’s right on track and being age appropriate and all kinds of other crap but I don’t care. I miss him.
I miss his ‘Where you goin’ mom? Can I come?’ because now, if I want to have him run an errand with me, I practically have to threaten to ground him to get his hiney in the car. And let me tell you, those outings are LOTS of fun. So much openness and bonding time, it’s crazy. We don’t talk about how he feels about life, religion and politics anymore, which we actually used to because he had an opinion on everything, and surprisingly (or not. shut up!), some of his thoughts made much more sense than mine. He doesn’t ever call me anymore. I always have to call him. He answers every phone call with ‘Holla.’ Every. Time.
I miss hearing detailed accounts of how his day at school was, complete with animated impersonations of teachers, because now it’s all fine. “How was school?” “Fine.” “How did your test go?” “Fine.” “How is Red doing?” “Fine.” “What does Jessica Alba look like?” “Fin- what?” and then a heavy siiiiiiiigggggggghhhhhh, because I am SO not funny. After which, he plugs in his shuffle and we listen to Coheed and Cambria louder than I can think or drive, which is very effective in ending any further conversation. Coheed and Cambria is the most perfect angst ridden music for boys ages 12-19. The lyrics talk about everything a teen boy is worried about. It’s so relevant.
Have I mentioned I’m a Car Singer? And, once I learn the lyrics, or sounds that closely mimic whatever the real words are with semi-correct timing, I sing loud and long. I think it kind of kills the rebellious angst he’s trying to create because it irritates him so. I’m slowly trying to reprogram him with music that I actually want to sing, like Gnarls Barkley, but it hasn’t taken yet. GB has too many lyrics that make sense and not enough talking about killing your girlfriend, I guess.
He’s a winker now. When did he turn into a winker? Tell me! He’s this close to turning into a guy with a girlfriend. And I fear I will hate her. Even if she’s super sweet. I have no choice. He wears only t-shirts and only if they say things like ‘Welcome to the GUN show’ and ‘Have you seen these GUNS?’ with arrows that point to the sleeves. At this rate, he’ll be able to teach at the Brawny Academy in a few years.
First, he cut off all his curls and then all the blue and now he’s got about 1/20th of an inch all over his head. He drenches himself in Axe, a poisonous smell that as a mother used to being accosted with it by three (3) boys, can smell on other teen boys about 2 miles away. What ever happened to smells like Fresh Scent or Old Spice? I hate Tsunami and Phoenix. Those are a natural disaster and a myth respectively, neither of which I think Ty wants to be. He wants to keep it real, yo.
In his room at his dad’s, where he has his own TV, he can watch football, use the laptop to be on his MySpace and AOL and also be on the phones, house for speaking and cell for texting, all at the same time. When I went over there last time to pick him up, he was interacting with 18 people, although perhaps not particularly effectively, since there just isn’t that much of a person to go around. And there is nothing left for me! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
And right as I’m typing this, sharing with you my own angst-ridden tale and feeling so sorry for myself and missing him and feeling my heart ache and on and on and on…………..he calls me.
“Mom.”
“What, babe?”
“Titty caca.”
“Umm, what?”
“Titicaca. It’s a lake. It’s the real name.” laughing
“Oh. Right. Cool.”
“MOM! It’s a REAL lake. In Peru. We learned about it in school.” more laughing
“Well, Ty, that is AWEsome. Thank you SO much for calling me to let me know that you learned about -”
“Boobs and poop?” more and more laughing
I don’t know what I was talking about. He does still love me.