and I admire actors, I really do. I'd love to be one...and, after extremely limited but somewhat real experience in front of a camera, I do not underestimate what they do for a living.
But.
I'm watching Dustin Hoffman, who is certainly at the top of his craft.
And I appreciate his insights and gift.
But I just cannot bear to listen to people go on and on and on about the making of movies as if it is the work of unsurpassed genius.
He's just told the story of the last line of Kramer Vs. Kramer - of how it was MERYL who asked how she looked just before the elevator doors closed, and not her character, and one would think, from the magnitude of Hoffman's emotions and the way that he has told this story of the 'realness' of the bit, that the two of them HAD CURED CANCER.
And. In. Truth.
Folks, these are movies.
You don't want to be around me whilst watching an HBO special concerning the making of...
oh god, he's just referred to something as 'the cathedral of acting.'
so I'm sitting here watching Inside The Actors Studio
where are we and what IS going on?
Right this minute I am sitting in the park while Youngest plays.
I love that he plays, as you all know.
I am just back from meeting Jan - who was just the cutest person in the WORLD.
And I said that to her, I said LOOK AT YOU, YOU ARE JUST TOO ADORABLE.
She's tiny and has wonderful curls and a fabulous smile and twinkly eyes and we had a very nice cuppa.
Oldest is waiting to hear about a big sheetrock job and spending time with his oldest friend in the world before she returns to college.
Middle is spending his days in town, looking very very chic.
K is at work where rumors and news reports and dramatic staff changes would leave ME completely ill at ease, but where he sits and thinks and does his fine work without ever becoming embroiled in the mess around him.
The start of school looms large in the not so distant future.
I don't want to send them back and they don't particularly want to go.
I wish we could run away...
...and we are, sort of -
on friday we will take a trip to K's father's farm where I promise to take lots of photos of us with animals, where we will be wined and fed like nowhere else on earth (K's father loves to cook for people) and where, weather permitting, we will spend a day on Granddad's boat.
(A boat trip AND animals! Just imagine!)
I don't know if Granddad, on his farm, where he raises grass-fed organic beef cattle, has WIFI, but we'll see.
Won't we.
A short bit on love and hatred...
Why I Hate The Neighbors Who Live Behind Us:
- They run their lawn sprinkler all night long and it is one of those ticking ones. TSK TSK TSK it goes all night. I cannot take the sound of it anymore and am contemplating putting holes in their hose.
- Their lawn, bathed in sunlight and lovingly doused with water, is perfect.
- After giving our children permission to cut through their yard in bus-stop emergencies, they YELLED LIKE A FISHWIFE at Youngest when he did so.
- They do not smile or nod when we see each other.
- In fact, they look askance.
- They leave a light, over the kitchen sink, burning all night and it is very bright and can easily be seen from my bathroom where I would prefer not to see it or hear the sprinkler TSK-ing at me.
Why I Love The Neighbors Who Live Across The Street From Us
- Usually, if I run out of something (milk, eggs, tahini) they have it and happily hand over some.
- Their lawn looks pretty much the same as ours.
- They have two adorable daughters who I can admire from afar and up close.
- They have wifi and share it when mine is down.
- She is a psychologist, which I used to be uncomfortable with but now like very much.
- He has a cell phone business, and a vitamin business and a Chinese herbal remedy business which I find fascinating.
- They have always made us feel like we could go to them if we needed help in some way and vice versa, and there have been times when we have availed each other of those offers.
- They have, for some reason unknown to me, an amazing relationship with Oldest. I have no idea why, but he can often be seen passing the time of day, unloading groceries for her, lifting heavy objects, or smiling and waving. Yesterday, she told me what a great guy he is - I came in the house (where he was in the kitchen with several friends) and thanked him for being such a good neighbor to her and his friend Z said: Is that the one you told me is hot?
(He WAS joking.)
Finally, in the Isn't-It-Funny-How-There-Are-No-Coincidences Department: (and, yes, it's only a matter of time before I start handing out business cards for my friend The Psychic because she is THAT talented) - Whilst doing nothing too special for our 24th and looking toward number 25, I began telling K that I thought he should bring me to Italy next summer.
Meanwhile, I was having a wee fit as a commenter who leaves very nice words for me had never registered an email address -- and lo, not only does she write to me directly, but she handles some beautiful rentals...IN ITALY!
We'll see.
Won't we.
dinner
We had a very romantic and fabulous dinner last night -
The restaurant is in a funny little industrial area of our town.
It's been owned by the same couple for 35 years and has always gotten incredible reviews.
It's a very small menu which changes (seasonally I suppose) featuring traditional French dishes without being stodgy.
There are little twists in the ingredients to keep the feel of the food up to date.
Situated in a house between a storage facility and an auto body shop, it is decorated with strings of white lights outside -
and inside everything is soft pink and slightly 1970's...but no so much that you are put off the place.
I've never seen the chef, the wife/owner - but I tell myself that the older French gentleman is her husband, although, for all I know, he is her brother, or uncle.
No matter, he is positively adorable.
Short, balding, slightly rounded, with a very French face (if that can be) and a wonderful air about him.
It's as if he is sharing a private joke with you - and only you and he know it.
I would very much like for us to become regulars there, but it is terribly expensive, and as he behaves (subtly, quietly) as though you are old friends, we don't have to work to hard at it.
I had beets and goat cheese.
How often can one have beets, if one likes them? Not very.
K had scallops (sadly sandy).
We both had filet mignon, which, if I am in the mood for beef, is one of my favorite things.
Crispy and salty on the outside, tender and perfect inside.
Perched upon a savory pancake with a blob of blue cheesey sauce underneath it and some carmelized onions on top of it, there were circles of balsamic reduction nearby.
(I find balsamic reductions passe at this point, but the flavor is still a nice counterpoint.)
I had creme brulee and K had tarte tatin, as one should.
The waiter suggested and brought a Spanish red wine and it was perfect too.
It was very very nice to have a couple of hours alone with K - and I tried hard not to discuss his job or the doctor visit or school or...or...or...
You are all very sweet, with your anniversary wishes.
No one else in the world paid so much attention to us (which was just fine) and it was very nice to hear from so many of you.
24
There is no 'traditional' gift for the 24th wedding anniversary.
And when people hear that we are celebrating it, they immediately ask what we are planning for our 25th.
Poor 24 -
We had planned to do a morning alone at the beach, but the weather has interfered with those plans.
I'd like to go away with K for a few days, but our lives are interfering with those plans.
And, so, as the plans slip away, I find that I too am focusing on what we will do for our 25th.
Meanwhile...we are married 24 years today.
It was blue and clear and slightly cooler than we thought it would be that day.
Everyone we loved was there.
We had a gorgeous dinner.
And I remember the whole day with a rosy glow.
It will be busy-ness as usual for both of us today and tonight we are going to dinner at our favorite french restaurant.
our new toy
Our new toy is hot.
It sits in the middle of our table. In the dining room.
We put some of this in it.
And some of this.
And then we choose what we want.
I like the tofu and leaves best.
With some of THIS.
I've gotta go now.
I'm watching Cribs with Middle.
toys
K needed shoes.
Oldest needed shoes.
Middle was bored.
I wanted to see the Free People store, and Youngest had ten dollars burning a hole in his pocket.
And so, in a historic move, we went to the mall for the second time in six months.
I'm not kidding when I say we don't go to the mall.
Youngest was startled to see a store which only sold sunglasses.
We got what we needed, mostly and made a stop at the toy store.
I love looking at the dolls. But I find this Holiday Barbie disappointing.
Something about the scale of her braid and tiara and earrings, I think.
And the embellishments on her dress are too large.
Sigh.
And what's up with this baby?
What's in the 'magic bottle?'
Last in the pink area...
My Little Pony.
I never really got the whole little pony thing.
It drinks from a bottle? and wears clothes?
Not getting it.
Hey! Over here!
Look!
Magic Eggs.
No. Idea.
Plenty O'Pirates!
...and yet, K pointed out that the Keira Knightley figure seemed to be sold out.
He was somewhat interested in this UNLEASHED Star Wars figure.
Who's buying this Star Wars crap thirty years later?
Never mind - I don't want to know.
Here's the After The Frat Party Han Solo.
With realistic vomit stains.
Book covers for Youngest.
With Don't Drink And Drive warnings on them.
Who's drinking and driving and going to elementary school?
Never mind - I don't want to know.
How many of these cases do you have to buy to play?
Where do you get all those models?
Sadly, this firearm was just a little smaller than me - or I would have purchased it.
And then I would have shot some of these barking/jumping things.
But I had BETTER THINGS TO DO.
I was busy SUPER STACKING WITH CUPS.
As it turned out, I am very good at putting cups AWAY.
With the stacking?
Not so much.
Ahhh...the simple days.
Stick horses and strollers -
We've owned a few of each.
I loved that time when my toddlers wanted something to push -
a lawn mower, a shopping cart, a vacuum.
A sudden commotion drew my attention to the front of the store -
Where Middle was being attacked by a tyrannosaurus rex.
He was only slightly wounded, and well comforted by the purchase of a small box of crayons.
21
the scene: family dinner in the dining room
the food: tortelloni with pesto cream sauce
Oldest: Would it be okay if I had a glass of wine with this?
bbird: gah.
It may take a few years for me to get used to this.
it's saturday
It's pouring rain.
And it's cold.
Usually I push the seasons by making myself wear tee shirts in early May or wool in September - but this year the seasons push me.
There are dishes in the sink and K needs shoes and several of my friends need my emotional attention.
I may have to put on socks.
We had planned a beach trip for tomorrow with my brother, but it looks like it's off.
The weekend stretches in front of us.
I think I'll go unload the dishwasher.
an important moment of personal growth
The J Crew catalogue has just arrived and I don't want a single thing in it.
Middle style
Each of my kids has their own particular look.
And they have crafted these styles all on their own - in some cases from early childhood.
I'd like to think I had something to do with it, but, other than passing a style gene to them (K wears what he finds in his drawers and really only cares about being comfortable and warm) I have had little to do with the way each of them dresses.
Oldest has kind of a Zonker Harris vibe going
although, Zonker looks a little paunchy here...
Perhaps he put on weight during the big book tour.
Anyway, Oldest is all about tee shirts and jeans, and Converse high tops.
But he's done surfer dude, baggy pant boy and punk rocker.
The Zonker look is pretty close to his authentic self...unshaven, scruffy dirty blond hair and sneakers.
Youngest is all about the skater look - and the slightly retro skater look.
He has pretty much always had long hair, sort of pushed to the side and messy.
Skate shoes or Birkenstocks,jeans or cargo pants and big tee shirts. He's really into hoodies and button down shirts.
Middle is carefully crafting his older look.
He's colored his hair black and had his first real haircut (I cut their hair or they cut their own) and is obsessive about keeping it in his face.
He has evicted his collection of smug tee shirts and only wants black, white or gray ones.
His jeans are tiny and usually black.
He is a very skinny rock star.
And he is slowly customizing his wardrobe...
The only stain that is accidental is the hot sauce.
The glasses are Versace, and given to him by A GIRL.
He usually wears RayBan aviators -
He came home the other day and reported that he had fallen in love with a pair of expensive 'distressed' jeans and could not imagine anyone paying for them.
We talked about how he could achieve the look of them and lo...
It's all a work in progress.
His love of all outerwear is ever present as well -
I just ordered this for him:
He has always loved jackets and coats -
sadly, Youngest has never liked the same ones.
Happily, there is a young cousin who has reaped the benefits of Patagonia jackets and true toggle coats.
It's fascinating and fun to watch Middle as he works out his look -
I do it all the time too, so I appreciate his fine work.
some things I noticed while I took the day off from blogging AND show and tell
That was a refreshing little break.
I did a lot of laundry, some ironing, and went to Whole Foods.
I read the mail, saw Oldest for a few minutes and watched television with Middle.
OH!
AND, I had lunch at a lovely restaurant with a blogger and her friends, which was very nice. We did some traipsing and some shopping and had a very nice afternoon.
They won't be home till sunday, though, so don't go stomping over there for photos.
Which brings me to my first topic.
I am not photogenic.
NOW LISTEN, I am NOT NOT NOT being one of those people who says that so that YOU say
"oh, you are so silly! of course you are photogenic, look at you! you aren't bad looking," etc...
NO. I know I am not bad looking. In fact, in some light (very dim) I am downright sort of attractive, if you like small, squarish women with short hair and a funny moving mouth.
I really mean that I am not photogenic. And I never was.
Every year my class pictures would be absurd.
Eyes closed, almost speaking, looking like I needed to sneeze.
It doesn't trouble me, but it is one of those things that one discovers about themselves at a certain point.
I am going to make an effort to be more relaxed about it as my anxiety over it shows in every photo taken of me (and distorts my face terribly) but...we'll see...
But anyway -
here is my new hair...
and YES, this is the best I could do.
If you MUST see all of me I suppose you'll have to plan a trip to Tuvalu.
Now, on to the other things I noticed yesterday...
*Survivor (!) premieres on September 14th! But the news, as far as I'm concerned, is not all good. I am trying to not jump to any wacky conclusions, but this is truly a wtf situation for me.
And saying that this brings diversity to the show just sounds like a flimsy cover story.
* I brought Middle some lobster gummies from my vacation. When I asked him if he liked them he replied: I'm not really sure...I'm still trying to figure out if they are lobster flavored, so at this point I will say no.
*Looking at the September issue of Vogue with Oldest? An experience.
*I actually saw a commercial for Denny's in which a woman says: The food fills up my teens and that's all I care about! Which: if that's all they can come up with? That Denny's makes one feel full? Yikes. (I have never eaten at a Denny's.)
* I also saw and LOVED this Nike commercial. Go watch it.
*And , while you're at it, you ought to watch this one too - it's so nice...
* Middle and I watched the incredibly exciting action that is SUPER SPEED STACKING.
Yep. An entire televised, um, sport, that is -- er...STACKING CUPS. QUICKLY. You can only HOPE that you can see some of it, as we did, on ESPN. Cause, it's FAST and the, uh, competitors are uh...well...the kind of kids who probably don't get picked to be on a lot of teams and now seem to have happily found their places in the competitive world...stacking cups.
Had enough?
Here's my toothbrush holder.
It's faience from Moustiers St. Marie.
the big giant post of autumnal inspiration
While I dally around town with Christa today, I thought I'd leave you with these pictures of things that are exciting me about the approaching season.
I love the fall - the school clothes, the supplies, the weather...
The accessories!
I am loving the stitching on this big bag -
It's from Free People, which has just opened a store near me...Free People, Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters are all the same company, you know, and they have so many things to see - and terrific installations in the stores.
I'm also still loving these Marisa Klass necklaces -
But they are EXPENSIVE and so I can really only hope to use them as inspiration.
Is there ANY earthly reason why I couldn't make one of these?
One reason I can think of is that I need assistance with the choice of thread - or is it wire that I need? Should I go get a book on beading from the library?
I am smitten with this coat -
or, more precisely, the idea of this coat...
As well as this skirt -
perhaps a bit longer though.
And not with the coat. That would be a bit too much.
How much do I love this cardigan?
Not $228 dollars worth, that's for sure. But the asymetrical business and buttonholes and big collar are just great.
I already own two variations of this:
but can someone remind me to try it with a blouse under it, rather than a tee?
I am in need of a jacket for the fall -
and I like this one, but I think those sleeves would bother me - maybe.
Better?
Finally, I have had all my hair cut off.
I suppose it was shoulder length, but I've spent the last few months pulling it back and clipping it off my face so it wouldn't drive me crazy.
And then I saw that Nicole Kidman movie, Birth?
And, see, in this Nicole Kidman movie, Birth, Nicole has (in the form of a wig, I am guessing) really short hair. And we spend most of 90 minutes staring at Nicole as she stares.
She does a lot of staring.
And acting with her neck muscles.
And to keep them from becoming strained, she wears this thick gray scarf a lot.
So. Yeah. Not a great movie, but a good looking movie, in which Nicole Kidman's hair did an excellent job of making me want it. (But not in wig form.)
(I did find the very last scene, with Nicole in a wedding dress in the ocean? moving.)
I begged K, at the end of the movie, to lop off my hair.
I felt that if he were to cut it, it would make him compliant in the idea of the hair cut.
(K does not find short hair attractive. On women.)
But, being the genius he is, he declined.
And 'declined' is a euphemism for what he said, which was more on the lines of: not on your fucking life would I cut your hair.
Which: what?
I cut my own hair ALL THE TIME. It would have been no big deal for him to hack off my flimsy ponytail. (ack, it looked so so so crappy)
I tried to persuade Middle, who's hair I've been cutting for years.
No. Dice.
I was in a frenzy.
A FRENZY I TELL YOU.
So, yesterday morning at 8:30 I was at the barber shop.
You wanna me to cut it like a boy? asked the barber who has trimmed my hair upon occasion.
Maybe like a girl... I offered.
He thought for a while, wondering where to begin - what to do.
And then it dawned on me: Remember when Mia married Frank? I asked.
He smiled.
Like that.
And I like it very very much.
And I did worry that K would not like it at all.
And I worry that I look like this:
instead of this:
Turns out, K said he thinks it looks cute...which I'll take.
I'm taking tomorrow off. (And seriously considering winnowing out my blogroll.)
For Show and Tell Thursday (now capitalized)Katy would like to see our toothbrush holders.
(I know we have shown our toothbrushes. This is different.)
See you then.
pub crawl report
The crawl was a great success - and no one vomited (someone did have to make a pit stop in an alley...).
Middle tagged along and was good enough to take pictures (which, of course, I have edited) AND get them thrown out of a bar. (If there is no food served in a bar in Tuvalu, no minors are permitted inside.)
Stop #1 - slightly schmancy restaurant/bar just down the boulevard from our street.
I love Oldest's expression of giddy enthusiasm...with a tinge of fear.
K drinks black and tans and said that the Guinness was different from bar to bar. Just look at them pretending to care, or even know, about the baseball scores.
Off to stop #2 - from which they were tossed.
But there were friendlier spots in town...
Like stop #3 -
a real 'old man' bar where Oldest was treated by the bartender to a shot or two -
which resulted in Oldest calling
Stop #4
stop #3 AGAIN.
But K knew...
The barkeep at stop #4 -
gave Oldest a birthday shot of something with flames -
I can't remember the name of it!
Twas a long walk to stop #5 -
and from the looks of it, Oldest needed some reassurance that he actually WAS at stop #5. For some reason, which I cannot possibly understand as woman, he needed to pee in the alley. I'm sure it all has to do with being a real man etc..
There was a stop #6 which K and Oldest flashed gangsta style - but there was just too much face in those pictures.
From there, Oldest's loyal friend B drove them home where there was more frivolity that I really don't want to know about.
...and THAT is the report.
material girl
I've been dreaming about Madonna.
Not On Stage Dance Around Madonna -
Backstage Exhausted And Hanging Around Madonna.
And it's not like I am all obsessed or anything. I'm not aware of any particular feelings for Madonna at all.
In the dreams I am hanging around with her and sometimes I have a hard time getting through the crowds to find her. She's happy to see me and we talk for a while, but, generally, she's kind of tired and pissed off about something or other. I give her advice about Lourdes - who is very bratty apparently, but we don't talk about her son. (I'm not sure I know his name.)
Anyway.
I HATE it when people blog their dreams - so I'll shut up now.
K met me at the door with a cool glass of wine last night. Because. He. Is. Perfect.
And he had cheese and figs inside.
And he made his famous chicken with tarragon cream for dinner and figs in brown sugar over ice cream for dessert.
It was a very nice welcome.
My house was in great shape - and now is not as I have dumped a metric ton of luggage and laundry in the living room.
My day stretches before me.
This week I need to get the kids ready for school:
Middle needs some tee shirts and jeans
Youngest needs the supplies from the list they sent home.
I am meeting a blogger for lunch on tuesday - and am very excited.
Off to work...
and the harbor flows with gin
I remember, quite vividly, the first time I found out about this place.
We were staying in a shitty little house that I rented one town south of here.
It was cheap, it was dingy and it was 'eclectic.'
When a realtor tells you that something is 'eclectic' stay far far away.
They don't just mean Indian bedspreads and African wall hangings, which have no place in New
England, they mean falling apart and scary.
Anyway, it was cheap.
But we found ourselves spending as much time as possible out of the nasty little place and so we explored neighboring towns and beaches.
One evening we wandered into Wellfleet.
We had some dinner at a real old-world style sea coast restaurant and were happy for waitresses (most places don't have table service) and cocktails.
After dinner we took the kids to the playground, across the street from the harbor.
The sun was setting as the kids played and we watched the skaters at the adjoining park.
All around us were small children with golden hair and oversized sweatshirts and adorable shoes.
They had remarkable names like Josiah and Emma.
There was a cool breeze and the sky was pink and lavender.
Sailboats bobbed gently just off shore.
Fabulous looking couples were standing around in summer shifts and polo shirts - and they were smiling and laughing and talking about putting the kids to bed and getting together for cocktails.
It was almost impossibly gorgeous.
And I thought:
Goddamnit this is almost impossibly gorgeous.
We are going to HAVE TO GET A PLACE IN WELLFLEET.
And so we did.
And so we have every year since.
Lucky us.
Today, it's back to Tuvalu for Youngest and me.
It's been enchanting being away with him...and bringing you.
you don't want to be at the beach with me
Oh, I won't bother you with a loud radio, or sand throwing kids.
I'll sit quietly staring out to sea - or at you.
And I will judge you - not really...but I will critique your outfit (not that I care, and, in fact, I applaud the idea of wearing whatever you are comfortable wearing on the beach - truly), comment quietly on your child rearing techniques or take mental notes regarding your hair.
So - if you are sensitive, click away...if not, join me for my day at the ocean.
Some of the things I'll mention I wasn't able to photograph - you'll have to trust me.
The setting:
Gorgeous beach. Low tide...
There were signs for a children's olympics set for that day -
and lo and behold, just after Youngest found his spot for playing in the surf, the games began.
It was great fun to watch -
there were races and feats of strength and digging!
(There are strong laws, you see, on the digging of holes on the beach as about 8 years ago two small boys were killed when a hole they had dug was washed over by the sea and they were drowned.)
So yes! Holes must be knee deep only and so there was a contest to dig a hole, put your leg in it and bury yourself up to your knee.
Medals were given to all who participated and it was truly adorable.
BUT.
The crowd, of varying sizes, made it slightly difficult to keep an eye on my surf loving boy...
(he is the smaller figure in the wetsuit - to the left of the arrow)
and, you see, I must keep an eye on him as he is fearless and I need to be able to spring into action at any moment to save him from the obviously raging sea.
I have no clue where Youngest is in this photo.
I was very distracted.
And that nice lifeguard there in the red trunks? I could ask him to save Youngest from the big waves, couldn't I?
The view to my left.
Really.
Necessary?
I was there first.
Tattooed family.
Tattooed family? I get your whole tattoo thing, your whole, oh we're so european that we can just let our children wander the beach speaking Dutch and getting lost and we will just sit and read and smile and nod thing -
but Tattoo family?
Why? Why must you put your toddler in the blow up boat and bring him out into the crashing surf and ignore his pleas to return shore?
It was a pitiful sight to witness and it made me hate you, Tattoo family.
Perhaps they had taken a cue from the chap who dragged his tiny one on a boogie board through the tidal pools - which was sweet, but then had the bright idea to fling the boogie board around by it's cord thereby flinging her not once but three times into the sand and puddles. She wasn't too happy either.
Don't show off too much around me.
I'll talk about you - and it may not be the way you want me to.
This ain't Venice Beach, buddy.
Oh Large Format Camera Guy -
no good can come of this.
Sand in a Hasselblad?
Not good.
And I am not impressed with your equipment - you are no Patrick Demarchlier.
Also, you are wearing shorts and a tee shirt in the water and you look dumb.
We had an epic day -
the water was warm and clear and we sat and talked or played for several hours.
Today we head to town.
Oldest has survived the crawl -
there are hysterical pictures to prove it.
Your birthday wishes were well appreciated -
oh, and Middle? is home with his dad and brother.
August 17
Today is Oldest's birthday.
He is trustworthy, brilliant, talented and fiercely loyal.
He likes Nacho Cheese Doritos, salami and provolone sandwiches, and small blond women.
He loves anything with wheels and always has.
He is a hard worker, good friend and wonderful brother.
He is loud, needs lots of attention, and tons of reassurance.
He is not especially tall, is very trim, has a great jaw-line and amazing green eyes.
He is 21.
Tonight, he and K will walk from our house (they are in Tuvalu) to the waterfront.
They will stop in each pub, bar and restaurant that has Guinness on tap and have one.
They are calling it The Pub Crawl -
and I have a feeling at least one of them will actually crawl.
things you should remember
1. If you are going to the beach so that your youngest child can skim board, it helps to put the board in the car.
2. If you spend an hour making sesame noodle dressing so that your dear MIL can have cold sesame noodles on your vacation, as she has loved doing for several years running, try to remember to remove the dressing from the fridge at home before you leave.
3. When leaving for the beach on a sunny day bear in mind that the umbrella will be of better use when placed in the back of the car rather than left on the porch.
4. You may have an infinite number of odd symptoms but sometimes an azure tinted glaze on the tongue can be attributed to large quantities of blue cheese dressing.
5. Taking your anti-anxiety medication before visiting the skate park is advisable.
The following tricks have been mastered -
The Early Indie Grab
The Pop Shove It
The Kick Flip
The Rock To Fakie
The Revert
He has also managed to Ollie over a traffic cone several times.
All this has resulted in wonderful confidence, extreme coolness, a myriad of bruises and one very swollen hand. (Strangely, flying through the air and landing on his head and left shoulder proved injury free.)
things we see
One of my favorite things to see is in my closet.
I am in the room with the small triangle window - and its sister window is in my closet.
Just outside the window is the light above the front door, and at night, when light is lit and I step into my closet, the triangle window frames illuminated leaves.
It's so beautiful, the black sky, the lit leaves, the wavy glass of the old window - but there's no way to shoot it...I tried.
But there is plenty that you can see in this old house...
A sunny window in the big dining room - the geraniums make me happy.
And aren't you wondering about the painting?
The house. My room has the triangle windows, of course.
The tea party...
The loo -
who else shows you pictures of the loo?
NO
ONE.
The front hall - someone is actually USING the calendar that the insurance company sent. I've never met anyone who does this.
A little tableaux vivant over the washing machine.
Where, you might wonder, is the dryer? (and you would do well to wonder as it appears to have gone missing)
Fear not - a couple of days into your stay you will read the notes on the side of the refrigerator and all will become clear...
There are notes all over the place -
including the number for "lower cod," which is good as I might need some.
One must dial the area code, even for local calls, and, as you can see -
I do mean dial.
We met the owners today - an elderly brother and sister. This was their parents house and while full of simple antiques (for another post) it is also chock-full of yankee ingenuity.
The curtains are all handmade by sister - the heavy work done by brother.
The windows are all propped open as their weights have long since dropped...and each of them is held up with a cold smooth lead pipe.
I've dropped several and can see how they could be lethal.
There are other little inventions around - an ingenious weights and pulley system to make the huge garage doors lift effortlessly, simple fixes of things we would probably replace, but these are my favorites:
Rock doorstop - front hall (on the upper right, in the paneled wall, is a secret cupboard with a winter scarf in it).
At the front door.
There is one at the back door too - but it's dark back there, again, too dark for a photo.
We've made a routine, the three of us.
Today threatens to change it a bit with some weather - not that we mind.
We'll sit inside and read books! Youngest said with a smile...
He is an excellent travel partner, as are you, dear readers.
2 bells, pause
I can't seem to find a sound file to link to.
The church two blocks down chimes ships bells softly in the night.
It is both lovely and disconcerting as by our standards they have no rhyme or reason, chiming on half hours.
I walked down the street for a latte this morning, bundled in long sleeves and a sweater and scarf. The sun was shining and people were happy.
No one was rushing off anywhere.
Everyone seemed so good looking, do you know what I mean?
One bell.
A very tall father and a very tiny son ordered their breakfasts, the tiny son in his pajama bottoms the very tall father with beard stubble.
The fellow on line behind me used all the available condiments for his coffee - cinnamon, cocoa and simple syrup. (I've never seen simple syrup at a coffee place before. It could be a stroke of genius.)
It took a very long time for the drinks to be made, the bagels to be toasted, the cookies to be wrapped - but no one minded.
We looked at each other and shrugged - it's not Starbucks, we breathed and adopted a new attitude.
Later in the morning, fearing being locked out of the beach (no parking available after 9:30 am) we took Youngest to the ocean, and while the air temperature was 72, the ocean was 60, and so clogged with seaweed (and NOT mung, but real seaweed) that people could barely walk through it. We stayed for a couple of hours and then headed home.
Seven bells.
Youngest is so excited to be in town that he wanted to head right off to his favorite shops - so he and I walked over to them and then I left him to browse while I picked up some things for dinner and a bunch of flowers. I met him at the ice cream shop and we walked home together.
E and I sat on the lawn for a couple of hours - watching cars go by, talking and listening to the birds. The street is uphill and I did quite a bit of cheering on for the bicyclers on their rented bikes: you can do it! you're almost there! gin and tonics at the top!
Five bells.
It was a beautiful afternoon - and for the first time in a while, for all kinds of reasons, E and I were finally able to relax.
She and Youngest had a gorgeous tea party with fancy china and delicate cookies.
We had a terrific Survivor-style fire challenge and grilled some pork.
We took Youngest to the skate park and marveled at his newly learned skills -
We drove home under a hot-pink sunset, closed all the windows, found the extra blankets and snuggled in...
Eight bells.
at home in town
After a long day of travel we have found ourselves in a charming whitewashed rambler of a house. Room after room surprised us with starched white curtains, doilies and old paintings and Craftsman furniture.
It's as if our grandparents went away for a week and lent us the place - without the smell.
The mattresses are new - the blankets have been hand edged with ribbons.
The shower curtains are new (they still have creases) - the tiny lamps have precarious looking wiring.
The rugs are all new (you have no idea how much this matters) - the transferware is ancient.
And, scattered here and there, are the bits and bobs of someone's life...
a coffee can full to the top with old old buttons
a sewing basket, so full of supplies that I expect to see a project somewhere
a shoebox of old tools
a pad of paper and some sharpened pencils by the rotary phone in the kitchen
handwritten notes here and there, in an aged scrawl, with info on lights, heat, etc. (the dryer is in the closet in the living room, says one)
The floors creak and groan, the stairs are impossibly steep and there are steps and doors everywhere. But the place is spotless - even things that are easily overlooked, especially in an old house, have been polished, cleaned, repainted. All the windows must be held up with boards and sticks, but they gleam behind crisp white trimmings.
The house is on the corner of a not too busy street - about two blocks from the bustle of town.
It appears to have wifi...and there is a brand new television (we don't use televisions when we are away) but these things seem so odd next to the spindle back chairs and family portraits from the 1940's.
My plan is to post but not read...
to read your comments, but not reply (I'm on vacation...)
The birds are singing.
None of us slept well...we all got up at 4:30, had tea and are going back to bed.
It's 50 degrees.
movies you could ONLY watch on a plane, preferably without the $5 headphones
The only way these movies and I would ever be in the same place at the same time would be if I were strapped down.
Sadly, I have been - and exposed to:
White Girls - "Two African American FBI agents go undercover and impersonate wealthy white women." Youngest turned to me and said: You're kidding me, right?
Take The Lead - "The real story of a dance teacher who believed in the talent of a group of problem kids." Middle turned to me and said: The only cliche they haven't covered is the wealthy white girl who crashes the party - and then, there she was.
Stuck on You - "Conjoined twins from Martha's Vineyard move to Los Angeles so that one of them can pursue an acting career." Oh. The hilarity! Oh the four legged madras!
The Pink Panther - which needs no synopsis. Two prat falls into this one I purchased TWO bottles of airline chardonnay.
Failure to Launch - "A thirtysomething slacker suspects his parents of setting him up with his dream girl so he'll finally vacate their home." How funny was it to see this with Oldest sitting next to me? NOT VERY.
a different tune
These have been floating around the internet, so you may have seen them, but I couldn't resist.
I think they are called The Worst Album Covers Ever:
I'm wondering, Ken, what my request could possibly be.
WHO?! Who told these guys that THIS would be a good idea.
Clearly this is an album with a little too much cowbell.
Shirted though they may be, find each member of this group frightening in their own way. And, go ahead, say their name aloud - mic.keith.anns? Like mc-heathens? And, for collectors out there, it appears that this album is in its original plastic wrap!
I can't come up with anything funnier than the photo.
I can just hear the photographer --
okay, Millie, now look mysterious...and um, lean forward a little...and um...push your boobs up against the table...
On the other hand, there's Joyce -
who is a receptionist. With an album.
And an afro.
Sure Cody, you can borrow a feeling...how's awkward? creeped out? are those feelings?
Look. I'm sorry about his friends, but wtf is up with those shoes? boots? socks?
I don't believe that "Jim" "loves his life" AT ALL.
I mean, here he is in the freakin shower and he looks pissed.
blogging from the D list
S'truth.
Here I am.
400 odd (400 odd) readers -
5 percent of whom ever choose to comment...
a decent number of folks on my link list,
a respectable number of people linking to me
the occasional mention by a biggie (fluid pudding)(amalah)
and yet...
If I were to attend BlogHer, which I read about each year with great envy and fear and hope,
I doubt a single soul would have heard of me.
This year, someone I read, who is apparently more, uhh, visible? than I realized, mentioned me during one of the seminars - out loud, I am led to believe. And this utterance was so memorable that not a single new reader came my way. I know because, when she told me about it that evening, I even more obsessively checked my stats.
And it's not that I mind.
Most of the time.
I truly feel an incredible connection to about - um, 45 people.
I feel supported and understood and appreciated.
It is enormously gratifying.
I am a little confused about the other 350 who say not a word each day/week/month.
But whatever.
There was a year or so wherein I read blogs but did not blog and did not comment on blogs.
So there you are.
But, here on the d-list, I am often startled as newcomers are suddenly going from mentioning toilet training to rubbing elbows with the biggies, and the subsequent mention of the training to toilet by these 'biggies.'
How does one end up with 4500 hits per day?
Am I naive?
Do I want some of the bizarro email that apparently follows a much wider readership?
And would I need better shoes?
Am I forever destined to be a small part player?
I do it pretty well - so, if this is the pinnacle, perhaps I'll spread out my blanket and have a little lunch.
BlogHer is set for Chicago next summer.
All things being equal, readership schmeadership, I intend to attend.
It certainly would be nice to meet at least four or five of you.
show and tell, or: personally, I don't think there is anything strange about Swatches
Joke wants some insight.
What do I collect?
Star Wars figures?
No - Oldest and Middle.
We are assuming that Middle's tuition can be financed with the ones still in the blister packs.
Recording equipment?
Nope - I'm tone deaf.
Bennos -
We do have several.
No.
I'm afraid it's rocks and sand and shells...
I'm smitten with rocks...
and sand.
I do appreciate your patience today -
I did the food shopping for my trip and then helped a friend who needed me,
(Who could use some positive energy) and so I am late posting my photos.
oil of olay
Apple has announced, during a keynote address eagerly watched by several Tuvalans, that they have invented a Time Machine, to which I heartily say: whew!
I mean, enough with the moisturizers!
Do I need anti-aging?
What about my T-zone?
Why do some of them seem to have glitter in them?
I really am hoping that next year Apple can do something about my thighs.
content
I know, I know...
you are all wondering, pondering, considering - what is going on with bb? why are we treated to photos and a smidge of detail? a little of this, some of that...where is the real stuff.
Well, I'll tell you.
Summer moves apace.
My children are being lazy (notsomuch Oldest) and reading and laying around.
Youngest is busy with World of Warcraft and assorted other distractions. He plays outside if it's not too hot - but it's really been too hot for a long time.
Middle sleeps late and wanders around like a specter, but not so scarily so.
He's been teaching himself to play piano and undoing and re-mixing a lot of Nine Inch Nails music on the computers.
He and I have been enjoying having lunch together whilst making fun of the programs on VH1.
We take weekly trips to the library and for an Italian Ice (the strawberry is quite good and has chunks of berry in it).
There have also been trips to the beach, a trip to a pool and various visiting, but, for the most part it has all been very low key.
Everyone is healthy - there have been the usual inconveniences (the car, having to fire a lawyer).
Yesterday the boys got their summer reading books, so there'd better be some serious reading going on.
Youngest and I leave saturday for a week with K's mom and other members of their family (though exactly who changes a bit from day to day).
We will be staying at a house 'in town' which I am very much looking forward to as I can walk down the block for a morning latte and to post.
This is where we are staying -
I'm not sure why there is a windmill on the front lawn. I think it has something to do with the name of the street.
There are several bedrooms in the house.
This one's cute, isn't it?
I'm tempted to bring some paint to fix the walls of this one...
I find the framing of this photo interesting.
It doesn't give one a clear idea of the room at all...
I find myself looking at these photos and being confused about where each of these rooms lie within the house.
If I told you that this picture
was a room in an ashram or spa, you'd believe me, wouldn't you?
A place to center your thoughts and meditate?
It's a prison cell.
And I will admit that I thought it was some kind of retreat and thought it seemed spare but comfortable before I knew what it was.
It just goes to show you...little can be known from a photo.
I am sorry for the lack of silliness, deep thoughts - real stuff, I'm just not feeling that way.
I am very much looking forward to going away. My trip in June ended up not being any kind of real vacation for me, though it was a breathtakingly beautiful place, and I am hoping that I can relax next week and get my thoughts together a bit.
I probably do need a week at an ashram.
8 things
Carolyn tagged me. Telepathically.
I have to write a post with 8 facts/things/habits about myself.
1. I have been holding tension in my back and shoulders more and more lately. I ignore it for hours on end and then realize that my muscles are sore.
2. I do not have any particular favorite foods at the moment, am not especially enthused about eating in general - but you could never tell.
3. I don't know when it started, and I did mention it in a post, but I am still completely caught up on the laundry, ie., there is no dirty laundry in the basement.
4. I am in some kind of allergy cycle, though this is not my season. My head will be clear for days on end and then some mysterious source will leave me sneezing uncontrollably with mucky eyes and stuffy ears.
5. I am getting tired of the warm weather.
6. It is four in the morning and I am enjoying the sounds of crickets and cicadas.
7. I really want to sew something.
8. Typically, I decide what I am making people for Christmas sometime during August. I need to start thinking about this.
bonus round with visuals:
I have been enjoying the Sartorialist very much these days...
lifted from- (as in: photos copyright - the satorialist)
This is a wonderful wonderful dress -
I am thinking it would not be difficult to duplicate. I could be kidding myself.
Beautiful - inspiring.
Gorgeous.
Why am I not tall?
Who would it hurt?
the next adventure
Youngest and I are going away this weekend.
We are going alone, for a week, with K's family.
And we have great plans that involve letter boxing, lattes, and reading and relaxing at the beach (I will be reading and relaxing, Youngest spends his days immersed.).
Yes, three men will be in my home alone for a week.
The week that Oldest turns 21, as a matter of fact.
To commemorate that, he and K are doing a pub crawl.
They are going to walk from my house to the waterfront and stop at every bar that has Guinness on tap and have one at each stop.
(Did I mention K's hollow leg? heh heh.)
Anyway....
I was discussing that week with the guys last night and I asked if there were any groceries they'd like me to have in the house -
if they knew what kinds of meals they might like to throw together while I am gone...
Herewith their thoughts on the subject, verbatim:
Beef Wellington (done two ways as Middle is not fond of pate and would prefer duxelle)
Kobe Beef Hamburgers, with hand cut fries and aioli mayonnaise
Cedar Planked Salmon
Pulled Pork (which K can very well make himself)
Crawfish Boil
Pheasant and Peacock Sausage
I'm a little sorry I asked.
I suppose a lasagna and some cold cuts will do...
This week, aside from killing a peacock, I have to:
a. make the dressing for my Sunset Sesame Noodles (how adorable is it that my recipe has a name?)
b. renew the dog's license. (I have nothing witty to say about this...plenty of nasty things, but nothing witty)
c. send the man who fixed my watch an additional $15. (this really is just for me, this list, you can leave if you wish)
d. find Youngest's summer reading list and get a book for him.
e. put Youngest's underwear IN the suitcase. (ooooooohhh, hahahahaha, see? now it's funny! I forgot ALL of Youngest's underwear last time we went away. All his underwear AND the nebulizer. not funny anymore.)
Finally, I've have asked my friend Joke what he would like to see for show and tell (thursday).
His reply is in my tag line above.
we are so proud
It's true.
My child is the one and only hit for the google image search for peach gel cup.
Go ahead. Read.
And be jealous.
hair I have known and loved
Are any of us happy with our hair?
All the time?
I want it off my face in the summer (so either very short or long enough to pull back) and longer in the winter.
But I am never really happy with the state of my hair - and even less so when I pay someone to cut it, and so, I usually do it myself. Somehow I am willing to forgive the errors if I make them.
When I was a kid (5 or 6), just about the time when little girls dream of princess hair (read long) my mother got me the Mia Farrow/Rosemary's Baby/Vidal Sassoon haircut.
She has told me, and I understand completely, that she got me this haircut because she was tired of forcing my hair into submission. It was a bold move in those days and I do distinctly remember rollers and perms and horrible smells and hours of torture. My hair was thin and stick straight and would never hold a curl (I fought this battle until I was 23). So she gave up and I had pixie hair for a long time.
When I was working - before K and I had children, I paid huge sums of money for my hair to be cut by Oribe.
Oribe was only a little bit famous back then. He cut my hair very short and very well and I stayed with him for about three years and then I grew tired of being told he was on a shoot when I showed up for my appointments.
I dallied with other famous hair people after Oribe - but I never stuck with anyone else again...
I did, as I'm sure many thousands of others did, always want Sally Hershberger to cut my hair -
This is a VERY flattering shot of Ms. Hershberger.
Ms. Hershberger who has one particular client whose hair I always admire.
Meg Ryan. Of course.
I had this haircut. I still have the tee shirt.
Perhaps I was swayed by Kevin Kline, I don't know, my hair is nothing like Meg Ryan's. Meg's, I assume, is almost curly and has some life of it's own.
No matter.
I've told myself I can manage nearly all of her haircuts.
The Kate and Leopold - (maybe it's Hugh Jackman influencing my opinion here?).
The Hanging Up. Which: dear god, appears to be flattened with a steam roller.
The long, piece-y, shag-looking layered thing that probably requires vast amounts of time and products. (And probably the presence of Sally Hershberger.)
You'd think I'd be over it - considering who else sports SH hairdos...
Jane Fonda, looking not so bad, but kissing who knows what.
and - ohgod -
Joan, who, in all fairness, probably has pretty good looking hair, not that we'd notice as we wince in pain whilst wondering where the skin on her cheeks used to be.
K does not like me with short hair.
And I'm not sure I am waif-ish enough to carry short hair -
But this too is a good look
My favorite escapee bangs...
but I fear I am too old to pull them off, and would love to try this once more -
What do I look like right now, you wonder...
probably a little like this -
which is refreshing, actually, as I am FAR YOUNGER than Diane Keaton.
I think.
how not to embarrass your 15 year old at Starbucks
1. Wear a black tee shirt and brown cord skirt.
2. Don't talk too much.
3. Slip him some cash as you walk in so that it looks like he's buying his own frappucino.
4. Keep not talking much.
5. Stand there quietly in your tee shirt and skirt when his classmate and her
inappropriately dressed, cosmetically enhanced, bosom displaying mother arrive.
I'm with the band
Remember this?
Youngest was locked (okay, not locked) in his room for a couple of days...
The same participants are now involved in this-
The Band.
I wonder if Jeero has a fan club.
The drum kit.
Bear is an excellent drummer - but he's quiet...
Lighting is key, and there were special effects which were hard to capture on film and involved the use of all KINDS of equipment...
The crowd...
WAS WILD.
where HAVE I been, WHAT have I been doing, and did I say CHICKENS?*
When we last left my life, my vehicle had had a stroke, and it was really really HOT here in Tuvalu.
Okay, maybe you didn't know that last part - but that's because I don't blog the weather.
They gave me a gorgeous Volvo wagon, they did...
they were all here bb, it's got 4 miles on it and all the bells and whistles/bring it back whenever.
And, lo, it was a pleasure.
Who knew?
And there I was, sweating on tuesday morning, and bored.
I had played Monopoly with Middle -
it was so DAMN funny when this happened.
I can't even TELL you how hard we laughed.
And I don't remember WHY.
So I'll move on.
K's sister called and said: it's much cooler here! come and visit us! we'll swim in the river!
And so
I did.
I couldn't think of a reason not to, and so I packed up my things - grabbed the milk crate of medical equipment that we brought to camp and put Youngest in my loaned Volvo wagon.
We drove north to the mountains.
To the mountains where different Tuvalan tribes reside.
Even in the hot heat these tribes wear long black coats and hats, and the women cover their heads and arms and legs.
K's sister has purchased a bungalow there, in the mountains, on a rapid flowing cool river.
And Youngest and I went for a visit...
She lied about the weather though.
It was hotter than hell there.
But it didn't matter too much -
Youngest played with his cousins,
And I admired the decor.
She has amazing good taste, K's sister. I am continually in awe of her.
Ebay, yard sales, Ikea, and auctions - she has excellent skill at finding treasures.
The tiny corner kitchen is full of retro dishes and funky glassware...
There's a terrific bunk room for all manner of visiting children.
And it is transformed into tents and hideouts with a moment's notice.
Adult guests are made to feel very welcome too...
And look!
In the closet -
A case of Corona in the top -
a case of wine in the bottom...
Her closet?
That pink and white number? Oh, it's from Italy...
But it was VERY hot.
The dogs couldn't take it.
LOOK! a picture of a dog, on MY blog - who'd have thought?
And what did we do in the hot mountains?
Went to Walmart, saw cross dressers, ate babka, watched Project Runway and ate pizza, and took an absolutely heavenly canoe trip down the river.
The crystal clear, ice cold river.
Under beautiful clouds and bright sunshine.
We bought underwear too.
Behold the great underwear discrepancy -
Both size six.
Two different styles.
One? Far too large for my niece.
The other ? Far too small for me.
All?
Being given to charity.
It was quite tranquil there at the bungalow.
And we had a mighty hot time.
Here is a chicken. Holding a dish towel to keep out the heat.
And I will now go look at yours. (chickens)(because I love them)(but not in real life)
* I very nearly forgot my chicken story! A couple of years ago, I saw the most amazing chicken. It was a stuffed toy chicken. But it wasn't a toy. It was at Anthropologie, and it wasn't meant to be a toy at all. It was meant to be a foot warmer. It was very flat and plush and full of buckwheat husks and you were to put it in the microwave and warm it and then put it in your bed like you would a hot water bottle - and I loved it and wanted it it so...but when I tried to describe it to K, so that he could buy it for me for christmas, I laughed so hard that I cried and couldn't explain it at all. And it was gone the next time I went to the shop.
Plus it was $100 which was really rather ridiculous for something like a flattened, plush, buckwheat husk stuffed, not a toy, chicken.
I have returned
Show and tell, as well as a complete recounting of my adventures in a very foreign land, to follow within the next few hours...
I went to the beach, A-L-O-N-E
I did.
I wore a lot of clothing.
My knees looked very good.
So did the ocean.
Pictures of the beach are often like pictures of fireworks. They just don't convey what you have seen.
I brought a bag of things.
I took poor pictures.
I stayed two hours.
And did nothing much.
It
was
very
nice.
Tomorrow I will give you some content, I promise.
For show and tell thursday? A chicken please.
