Gearing Up

As much as I'd like to talk about last night's SYTYCD at length, it's my last day in the office before vacation and I won't feel right or ready to spend time doing that until I'm certain I've got all my darling work-ducks in a row. Let's just say Eliana and Cyrus and Lindsay and Cole were the best of last night, and leave it at that. OK fine, Witney and Chehon's routine was beautiful, but I thought Stacey Tookey was swinging some big balls when she chose to set it to "I Will Always Love You," and I couldn't escape the feeling that I was being manipulated. Was it really that good, or was it a trick of music and memories? Who knows? Showbiz!

Despite the fact that I won't be leaving for a couple of days, or that I still have to clock in a number of hours Getting Shit Done and then working at home tomorrow, oh, and that the weather forecast looks particularly dismal through mid-week next week, I'm starting to get the old happy butterflies knocking around in my belly. Besides, weather forecasts are notoriously noodgy. And I need something to do to pass the time and absorb all this energy to get me to the finish line. Or starting line, as it were. So yeah, here we go.

I choose to celebrate the prospect of going to my favorite place with some of my very favorite people (and getting a nice long break from mini-Bedlam) with something that makes me die of happiness every time I see it. The giddiness it inspires is similar to the feeling I get as we approach vacation every year, increasing tenfold by the day.



See you on the other side, friends. Unless you're on Facebook, in which case you won't be rid of me until I'm actually in the out-of-service range. Island kisses!

Ooh Baby Baby

I'm gonna mix things up and write a short entry today, which is really nothing more than an expanded question built around today's song selection. I find myself car dancing to Usher's "Scream" a lot these days, but also sort of cringing inside because of the words. There's nothing special about this particular song in the mild ickiness of its lyrics (it's not even close to the same league as the laughably filthy "Motivation" by Michelle Williams and Lil Wayne - and you can't even dance to that one), it's merely the latest offender. I know that lyrics from the beginning of time have referenced sex in various veiled and straightforward ways, but I can't think of any time an "I want to do you" song has ever not made me roll my eyes. I'm not a prude by any means, it's just that it's so hard to write about the subject and have it actually turn out... sexy. It's always cheesy at best, embarrassingly bad at worst. So to save my poor tired sockets, I just don't listen closely to lyrics much anymore, and then I'm free to shake it up to stuff like this.

 

But it leaves me with the question, what songs about sex are actually sexy? I think Lucinda Williams is pretty skilled in this realm, "Righteously" comes to mind. And I think Greg Dulli has the right mix of charisma, audacity and musical chops to pull of his entire dark, cheeky oeuvre. But what else? What else?

TNG

It has happened. The bug has descended upon me, and it bit, hard. I'm talking about my annual camp-preparation bug. He's sort of kept his distance for the past two years because I was in a fog of baby-wranglin' and couldn't be bothered. It was a damn miracle I got out of the house every day in my bleary new-mama-smell state, and camping was an afterthought. We still went of course, but the preparation was shamefully half-assed. It goes to show that it doesn't matter what goes into it, actually, because we still had a blast in the disorganized mess (or were too tired and overwhelmed to notice any difference in the chaos). The point is, now that we've pretty much sent HR out to the free range to raise himself, I've gotten back into the groove of my former obsession. My lists have lists, and I can't stop fiddling with them. I have a plan. And a plan to back up that plan. I can confidently say that this will be the best year ever, all thanks to my ingenious organization skills.

Or, despite my best efforts and I just end up throwing everything in garbage bags and calling it a day, it will still be the best year ever.  Because--and I know that it's at this point due to my efforts as the one-woman hype-machine behind this particular vacation, but still--my kid is actually psyched about it. He has a clear idea of what we'll be doing and who we'll be seeing, he seems to look forward to it and makes references to it all the time. We'll see how it actually goes when we get to hour 48 without so much as an "Old MacDonald" youtube clip (oh, how I will not miss those), but I think I've already done my job as a Small Point indoctrinator Perry to get him hooked on the loud, dirty, wonderful free-for-all that is two weeks on an island with my family. If you are not a fan of our collective, here's your chance to eradicate us all at once 'cause the gang will all be there. Oh but I kid, who couldn't love us?

Apropos of nothing but mama love and body acceptance: my friend Jim took this picture when we camped out together a couple weekends ago. He sent it to me privately instead of posting it, I'm assuming because he knows that people are sensitive about things like cellulite and it was very considerate of him. But I think it's such a great shot, and there are so few pics of just my boy and me together, I say never mind all that and here we are. It's a true sign that my vanity is on the wane though, because aside from the fact that I'm putting it out there, I didn't even think to start nitpicking at my appearance until like the tenth time I looked at it. Thanks Jim, for your photography skills as well as your kindness.

I heard this on the radio yesterday.



OH MY GOD NIKI AND HEIDI REMEMBER HOW MUCH WE LOVED THIS SONG? I have the cassingle somewhere in the ancestral home, I'm sure. I had no idea who Mick Jones was at the time! Can you imagine?

Hope It Don't Rain All Day

Stellar weekend, so relaxed and low-key. Our date night was great, HR was well behaved for his sitters, at least that's how they tell it. Mike and I got to consume some delicious food and bev and just talk about whatever for a stretch of several hours. Sometimes the whatever didn't even involve our kid!

Saturday was full of small treats like a trip 'round the corner--to the place we've been going as a family since HR was a week old, where the waiter always marvels at how much he's grown--for the best burgers. After naptime (it turned out to be naptime for mama, too) we met up with friends at a street fair, followed by an impromptu dinner. In situations like that, I realize just how much I am enjoying the relative freedom and flexibility that comes with my boy getting older. To be able to change plans on the fly is not always feasible with a small person, but times like Saturday when Mike was working and I was on sole parent duty, and I hadn't planned on getting dinner out besides, it sounded like a lot of fun to keep the party going, so I rolled the dice and it worked out really well. I got to hang out with big people I like. The boy got play with his toddler friend and then chow down on superior mac and cheese and write on the table with chalk (I know!). He loved riding on the T, and by the time we got home it was close to bedtime and he was more than ready to crash. Sunday, more good stuff, including an unexpected detour to the splash park (a huge hit with HR, he's not always a fan of random water spray) and an unplanned run-in with the same friends I'd seen the day before, which is amazing considering that the everyday-ness of our every days has prevented us from crossing paths for months. All in all, these are the times.

I know that children thrive on routine and mine's no different, but if there's ever any allowance for free-forming it, I'll take ultra advantage of it, because that's my default setting. The go-with-the-flow method has netted some of the best times in my life. But as today started on the appropriately insane note for what promises to be a chock full o'nuts week-before-vacation workweek, I'll get back on the beam. After a song, of course.

I've been in love with Van Morrison's music since the summer vacation years ago when one of my older cousins left behind a cassette tape of Moondance. Something compelled me to pop it into my walkman, and I ended up listening to it over and over and over again, I couldn't get enough. I wasn't looking for Van at the time, the only music I was really into back then came from Yo! MTV Raps, to be honest, but I remember this being one of the cloudy and rainiest weeks we ever had on the island and I was experiencing that particular brand of lonesome inner quiet that comes with being the only teenager among people who were much older or much younger than me, so it just resonated with me. And if you think about it, it's just another example of how rolling with it paid off.

Thursday Recap

Dancing happened again last night, and wasn't it grand? Well, some of it was. And some of it was whatever that dentist chair monstrosity was supposed to be. But overall, it made me super glad.

Highlights:

-The opening number. It started kind of eh, but really picked up for me. Nice fake out by Nappy Tabs, I was expecting it to be a Sonya. They're really showing some range in style year, which is nice. And good for you Tabitha for rocking it out while about to tip over from extreme pregnant belly syndrome.

-THE SHANK. I don't care if he kept plugging his movie, I love Adam Shankman.

-Amelia and Will, again. Favorite couple alert. Also, the George/Tiffany foxtrot, Audrey and Matt's thingy, and Bollywood because I almost always love the Bollywood. Amber was gorgeous in the tango, and I was pretty proud of Cyrus in the jive. He's actually showing some growth.

-None of the judges liked the "My Girl" number but I thought it was really sweet, maybe I just have a soft spot for Dareian, I don't know.

-What a difference make-up makes - I know Alexa is a pretty lady, but without the red lipstick, she's super, super beautiful. I feel similarly about Amelia. Once she got rid of her stupid eyeliner wings she looked tons better, even if the natural look is an illusion. The pros really know what they're doing.

-I wasn't that broken up about any of the eliminations, but the process felt really abrupt and stone cold. It gave the show an impersonal air vs. the usual lovefest sendoff. That said, I appreciate them not dragging it out forever. Maybe it'll feel less stark when they have a bit more airtime. In any case it's gotta be tough to watch and critique the dancers when they pretty much know who's going home.

-Likelihood of me seeing Step Up Revolution: higher than zero percent. Significantly higher.

-Oh, and while I'm being all judgy about things like stage make-up and costumes, whoever clothed every woman in the Step Up number who didn't happen to be Kathryn probably hates women. What was with the gross 1980s suspender leotards? That shit worked for Jane Fonda maybe, but nobody before or since.

Ah, through it all, I just love the show. And we're just getting started.

Also, Joan Jett!

Has it been a long time since I've made a random list of fine things? Maybe it's the rather satisfactory sleep I've experienced the past few nights which could very well be the secret to the universe, or I just have an abundance of fine-ness in my life, but whether or not I'm due for a list masquerading as an entry, I want to write one. So here's the good stuff.

-Air conditioning. It is not my preferred climate control method, I much prefer a fresh breeze, but when there's not one of those anywhere in creation, having AC is a gift. My heat tolerance goes down with each year added to my age (thanks, Mom!) and these days I nearly can't function without my blessed window units. The golden moments of my recent life consist of Mike and me retiring early to our icebox of a bedroom, where I catch up on my shows while he works on the laptop in cool comfort and the monitor shows me HR asleep in his own cave of a room next door. The simplest things can deliver the biggest returns, and it will be worth any spike in our energy bill.

-Ben & Jerry's frozen greek yogurt, particularly the blueberry and graham cracker flavor. I have no desire to replace ice cream in my diet, I just wanted to try this product, and it's an entirely different, tart, delicious animal as frozen desserts go. I will be purchasing it again, it's most wonderful.

-Unexpected moments, for example, there was a point during the camp out when it was late at night and everyone wanted to go for a swim. I was not about to leave HR sleeping in the tent out in the field, so we agreed that Mike would be the one to go because he felt more like swimming anyway. When everyone was gone and it was just me and the fire and the stars and the baby sleeping 50 yards away, I experienced this feeling of total appreciation for what I had at that moment. I mean, when's the last time I was alone in silence, in nature, without so much as a phone to entertain me? It was so lovely to breathe in the solitude, the total removal from my everyday life. Until I remembered I was in the damn woods and like 10 kinds of animals would be coming out to devour me at any second. That bit of time was transcendent.

-Now that HR's vocabulary has exploded, he's come up with some adorably creative mispronunciations. They are so cute I can't bring myself to correct him, so if he's still calling computers "pig-u-ters" when he's 45, that's my fault. Some other winners: "festib-u-val" (festival) and "pos-i-ca-pull" (popsicle). Every day he says at least one thing that slays me with wonder.

-Date night's a comin'! Mike's brother and sister-in-law asked at the beginning of the summer if they could watch HR some night and we were like, "Let me think abou.... YES." So we've got them nailed down for Friday night and we have no plans yet aside for getting out of the house together for some seriously rare one-on-one time. I'm really looking forward to it.

-It's that most glorious of times, book recommendation time! I am deluding myself into thinking I'll get to do some beach reading when we go away, so with all my high hopes I'm planning to go out and snap up a shitload of paperbacks. I don't want anything super weighty, subject-wise, but I'm not too strict about that when it comes to the right book. So what say you, fellow readers? If anyone says 50 Shades of Barf I will consider it a declaration of war.

-It's Wednesday, which means it's dancing show night.

-Hmmm, this song. This is a good 'un.

And Nobody Was Eaten by a Bear

Somewhere between my college graduation and now, I've come to regard time as a mushy, tangled, indistinguishable meatball of a concept. I have no idea what year things took place any more, how much time has passed between one thing or the other. And I know it's only going to get worse. But imagine my shock to realize that this past weekend's campout with our Hair friends was essentially our ninth. Next year will mark the 10-year anniversary of the production of the show in which Mike and I were involved and how we came to know the bulk of the "tribe," but we've also known a bunch of them from an earlier run of the show, in 1999. Mike and I have known this crowd almost as long as we've been married, and that is a long ass time.

So much has changed over those years, so many people have come and gone, some tragically never to come back, but every year brings it home to me: though I see these guys only once a year if I'm lucky, communicating mostly over facebook and the odd holiday card, they are very important to me and my life is richer for having known them. And I'm thankful for every summer gathering, for what this crew has added to my life, not one member of which I would have had the chance to know if not for a magical musical obsession and a charismatic hippie whose life ended much, much too soon.

From a diary entry dated 2007:


I know it means a lot to Leo to have everyone gather like this because in a way he thinks of us all as his kids, his family. For us it's a chance to see people we consider friends but don't usually get a chance to hang with otherwise. This year the weather was gorgeous and we lazed around the field and played volleyball and Mike hosted a trivia match and went swimming and we stayed up way too late talking and singing and drinking around the fire (I've seen the sun rise two Sunday mornings in a row! So paying for it).

It's funny because even though I call this hippie camp and we mostly know each other because of a hippie show, nobody's actually a hippie except for Leo. He is in his mid-fifties and a definite dyed-in-the-wool relic, but he's also the most together hippie I've ever met. He doesn't drink or do drugs and he leads a very upstanding day-job life. He's not remotely flaky. He just happens to have long hair and wear a lot of tie-dye and hasn't lost his 60s sensibility. He doesn't live in the past but rather applies his ideals to today's world.

He's also way into film and theater and directs an assload of local productions from farces to musicals like Oliver. Hair is his favorite and it's the reason I know him, but he's basically a performer and everyone at the gathering is at least a part-time performer, mostly singers and musicians, but actors, too. So understandably it can be hard to get a word in edgewise at times. But I enjoy sitting back and taking in the craziness. It was a good time. We'll do it again next year, I'm sure.


And we did it again, and again and again. And sometimes we couldn't make it, but mostly we did, even if just for a few hours. And there was always next year.... How could we know that so soon, so ridiculously soon--less than four years later--the sage and elder who made it all happen would be attending only in our memories, only in the field and the trees and stars and voices from our hearts?

This year we camped out with HR for the first time and he had a ball and fell in love with Leo's 4-year-old granddaughter. We swam and sang and ate and drank and talked and cried. And it was wonderful, and it was difficult. I'm not a very spiritual person in general, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Leo was there with us. I don't often feel this way about those who have died, I don't even have an idea about the afterlife, but to me Leo is so inextricable from that particular place, it was so sacred to him, I want to believe that that's where he went when he passed away. So that's how I'm always going to think about it. Yes.

Much love to all who were there this year, those who will be there next, those who have come in the past. Thanks for all the fun and joy but also the work and the heartbreak and disappointment that comes along with caring about people. It's always worth it. For Leo of course, but also for all the lucky souls who will continue to benefit from what he started. We'll always love Hair, of course, but it's not really about that anymore, is it? Hasn't been for years. Let's keep it going for him, and for us.

See you in 2013, freaks.

WWLLD?

I will never go so far as to complain about my job because, job-wise, it's the best of the best. But as with any thing in any life, sometimes situations arise in the course of the job that bring out my full-on jaded grump tendencies. I'm in such an irritated mood right now, my frustrations are threatening to eclipse a lovely, serene weekend and last night's awesome sleep which is the most I've gotten in one night possibly since HR's birth. A damn shame, that. I blame the heat. I've seen Do the Right Thing, I know a heatwave is a harbinger and/or catalyst of menace.

Three important things to visualize on this guns-a-blazin' Monday:

1) In just under two weeks I'll be on vacation. Far away from the petty annoyances that I can usually deal with fine, but have been piling up and escalating lately. Away from any kind of technology, which is not always a break I think I need but it does really do me a world of good. And if it's still super hot, I won't care, because I can just jump in the ocean.

2) In the spirit of our weekend reunion, it helps to think about what dear Leo would do if he were in my place today, and I know he would smile, and deal, and move on. If anyone could see the big picture, it was that guy.

3) Finally, sometimes a little air on your neck makes all the difference in your attitude.

All right, that's better. Tomorrow: meditations on yet another fantastic weekend. For the rest of this day, let's see if I can't continue to nurture my inner mellowness. Listening to a little Bobby M. is a good start.

Like Cagey Tigers

Finally, finally the dance competition started last night on SYTYCD. I enjoyed it, but it didn't blow me away. I'll be waiting and hoping for that "big chills" number in every episode. As for last night's show, I have an uncharacteristic few points to make.

-Nigel is throwing me for a loop this year with his actual constructive comments. I'm impressed so far, Sir. Let's not make me eat my words.

-The Christopher Scott opening number was pretty great.

-I'm still feeling Will, looking forward to seeing where he goes from here. The silly Love Cats number with Amelia was actually one of my favorites of the night.

-My actual favorite was probably the African Jazz with Dareian and Janelle - love that couple. Also, Lindsay and Cole's paso doble. That boy was made for the paso.

-I hope things work out for Cyrus because he's so likeable, but I thought his performance in the Broadway number last night was way overrated. I adore his partner Eliana, she's still my fave girl, but I didn't get how everyone was into the routine. C looked really stiff and his lack of training was distracting. Maybe it's just me, whatever.

-I am in love with the ballroom choreographers this year. Louis Van Amstel and Jason Gilkison, let's be bffs and maybe you can teach me that butt shaking thing.

Overall, it was enjoyable. Just about any dancing is better than no dancing in my opinion, but I guess I've just been spoiled by the talent in some past seasons that nothing flipped my rabid fangirl switch on the first night. I'm sure I'll rewatch everything at some point and probably change my mind about everything a bunch of times.

In real life, all is calm and all is bright, and all is off to the wild again this weekend to camp out with a bunch of real hippies and those who only play one on the stage. Wahoo!

Oh, to have been born me, but with kd lang's voice...

How Lucky Can One Guy Be?

A doozy of a time, that's what I'm talking about.

Friday, we did a one day there-and-back to beautiful Rhode Island to see some lovely out-of-town friends who had rented a place on the beach. It was so great of them to open their vacation to us, and we had a great time relaxing and catching up. It was a gorgeous day, perfect for just hanging out. HR loved walking on the beach and playing with his farm animals on every surface he could find. Late in the afternoon a couple came by with a baby and a six-year-old and my kid was totally smitten, going out of his way to get her attention. He's always loved big kids, but especially big girl kids. This theme repeated over the weekend with several different chiquitas.

Saturday Mike worked a double in order to make up for taking off the following day, so it was Mama and HR, all day and all of the night. We had a very nice day together, capped off with a dinner at Mike's restaurant. I am really appreciating this stage in my boy's development - he is so much fun in general, but his attention span also allowed me to sit at a table with him for a sustained period of time (and only a few youtube clips on the smartphone for strategic bribing purposes) and have a fairly relaxed meal, something I didn't think was possible just months ago. It didn't hurt that HR is something of an unofficial mascot of the restaurant, and was showered with attention.

Sunday was the highlight of the weekend for me, because I got to see so many people that I love and in a beautiful space. My aunt and uncle recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, and decided to use the occasion to have a reunion of sorts. They've lived outside of Maine for nearly all of those 50 years, but they rented a huge camp (that's any kind of summer abode, to those not from the 207) near to where they both grew up (they were high school sweethearts), set right on a pond and with a huge yard and invited a ton of friends and extended family for swimming and a pig roast and lawn games and the like. Their adult sons did a great job organizing the party, even getting the original wedding attendants to come, which included locating and importing the best man who had been MIA for decades. The food was ridiculous, as is always the case with these things. And everyone had a blast.

HR could not get enough of the water, and spent most of the time he wasn't throwing himself at my cousins' girls luring any sucker he could to take him swimming. He "swam" (kicked and splashed while someone held him on his belly) like a crazy person and ran naked in the grass and lavished in the copious attention. We had been talking about the party for weeks, who would be there, what we'd do, etc., and it's safe to say the actual event exceeded his expectations. It certainly exceeded mine. 

Since my parents live about 10 miles from the party site, we were able to install our partied-out guy at their home with my mother and grandmother, and return to the party site for a bonfire, stargazing and conversation with the die-hards (most of whom were staying on at the "camp," a rambling farmhouse which sleeps 25). It was tough to call it a night around 1 a.m., but it made me all the more excited for our upcoming vacation when we'll get to see most of those dudes again. Monday we booked it back to MA, and I was sad because I could have easily stayed another day or ten, but not too sad because of the aforementioned vacation on the horizon.

But I feel like everything I just wrote is background, a set-up for what was truly special about our weekend. For starters, any time my family's going to get together, you just know it's going to be awesome. Fun is our family legacy, we fly our colors loud and proud. And I'm in awe of all the work that was put into pulling this one off, all done with smiles and no complaint from any person involved. I do feel bad that I didn't do more (or, like, anything) besides show up and chase my kid and eat my face off, but everyone gets a turn, and I'll happily take it next go-round.

The inarguable highlights:

-spending time with people who rock, most of them having known me all my life and love me because they have to, but I'm also pretty sure because they just do. I feel the same. And they feel the same about Mike and HR, and so on. That's just the package deal. Once you're in, good luck getting out. It's easy to take my one-in-a-million birth family for granted, but I hope they know I don't. We are not perfect, we have our little issues here and there, but none so big that they overshadow what's most important. All my relatives, the whole lot of them, and on both sides (and yes, this was my paternal aunt's party but a lot of my maternal fam was there because that's how we roll), that is my life's greatest blessing.

-my grandmother, the matriarch, 90 and thriving, getting her picture taken with my uncle's soon-to-be one-year-old, HR and my cousin's newborn. For those keeping score, that's a grandson, great-grandson, and great-GREAT-grandson born within a two-year span. The picture is one I will always cherish.

-being on the little beach at the "after party" when they lit and released those floating paper lanterns. It was nothing short of magical.

-seeing my son interact with my loved ones, most of whom he hasn't seen since the fall or even before that, and him just... knowing them. We have a huge photo book of his entire family that we look at all the time, he's been obsessed with it since infancy, and the names and faces are drilled into his little brain. Even with that, it took by breath away to hear him say something like, "Bye-bye Uncle Bob," unprompted. It's rewarding to me as someone who wants to teach him things, but it's more than that. Something deeper and more touching to my soul. He always talks about MAINE like he knows what it means, he gets excited about it, and I wonder if he knows that Maine is a place, or just an idea of happiness?

And while I'm making this yet another thing that's all about my spawn, I was thrilled that he was such a trooper when it came to the traveling. I'll admit I was not looking forward that part, it's not something that comes easily to him and he gets carsick to boot, poor kid, but between the success of dramamine (which we gave a shot with our pediatrician's blessing, and the only time he got sick was the one night-time leg of the journey when I didn't think he'd need it - my bad) and his growing-upness, it was all, all good. And to tell the truth even if every ride sucked it would have been worth it. It always is.

So yay, love. Yay, life. Yay, family. If you don't like yours, come on over, there's always room in mine.

No Hateration

Behold, the Pros and Cons of a 4-day weekend.

Pro: 4 days off

Con: Catch-up for 2 workdays

Pro: short workweek

Con: more work to do in less time

Pro:

Pro:

Pro:

I just can't think of any more cons. In my heart and mind, I'm still in Maine, soaking up the love of my truly outstanding family and watching my wee dude have a ball. In my actual body, which needs, among other things, to earn a living, I'm at my desk taking a little break and that break's just about over. Tomorrow there should be more time to talk about the way I passed these most fantastical days. So. Word.

Best of All Worlds

I am a city person. I felt this in my bones long before I actually got the chance to live in a city, and once I got here I never looked back. But everyone needs a refresher every now and then, and for someone who did most of her growing up in rural Maine, who considers a peninsula on the Atlantic to be her rightful second home, there are times when those urban bones start aching for the wilderness, for nature and space. It's fortifying, and essential to maintaining my emotional balance. And lucky me, I'm in for a big dose.

Living in New England is so cool. To go from swimming in a pool in suburban Connecticut to wading in the waves on the Rhode Island shore within the same week, then splashing in a pond in Maine two days after that, with no individual trip exceeding one tank of gas... that to me is pretty damn sweet. Then we've got the foray up to the Maine/NH border for a quick campout the weekend after this one, and our extended stay on the aforementioned beloved peninsula beginning at the end of the month... all that fresh air and wildlife ought to fulfill my country cravings for the coming year, at least.

It'll be really interesting to see how HR turns out, what his living preference will be when he's an adult, as we have no plans to relocate from our current home located smack in the metropolis. His upbringing will have some marked differences from Mike's suburban one and mine in the plain old sticks. For one, grass and dirt is not his default terrain. But I sort of relish the idea of meeting the challenges unique to raising a city kid. The parental worries won't be any more or less in quantity, just different in some ways than the ones our parents had specific to our geographical circumstances. It's another reason I'm glad we've been impelled to do so much scooting around with our boy lately, to expose him to lots of "other." As he gets older I hope to do a great deal of traveling with him, cross country and to Europe and wherever we can make happen, it's a family priority. But for now just going someplace where he can run free, to eat a berry he picked from where it grew on a bush and not from the produce section of Foodmaster, to make a real-life connection with something that has thus far been confined to his storybooks, that's enough for me. And if that's all we ever get to do, it'll still be enough. All this, all this. We are so the fortunate ones.

Back at you next week... sometime... with several states in between. And a lot of this on repeat, probably, as it's one of HR's current top requests.

And You Too, Canada

Tomorrow I will be exercising my American Freedom by doing nothing, which is my most favorite thing, and the one at which I'm most skilled. What I mean by "nothing" is that I plan to use my government-sanctioned day off to enjoy my two dude-people, and take the opportunity to free-form it. The heat's not supposed to be especially brutal, so I'm looking forward to some wandering, some relaxing, possibly some ice cream, and probably, after HR is tucked in for the night, the grown-ups watching the Pops on TV and tipping back a frosty beverage or two. The American Dream, right here ladies and gentlemen.

Then it's back to work for one more day, then off until Tuesday. Tight.

Today's musical selection is courtesy of Mike, who heard this on the radio and said, "how has this song not made it to your blog?" How, indeed? I have always appreciated the talent of Ms. Norah Jones and find her to be mad beautiful, but her music thus far has been a bit of a snore to my ears. This composition--a gleeful breakup song-- is aptly named. Just the opening notes make me want to do a little dancey-dance.



Happy! Independence! Day! Whatever that means to you.

How We Livin

July, oh my! Per usual, this space is about to turn into ghosttown tumbleweedsville as I'm taking the bulk of my vacation days over the next two months. And I have no shortage of vacation days, so, nice knowing y'all, and so long, weekends at home. We'll be packing in a year's worth of wonderful, top notch stuff between now and Labor Day, which I guess we do every summer, and it requires some tricky navigating in regard to making the household work, but I'm at peace with the silly pace of it.

There will be time to write about it all later, or not. There's no possible way to frame all this richness as a negative, and I'm not trying to. Life won't always be a trail dotted with happy destinations--I mean, sure, I hope it is, but contrary to what you might read here I don't exist in a state of denial about reality--but from where I'm sitting I can't pass up a single stop. Life's very insistence on being an unpredictable fuck is all the reason I need to do everything I possibly can now.

This past weekend we got the ball rolling by going to Mike's youngest brother's promotion ceremony which was pretty cool (congrats, Sgt. Dave). We were a little late because there was a matter of a sweet boy getting carsick, but we got to celebrate with Mike's family and it was great to spend time with them in general. HR was in heaven because there were Munchkins to eat after the promotion (which is the one thing he remembers about being in the police station, err...) and Grandma's house is chock full of FARM EMMULS and other new-to-him toys left over from her sons' childhoods so he got to line them up to his heart's content. He also got to play with his cutie pie cousin and blow bubbles on the deck and have the run of the complex's pool. A trip to Connecticut is a hell of a lot closer (and cheaper) than Orlando, just saying, so maybe we'll just keep Disney World under wraps forever and ever.

If only we could find a way to cure our guy of said carsick problem...





You can't dispute that the kid is wide open to living (the long pause is when a truck he got distracted by a truck in the distance). What's a little barf along the way?