Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Give Me Liberty...


Last week, Bob's class completed their unit on the American Revolution with a live presentation for the parents. Each of the kids was assigned a character. They recited biographical information and wore costumes. Bob was King George III and recited his piece with a British accent that I think he must have learned from Harry Potter. The assembly was three hours long and it was amazing. The kids were terrific and hilarious. I don't know how it's possible, but the three hours actually flew by. And that's, revolutionary.


Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Home


Would you look at that? Sometimes I just can't believe how fortunate we are to get to live here. On Earth, I mean.


Monday, February 26, 2018

Rainy Night


It hasn't rained much here in a long time so when it rains it's sort of a special occasion. There were clouds tonight and it was cold but it was a surprise when I found out it was raining. I was on the phone with my friend while she was driving home.

"It's raining. I just cracked my window so I can smell the wet pavement."

After we hung up I opened our front door and breathed in. Wet pavement. I had been on my way to bed but now I want to stay awake. I don't want the rain to be alone, I guess.


Sunday, February 25, 2018

Smacksy Sunday Links


Beautiful Practice Ground and a way to train your mind.

A biologist believes that trees speak a language we can learn.

Living simply.

The Last Bookstore. (We're headed over today.)

And heartbreakingly beautiful photos of endangered animals.

Happy Sunday.


Friday, February 23, 2018

Today is Windy


The tree closest to our front door has a wind chime hanging from a branch I can see from the dining room window. I noticed it not long after we moved in. Because of the height of the tree, I'm going to estimate that the chime was placed there when the branches were more accessible to the ground, maybe twenty years ago, maybe more. From anywhere in the house, I can hear the wind before I can see it. The wind chime isn't fancy, but it makes one of my favorite sounds.


Thursday, February 22, 2018

Sometimes the Clouds Look Like Paintings of Clouds


It's supposed to rain next week but I got a car wash anyway just so I can see the clouds better.


Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Four Week Follow Up


"Good morning, Bob! Your new x-ray looks great. How's your wrist feeling today?"

"It feels weird without the cast on."

"Yes, that's a very common reaction. We're going to move you to a soft splint. Do you have any pain?"

"No. Oh, and sorry we're a little late. My mom overslept."

"In my defense, there was a lot of traffic this morning between the bed and the coffee maker."

"Mom."





Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Follow That Truck


And yet Daniel Craig was not driving this truck. (I checked.) He must have been out of town.


Monday, February 19, 2018

Monday Metaphor


Sometimes the twelve-year-old first baseman on the opposing team is a little taller than you... and your base coach. 

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Smacksy Sunday Links


A delightful trash can banana peel appetizer.

One simple shift to turn life into an adventure.

Adam Rippon's (How much do we love him?) stress strategies.

How to break up with your phone.

A beautiful orangery in the Cotswolds.

Stevie Wonder + Tom Jones + 1969 = Wonderful

And this man halts a charging elephant with his calm energy.

Happy Sunday.



Friday, February 16, 2018

One More Week (Hopefully)


I'm pretty sure that one-handed batting is against the rules but, you know, The Cast.


Thursday, February 15, 2018

Year of the Dog


One of my girlfriends told me the beginning of 2018 had been so un-impressive, she was starting the year over on the Lunar New Year. Since my January-and-a-half has also been rough, I’ve decided to do the same. This is the Year of the Dog. I am completely on board with this. Dogs are typically loyal, honest, selfless, and in our house they are also always hungry and on complicated medication schedules because some things just run in the family.

Today is the day of the week the dogs and I go for a forty-five minute car ride to avoid the gardener induced panic attack experienced by Levi. Or you might know it by its nickname: Thursday. As the guys and I headed south on Atlantic Boulevard this morning, I noticed red banners and lanterns hanging outside the shops in celebration on the New Year. I focused on trying to come up with a word of intention for my new, new year.  The best I could come up with was “better, maybe?” which seemed not specific enough.

For a mile or two as we drove, we followed a guy in a brown Hyundai Solaris with a bumper sticker that read “My other vehicle is the Mahayana.“ An extremely simplistic way to explain Mahayana Buddhism’s deal is that we should seek to help end the suffering of all sentient beings. Sentient beings would include just about everyone I know and definitely all of the animals. I often look for God in the voices of other people and maybe today, I was reading a little God message on a bumper sticker on a dusty, compact car.

The last few weeks have felt like half of the folks I know are in leaky lifeboats with the other half of us swimming from boat to boat to try to help bail. In honor of the Year of the Dog and because I can’t swim, let’s say I’m dog paddling from boat to boat and doing what I can. Sometimes all we can do is keep bailing.




Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Haul


A portrait of 5th grade friendship in Skittles and Fun Dip. 


Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Another Last Time Elementary School Milestone I Didn't Realize Was Going to be a Thing: Valentine's Eve


One of those this-is-the-last-time-this-will-happen-things just snuck up on me again. Nine years of putting together Valentines with Bob for his classmates is now complete. This year I may have forced him into it a little when I told him either he would be giving cards to his classmates or if he refused, they would each receive one signed, From Bob's Mom. He gave in. We finished them up in an hour. Nine years and an hour.


Monday, February 12, 2018

Pockets Full of Sand


Third base looks strange with somebody else’s kid on it. My kid is in the dugout wearing a hard cast covering the wrist he broke at school two weeks ago. The opposing team is from Korea. Their players are only a year older than ours but already look like men.
“That pitcher swore to me he’s twelve. He showed me his birthdate on his driver’s license,” our coach says. It’s an old joke that doesn’t exactly work in this international context, but the parents huddled in the stands chuckle anyway. It’s cold outside for daytime in Southern California and it doesn’t feel like baseball weather. The black coat I’m wearing hasn’t been out of the trunk of the car since a trip to the beach last November. I can feel sand in the pockets.

“Heads up! Heads!” A foul ball hits the eucalyptus tree behind the bullpen, scattering a few wild parrots. The next pitch, a fastball, hits our batter in the bicep.
“That pitch looks good on you, son! Walk it off, Number 12,” our coach says.
“Way to wear it!” I can hear my son call out from his place on the sidelines.
We applaud as the batter takes his place on first base. The old metal risers we’re sitting on vibrate whenever anyone shifts in their seat. I wish I had brought a Thermos of coffee with me. I’m out of practice. The last few weeks of hospital visits and doctor’s appointments feel far away but we’re only in the middle of the healing process.
Our team takes the field. Their first batter fouls it off straight at his coach who jumps out of the way and yells out something in Korean. We all laugh. None of us speak the language, but from his tone we know he’s asking if his player is trying to kill him. Like dad jokes, coach jokes are universal.
My son closes the field gate behind him and walks past. “How’d you end up in a cast?” I hear a mom ask. He explains that he fell backwards on his arm horsing around at recess. The day he fell, when my phone rang I could see the name of the school on my caller ID. When I answered, all I could hear was my son screaming in the background.
“Yikes. Well, you’ll be back on the field before you know it,” the mom says.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he says waving his cast and heads off in the direction of the bathrooms.




Sunday, February 11, 2018

Friday, February 9, 2018

What?


Get down, Teddy, she said. Be a good boy, she said. I have to make the bed now, she said.
And then she made the bed over me while I was still in it.
I showed her. I napped.
When I awoke, I met her in the hall.


Thursday, February 8, 2018

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Warmer


He follows the light around the living room. An exceptional way to spend an afternoon.


Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Levi is So LA



Our vet is prescribing anxiety medication for Levi for Thursdays, when the gardener comes.  I stopped by the Animal Hospital to pick it up today.

The prescription? Xanax and an appointment with an animal communicator. Brilliant!

Monday, February 5, 2018

No, No Soy 90s Yo


Natalia Ariñez, 23 Years Old, Architecture Student (detail), 1999, from the series The Sons and Daughters, Tucumán, Twenty Years Later, Julio Pantoja (Argentine, born 1961). Gelatin silver print. The J. Paul Getty Museum, purchased with funds provided by the Photographs Council. © Julio Pantoja

Nope, that is not 90s me on the banners advertising the Argentinian photo exhibit at The Getty. 

90s me was way too busy:
A. Leaving her pull-out cassette car stereo inside her Jeep and having it stolen bi-weekly.
B. Going to commercial auditions for various soft drinks - All Ethnicities, Melrose Casual, Be Prepared to Dance)
C. Wearing denim overall shorts over lace leggings with Doc Marten's and a baby-T.
D. Memorizing all of the words to Losing My Religion.
E. All of the above.



Friday, February 2, 2018

Bob's Broken Wrist Update


So far, his wrist is healing straight. If the good news keeps rolling in, he will be able to say good bye to the hard cast in another three weeks. Then he'll build his strength back up and we're back to baseball. It's all coming together, everyone.



Thursday, February 1, 2018

When Your Hair Spends the Night at Coachella Without You


There are those mornings where Your Hair behaves in a way that makes you question what type of rave Your Hair attended without you while you slept. But there is no good explanation for the morning Hair Bump That Will Not Be Destroyed. The odd little Hair pile that flips you the bird and will not respond to heat or water, laughs at you, not with you. Your son passes you in the hallway and says, "Wow Mom, what happened to you? Maybe you should wear a ponytail today or something," and you second guess your decision to leave the house.

But you leave the house anyway.