Thursday, May 31, 2012

But I Like You

"So You Think You Can Dance" always makes me wish I had been a dancer, but the audition episodes this year are making me wish I had been a circus performer. Not in the animals kind of circus--those have put me off since I went to the Shrine Circus when I was maybe eight or nine and I was sure, absolutely positive, through the whole thing that the elephant was staring just at me and trying to communicate that he was going to make a break for it and probably stomp a shitload of people in the process and I was burdened with the information. And I knew not to tell anyone because they'd think I was crazy, which made me all the more terrified. Let's just say I was not right in the head when I was a kid. And luckily nobody got stomped. The point is, I don't love all circuses equally, but I am not impervious to the beauty and art of acrobats and aerialists. To the contrary, I can be obsessed with them when I remember they exist. And between the pole-flying ballerina lady (who is a shoo in for Top 20) and the dude with the Cyr Wheel on last night's SYTYCD, I now have a new retroactive dream of life.

Lookit this! Just, come on!



I wish I actually had this guy's audition to post, but it's not anywhere online yet. It was among the most breathtaking things I've ever seen. His name is David Matz, keep him on your radar.

It's an absolutely gorgeous day 'round these parts, and I guess I'm still high off of my afternoon errand to procure frozen yogurt which I topped with chunks of fruit and Fruity Pebbles (one of the more inspired offerings on the toppings bar). That total deliciousness, combined with the warmth of the day and the sunshine and the flowers and the inaugural wearing a new dress that's for certain my new favorite of all time, I can't help but focus on what's beautiful and inspiring in life. I'm just buoyed up with that kind of feeling you want to cram in a bottle and keep for when everything's ugly and the only circus in town is full of abused animals. I think it would smell a lot like Fruity Pebbles, actually. And with one whiff, it could transport me back the best possible way to feel.

I've never been to Laurel Canyon, but I bet I can't help but think this is a Laurel Canyon state of mind. Play me out, Joni. 




Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Blergh-esque

Someone staying with us at work has been talking on the phone outside my window for a solid two hours. To be fair I think she's talked to several people in this time, also I have no idea what she's saying since she's speaking Spanish. It simply boggles my mind that someone can be on the phone for so long. I'm a minimum-amount-of-information-exchange kind of phone talker. Email and text messaging were the best things that ever happened to me, communication-wise. I know those methods can be impersonal and sometimes only calling and talking will do, but on the whole I'd rather have my toes set on fire one by one than talk on the phone. Maybe not that drastic, but not so far off the mark, either.

Anyway, this day is sapping me and though I came to my little writing space in hopes of riffing my way to an inspired post, I'm over that idea already. Tomorrow, perhaps, will be worth reading. It's not really up to me to judge my own read-worthiness though, now is it? I don't have, like, 20 whole followers for nothing. And only 19 of them are related to me. Winner of life!

Yes, yes. So. Ween may or may not have officially broken up as of this writing but whether or not the buzz is warranted, in my opinion, it's always a good time for Ween.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Evergreen Topics

GAH this weekend was perfect. I was sadder to return to real workaday life this morning than I have been in a long time. Not much happened, but it feels like so much has transpired since last week.

There was lots of outdoor time, cocktails al fresco and languishing with loved ones. There was baseball, including a real live game from SWEET seats that we scored for free. There was a trip to the "Monkey Bookstore" which my kid enjoyed ten times more than I had expected he would, which of course amped my enjoyment.

All this time later and it's finally dawned on me that parental satisfaction is 90% managing one's expectations. It seems so obvious, but when you're doing this parenting thing for the first time, you (I) can be a downright clueless dillhole. My kid is going to be who he is and act how he acts, and my happiness at this stage--when he's still so little and figuring out day by day what it means to be a person--truly hinges on how I choose to react. I used to spend a lot of time being frustrated and getting caught up in the impossible concept of SHOULD. How/what HR should be doing at what stage, how other babies behaved or progressed, what I might be doing wrong that made a given situation turn out how it did. Mike has been the voice of sanity all along, but I really needed to discover for myself once and for all that there's no way to "fix" a baby that doesn't want to be put down, or ride in a car, or be content to sit in a high chair at a restaurant or any other ridiculous things that mean so much in the moment but now it's like, what? That was so long ago, for such a short time. It's not that I've ever been disappointed in my child, I mean, come on. But I have been disappointed in myself for not having a child that does X or Y. Do you see what I mean there? And that's just dumb.

Time itself helps, I mean, HR's much better in the car now, as long as he's not carsick. He just had to grow into that. Ditto the physical independence, which in a lot of ways I now believe is overrated. There's nothing wrong with a monkey baby who wants to be attached to you, and the fact that it bothered me that I didn't have the option to set him down way back when was definitely a perception (and probably exhaustion) issue. And  in terms of portability, like dragging him around from place to place and keeping him amused--which was something I figured we'd master from the get-go but found out quickly was just not ideal for our kid--we've come a long way. Apps and youtube clips on the smartphone helps (and presents a whole new quandary about how to limit this now that it's been introduced), plus lots of toys and books and snacks, but really I've learned how to adapt as much, if not more, than he has. And that has made all the difference.


Sure, sometimes I still have to leave a place earlier than I want to because he's just had it, or I might have to pass up on something altogether because it doesn't work for my son. But now I think of it like, really, who cares? There will be lots of things I'll want to do that I'll get to do. Conversely, I'm sure I've got a million unforseen frustrations on the Mama horizon. But what helps is to keep mindful that, especially now that being in control isn't really the issue here--it's not yet a matter of discipline or behavior that can be modified, just emerging personality--things are only as disappointing as I let them be. It seems that even though I'm an old son of a bitch, in some ways, the small gentleman and I are growing up together.

I think I write about this aspect of parenting at least once a week, but I do marvel every day at perception and its ability to make or break you. If I could give one piece of advice to an expectant parent, it's to just chill and let your baby be your baby, not to try and stuff the adorably unformed little cuss into a mold you made in advance. It's obviously not how it works, and the sooner you realize that, the happier and less crazy-making life will be.

Anyway, we had a stupendous weekend. How was yours?






Thursday, May 24, 2012

Gross or Not Gross?

Where does your grossness threshold lie? What everyday things are so gross to you that you don't want to even think about them? Conversely, what things are totally acceptable to you that might be over the line for others? I was thinking about this as I clipped my toenails because that's a big one for me: toenails. I keep mine super short, because long toenails, even long-ish ones that are somehow deemed the appropriate length for a pedicure, make me want to vomit. Feet in and of themselves don't particularly offend me, but toenails, the thought being touched by toenails - EW. No. Even fingernails to an extent give me the heebies. There's just so much dead there. And I don't want to get into what could possibly have accumulated underneath, you know? If human nails were ok with you before, I probably did a great job of turning you. It's a little talent of mine.

On the flip side, I acknowledge that Mike and I have a weird habit that nobody's ever commented about to our faces, but I imagine strikes people as odd at best, totally disgusting at worst. I don't know how or when it started, probably as a by-product of us living together which has been the whole of our relationship, but we usually share a water glass. Not other beverages. I mean we take sips from each other's drinks to try or whatever, but we have our own coffee cups or cocktails. When there's a glass of water though, and there always is, there's one cup for the two of us. Saves on dishes maybe? Anyway, I guess I'm completely impervious to Mike's germs. As long as they're not his toenail germs.

Please share some gross/not gross examples if you have the inclination, I could use some distraction because being on the cusp of a long weekend is obviously not distraction enough.




Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Plus, Honoring Veterans

I just realized, Memorial Day weekend approacheth. Memorial Day Ding-Dong-Diddly Weekend! Get psyched y'all! I've got no plans, I'm traveling nowhere, and that is thrilling to me, but here's a list of things that will or could happen that make me most especially psyched:

-emerging from this much-needed but wore-out-its-welcome-already rain stuff for a sunshiny walkabout
-gin and tonics on the patio
-an abundance of grilled foods, or sea-foods, or both
-time for playing and reading and bubble-blowing and sidewalk chalk drawing and baseball watching 
-breaking these babies in further (they make me taller than Mike, which is a novelty)


-ice cream eating
-no work on Monday!
-whatever and whatever, I love MDW.

As usual, the majority of what I'm excited about concerns eating and drinking and loafing about. And I'm 100% OK with that. I know we've got a couple of days before it kicks off (based on my facebook feed, I'm not alone in feeling like this is the longest week), but I happen to adore anticipation.

In conclusion, Welcome (Unofficial) Summer. As potential jams go, this here's my frontrunner. It's a little more political than I like to get in my summer anthems, but the horns, people. The horns....







Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A Post for Approximately Four People

Saint Mike gifted me with an extra 1 1/2 hours of sleep this morning, which is worth a million bucks. The downside is that I feel discombobulated since it meant I didn't have much time to hang out with HR before I had to get to work, and also because that hard post-sleep sleep is a difficult thing from which to recover. Two cups of coffee in, and I'm still looking for my groove. Gonna have to call in the big guns I guess: a third cup.

Extra sleep is a rare and serious commodity, though and Mikey, I owe you big for it. HR, we'll settle up when you're a parent (if you choose to have kids someday) or in the form of an airhorn blaring twice during the night and at 6 a.m. when you're full grown. I didn't think I was the type to hold grudges, but here we are.

Dance corner: like I said the last time I spoke of it, I'm really, really down with ABDC this year. The talent is uneven but what's there is shockingly good. And I have really, really come around to D-Trix as a judge. He's grown so much since he came onto the scene as a dancer, his critiques have gotten so sharp and helpful and he's dropped most of his annoying clowning. It's funny I can talk about someone who is known professionally by the name "D-Trix" and think that's totally fine. Bear with me because it's gonna get worse.

The last episode, which I just watched last night, was so ballsy because the judges pulled rank and kept the both crews up for elimination on the grounds that they gave the best performances of the night. I totally agree with this. They were both so great, and outshined every one of the safe crews. I still root for Mos Wanted Crew, but they seem to have peaked early and at this point I'm pulling for the criminally underrated Fanny Pak. Also RNG is showing themselves to be a real force - this group of teenagers is so precise and energetic, they've been killing the challenges. I thought nothing of them in early shows, but they have taken it to the proving ground. Like this dance, which won me over:



It's important that I never listen to them talk because I don't need to know about people who weren't alive when the Roger Rabbit was a thing. They KILT it, though. Proud of those guys, and of the judges for rocking the boat to give them another chance. How things that some people don't give a crap about can be so exciting to some people (me) is amazing.

"So You Think You Can Dance" starts Thursday, and I hear tell they're doing away with the results show this year which is pretty great because it will cut so much filler. We'll miss out on the group routines which breaks my heart a bit, but it's all for the greater good, i.e., people who don't want to see rehashing and  lip-syncing and stupid question-and-answer segments that pad an hour of non-dance-focused programming.

I've already lost everyone by now so I might as well go all the way. Here's a blast from the past. Interesting fact: Mellow Man Ace is the brother of Sen Dog from Cypress Hill. Now you can't say I never taught you anything.



Monday, May 21, 2012

The Beauty in Every Age

Summertime, and the livin's easy... kinda. I mean, it's not summer yet, thank goodness (I'm not ready for the full-on heat), but it was a super wonderful spring weekend that allowed for lots of outside time, and lots of just haaaangin' out. Which I realize is a bit of a science with a little one. I didn't know this before having one.

The first warm weather season we had HR, he was brand new, and it felt like it was 100 degrees and humid from the day we got home from the hospital until November. That's an exaggeration, but barely. So that was not idyllic, not a bit like the dreamy, gentle-breeze-douche-commercial vision I had for my maternity leave. Last summer was a bit more temperate, but there was always the matter of constant sunscreen application and hat-wrangling and tick bites and an inability on my boy's part to be chill for very long periods of time. I know that things like the sun and bugs won't go away, but with time, as "they" told me it would, the overall picture has changed and, based on the comings and goings of this past weekend, I have high hopes for lots of al fresco enjoyment this late spring and summer.

Now that HR is fully mobile (though won't turn down a chance to be carried-- he'll walk a bit, then hold up his arms and say, "lazy") and actively engaged and inquisitive about nature, with the added bonus of being interested in relating to other kids, being outside shooting the breeze with friends for hours on a lovely day is proving to be about as easy and fun as it should be. Saturday I spent a significant portion of the afternoon at our friends' casual outdoor shindig and my kid was happy as a two-year-old can be, running about, chasing cats and dogs, making mild mischief with the sweet and adorable toddler-of-the-house, and though it'll be years (if ever) before I turn off my constant Mama Monitor, I got to talk to people I haven't seen in ages and truly relax while he did his thing.

Also, they had pizza which allowed me to keep on hangin' through dinnertime. I love it when a dare to dream pays off.

Anyway, it's not so much of an outdoor day today, but I am going to savor every second of what we get, when we get it.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Seriously

We have a sentence-talking boy, for real, finally. With articles and all. Some things we've heard of late: "Daddy, help please." "Cow go pee-pee." "Dat Mammy!" And this morning, when asked who decorated his trains with stickers, "Hah-na (this is the way he pronounces his name) did it!"

So there's that. And I really was quite impressed with the sticker job, he deliberately tried to match the Sesame Street character colors with the color of the trains. James had Elmo on him, Grover for Gordon, Oscar for Percy. This probably means nothing to you, but the takeaway is that obviously my kid's amazing. Even if he followed up his visual giftedness by peeing on the floor.  Potty training, the next adventure begins.

I'm feeling like I need to get back into my yoga practice again. I mean, again again. I keep dropping it and picking it up. And that's OK.

It's going to be a gorgeous weekend.

OH AND WHY IS EVERYBODY DYING SO MUCH KNOCK IT OFF.

RIP, LaDonna Gaines. You were so incredibly fabulous.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

My Second Career

How you know you did the right thing when you and your husband decided he would be the stay-at-home parent: when you come home in the evening to be greeted by a toddler shouting "HELLO CLEVELAND!"

This, this is a fun ride. Two years in, and I know we're just getting started.

All right kids, here's my task of the day: trying to get my mind off clothes. I've never been particularly stylish or enjoyed shopping for the sake of it, but I've been going through a real clothing obsession lately. I think I've written about that in here before, it happens periodically, usually around the change of seasons. I bought a couple of things the other day (thank you, internet), statement pieces as opposed to every day staples, but I think I should probably make some headway there too. For one thing, my only pair of shorts are denim cut-offs that have worn away in some suspect places. I could probably do with a pair or two to get me through the summer without looking like I just rolled out of Dogpatch.

In my fantasy, I have a wardrobe of only dresses-- fun, interesting, flattering and well-made dresses. But 1) I do live in New England and though tights help in the winter, pants are good to have on hand, and 2) it's not like I have an unlimited threads budget. The important thing is ("importance" being and extremely relative term here), as I pare down and pare down what lives in my closet and drawers, keeping only what fits well, what I actually wear, I need to keep making sure that any new stuff coming in is going to continue making the cut for a long time. And I think I'm up to the challenge. Partly because of that whole budget thing. But also I'm doing this thing where I make myself wait overnight before I buy anything. If it still looks good to me in the light of the next day, if I'm still longing for it, then I'll get it. If it's merely meh upon revisiting, it wasn't meant to be.

Shopping Philosophy 101 - I'll be teaching this at a liberal arts college near you in the near future.

Hey, this song's pretty great.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

In a 1970s Place...


I think I blew my wad with all that emoting yesterday. Which works out pretty well, since here at ye olde workplace it's  hopping and deadline-y, I've got an after hours meeting I'm doing my best not to dread, and I can't get the thought of a little walk and an iced coffee before the rain comes out of my mind. In short, though it sounds like I'm complaining, I'm truly still bursting with grateful happiness. I just have other things to do besides yammer on about it. Cut to: today's song choice.

I have always loved Lionel Richie, in every one of his incarnations, and I'm so thrilled that his career is still going strong. I heard this song on the radio this morning and though it's never been my favorite Richie/Commodores joint, I appreciate it as a countrified ballad that somehow manages to be funky. Only you, Lionel & Co. can pull this off. Not to mention the hair and fashions. So sparkly! So afrotastic! Any way you look at it, pure awesome.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The Return

This weekend was a gift, just beautiful all the way through. Saturday we celebrated HR's second birthday, and it all came together just perfectly. He was surrounded by his family and some close friends, the weather was amazing and allowed for lots of outdoor mingling and sidewalk chalk drawing, and the kids played together really well. This age is a blast, I love watching all the little dudes interact now that they are finally starting to do so. For the adults there was lots of delicious food and beverages and great company. I adore our house and feel lucky to have it, but I'll never stop dreaming for a bigger one so we can host bigger and bigger parties, because I would really like to have a chance for everyone I love to participate in these occasions if they want to. Birthday #2 was a total success thanks in part to lots of behind-the-scenes hard work by Mike and my moms and grandmother, and in the other part to the easygoing, fun loving crowd. My kid won't remember the day years from now, but I will and it makes me more likely to get excited about the parties in his future.

I took lots of pictures, but I didn't get to upload from my camera, so here's a shot from my phone of the birthday boy, sharing a quiet moment (and a strawberry) with his grandfather.





It was an extreme bummer that Mike had to leave after the cake to get to work, and I have a feeling that we could have had a stellar afterparty with the remaining adults (hmmm, next year!), but I somehow came into the possession of four tickets to the Sox game, and so I went off with my sister, brother and sister-in-law and left my totally exhausted little monkey in the care of his grandparents. What a great night! The picture doesn't do it justice, but part of the impetus to go to this game was that we got to see it from these seats:


Eleven rows back, these were probably the best legit tickets I've ever had (I've had closer seats before, but only by virtue of sneaking into abandoned spots at my own peril). The Sox had an easy win, the weather remained warm and wonderful, and I got to rock out with my siblings like I haven't in ages. We followed up the victory with a round at the tiki bar (best kept secret in the Fenway area - shhhh) and made it to Mike's work to collect him when he got sprung. Just goodness, all the way through.

Yesterday was a calm, relaxing mother's day, all I could ever want. Most of my family cleared out by morning, and my darling boy (via his very smart and generous pops) gifted me not only with a totally unnecessary but very appreciated spa certificate, but with a healthy afternoon nap so I got to lounge about with my brother and his wife and just feel at peace.

This is my third Mother's day, and I always feel like an impostor when I get cards or gifts or wishes from anyone because to me, for starters, it's my mother who is the mother. You know? And another thing is that, though it's a given that HR is my life and I do just about everything for him, I just get the feeling that Mike should get to claim Mother's and Father's day for all he does. But whatever, I'll take the spoils!

This morning as I was driving in I was feeling just so, so good, still high on the last couple of days, and I realized that at the heart of it my deep contentment is due to finally, finally feeling like myself again this many years after giving birth. HR is and always will be my most awesome accomplishment, but it took a long time for me to get back to where I used to be, mentally and emotionally. The mama version of where I used to be, I mean. The better, enhanced, 2.0, Joss Whedon re-visioning of the person known as childless Dawn. It's hard to explain, but if you've had a kid, you probably know what I'm talking about.

In conclusion, I am so grateful for all the incredible people in my life, no matter how you ended up there. I'm so grateful for the life I get to lead, my family and friends, my amazing partner and best friend, and my beautiful, snuggle bug of a son.

This song has nothin' to do with nothin', but it kicks ass and will forever more.


Thursday, May 10, 2012

Golden Apples

YAY OBAMA. Took you long enough, sir. I understand that this is a "brave step," in terms of the presidency. His stance on gay marriage may ultimately cost him the election, but I respect him ever so much more for coming out with this than sitting on it in service of playing it safe. The fact that love and sexuality could ever be political in the first place makes my brain hurt, but anyway, it's something.

Saturday we'll be celebrating HR's second birthday, um, just a little late. It's going to be low-key as it was last year, and probably all the rest of the years as long as we're hosting. Because that's how we do, low-key. Lots of food, family and friends, cake, boom, we're done. At this point in the boy's life we could have gotten away with doing no party at all, but I actually want to have one. When asked what kind of cake he wanted, the child who is clearly Mike's son replied, "hot dogs." So there will be mini hot dog appetizers, and pizza (homemade by mom and gram, the best at pizza), and various other yumminess, including sangria for the grown ups. There will also be a cake made of cake, half yellow half chocolate, with Winnie the Pooh decorations, because they didn't have Thomas at the bakery. We're going to stick some godforsaken Thomas trains on the cake anyway for good measure. It's supposed to be gorgeous, weather-wise, and I look forward to the party spilling over the to the out-of-doors. Pity I don't have a grill at this time, a barbecue would have been perfect. Next year, perhaps. This year, I expect it to be perfect in its own imperfect way.

And that's that, about the party. Now for the music. Like her mentor Jay-Z, I'm mighty disappointed in Miss Robyn Rihanna Fenty for getting tight with Chris "The Literal Worst After Stalin" Brown again. But this song is a good one, no doubt, and has been getting lots of play in my house lately (downloaded by pop-eschewing Mike, no less) even though it's eons old. It also seems appropriate for the much needed--OK I think we have enough now--onslaught of the wet stuff. And the sun broke through as I finished that sentence. WORD.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Bout It Urryday, Urryday

I realized when I got home last night, when I picked up my buddy boy and did a big exhale, that I had been clenched up all day. Let's just say it was not my favorite work day of all time. They happen. I blame the supermoon. Today is already looking up in that respect.

Oh but also, go to hell North Carolina. Just, really. Obviously there are good guys who live in that state (I think I am friends with all of them) but the rest, BOOO. Thumbs down eternal. I'll never understand the impulse to control or put down other people in service to one's own purported morality. Come to Massachusetts, gay peoples, we love you. I've got a line of bumper stickers, t-shirts and mousepads available with that slogan.

A long long time ago my blog-and-real-life friend (and often pop culture twin) Kev asked me to write a guest post on his collaborative blog, and I finally did it! The results can be found hee-yah. I love that blog, and it was an honor to go do my thing in the authors' company. You should check out some other entries while you're over there, really great stuff.

Song of the day, by Drake: I don't looove Drake, as an artist. To me he'll always be Jimmy from Degrassi TNG, and that guy was a jerk even after he got paralyzed. Maybe even more so. But I do like some of his songs, and maybe this one most of all. He uses a word over and over again that I don't feel good using, and it turns out that it's a positive thing for you because otherwise I'd probably be quoting from it constantly.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Oh, Yeahhhh

So now Maurice Sendak is dead, which is a tremendously sad thing because he gave so much to the world through his art. It's also an OK thing because even though he will be missed like I'm sure I have no idea, he lived a long life and left behind an amazing legacy. In other news, it's a bad week to be a famous person I admire.

We just had a visit at work from the mom of a kid who died back in January, he was a really special kid, one of the ones who breaks through no matter how you try and protect yourself, and with that piled on top of an already emotional heavy, I'm just going to do what I usually do in these situations: deflect by talking about dancing. Feel free to just back away now while you still can.

Is anyone watching "America's Best Dance Crew" this season? I almost didn't because I feel like it's been really lacking the past few seasons, but this season is really doing it for me, especially now that they got rid of Step Boys (Boyz? It's a rule that there's got to be some kind of effed up spelling). I do not approve of comedy dancing.

The judges: JC Chasez is still the stern voice of reason, and I appreciate that. His notes are almost always super helpful. D-Trix is... what he is, but he usually knows of what he speaks. L'il Mama, I just don't know how she got this gig and she doesn't add much but whatever. I sometimes fast forward through the judging part, to be honest.

The crews: a bunch of them are gone now, and I guess I don't miss any of them because I don't remember anything about them. I'm not even going to talk about everyone, because I don't care about everyone even though they're all pretty good. But you guys, Fanny Pak is back! I'm waiting for them to really wow me like they did on their season I guess, but in the meantime I'm gunning for Mos Wanted Crew. It made my life when D-Trix told them that they were sexy dudes and only prefaced his comment with a little homophobia, that's progress. I'm shocked that I actually like 8 Flavors (I'm not even going to try to spell it like they spell it), because though they are creepy little girl-dolls, they are not so cutesy. They really impressed me during the Madonna week, particularly that fierce big-haired girl who did the triple pirouette into a split. I don't think they should win, but there's a lot of talent there, a lot in the show. I'm glad I got a heads up that the season had started.

Oh yeah, and "So You Think You Can Dance" starts up on the 24th - consider yourself warned.

Off to find some distractions to temper my melancholy. Work is usually good for that.

Monday, May 7, 2012

5 + 1

A list of five lovely things for a lovely Monday in May, and a sad thing too:

1) It's my grandfather's birthday today, he would have been 88 this year. This date will always be special to me, and I use it to remember Pup in celebration instead of sadness.

2) This weekend was a bomb of friend time, of the hilarity and singular cuteness of two very different two-year-olds making nice (mostly). Of ocean smells and beautiful views, even if the weather didn't always cooperate. Of pasta and wine and sitting around the table for hours laughing. Ain't we lucky we got 'em?

3) SUPERMOON. Space is cool, yo.

4) The Secret History, again. I've always wanted to reread this because I loved it so much the first time, and it turns out that 12 hours confined to an airplane (and the dogged inability to sleep under such conditions) makes for the perfect opportunity. Read it once, then read it again, I'm telling you.

5) The best song by the New York Dolls that isn't by the New York Dolls. I think we can all agree that music has been missing this sound for a long time, yah?



Double music post:  I would be just plain wrong if I did not post a song in memory of the recently, unjustly departed Adam Yauch. I am way more gutted by his death than I have a right to be, this may be the biggest loss I've felt from a musician's passing, including Michael Jackson. Where MJ was bigger than life, MCA is as real to me as if I went to high school with him. I feel like we grew up together.

RIP Nathaniel Hornblower, the world is truly amiss without your secret swagger and quiet enlightenment and razor-gargling delivery.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Time Honored Tradition

 38th Time's A Charm (Maybe)
A Play, in One Act.

Scene, interior, office, daytime:

Dawn: Cough hack cough sniffle sneeze, oh hell this cold is draining the life from me.

Same scene, 48 hours later: 

Dawn: Cough hack sniffle sneeze, oh hell.... Oh... yeah. The allergies that come on like clockwork every spring that I forget about like clockwork every spring. 

Fin.

I'm just going to go ahead and schedule this into my google calendar for next year so I can save myself two days of suffering when I could at least be starting up the Neti Pot jamboree. My life, she is-a so exciting.

We've got another busy weekend on the horizon, crammed with two work obligations (even one is rare on the weekend), as well as a jaunt to the North Shore and all the water views and fried bivalves that entails, so it's imperative that I start feeling better immediately. We'll also be seeing out-of-town friends and I look forward to hanging out and letting our toddlers run wild together. Thinking about it, if a weekend can have an opposite, this coming one is probably that to the last one, except maybe the getting to hang around with friends part. But balance in all things, etc.

OK! Bye!





Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Baby Boomer Wisdom

Growing up, my mother's favorite movie was The Big Chill. I got to see it a bunch of times, maybe I was allowed to, maybe not, and I just remember being horrified by this group of adults, one a doctah no less, doing irresponsible things, illegal things, taking drugs and having affairs and offing themselves and being complicated. As the product of parochial school and a downright goody-goody besides, it was unsettling to me that this lack of moral code was being glorified. It especially freaked me out that my own mother not only liked this movie, but claimed it as her favorite. "They just love each other so much," she said about the characters.

I haven't had the chance to revisit the film since I done grown up myself, but it doesn't matter because the thing is, I get it now. Somewhere along the way I became an adult. It's impossible to pinpoint the exact time in my life, as with most things it was a gradual onset, and without even realizing it, it became clear that being grown isn't much different than being whoever you are at any given time in your life. Sure you accumulate more responsibility and what you're allowed to do opens up, but you never really feel any different inside. And part of growing up for me, the real lightbulb moment, was accepting that everything's always just going to be gray. There's no black and white like you're taught, people will fall in and out of love and screw up and hurt each other and do things your 10-year-old self doesn't want to believe people outside of the movies are capable of doing because they are human and this is what it means to be human. The point is, if you're lucky enough to have people in your life for decades, the love you share trumps all. It makes it all bearable, all understandable. And my mother saw this truth in a movie and held fast to it. She probably understood my disdain for it, and didn't try to explain or even tell me I'd learn when I got older. She let me figure it out on my own. Maybe I'll never get around to loving The Big Chill, but quite awhile ago I figured out that I had already embraced its essence.

This is all a very long intro to what I really wanted to talk about, which is the wedding in the desert I attended. It was the wedding of one of Mike's oldest friends, a guy I don't know very well since he's lived out West for a long time, but I know him enough. In addition to being a joyous occasion for the bride and groom, it served as a reunion for the rest of Mike's growing-up crew, the guys of his formative years with whom he's pretty much remained in touch. As people move farther away from each other, I think weddings do this for groups of friends all the time. You know, you mean to be talking or seeing each other but everyone's so busy, so then there's this chance to attend a celebratory occasion you also use it to celebrate togetherness. It becomes inextricable. And in these modern times where weddings (mostly) don't exist to announce the exchange of chattel, the reuniting is nearly half the point.

One of the great things about being married to someone for such a long time is that their people become your own. Mike feels this way about my oldie-besties (especially when we're at our most annoyingly esoteric, eh Mikey?), and I feel that way about his. These people are mine. I may not have known them since I was in middle school - dang, a couple of them I just met for the first time this weekend, but I don't feel any less claim. They're just good dudes (man-dudes and woman-dudes), and they obviously care so much about each other, it's clear in the easy interactions. Everyone's life has gone in a totally different direction, but when it counts, they all head to the same place. These are the people of Mike's life, and they've become of my life. And I feel so lucky for it.

Our Friday-Sunday jaunt was exhausting, I won't lie, but it was worth it, because when do you get to be with people like this, all together, reminiscing and creating opportunities for future reminiscence? The specifics of what we did (swimming in the 100 heat, getting brunch two days in a row at an awesome farm restaurant, spotting a roadrunner and a jackrabbit, staying up until 3 a.m. making nonsensical ruminations about queefs, oh yes, and there was the matter of a wedding and reception too) are probably not going to be important. But as I look through the pictures from the last few days, it's all there. The story of human connection, of growing up and growing apart and coming back. Always coming back. In the end, that's every present, every toast and every smile and every joke and every tear.

Congratulations, Fran and Jess. I wish you many, many happy years together. Thank you for creating an impetus for this group to chill out together for a couple of days. Until next time.

Love. Each other. So much. You don't have to be my mother or Glenn Close to take those words to your soul.






Tuesday, May 1, 2012

If I Could Talk, I'd Tell Ya

This jet setting wedding weekend was a blast, and true to form, I'm in no shape to write about it today. I blame the time change adjustments and some kind of scratchy-throated, voice-robbing, coughing crud I must have picked up on the plane. There's so much I want to write about, hence so much that I'll leave for tomorrow.

In case you were wondering, the boy did just fine left in the care of his beloved Mammy and Tita, and though I missed him so much by Sunday morning it physically hurt (and that's not just the tequila aftermath), the fact that the three of us survived the time apart was good for us all.

So, a catalog of good stuff tomorrow. For today, what I really need is for this workday to end (three more hours), a good head-clearing run (if the aforementioned crud doesn't strike me down first) and a relatively early bedtime crash (toddler willing, as ever).

Time to power through.