CSquaredPlus3

The Reunion

I graduated from a small high school in Justin, Texas, 25 years ago.  My parents moved from Arizona to Texas the summer between my sophomore and junior year.  I was once again, the new girl.  It really wasn't a bad thing, the moving. 

The move prior to junior year was my third school change -- not excessive in my opinion -- and I'm thankful for the exposure to different states [Indiana, Arizona, Texas], the resulting close friendship I have with my brother, and the special friends and memories I've gained along the way.  I feel the same about the moves I've made with Chris during the past 20 years.  I've been enriched, not robbed, by the occasional move.

As a person who loves to write, I have a pile of experiences and observations to tap into and build upon.  I feel thankful for the abundant material.

Because I didn't attend my high school for all four years, and I linked arms with a steady boyfriend shortly after arriving to Texas [a very good person who is happily married today], I don't have too many shared experiences outside of classroom time with my graduating class.  As I made my way around my 25th high school reunion, happily hugging and greeting old friends and classmates, I wasn't surprised when a few of the kids didn't remember me.  One guy, who I thought I knew fairly well because I was a lifeguard at our neighborhood pool, I knew his high school girlfriend, and my mother was friends with his mother, actually said, NICE TO MEET YOU! as he left the party Saturday night.  I just smiled and said, "It was nice to see you again."

Another guy who dated one of my best friends, Vicki [the gal I stayed with while I was in Texas for the reunion], didn't remember me at all.  He was very nice to me at the reunion.  We were talking about my braces and I commented, "...it was either boobs or braces...".  He said, "I think you made a mistake.  Next time you have a choice like that, call me.  You should have gone for the boobs."  I liked him, even though he doesn't have a clue who I am.

It was good.  The reunion.  There are a few people I didn't get to talk with enough.  I assume others feel the same.  It was impossible to touch everyone in one or two short evenings and feel satiated.  We need a reunion week.  Then again... maybe we don't.

I drove past my family's old house and places that held powerful memories.  I was stirred, but not shaken.

I was able to spend time with a friend I used to lifeguard with -- Lynn P. Carlson [the P. stands for pretty].  The day I arrived in Texas it rained.  We were at a bar on that warm, muggy evening and Lynn was trying to remember the last name of a guy we both knew.  She said, "Remember?  He had frizzy hair."  Then she looked at me and said, "No offense, Chrisy."  I love Lynn P. Carlson.  And again, not enough time.

[LPC is one of the few people who make me forget I have braces.  She makes me THAT happy.  Frizzy hair and all.]

It was great simply being with my girlfriends.  Looking at clothes, giving each other honest feedback about appearances, thoughts, feelings, and life's problems.  I talk on the phone frequently with these girls, but to feel them physically and share laughs was long overdue.

I sobbed as I sat in the airport waiting for my plane.  I called Chris and told him how I felt.  He was so compassionate.

I arrived home after the kids were in bed Sunday evening.  I went in their rooms and kissed them, even waking up my 4-year-old after Chris rolled his eyes and asked me not to -- he'd been ornery earlier in the evening.  Imagine that?

There's no place like home, and it's true that you can't go back... but I will return to the next reunion.  Maybe with boobs... not braces.

He Just Wanted to Say "Suck"

Oldest Boy and Middle Boy are in Arizona visiting my parents for a few days.  Their school dismissed them at noon last Friday for a two-week spring break.  We all need it.  We're trying to conserve money and minimize stress, so we chose not to take a family vacation.  Oldest Boy and Middle Boy were happy with the alternative we presented.  The chance to fly solo to see their grandparents, and enjoy valuable and rare one-on-one time.  The boys love it, and so do my parents.  The boys follow our rules better than Mom and Dad though.

Mom particularly enjoys pushing the limit.  She never does anything terrible, but things she knows we'd probably not do.  I don't know why she enjoys this so much.  For example, when Oldest Boy was six he was into marbles.  She said she had the perfect bag for him to store and carry his marbles.  A velvet, Crown Royal bag.  He didn't know what it was, but Mom loved the idea of a little boy carrying around a Crown Royal bag.  He still has it.

Before they were out of diapers, the boys were saying "Salud!" and trying to clink their sippy cups with other kids, thanks to Mom. 

They came home from an Arizona visit last summer with a picture of a dead snake.  Mom saw a coyote walking behind their property with the snake it's mouth.  She and the boys followed the coyote and when it dropped the dead rattlesnake, Mom took a picture of the chewed-on snake corpse for their scrapbook.  Cute.

Toddler Child declares anything gross or unpleasant, "Caca!  Kay-Kay says so!"  [The kids call Mother Kay-Kay after her attempts to have Oldest Boy call her "Nana Kaye Anna" failed.]

I called Mom and Dad's house yesterday to see how things were going.  Oldest Boy told me they were watching the movie Gremlins on television.  They'd never seen it and he was enjoying it.  Middle Boy shared the same information, but could hardly contain himself when he said, "Guess what channel the movie's on, Mom?  It's called Movies That Don't Suck."

"Hey.  You just wanted to say 'suck'."

"No, Mom.  That's what it's called.  Really."

The boys and I said our goodbyes, then Mother got back on the phone.  "Middle Boy could hardly wait to tell me about the channel Movies That Don't Suck."

"Well... that is what it's called, Honey.  There's one of those little logos on the bottom of the screen."

"Just so you know... we prefer the kids not say 'suck'."

I heard her sigh heavily, and I'm certain her eyeballs rolled back as she said, "All right.

Three Good Things

Chris and I were talking this morning about how heavy things feel, for all of us.  None of us [or very few of us] are completely insulated from what's happening with the economy.  It's a difficult, stressful time and not knowing what the next several months will bring, compounds the heaviness.

There are always things for which we are thankful.  We know this.  And after we have discussions where we review the worst case scenarios, we take a breath and remind ourselves of the good things.

Mom and Dad lived for a few years in Caracas, Venezuela right after Chris and I were married.  As a Christmas gift one year, Dad flew Chris, my brother Mallory Joe and me to South America for a couple of weeks.  I think it was a gift for Mom and Dad too.

On the surface, everything appeared wonderful.  Mom had spent much of her childhood in the Philippines so she spoke Spanish well and had experience living as an expat.  Mom and Dad lived in a beautiful penthouse apartment overlooking the new U.S. Embassy, had a full-time driver, maid and memberships to a prestigious country club.  Two months prior to the move Dad had been diagnosed with kidney cancer, had surgery to remove a kidney and was sent to Venezuela with a clean bill of health.  Life is good!  Right?  Well...

Mom's birthday is three days before Christmas and she was turning 50 that year.  She missed her friends, understandably.  Navigating life in a foreign country where only 3% of the people spoke English [statistic per Mother, at the time], required her to rely on the Spanish she hadn't used for years and it exhausted her.  We were out for lunch one day and she was trying to order sandwiches for all of us.  She became frustrated, looked at me and said, "I can't remember how the hell to say mustard in Spanish.  Can we lose the mustard?"

One afternoon, Dad was at work, Chris and my brother Mallory Joe were playing ping-pong, drinking Venezuelan beer [Polar tasted good.  Chris and Mallory Joe consumed it daily while playing ping-pong.] and Mom and I were sneaking a smoke on her veranda.

Mom said, "I don't know what to do.  This has just been so difficult."

We discussed various solutions, all involving travel and being away from Dad longer than she felt was reasonable.  She recognized she was tired and in a funk due to the many life stressors she'd just endured.  A major move, culture shock, a husband with a cancer diagnosis, finding homes for three animals she loved dearly prior to the move, turning 50, and missing her family and friends.  She knew she simply needed to keep moving forward.

She vented about the difficulties of living in Caracas.  There were many - all legitimate.

I said, "But Mom, there are some neat things about living here.  Can you think of just three good things?"

She thought...

"The birds are beautiful.  I love seeing parrots and macaws flying.  Free."

"And the orchids.  I can grow orchids on my veranda.  I've never been able to grow orchids like this.  Aren't they beautiful?"  [Mom has always loved gardening, so this was important and valued.]

She was looking a little perkier as she lit another cigarette.  We sat quietly while she thought.

Finally she said, "And when your father and I go out to eat, and I order a drink... anywhere... they bring you the whole bottle, even if it's Grey Goose, and set it right. On. The. Table."

Country Mouse Visits City Mouse

I returned Monday night from a visit with my friend T in NYC.  I'm tired but it was a great trip.  I've known T since we were 15.  There's comfort not only in sharing common history as kids, but also having remained friends who understand and accept one another into adulthood. I can't honestly say that about too many childhood friends.

T moved from L.A. to NYC about a year ago to be with someone.  I traveled there last Friday to 1) see T because it's been over a year, 2) meet the new someone, and 3) see a little of the city - a very nice benefit to our new "someone".

I've been to NYC once, briefly about 13 years ago, and it was a business trip so I didn't see or do much.  This visit I was looking forward to some good food, a little wine, and a bit of sight-seeing and shopping.  Mission accomplished.

I can think of dozens of stories to share from my trip, but I'll keep it macro and stick with some highlights.

 

The Filth
I'll get this teensy-weensy, negative detail out of the way.  NYC... is dirty. 

We took subways.  Some stations were *cleaner* than others, but this is no place for a border-line germaphobe who gets motion sick.  One man's face was about 12 inches from mine, he slightly turned his head, sneezed, wiped his nose and mouth with his hand, then grabbed the same pole I was holding.  I was paralyzed. 

In the Meatpacking District, which actually has some of the nicest high-end shopping, I experienced random smells that almost made my gag reflex do it's thing.

I would advise all people in NYC to keep their hands away from their face, touch as few surfaces as possible, wash hands frequently, remove your shoes prior to entering your living space, and carry hand sanitizer and wet wipes.  I went through lots of hand sanitizer.  It's a miracle the entire city isn't chronically sick.

Brush with Greatness #1
T's new someone has a connection at NBC.  We were treated to a tour of several studios.  I'm not sure what I'm allowed to share, but we were on the SNL set Sunday after the most recent Palin skit, the Today show sets (all of them), the NBC and MSNBC Nightly News sets, the Football Night America set, a sophisticated control room, and several other behind the scene areas.

    

T and I played Meredith and Matt (because I begged him), then I played anchorperson. 

 

Walking, Walking, Walking and Central Park
When your friend who lives in NY asks if you have comfortable shoes, they mean, "Do you have athletic shoes that you can run a marathon in and not bleed?"  I packed all wrong for this trip.  I had several cute outfits with matching shoes - flat, strappy sandals, the high-heel "need to drink a mojito" sandals, clogs, and because there IS a God, I packed running shoes, which I finally convinced myself, matched my outfits.  Bryant Park material, I was not.

Central Park is beautiful.  I wasn't prepared for it to be so large, and so well maintained.  I could have spent several hours strolling (with proper shoes) and watching people enjoy the park.  The diversity, every aspect of it, was gorgeous and thumped with life.

  

Brush With Greatness #2
This part is very exciting for me and I'm certain it embarrasses T, so I'm typing quickly, willing it to be like a whisper type, so maybe he won't get pissed off and make me delete this whole post.

T's someone has two Emmy's - plus another award that's VERY impressive.  T let me look at and hold them on Friday when I arrived at their place.  We were alone so I could be stupid without embarrassing him.  On Sunday I asked T if he'd take my picture with the Emmy's - he grudgingly agreed.  We snuck them out of the closet and quickly took several photos.  I don't think it would have bothered the owner of the Emmy's - I think T just didn't want me to be so easily impressed.  But I was.

   

They're real and they're heavy - the Emmy's not my boobs.  My boobs are real (with the assistance of a nice foundation garment), but they're not heavy.

 

The Best Part...
This trip was a treat because I got to connect with one of "my people" - a true friend.  The meals out were delicious, the sites of the city exciting, and T's friends are all interesting, intelligent, fun and welcoming.  But the best part, was sharing morning coffee, not looking out two different windows in two different states while talking on the phone, but drinking coffee and talking... while looking out the same window.

Road Warriors

Friends recently visited us while on a business/pleasure trip.  They road tripped from the east coast to the western states with their two kids (travelin' age kids, not babies or toddlers) and their pet horse dog named Wilbur. 

Wilbur is an 8-month old Bullmastiff with a brindle coat (I looked that up - it's tiger stripey).  His family says he weighs 130-ish pounds - emphasis on the "ish" - with 80 additional pounds to look forward to as he matures.  Wilbur simultaneously fascinated and terrified the kids and Mary.  Ultimately fascination took over.  Wilbur vocalized like Chewbacca, drooled, blew snot bubbles, lumbered around like Baby Huey, and had the most expressive face.  We decided his face was a cross between a bear and an orangutan.

Chris and I were simply fascinated by our friend's ability to:

1)  drive from the east coast to the western states;

2) do this with two kids (our travelin' age kids have a rough time on road trips);

3)  share the trip with their horse dog;

4)  not just bring a bag of dog food, but travel with several pounds of frozen, raw meat to feed Wilbur.  (I had never heard of feeding raw but dogs are carnivores and many people feed their dogs raw meat because it's healthy for them - look it up.  I did.  Mary's not getting any though - meat that is.)

These are hardy, compassionate, life lovin', dog lovin' people! 

Chris and I have been on vacation strikes for years at a time because of traveling-with-small-child induced exhaustion.  Toddler Child almost killed us in Colorado and the two older boys complained about the long car ride. 

We've taken Mary twice with us to Mother and Dad's in Arizona.  The first time was right after her near-death experience and she sat on my lap for 11 hours with 50 staples in her stomach.  I don't know why we took her the second time.  Maybe we thought it'd be "fun" to take the family dog on vacation.  Mary spa's it now.

A few years ago Middle Boy was interested in studying and drawing dogs.  We bought him a few books on dog breeds and dog art.  He spent a lot of time alone in his room reading and drawing.  We saw several sketches of Old English Sheepdogs, Dalmatians, and mutts.  We didn't know the extent of his breed knowledge.

Shortly after Middle Boy became the dog expert in our house, we planned a trip to Arizona.  I packed Mary's suitcase for the Little Dog's Salon and Resort.  Chris and the boys waited in the car while I handled Mary's check-in.  An outdoor play area was visible from the parking lot, so all the little dogs could wave good-bye as their humans drove away.  Middle Boy had been quietly observing the dogs.

As we headed towards the airport, Middle Boy said, "Did you see those two, white Bitchin' Fries?"

Home Sh#t Home - Part Deux

We're home from Colorado - the delousing has commenced.

Because my good friend Samantha Kelly pseudo-requested to see more of our accommodations - I'll share a few final memories before closing this chapter.

The Cheese
We found some cheese stuck to a desk.  It wasn't our cheese.

Disgusting.  Believe it or not, we were so beaten by our experience, we just left the cheese alone.

The Filthy Lamp
This pathetic lamp is illustrative of all accessories in the room, wallpaper, floor coverings, and general decor.  It worked just fine though.  ( See Honey, I can TOO be positive and "go with the flow".)

It listed to the right no matter what my OCD told me to do to correct it.  Again, it worked just fine though.  (Positive thoughts.)

The Wildlife
We found what appeared to be a cocoon in the curtains.  The photo doesn't show it very well, but trust me, something was growing in the black dot you see.

Helpful Instructions
Just in case someone had any crazy ideas about where they should or should not hang their clothing...

We were fairly certain this was there because someone in the past had actually hung their clothing on the sprinkler.  The room had to have been flooded at some point to smell as moldy as it did.

The Partay
We were lounging in our rooms on SUNDAY afternoon (NOT Friday or Saturday night), trying to touch as few surfaces as possible, when we heard "thump, thump, thump, etc..." and the roaring of motorcycles and souped-up cars.  We pushed back our curtain, careful not to disturb the wildlife, to find a raging, midlife crisis party occurring at our hotel pool.  Very tan people, in very few clothes, were head-bobbing to the music, trying to look sex-ay.  Men with stretch marks on their too tan arms with tribal armband tattoos, tummy's sucked-in, chest's pushed out, 27 hairs slicked back.  Women with thin arms and legs, giant boobs, too tan like the men, tiny bikinis to show the tattoos on the lower middle back, all teetering around in high, high heels and ankle bracelets.  Most of these people were at least my age, but a few were young and could have legitimately starred in real dirty movies.  (JUST being descriptive with most of this - not judgmental - mostly.)

Chris called the front desk and found out that this hotel in an effort to "serve the community" throws a little "function" on Sunday afternoons.  It was supposed to end at 5:00, but they let "the community" party until almost 6:30.  Like we weren't already having a hard time getting up the courage to get in the swimming pool.

When the people left - I think the humpers were hosed off - Chris went out to run an errand (probably to get more liquor and Lysol).  This is how he found our front windshield...

 

I'm not saying anyone purposely shot at our windshield (a thought that crossed my mind that evening).  It's possible someone, in an effort to leave the parking lot looking cool, spun their tires in a way that accidentally threw a stone.

Our immune systems are boosted and we have a renewed appreciation for our home.  I'm so happy we didn't find a bag of heroine or a dead body in the room.  What to tell the children...

Home Sh#t Home

My leg is feeling much better.  Thank you.

We're in Colorado on "vacation".  Oldest Boy and Middle Boy are spending some alone time with Chris' parents, so Chris, Toddler Child and I are in a hotel far enough away so we don't interfere.  We got a very good deal on this room which we are thankful for (thanks - you know who).  We're not snooty people.  We appreciate saving money.  Bigger isn't always better.  I love small, quaint and older, as long as it's clean.

There are people staying here that seem perfectly content, so I want to choose my words carefully.  It's possible we just ended up in the bad room.  The one with the slight mold problem that's held together with duct tape.

Chris gave it a college effort a few days ago and looked for a different place to stay.  Availability's limited and the few places he found for us would have cost significantly more money.  We've chosen to stay here, mask the smell, and treat for scabies when we return home.

Lysol, Creed, and Tom Ford are tricking our brains into thinking we're enjoying a high-end experience.  (BTW, if you haven't been turned on to Creed fragrances, allow me to convince you to splurge.)

In addition to massaging our olfactory senses, a little something to take the edge off has helped us all.  Toddler Child has an embarrassing addiction to milk that we keep closeted.  Shhhhhh.

A good poop makes everything all better too.