A long, long time ago, when Oldest was a tiny tot and no one else was born yet. The three of us lived in an apartment in the city.
I don't know how it came to pass - I don't think there was any kind of drawn-out or heartfelt conversation, but my brother B came to live with us for a while.
He had been living with my parents, and could only have been a teenager himself, but their house was too far from any kind of work he wanted to do. So he came. We made him pay some form of rent - I'm sure we felt we were teaching him to be responsible but, looking back, I'm thinking we needed the five or ten dollars a night. I don't remember what we charged him. I think he had fun, in those days. I know I considered it invaluable for Oldest to have his uncle around. I also know that I was kind of lonely. I didn't work and K often worked 20 hours at a clip. I was thrilled at having B with us and may well have suggested he move in before he even thought of it himself.
Dear Uncle B ended up working those hours too as he and K ended up on shoots together.
I was just remembering August in 1987.
We were incredibly young. We had the energy of young people.
K could work 22 hours and sleep it off - and then feel exhilarated.
It was hot. It was humid.
K and B would return from work triumphant, with war stories about purloined props and misspent money.
They'd be filthy, they'd smell bad. They'd need a beer. They'd be confident.
They would grab a container of Stridex pads and wipe their faces down. AND THEN? They have a little competition to see whose was dirtier.
Middle just walked in from work.
He's sweaty and filthy and exhilarated.
It all just rushed back to me.
And Dear Uncle B?
He's going to hold down the fort while K and I are in Italy next month.
(I'm hoping the four of them have a Stridex contest.)
BlogHer 09 in pictures
It's important to have nicely groomed feet for a blogging conference, especially if you blog for BeautyHacks, right? (Note to Poppy: it's tax deductible!)
Way back on Thursday, Poppy brought me for a pedicure at her salon.
It was a little different from where I usually get my nails done...and the jasmine oil foot massage was the least of it.
It was one of those places where you just sit back in your chair and think: oh...this is just lovely.
While at BlogHer I went to panels, keynotes and parties. But mostly I met people.
Like Schmutzie
of whom I am a great admirer.
I've been wishing to meet Schmutzie for a few years and when I finally did, on Thursday night, I couldn't stop smiling. She's pretty wonderful.
She brought The Palinode with her.
This pleased me.
After chatting for a while with them, I tasted his gin and tonic. The bartenders had a heavy hand at the Sheraton and The Palinode had mentioned it and I, strangely, felt comfortable enough to take his drink from him and taste it. They are a very dear couple, Schmutzie and The Palinode...and they were rooming with Jess.
Jess and I had some quality time outside on Thursday evening.
But it's not all quiet conversations in the driveway, Blogher, oh no...it's mostly:
Huge crowds
Laundry fairies (we could win laundry and cleaning service for a year)
Sponsor booths:
Pork! We love it!
And lots of parties...
Chocolate fountains and tiaras!
Unicorns and deodorant!
Yes, my friends, that's what BlogHer is like. Unicorns, deodorant, naked women (there was one, I swear) and a ton of swag that you think is groovy but aren't so sure about after you get home. (Do I need all this deodorant?)
The thing is, I don't really care much about the swag - I care about this kind of thing:
and some of this:
and lots of this:
The bunch of us! Linked in an amazing way. We have common experiences we share and unique experiences we take the time to appreciate.
And I love it.
And I'm lucky.
Even if it did take me two days to get back and a week to recover.
Way back on Thursday, Poppy brought me for a pedicure at her salon.
It was a little different from where I usually get my nails done...and the jasmine oil foot massage was the least of it.
It was one of those places where you just sit back in your chair and think: oh...this is just lovely.
While at BlogHer I went to panels, keynotes and parties. But mostly I met people.
Like Schmutzie
of whom I am a great admirer.
I've been wishing to meet Schmutzie for a few years and when I finally did, on Thursday night, I couldn't stop smiling. She's pretty wonderful.
She brought The Palinode with her.
This pleased me.
After chatting for a while with them, I tasted his gin and tonic. The bartenders had a heavy hand at the Sheraton and The Palinode had mentioned it and I, strangely, felt comfortable enough to take his drink from him and taste it. They are a very dear couple, Schmutzie and The Palinode...and they were rooming with Jess.
Jess and I had some quality time outside on Thursday evening.
But it's not all quiet conversations in the driveway, Blogher, oh no...it's mostly:
Huge crowds
Laundry fairies (we could win laundry and cleaning service for a year)
Sponsor booths:
Pork! We love it!
And lots of parties...
Chocolate fountains and tiaras!
Unicorns and deodorant!
Yes, my friends, that's what BlogHer is like. Unicorns, deodorant, naked women (there was one, I swear) and a ton of swag that you think is groovy but aren't so sure about after you get home. (Do I need all this deodorant?)
The thing is, I don't really care much about the swag - I care about this kind of thing:
and some of this:
and lots of this:
The bunch of us! Linked in an amazing way. We have common experiences we share and unique experiences we take the time to appreciate.
And I love it.
And I'm lucky.
Even if it did take me two days to get back and a week to recover.
This Week In Tuvalu
- At K's job he is very busy making animated 3-D pills.
- At my job we are celebrating the retirement of an employee who has been here 42 years.
- At Middle's job he is crashing a Ferrari.
- Oldest attended a Rancid concert. And won two small lottery prizes.
- Youngest has his last week with PS3 "camp," he starts art school on Monday.
- I've re-injured my finger. I was running and fell into a file cabinet. Don't ask.
- We've had tremendous thunderstorms.
- I've ceased Twittering.
- It was very strange, having spent days and nights with women I am so familiar with, to return to an office setting wherein it may not be appropriate to smack someone in the arm and scream GET OUTTA HERE.
- I sort of have a craving for a BlogHertini.
I know, I KNOW
You are waiting for a post.
Yeah...well...I have a hellish week at work and I'm still kind of tired.
But I'm working on it.
xo
Yeah...well...I have a hellish week at work and I'm still kind of tired.
But I'm working on it.
xo
in which my adventure CONTINUED
Well.
Yes.
It's one thing to spend a few days attending panels and eating (good) hotel food and sipping(?) drinks at cocktail parties - staying up late, chattingchattingchatting ALL THE TIME, but one expects they will go off to the airport, after BlogHer, and get on the plane and go home.
Home, where my thoughts escaping
Home, where my musics playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me
Everydays an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines...
right, so, I was on my way home.
Feeling sort of, I don't know, overwhelmed I guess, I happily piled my crappe into Poppy's car and she graciously drove me to the airport.
I'm used to this journey. I know how it goes.
When I'm leaving Tuvalu I'm often asked if I'd like to go to Chicago earlier than my scheduled flight. It's a nice little bonus and I appreciate the speedy delivery of myself to get a jump on whatever we have planned.
BUT, when I'm going home? Something always happens. Snow, somewhere, conspires to delay me. Rain and lightning (my plane from Chicago was hit by lighting once) fight to keep me near Illinois, it seems. This time it was stormy dark clouds at my end of the world that threatened my trip.
Do you want the details?
Our pilot told us that we'd pull away from the gate but be delayed for an hour or so. We pulled away and I prepared (magazines and iPod at the ready) to sit a while. Minutes later we were speeding down the runway and into the sky. There had been a break in the weather we were told and our pilot (who I think was a rodeo cowboy in his spare time) was going to go for it. We'd land in Tuvalu in a short while!
A short while later, we were circlingcirclingcircling and told that the weather was badbadbad.
After a while we needed fuel and set down near Babelbabe! I thought of calling her but was trapped on board texting K somewhat frantically. (He was waiting for me at the airport.) We'd get fueled up, wait out the weather and proceed home. K proceeded home too. It was getting late. On the plane, we got updated every 20 minutes or so until the pilot actually said: folks, I give up. Taxied back to the gate, we did (we had been set to take off again) and unloaded and made new friends and debated what to do next and waited on at least three lines. We were given hotel vouchers and walked about 20 miles to the shuttle bus and waited on another line and were very patient and FINALLY were given very lovely rooms in a hotel.
By then it was well after midnight and I know I was feeling buzzy with exhaustion.
I rearranged my luggage and checked my email and wrote to my boss and worked to fall asleep.
I got about two hours worth before the wake-up call roused me and I groggily found my way back to the shuttle. I waited another few hours to take off again, slept like a stone for about 20 minutes on the plane, shared a cab into town and went to work.
And while the whole thing was really only frustrating and not painful, I was a bit of a zombie at the office. The downside is: I'm going to need a while longer to upload pictures and tell you funny stories.
There was a naked blogger you know. Wendy went home with at least a dozen deodorants. Poppy was the star of the show. Angie shared my room. The Mamarazzi party was a huge hit.
But right now? I'm home. And it's time, after 32 hours or so, for me to climb into my bed.
Anyway, my thoughts are escaping....
Yes.
It's one thing to spend a few days attending panels and eating (good) hotel food and sipping(?) drinks at cocktail parties - staying up late, chattingchattingchatting ALL THE TIME, but one expects they will go off to the airport, after BlogHer, and get on the plane and go home.
Home, where my thoughts escaping
Home, where my musics playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me
Everydays an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines...
right, so, I was on my way home.
Feeling sort of, I don't know, overwhelmed I guess, I happily piled my crappe into Poppy's car and she graciously drove me to the airport.
I'm used to this journey. I know how it goes.
When I'm leaving Tuvalu I'm often asked if I'd like to go to Chicago earlier than my scheduled flight. It's a nice little bonus and I appreciate the speedy delivery of myself to get a jump on whatever we have planned.
BUT, when I'm going home? Something always happens. Snow, somewhere, conspires to delay me. Rain and lightning (my plane from Chicago was hit by lighting once) fight to keep me near Illinois, it seems. This time it was stormy dark clouds at my end of the world that threatened my trip.
Do you want the details?
Our pilot told us that we'd pull away from the gate but be delayed for an hour or so. We pulled away and I prepared (magazines and iPod at the ready) to sit a while. Minutes later we were speeding down the runway and into the sky. There had been a break in the weather we were told and our pilot (who I think was a rodeo cowboy in his spare time) was going to go for it. We'd land in Tuvalu in a short while!
A short while later, we were circlingcirclingcircling and told that the weather was badbadbad.
After a while we needed fuel and set down near Babelbabe! I thought of calling her but was trapped on board texting K somewhat frantically. (He was waiting for me at the airport.) We'd get fueled up, wait out the weather and proceed home. K proceeded home too. It was getting late. On the plane, we got updated every 20 minutes or so until the pilot actually said: folks, I give up. Taxied back to the gate, we did (we had been set to take off again) and unloaded and made new friends and debated what to do next and waited on at least three lines. We were given hotel vouchers and walked about 20 miles to the shuttle bus and waited on another line and were very patient and FINALLY were given very lovely rooms in a hotel.
By then it was well after midnight and I know I was feeling buzzy with exhaustion.
I rearranged my luggage and checked my email and wrote to my boss and worked to fall asleep.
I got about two hours worth before the wake-up call roused me and I groggily found my way back to the shuttle. I waited another few hours to take off again, slept like a stone for about 20 minutes on the plane, shared a cab into town and went to work.
And while the whole thing was really only frustrating and not painful, I was a bit of a zombie at the office. The downside is: I'm going to need a while longer to upload pictures and tell you funny stories.
There was a naked blogger you know. Wendy went home with at least a dozen deodorants. Poppy was the star of the show. Angie shared my room. The Mamarazzi party was a huge hit.
But right now? I'm home. And it's time, after 32 hours or so, for me to climb into my bed.
Anyway, my thoughts are escaping....
Leaving Chicago
It’s always like this.
I’ve been traveling to Chicago, either for Blogher or to see my pals, about twice a year.
I’m in love with Chicago. Gorgeous, manageable, clean, interesting, Chicago has lots to offer. And, as it’s not my city, I tend to be romantic about it. Of course, what’s not to like when one is treated to the kind of lodging I am treated to? Have I mentioned that whilst staying in Chicago I sleep in a pink canopied bed, 37 stories up, with an awesome view of the John Hancock tower? I have Ms. Buxom and Miss Buxom to thank for that.
When it’s time to leave Chicago, I’m always spent. Four days of non-stop giggling, girl-talk and good food. Four days of meeting (especially this year) hundreds of people. HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE. People who do what I do: blog with passion, love to chat, write all the time (no matter what the venue is, or how well it is equipped, there are always bloggers all over the couches and floors and lobby – WRITING, while the rooms deigned “writing rooms” are often empty) and people who are “social.”
We meet, we laugh, we drink, we room together, we commune. We tend to see things in the same light, laugh at the same things, enjoy the same conversations.
It’s a huge club, the biggest clique, your college dorm.
We are birds of a feather even before we attend the Birds Of A Feather luncheon.
I was feted and lauded and gushed over (you have no idea how thrilling that is: to be a star in my own life). I feted and lauded and gushed (I’m still a huge fan of so many, still delighted by dozens).
I’m sorry if you (you in particular my reader people) have never been to BlogHer. It is a shame it costs money (though, this year, I had several friends who attended parties only which is a nice deal) to experience it all, and yes, it does have its issues, this blogging extravaganza – I have outgrown many of the sessions and panels, it can be too clique-y (private parties and two forms of ID for admittance?) – I’m not saying it’s perfect. But the experience is somehow legitimizing, and binding and common and universal and somewhat powerful.
And today, as I looked across the table at my internet friends, I realized that we will not be able to fully convey the impact, with all of its emotions, to anyone who wasn’t there.
I will go to work tomorrow and I will post photos and I will mull it all over in my head and my friends will ask how my blogging conference was…
It was great, I’ll tell them. It was funny and fun and provocative and moving, I might say.
Last night I was sitting with Jen and Poppy and Wendy and Susie and Fletch and Velma and Jan and Irene and…(I can’t even remember who all else – 50 of us) I was sitting on the roof, 47 stories up, overlooking all of Chicago, hell, we could see all the way to Canada, I’m pretty sure. We were up there talking and laughing and being together. And folks, all I can say, the only word I can come up for it is: great.
It was great.
I’ve been traveling to Chicago, either for Blogher or to see my pals, about twice a year.
I’m in love with Chicago. Gorgeous, manageable, clean, interesting, Chicago has lots to offer. And, as it’s not my city, I tend to be romantic about it. Of course, what’s not to like when one is treated to the kind of lodging I am treated to? Have I mentioned that whilst staying in Chicago I sleep in a pink canopied bed, 37 stories up, with an awesome view of the John Hancock tower? I have Ms. Buxom and Miss Buxom to thank for that.
When it’s time to leave Chicago, I’m always spent. Four days of non-stop giggling, girl-talk and good food. Four days of meeting (especially this year) hundreds of people. HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE. People who do what I do: blog with passion, love to chat, write all the time (no matter what the venue is, or how well it is equipped, there are always bloggers all over the couches and floors and lobby – WRITING, while the rooms deigned “writing rooms” are often empty) and people who are “social.”
We meet, we laugh, we drink, we room together, we commune. We tend to see things in the same light, laugh at the same things, enjoy the same conversations.
It’s a huge club, the biggest clique, your college dorm.
We are birds of a feather even before we attend the Birds Of A Feather luncheon.
I was feted and lauded and gushed over (you have no idea how thrilling that is: to be a star in my own life). I feted and lauded and gushed (I’m still a huge fan of so many, still delighted by dozens).
I’m sorry if you (you in particular my reader people) have never been to BlogHer. It is a shame it costs money (though, this year, I had several friends who attended parties only which is a nice deal) to experience it all, and yes, it does have its issues, this blogging extravaganza – I have outgrown many of the sessions and panels, it can be too clique-y (private parties and two forms of ID for admittance?) – I’m not saying it’s perfect. But the experience is somehow legitimizing, and binding and common and universal and somewhat powerful.
And today, as I looked across the table at my internet friends, I realized that we will not be able to fully convey the impact, with all of its emotions, to anyone who wasn’t there.
I will go to work tomorrow and I will post photos and I will mull it all over in my head and my friends will ask how my blogging conference was…
It was great, I’ll tell them. It was funny and fun and provocative and moving, I might say.
Last night I was sitting with Jen and Poppy and Wendy and Susie and Fletch and Velma and Jan and Irene and…(I can’t even remember who all else – 50 of us) I was sitting on the roof, 47 stories up, overlooking all of Chicago, hell, we could see all the way to Canada, I’m pretty sure. We were up there talking and laughing and being together. And folks, all I can say, the only word I can come up for it is: great.
It was great.
a short update whilst I take some aspirin
Let's just say: I'm a little worse for wear this morning.
We all went to to two hot parties last night.
One was all chocolatey, with fountains and tiaras - the other dark with dancing and glow-sticks.
Let's just say: we pretty much closed the dancing party. Poppy and me. Cutting the rug.
If my eyes weren't throbbing right now I'd try to figure out how to post the music.
It was You Should Be Dancing.
Yeah.
(shortly after we finished our dancefloor-clearing solo, we were informed we had been twitpiced...would pay money to see it - can't find it)
We all went to to two hot parties last night.
One was all chocolatey, with fountains and tiaras - the other dark with dancing and glow-sticks.
Let's just say: we pretty much closed the dancing party. Poppy and me. Cutting the rug.
If my eyes weren't throbbing right now I'd try to figure out how to post the music.
It was You Should Be Dancing.
Yeah.
(shortly after we finished our dancefloor-clearing solo, we were informed we had been twitpiced...would pay money to see it - can't find it)
sexy swimwear
My title is an experiment.
Do you think I'll get more hits with a title like that?
I only half care.
I'm tired, people, but in a good way.
Things are humming along.
Meatloaf for dinner and plenty of beverages in the refrigerator.
Everyone has clean socks and K and I had a glorious day at the beach for my birthday.
I haven't done much to plan for Chicago, but my pal M did drop off a suitcase. (I'm hoping it will qualify as a carry-on and that I can get 53 outfits in it.)
My problem for today? Find a bathing suit (for my Italy trip).
Of all the things I've had to replace this year, I forgot about a bathing suit. A bathing Costume.
J Crew had plenty - too expensive for my taste, and there were some on the sale page but none of the tops and bottoms matched in my size.
There were lots of ugly offerings from the Gap and Overstock.
There were back-to-school things featured on half a dozen other sites.
Anthro had some adorable offerings but I don't want to spend $120 on a Bathing Costume. And, yeah, the suits at Anthro are truly spectacular but I'm thinking they need to be tried on (and they aren't in the stores).
The answer?
Old Navy.
I've ordered two different suits in two different sizes.
I'll report back.
Do you think I'll get more hits with a title like that?
I only half care.
I'm tired, people, but in a good way.
Things are humming along.
Meatloaf for dinner and plenty of beverages in the refrigerator.
Everyone has clean socks and K and I had a glorious day at the beach for my birthday.
I haven't done much to plan for Chicago, but my pal M did drop off a suitcase. (I'm hoping it will qualify as a carry-on and that I can get 53 outfits in it.)
My problem for today? Find a bathing suit (for my Italy trip).
Of all the things I've had to replace this year, I forgot about a bathing suit. A bathing Costume.
J Crew had plenty - too expensive for my taste, and there were some on the sale page but none of the tops and bottoms matched in my size.
There were lots of ugly offerings from the Gap and Overstock.
There were back-to-school things featured on half a dozen other sites.
Anthro had some adorable offerings but I don't want to spend $120 on a Bathing Costume. And, yeah, the suits at Anthro are truly spectacular but I'm thinking they need to be tried on (and they aren't in the stores).
The answer?
Old Navy.
I've ordered two different suits in two different sizes.
I'll report back.
Chicago
I'm going to give this a shot.
I get in at 10:15 on Thursday.
I've calculated that Poppy's Deluxe Apartment In The Sky is a 19 minute walk from the Sheraton and I'd be happy to split a cab with someone.
Will I see you at any of the parties?
the human drama of athletic competition
Last week, while we were on the Cape, my mom got us hooked on the Tour De France.
There are no athletes in my family, or my extended family for that matter - but when I was growing up there was always a sporting event on television on Sunday afternoons. Not ball games, but skiing and skating and gymnastics and track and field. My mom would know the back-stories of star athletes or have read about a particular team and fill us in while we watched. We watched Iron Man Triathlons and diving competitions, rowing and downhills. My brothers and I would imitate the sportscasters commentary when we played outside, narrating our own bike rides or pretend snow challenges.
We became Sports Telecast Watching Enthusiasts and looked forward to the Olympics and the World Cup and the Tour De France.
And now, my boys enjoy watching with my mom.
Youngest spent hours watching and learning about the Tour last week and has impressed his brothers now that we are home and there are stages to watch on our couch.
This week Youngest is teaching us about the Peloton and the climbers and the breakaways.
What do I wonder about while he narrates for us?
The outfits. Of course.
There are no athletes in my family, or my extended family for that matter - but when I was growing up there was always a sporting event on television on Sunday afternoons. Not ball games, but skiing and skating and gymnastics and track and field. My mom would know the back-stories of star athletes or have read about a particular team and fill us in while we watched. We watched Iron Man Triathlons and diving competitions, rowing and downhills. My brothers and I would imitate the sportscasters commentary when we played outside, narrating our own bike rides or pretend snow challenges.
We became Sports Telecast Watching Enthusiasts and looked forward to the Olympics and the World Cup and the Tour De France.
And now, my boys enjoy watching with my mom.
Youngest spent hours watching and learning about the Tour last week and has impressed his brothers now that we are home and there are stages to watch on our couch.
This week Youngest is teaching us about the Peloton and the climbers and the breakaways.
What do I wonder about while he narrates for us?
The outfits. Of course.
five amazing videos via Youngest
I especially like the instant replay.
I get a little choked up as they celebrate.
A league I'd be happy to join!
Amazingness.
My favorite.
50 things about me
- I'm pretty sure my hair is white.
- I can't sleep without my nightguard.
- I love linen...
- ...and the smell of laundry soap.
- I would choose pasta over rice.
- I have very little upper body strength.
- I like salty stuff.
- I cannot sit backwards on the train.
- I can read in the car.
- I'm not especially good at giving driving directions.
- My ears are not pierced.
- I can knit a rectangle.
- I like to swim.
- I dislike powerboats but enjoy sailboats.
- It thrills me that I live with four men.
- I think I've lost my taste for Chinese food.
- Anthony Bourdain pleases me.
- Mario Batali not so much.
- Ito En Teas' Tea every day.
- Presently, I am enjoying iced decaf coffee, with milk and simple syrup.
- I don't do well with caf.
- I never remember to exfoliate.
- Size 6.5/ 37/ 4/32/ small.
- Over easy.
- Whole wheat/seven grain.
- I don't like sci-fi.
- I have to have something heavy on top of my feet to fall asleep.
- No one is allowed to drive my car.
- My head is too small for any kind of headband.
- In my house, we drink whole milk.
- I get emotionally attached to everyday objects.
- People lie. All the time.
- I greatly admire people who take pleasure in their professions.
- There is nothing stronger than my marriage.
- I do a number puzzle every day.
- Some days I like salad, some days I hate it.
- I don't do well in noisy places.
- K is taking me to Positano in September.
- My brother, B, is staying at my house.
- Lately, I've been craving french fries.
- I love condiments.
- Sometimes I buy different toothpaste.
- It can take me months to finish a bottle of shampoo.
- I like to sprint for the train...
- ...in the right shoes.
- Everybody's funny.
- I'm developing a taste for bourbon.
- Moby/George Thorogood/Jet/The Cure/The Killers/Nine Inch Nails.
- I like to ride on the back of the scooter with K and squeeze him tight.
- It's my birthday.
things I have to tell you
I'm still here!
My finger is still messed up too, and I demand a lot of attention over it. The thing is: do I go to the emergency room and have it taped up? At this point it no longer matters if it's broken, it hurts and I'm having trouble doing things. Do I just go to the doctor? Won't she send me for an x-ray anyway? I'm stumped.
Listen to this: a woman I know at work decided, with the coaxing of friends, to do something different. On a whim, she applied for a job as a private investigator. She had a couple of interviews, got the job and quit! She quit working where I work and is off on an adventure. Isn't that something? Don't you love hearing about someone who does something life-altering?
Youngest was on the Honor Roll at school for all four quarters - isn't that a lovely thing? When we got the notice that he had excellent grades for the final quarter of the school year he leaped up into the air and cheered. He's a great student, Youngest, and it's exciting to me when his hard work pays off.
I got business cards this week. It's the first time I've ever had business cards and I'm chuffed. (Not blogging business cards - real business business cards - from my nine to five job.)
I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow at a place recommended by a friend. All the stylists have stage names. A guy called Zap is doing my hair. I think I need my toes painted too. Amn't I busy?
Today, at work, someone asked me to show her how to use the copier. I'm no genius with copiers the size of small cars but I went to see what I could do. She was making 550 copies of a letter and had loaded stationery into the machine, but it wasn't feeding into the copier. In the end, we needed someone else to help us and then the letter printed (just once) upside down. I sighed over the fact that we'd have to reload three stacks of letterhead...and then she showed me that we could just turn the original letter upside down.
A genius I'm not.
We had a good laugh.
K and I are watching Jacques Pepin. I think Jacques is adorable and I've been working on my impression of him. If you get me liquored up next week in Chicago I just might do it for you.
My finger is still messed up too, and I demand a lot of attention over it. The thing is: do I go to the emergency room and have it taped up? At this point it no longer matters if it's broken, it hurts and I'm having trouble doing things. Do I just go to the doctor? Won't she send me for an x-ray anyway? I'm stumped.
Listen to this: a woman I know at work decided, with the coaxing of friends, to do something different. On a whim, she applied for a job as a private investigator. She had a couple of interviews, got the job and quit! She quit working where I work and is off on an adventure. Isn't that something? Don't you love hearing about someone who does something life-altering?
Youngest was on the Honor Roll at school for all four quarters - isn't that a lovely thing? When we got the notice that he had excellent grades for the final quarter of the school year he leaped up into the air and cheered. He's a great student, Youngest, and it's exciting to me when his hard work pays off.
I got business cards this week. It's the first time I've ever had business cards and I'm chuffed. (Not blogging business cards - real business business cards - from my nine to five job.)
I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow at a place recommended by a friend. All the stylists have stage names. A guy called Zap is doing my hair. I think I need my toes painted too. Amn't I busy?
Today, at work, someone asked me to show her how to use the copier. I'm no genius with copiers the size of small cars but I went to see what I could do. She was making 550 copies of a letter and had loaded stationery into the machine, but it wasn't feeding into the copier. In the end, we needed someone else to help us and then the letter printed (just once) upside down. I sighed over the fact that we'd have to reload three stacks of letterhead...and then she showed me that we could just turn the original letter upside down.
A genius I'm not.
We had a good laugh.
K and I are watching Jacques Pepin. I think Jacques is adorable and I've been working on my impression of him. If you get me liquored up next week in Chicago I just might do it for you.
Fleet week, in pictures
This is it, I think. My last Wellfleet post - I've got to get my head back into Life At Work and, in a few days, start thinking about Chicago. But first - the pictures...and some words.
I call this: One Shoe and Endless Sky. It's Great Island at 6:30 in the morning, because we are Perfect Parents - and, well, that's what time low tide was at. I think my core temperature is finally coming back up to normal.
I'm still kicking myself. WHY didn't I take my MIL, Mother and SIL to see this?
And would we have been the only women there?
Okay, back to my artistic beach photographs:
My niece calls that kind of shell Grandma's Toenail which totally skeeves me out. On the other hand, it keeps me from collecting MORE stuff from the beach.
Same beach. Sunset.
Two grandmothers (Grammy and Ma) leaving the beach. Can I tell you? The grandmothers were pretty damn cute at the beach...and in town too...
Look, here they are in town:
they bought the same sweatshirt. They were wearing the same outfit to begin with! All of a sudden I turned around in Ptown (which, you know, is sort of gay mecca)and realized that we had our own lesbian couple! And, the next day?
SAME OUTFITS AGAIN! I know!
Back in Provincetown -
beautiful European travelers were forced to don outerwear! It was cold, people.
Neveryoumind. I bought some things -
like my new necklace. And I ate a clam roll.
I sort of missed the boat on this one though -
doll parts. I kind of wish I had bought some doll parts.
Ah, well.
I'll close with one last shot of Youngest defying nature by skimboarding in gale-force winds and rough seas:
I was a little nervous watching him that day.
Fortunately, the bartender at The Wicked Oyster makes a very nice cranberry Mojito.
I call this: One Shoe and Endless Sky. It's Great Island at 6:30 in the morning, because we are Perfect Parents - and, well, that's what time low tide was at. I think my core temperature is finally coming back up to normal.
I'm still kicking myself. WHY didn't I take my MIL, Mother and SIL to see this?
And would we have been the only women there?
Okay, back to my artistic beach photographs:
My niece calls that kind of shell Grandma's Toenail which totally skeeves me out. On the other hand, it keeps me from collecting MORE stuff from the beach.
Same beach. Sunset.
Two grandmothers (Grammy and Ma) leaving the beach. Can I tell you? The grandmothers were pretty damn cute at the beach...and in town too...
Look, here they are in town:
they bought the same sweatshirt. They were wearing the same outfit to begin with! All of a sudden I turned around in Ptown (which, you know, is sort of gay mecca)and realized that we had our own lesbian couple! And, the next day?
SAME OUTFITS AGAIN! I know!
Back in Provincetown -
beautiful European travelers were forced to don outerwear! It was cold, people.
Neveryoumind. I bought some things -
like my new necklace. And I ate a clam roll.
I sort of missed the boat on this one though -
doll parts. I kind of wish I had bought some doll parts.
Ah, well.
I'll close with one last shot of Youngest defying nature by skimboarding in gale-force winds and rough seas:
I was a little nervous watching him that day.
Fortunately, the bartender at The Wicked Oyster makes a very nice cranberry Mojito.
back in the saddle
You know what I always say? Re-entry is hard.
Let me tell you - at about 3:00 yesterday I was itching for a gin and tonic and a little nap.
Also? I had smashed my knuckle (ring finger, left hand) the night before and by noon it was black and throbbing (and I'm left handed).
Fortunately, it was an easy day at work.
Unfortunately, just before lunch something freaky happened with my vision. I could see but I couldn't see everything. I couldn't see the edges of things. No peripheral vision. Kind of.
At lunch, my friends pointed out that I was probably about to have a migraine. K texted that I should take some Tylenol and I braced myself.
I did get a headache but it wasn't as bad as I feared it might be. And it was totally different than any other headache I ever had. After it went away I felt sort of sick but by that time it was time to go home. With my smashed knuckle and my swirly stomach.
Anyway - my point is: that was my first vacation from work and it was a nice escape...and it was nice to come back, too - because I still like my job.
I know.
I'm lucky.
Let me tell you - at about 3:00 yesterday I was itching for a gin and tonic and a little nap.
Also? I had smashed my knuckle (ring finger, left hand) the night before and by noon it was black and throbbing (and I'm left handed).
Fortunately, it was an easy day at work.
Unfortunately, just before lunch something freaky happened with my vision. I could see but I couldn't see everything. I couldn't see the edges of things. No peripheral vision. Kind of.
At lunch, my friends pointed out that I was probably about to have a migraine. K texted that I should take some Tylenol and I braced myself.
I did get a headache but it wasn't as bad as I feared it might be. And it was totally different than any other headache I ever had. After it went away I felt sort of sick but by that time it was time to go home. With my smashed knuckle and my swirly stomach.
Anyway - my point is: that was my first vacation from work and it was a nice escape...and it was nice to come back, too - because I still like my job.
I know.
I'm lucky.
Off the Couch and Back in the Bedroom in One Easy Step
There are lots of things I love when I return from a vacation - my own bed, shower-water that actually hits my body and rinses me off, our own home cooking and sorting through the catalogues that have accumulated over the week we've been away.
Last week's offerings did not disappoint.
My favorite? Stauer. Smart Luxuries Surprising Prices.
Stauer offers watches, eye wear, coins and collectibles, and jewelry.
All of it luxurious - each item cleverly priced.
I ask you: how could you not consider purchasing a suitcase so lovingly photographed?
It looks like it could take the trip without you! Is that a rainbow?
In most cases, luxury luggage built to be beautiful will crack under the pressure of real world abuse. That's why you need a bag that can take a beating on cobblestone backstreets and still look fabulous rolling into the lobby of the Four Seasons Milan.
Great copy, though I do find myself wondering what "luxury luggage" is as this bag retails for $295.
And, to pack in that suitcase sent from heaven?
The ubiquitous travel dress - here named the One Dress. Not to be confused with the Indispensable Dress or the No Stress Dress, the One Dress is Lycra (already I'm sweating a little), has no "fussy buttons" and, at 50 inches long, for me, could double as formal wear.
Do you have problems with glare when you travel (in your One Dress)?
Is it hard for you to see details in the bright sunlight? My new favorite retailer has the perfect solution:
No, no, they aren't especially attractive, but they do fit OVER your regular eyeglasses!
And, apparently, they provide EXTRA protection from the sunlight that slips in from the SIDES of your frames. I can't decide if I want the black ones or the tortoise.
I was curious about the aforementioned collectibles...I was wondering if they would be statues or figurines or tiny spoons, but Stauer sells coins.
I have never even HEARD of anyone collecting coins like these. Heck, I haven't really ever heard of anyone collecting coins of any kind. But now, at least, I know where I could send someone. I'm just not sure if they are real, and soon, you'll see why.
After leafing through the whole shebang, I realized that this stuff is not the main attraction of the Stauer Catalogue. Jewelry is really the star of the show. Mostly simulated jewels, from what I gather. Huge rubies, pastel-colored pearls, giant emeralds - all created by scientists with such precision that even gem dealers cannot tell the stones were not mined. Or so I read. The pages brim with watches and necklaces and earrings. Special offers of sets of matching items abound.
My all-time favorite item? The Stauer Apology Stone Ring.
The copy appalls me so that I am forced to lift it in-situ.
This stone was specifically designed to bring out her mercy and compassion. By scientists. IN A LAB. And they KNOW about "husband nature."
Words are cheap, people! She'll be left speechless! I'm speechless right now.
You know what's kind of sad, though?
I'm not really into pink...and the ring is only $199. One would think a ring with such power over irritated women would be more expensive, wouldn't one?
Not to worry - it looks like there's a matching necklace too...just in case you've REALLY screwed up.
Last week's offerings did not disappoint.
My favorite? Stauer. Smart Luxuries Surprising Prices.
Stauer offers watches, eye wear, coins and collectibles, and jewelry.
All of it luxurious - each item cleverly priced.
I ask you: how could you not consider purchasing a suitcase so lovingly photographed?
It looks like it could take the trip without you! Is that a rainbow?
In most cases, luxury luggage built to be beautiful will crack under the pressure of real world abuse. That's why you need a bag that can take a beating on cobblestone backstreets and still look fabulous rolling into the lobby of the Four Seasons Milan.
Great copy, though I do find myself wondering what "luxury luggage" is as this bag retails for $295.
And, to pack in that suitcase sent from heaven?
The ubiquitous travel dress - here named the One Dress. Not to be confused with the Indispensable Dress or the No Stress Dress, the One Dress is Lycra (already I'm sweating a little), has no "fussy buttons" and, at 50 inches long, for me, could double as formal wear.
Do you have problems with glare when you travel (in your One Dress)?
Is it hard for you to see details in the bright sunlight? My new favorite retailer has the perfect solution:
No, no, they aren't especially attractive, but they do fit OVER your regular eyeglasses!
And, apparently, they provide EXTRA protection from the sunlight that slips in from the SIDES of your frames. I can't decide if I want the black ones or the tortoise.
I was curious about the aforementioned collectibles...I was wondering if they would be statues or figurines or tiny spoons, but Stauer sells coins.
I have never even HEARD of anyone collecting coins like these. Heck, I haven't really ever heard of anyone collecting coins of any kind. But now, at least, I know where I could send someone. I'm just not sure if they are real, and soon, you'll see why.
After leafing through the whole shebang, I realized that this stuff is not the main attraction of the Stauer Catalogue. Jewelry is really the star of the show. Mostly simulated jewels, from what I gather. Huge rubies, pastel-colored pearls, giant emeralds - all created by scientists with such precision that even gem dealers cannot tell the stones were not mined. Or so I read. The pages brim with watches and necklaces and earrings. Special offers of sets of matching items abound.
My all-time favorite item? The Stauer Apology Stone Ring.
The copy appalls me so that I am forced to lift it in-situ.
This stone was specifically designed to bring out her mercy and compassion. By scientists. IN A LAB. And they KNOW about "husband nature."
Words are cheap, people! She'll be left speechless! I'm speechless right now.
You know what's kind of sad, though?
I'm not really into pink...and the ring is only $199. One would think a ring with such power over irritated women would be more expensive, wouldn't one?
Not to worry - it looks like there's a matching necklace too...just in case you've REALLY screwed up.
my favorite can answer
My granny used to do this when we went to the beach with dinner or when she had a church supper. She would use them to keep dishes warm in a basket or a cooler...it works the opposite.
Mulberry Girls?
Please email me your address and I'll send you a prize!
Mulberry Girls?
Please email me your address and I'll send you a prize!
I'm headed home
- but I'm pretty stoked about the answers to the mystery of the cans....They are back in the oven and I'm loading the car.
Talk to you later.
Talk to you later.
cans
More information on the cans we found in the oven:
- they are those big tomato cans
- they have been washed and flattened, but not completely
- the oven has two racks, one rack was near the top of the oven and one near the bottom
- the cans were resting on the bottom rack
- it's an electric oven
- there are plenty of cookie sheets in the house
no day at the beach
Do people actually say that?
It was no day at the beach, I'll tell ya.
I got to the beach, alone with Youngest, and it was 60 degrees. The water temperature was a mean 55. I'm pretty sure people can get hypothermia in 55 degree water. Also? The lifeguards were on their feet, rather than in their chairs as the ocean was so rough.
Have I mentioned the wind?
My ears are sore from being wind-bitten.
Youngest is sore too - the ocean kicked the crappe out of him.
I'd like, if I may (and I may because I am in charge over here) to speak to kmkat, who said:
I am so pleased that you considered your beach neighbor matriarch gorgeous and handsome, because to my eye she appears to be a Woman of Substance (as opposed to an anorexic b!tch). I happen to be a WoS myself, and it does my heart good to know that that fact does not necessarily preclude one from being considered gorgeous and handsome.
and say: km, in my world, gorgeous and handsome has many shapes and sizes. In fact, some of the most gorgeous women I know and admire are Women of Substance. To me, gorgeous is a measure of looking just right in your skin and clothes - and The Matriarch looked just about perfect, as did her clan.
So, before we admonish me for posting photos of pictures of people on the beach (and, it's true, it was without their permission - an action I have second guessed many many times) let us please be aware that I posted pictures of people I admired...which does not excuse me for invading their privacy.
Don't think I haven't thought about it.
Today's been no day at the beach.
It was no day at the beach, I'll tell ya.
I got to the beach, alone with Youngest, and it was 60 degrees. The water temperature was a mean 55. I'm pretty sure people can get hypothermia in 55 degree water. Also? The lifeguards were on their feet, rather than in their chairs as the ocean was so rough.
Have I mentioned the wind?
My ears are sore from being wind-bitten.
Youngest is sore too - the ocean kicked the crappe out of him.
I'd like, if I may (and I may because I am in charge over here) to speak to kmkat, who said:
I am so pleased that you considered your beach neighbor matriarch gorgeous and handsome, because to my eye she appears to be a Woman of Substance (as opposed to an anorexic b!tch). I happen to be a WoS myself, and it does my heart good to know that that fact does not necessarily preclude one from being considered gorgeous and handsome.
and say: km, in my world, gorgeous and handsome has many shapes and sizes. In fact, some of the most gorgeous women I know and admire are Women of Substance. To me, gorgeous is a measure of looking just right in your skin and clothes - and The Matriarch looked just about perfect, as did her clan.
So, before we admonish me for posting photos of pictures of people on the beach (and, it's true, it was without their permission - an action I have second guessed many many times) let us please be aware that I posted pictures of people I admired...which does not excuse me for invading their privacy.
Don't think I haven't thought about it.
Today's been no day at the beach.
Wellfleet
The days roll into each other effortlessly.
We go to the beach, we eat great food (in some restaurants this year!) and go to bed tired from walking and climbing and, uh, eating.
K and I took Youngest to Great Island for low tide one day at 6:30 in the morning.
Youngest seems old this year. It could be the new haircut - it could be being 15, but he's definitely older. He's fun to be with too, unless he's sulky...well, maybe not sulky - maybe petulant. Anyway, he's good company.
So we took him to Great Island and he skimmed.
(I don't know what he's doing in this photo, not skimming.)
Or, we walk into town with him for coffee....
look! Someone has borrowed K's favorite car and taken it to Wellfleet for coffee!
What's my favorite thing I hear you asking?
This print. Maybe not my favorite thing in the whole world, but I luff it.
Youngest?
Likes this pig.
So, the other day, we arrived en masse at the beach. There's nine of us. We huff and groan and help the grandmas get down the dunes and look to set up camp. We find a spot we like and begin dropping stuff and unfolding chairs and planting umbrellas and did not realize that we were very close to another family's camp.
THE GORGEOUS FAMILY.
Suddenly, Patriarch Gorgeous springs from his chair to collect some of their things - a stray pair of shoes, a shirt...so that we have more room. I didn't want to impose and was going to have our group move a little but he was cheerful and insistent.
AND GOOD LOOKING.
And it wasn't just him, as you can see in the background of that picture of Patriarch Gorgeous, they were EACH handsome.
Good hat too, don't you think?
I really should have taken pictures of all of them - but he was sitting right behind K, who was also wearing a white shirt on the beach, and so I was DISTRACTED, because I go weak in the knees for a white shirt on the beach.
Matriarch Gorgeous was spot on too. The hat, the shirt, and she had that perfect hair...a bit of curl, some soft blond, I'm telling you, the whole family was very attractive.
It was about 60 degrees and getting cloudy that day. Windy too. We left shortly after the Gorgeous Clan packed up.
There's only one thing to do when you are too cold on the beach; go home and eat.
Which brings me to this, as we went home and had freshly baked cookies:
Pictured above are three large flattened tin cans. They were in the oven, on the lower rack. If I can think of a prize, I'll give one to the person with the best comment on why they think the previous tenant had those cans in the oven.
We go to the beach, we eat great food (in some restaurants this year!) and go to bed tired from walking and climbing and, uh, eating.
K and I took Youngest to Great Island for low tide one day at 6:30 in the morning.
Youngest seems old this year. It could be the new haircut - it could be being 15, but he's definitely older. He's fun to be with too, unless he's sulky...well, maybe not sulky - maybe petulant. Anyway, he's good company.
So we took him to Great Island and he skimmed.
(I don't know what he's doing in this photo, not skimming.)
Or, we walk into town with him for coffee....
look! Someone has borrowed K's favorite car and taken it to Wellfleet for coffee!
What's my favorite thing I hear you asking?
This print. Maybe not my favorite thing in the whole world, but I luff it.
Youngest?
Likes this pig.
So, the other day, we arrived en masse at the beach. There's nine of us. We huff and groan and help the grandmas get down the dunes and look to set up camp. We find a spot we like and begin dropping stuff and unfolding chairs and planting umbrellas and did not realize that we were very close to another family's camp.
THE GORGEOUS FAMILY.
Suddenly, Patriarch Gorgeous springs from his chair to collect some of their things - a stray pair of shoes, a shirt...so that we have more room. I didn't want to impose and was going to have our group move a little but he was cheerful and insistent.
AND GOOD LOOKING.
And it wasn't just him, as you can see in the background of that picture of Patriarch Gorgeous, they were EACH handsome.
Good hat too, don't you think?
I really should have taken pictures of all of them - but he was sitting right behind K, who was also wearing a white shirt on the beach, and so I was DISTRACTED, because I go weak in the knees for a white shirt on the beach.
Matriarch Gorgeous was spot on too. The hat, the shirt, and she had that perfect hair...a bit of curl, some soft blond, I'm telling you, the whole family was very attractive.
It was about 60 degrees and getting cloudy that day. Windy too. We left shortly after the Gorgeous Clan packed up.
There's only one thing to do when you are too cold on the beach; go home and eat.
Which brings me to this, as we went home and had freshly baked cookies:
Pictured above are three large flattened tin cans. They were in the oven, on the lower rack. If I can think of a prize, I'll give one to the person with the best comment on why they think the previous tenant had those cans in the oven.
still lifes
In my beach bag.
On the floor.
Travel brochures, ignored.
Baby toys.
Notes.
The Meal.
My dinner.
So. Many. Chairs.
That baby.
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