love is blind. but grandma isn't.

my grandma rocked.

she was a teacher. a hawaiian beach babe. a navy wife. she raised up four children against a landscape that changed every two years, kept an immaculate house, had dinner on the table every night, AND EVEN HEATED UP THE PLATES BEFORE SERVING IT. she sewed my aunts' prom dresses and sewed magical toys and busy books and crafted creative games that kept me busy for ages. she could play candyland and old maid for hours on end. she sang silly songs. she taught me to swim. she helped me catch bugs and dig up worms. we built forts, had picnics, swam in the pool, waded in the river, swung for endless afternoons, took walks, explored, and played and played and played.

my grandma practically raised me when i was little, while my parents worked and my mom finished school. i remember the feeling of her house in the mornings, crisp and cool with misty rays of sunshine spilling between the leaves and dappling the porch with light. blue jays squawking. humming birds sipping from the feeder. pancakes or waffles on the table - with blueberry syrup - my favorite. if my grandfather wasn't around, i was allowed to watch sesame street and mr. rogers and sometimes even reading rainbow. she was my mentor and my friend. she never made me feel as though i were an inconvenience or a chore. now that i have small children of my own, i appreciate that ten times more.

recently i was talking with my aunt about potty training the kids, lamenting that my mom wasn't around to trade war stories. i was joking that when my i asked my dad he said, huh, i don't really remember doing that with you girls, and i thought in my head at the time, well that's probably because mom did it! then my aunt mentioned that she had sent my cousin to grandma's for a week and my cousin came back totally potty trained. when my aunt asked how, grandma replied, "she was just ready." it shall forever remain a mystery. i realized that there is a 79% chance that grandma did the same for me! here i was giving my dad a hard time for not remembering/participating, while it's highly unlikely my mom did either!

this got me thinking about what a special person my grandma was. and how special she made everyone around her feel, in turn. she was classy. she was funny. she was selfless. she was smart and crafty and creative and a great cook, though she never, ever gave herself credit. ("i'm such a dum-dum." "maybe i'd look better if i just put a bag over my head." her standard refrain when serving dinner was "wellllll, this is going to be pretty terrible. i'm not even sure it's edible.") but other than her self deprecating shtick about how bad her cooking was and how awful her hair looked, etc., she never complained. in her later years, however, she didn't shy away from "telling it like it is."

when i came back home after my freshman year of college, i knew i had gained the freshman 15 (or, let's be honest, freshman 50). but my friends loved me, and we all got fat simultaneously, so i had convinced myself that it wasn't that bad. my girlfriends and i actually had this conversation in a dressing room at brass plum at nordstrom: "what is wrong with these pants? why are they so small?" "i know! they must have changed their sizes. there's no way i could go from a 7 to 13." "seriously. maybe it's because they're juniors sizes? whatever. that's dumb. these are broken. let's go somewhere else." for nine months i'd heard: "gained weight? no, of course not! you look great! don't worry about it!" but when i toted my tubby self back to grandma's house, i wasn't three feet in the door before she said, "you got fat." okayyyyyy. love is blind. but grandma isn't. ;) (i almost said "but grandma ain't," but then i had flashes of this book of my grandma's that we read almost daily, and i thought better of it. if i remember correctly, bad things happen to people who say "ain't.")

grandma was one of my most favorite people in the world. so much so that i named my daughter after her, though for this, grandma is probably rolling in her grave. she was not a huge fan of her name. sorry, grams ;) since i started ruminating on this lovely lady, i came up with a list of life lessons i learned over the years. the list is not exhaustive - i'm sure i could add to it every day. but it's a start.

everything i need to know, i learned from my grandma

be sweet (especially to your sister, because one day, she may be all you have.)
smile. ("smile and the world smiles with you, frown and you frown alone.")
stand up straight "so you don't turn into a shrunken hunchback."
penmanship and typing skills are important, despite all this "newfangled technology."
bill clinton is a scallywag.
read books.
write letters.
send thank you notes.
mind your manners.
learn the rules of grammar, and employ them.
don't leave the house "looking like a bum."
empire waists "make you look a little pregnant."
only mobsters and hooligans wear rings on their pinky fingers.
don't be afraid to get dirty, or play with bugs.
a little bit of chocolate isn't going to spoil your dinner.
chew your food ten times.
the only way to eat angel food cake is with powdered sugar icing, and sprinkles.
a chocolate chip cookie can solve most of the world's problems.
why does corn syrup get such a bad rap? a spoonful of caro's cures any and all stomach ailments!
a little snack before bed can help you sleep.
never pass up a lucky penny.
a tin of old buttons provides children with almost as much entertainment as one of those "i-thingies."
"outen the lights."
wear sunscreen "so you don't end up looking like one of those rotten apple dolls." also? skin cancer.
always carry kleenex (tucked conveniently up your sleeve!)
you're never too old for sparkly nail polish.
grams spent too much time curling her hair, and i spent/spend too much time straightening mine. if we could just be happy with what we have, we'd save a lot of time and energy!
set low expectation for your culinary skills and people will be happily surprised.
sewing and knitting are lost arts.
let your husband think he's the boss.
but know that when your family needs someone to lean on, it will be you.
you catch more flies with honey, but sometimes, you just gotta swat 'em. (grandma was pretty unassuming, and mostly bit her tongue, but wooo-eee, if she felt like something was really worth standing up for, watch out! her generally agreeable and conciliatory nature gave it that much more impact. if you pissed grandma off, you really did something wrong.)
animals make the best friends.
(human) friendships work better when you take the expectations and competition out of it. 
try to see the best in people.
make friends at jury duty and the DMV, it helps pass the time.
take trips to paradise with your girlfriends when you're an octogenarian, it'll keep you young.
plant a garden. fruit and veggies taste better, flowers smell sweeter, when you grow them yourself.
veggies also taste better when dipped in mayonnaise. 
don't play any of that "hip hop bee bop" music at your wedding.
steer clear of those "gol-darn hippies" in the bay area.
if you don't have anything nice to say, mutter it under your breath.
and the corollary - the older you get, the less you have to bite your tongue.
remember the best family stories... and just make up the parts you forget ;)

today would have been my grandma's 93rd birthday. (she shared her birthday with some of my favorites, including my stepdad, a good college friend, and little miss MJ. if you're born on may 29th, you're good people in my book ;)) she always said she wanted to be a bird, soaring through the ocean air, and that's how i think of her now. 

"my soul is in the sky." - william shakespeare, a midsummer night's dream

honest abe

warning: adult content. or maybe just WAY-TMI.

i remember when i was younger, i used to chide my mom about not regularly shaving her bikini line. growing up in sacramento where it is hot as bawlz every summer, we spent a lot of time in our swimsuits (also a lot of time in no swimsuits). i always cringed when moms strutted her "unmanicured lawn" loud and proud. especially in my teen years, i balked with embarrassment, and said something along the lines of, "like, omigod, mom, there are these things called razors?!" she assured me that, believe it or not, someday, keeping a perfectly trimmed bikini line would not be at the top of my priority list. my reply? "whatever." [insert teen eye roll here.]

of course, i also made a $50 bet with my mom that i would never, ever, under any circumstances (well, except maybe when i was pregnant) weigh more than 135 pounds. mom. wherever you are. i owe you $50, plus a shit-ton of interest. am i paying by the pound?

i'm still not brave enough to venture into public with wild bikini vegetation, but when i know the only people who are going to see it are legally obligated to love me, my standards deteriorate significantly. my girlfriend's story takes the cake though. she was already admittedly low maintenance, and has, apparently, let things slide a bit since having her first child. she recently told me about the time she and her husband were getting, ahem, "intimate" and he started to make his way down to her nether regions to do "the bizness." he pulled up short, stopping with his chin obscured by her topiary pink taco, and said "Four score and seven years ago..."

omg you guys. when she told me this story i definitely laughed and thought it was pretty funny but that was like, two months ago and i have to say at least once a week (mainly whenever i get around to trimming my own "lawn.") it pops unbidden into my head and i start snorting hysterically in the shower. so, sorry friend, that i think about your pubes on a regular basis :)

this is all reminding me of the time i went to a new waxing lady and she gave my hoohah a hitler mustache. it was not attractive.

apparently, prolific pubic hair is du jour. have you heard of the "reverse brazilian?"

i actually have a larger point here. we are busy. so busy. all of us. unless you live on an ashram in rural connecticut, in which case you are probably not reading this blog post about pubes, lucky you. but the rest of us, we are in the midst of a "time famine." not only do i not have time to keep my nether regions smooth as a baby's bottom, most days i don't have time or energy to shave both legs or make my hair not look like a homeless person's or remember to brush my teeth or actually fold the piles of laundry strewn about the house or ensure that my fridge is well-stocked with nutritional and delicious foodstuffs.

of course, the issue of time, and "free" time, is complex. the other evening i pointed out to DM that it was interesting that he had time to read my blog, but didn't have time for other quotidia. he replied that he couldn't do those other things while he was on the toilet. ew. but fair enough ;) i'm guilty of the same multi-tasking and prioritization. i spend at least 30 minutes every night reading for fun. usually more. i could be using that time to do chores, or organize my life, or exercise, but honestly, i just plain don't want to. reading in bed, while contrary to the stern advice of my sleep doctor, is one of my favorite things. it's my happy place. and i'm not willing to give it up.

another area i have really let things slide is actual human correspondence. my sister sends me threatening texts because i'll write her something but then not answer my phone when she calls 2.5 seconds later. but i can send a quick text while juggling children and dull knives and "spill proof" sippy cups. i can't say the same about an actual conversation. i can barely pay attention to what you are saying when you are two feet in front of my face. over the phone while i'm doing 19 other things? forget it. people say "oh but you have time to read and write your blog and upload 13,000 photos of your children, etc." okay, you're right. listen, if you want to talk to me at 6:01 am or 10:59 pm, or on my lunch break while i'm sitting on a curb waiting for my fancy overpriced hipster food truck burrito (these are the times i do those other things), then hey, i'm here for you. i'm all ears for the next seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds.

all of that is a really long way of saying, something's gotta give. as i recently wrote, i used to sort of kick ass at life, but that is but a distant memory. i don't know exactly when or how it happened, but i have lost control of the situation. i was talking to DM about it the other day, about what i could get rid of to pare down, simplify, get ahold of the reins again. my kids didn't come with a return policy, so that's a no-go. and honestly, as much as i bitch about the trials and tribulations of motherhood, i don't want to spend any less time with them. i'm already away from them 50 hours a week. they sleep 70 hours a week. that gives me 48 waking hours with my children. even if i want to throttle them for 3 6 12 of those 48 hours, i'm not willing to give any more of them up.

OMG, that reminds me - we are never going on date night ever again (at least, until next week ;)) the other day, jack was looking at this lacquered tray i made one craft night with a girlfriend (an evening that resulted in said tray being lacquered to her garage floor. whoops. martha stewart i am not.) it has old hula girl postcards on it. he said, pointing to one of the hula girls: "Dis is you, Mama." and then a surfer dude: "And dat one's Daddy." me: "Oh, where are you?" jack: "I'm nowhere. I got left behind wif da babysitter." SOB. saddest. thing. EH-VERRRRR. i think my heart is still bleeding :(((

also when they play "ironing man babies," which is like a combination of house, star wars, super heroes, and "the road" by cormac mccarthy. colby calls the babies "2" and "3 1/2" and/or "little" and "big." jack has dubbed them "Braysick" and "Claysick," and their middle names are "Fat" and "Jet." ha! but i want to cry when they lie their babies down to sleep on their boogie board beds and jack says, "I'm sowwy Bwaysick-Cwaysick Fat-Zshet, I know you arwe sad and I wiwll miss you so much, but we has to go to woik! Buh Bye!" then colby echoes "Mish you sho much Big-Littow! Gotta go Littow-Big! Byeeeee!" my kids' primary interaction with their own "babies" are fire fights, loss of life and limb, and abandonment. i tell you what, i am feeling super about my influence as a parent right about now!

of course, i could completely check out, go off the grid with respect to social media. i've dialed it down on my personal facebook page and it's amazing how ... liberating it is. but, you lose something, too. for better or worse, this is how people communicate these days. i suggested just giving up blogging, because it's more work than it probably seems. but DM pointed out that blogging actually appears to be a useful way for me to get the crazy Gordian knot of thoughts out of my insane little brain. and he's right. here's the deal, though. i've been doing this almost a year (!) and i really enjoy it. but i've realized a few things. the market is completely saturated. it takes more than luck to make it work. "legit" bloggers? the ones with big faithful followings and book deals? they don't mess around. they are out there making connections, shaking hands, attending conferences, seeing and being seen. they post on a regular schedule, do product reviews, find sponsors, reach out, get it done.

this blogging thing is, or can be, serious business. but i don't have the drive, the energy, or the hours in the day. still, i find myself stressing when i haven't posted in a week, or two, because the "blogging experts" warn that if you don't post regularly, you lose followers and interest. but i can't succumb to that. for me, blogging is just free therapy. and that's all i can afford for it to be. i want to write when i have time and have something to say, and not write when i don't. i love and appreciate each and every one of you who has come along for the ride - those of you who faithfully read and "like" and "share" each and every post, and those who visit only when they have absolutely nothing better to do. family and old friends who are obligated to at least pretend they read my ramblings, and new "friends" that i've never met "in real life" but i'm half in love with anyway. i hope you'll continue to accompany me on this adventure in whatever form it takes. but for year two, i'm clarifying my purpose: blogging to blog. hopes of a million dollar book deal, fame, world domination? out. making fun of myself, whining, catharsis, distillation of my frenetic thoughts? in. i want to keep loving it. i don't want to turn it into one more "should."

so, there you have it.

and, in honor of my impending one-year blogiversary, feel free to enter the giveaway, below! first prize of a $50 gift card to my Mecca - Le Tarszhay. second and third prizes - $25 amazon gift cards. the contest ends and winners will be announced on May 31, 2014, my official one year blogiversary!

thank you, friends!

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my professor made me a mix tape

to be filed under misadventures in men.

okay. here's the deal. i'm not completely unfortunate looking. but i'm not, like, a head-turner or anything, you know? i'm regulation cute, if that. my beauty is best appreciated by old men with cataracts and homeless dudes. my (now) husband doesn't even remember hiring me at the taco shop/nightclub where our illustrious romance began. shortly after i started (we were just friends at the time), he told me "you're beautiful, but not hot." (i still don't really know what that means.) usually when guys like me it is because i am slightly stalking them (see link above), or because they get to know me and fall madly in love with my devastating wit and charm ... and of course my humility ;) i think i grow on people. so i'm always sort of surprised when i realize that someone is hitting on me, and that realization often comes much later than it should. for example, a decade or so after the fact.

like that time in high school when my girlfriend and i went running and stopped by one of our teacher's houses on the way. he wasn't home. the next day we told him we'd stopped by and he replied "DAMMIT! i was at the movies. i really wish i'd been home. my wife is out of town. [*wink wink nudge nudge*]" my friend and i were like, "oh, that's so nice! he probably wanted to watch tv and eat popcorn with us or something!"

not only am i a bit slow on the uptake, i am also more than a little awkward and i often exacerbate uncomfortable situations. i'm like the perfect storm of anxiety disorders, the catalyst of spontaneous combustion in any given social scenario. then i'm standing there in the rubble thinking, oh my god, i'm married with children. WHY did i give my number to that guy from Thunder From Down Under?! i have gotten myself into countless strange situations because of this combination of unfortunate behavioral tics. possibly including a slight case of turrets, e.g., the time i was leaving work somewhat distraught after my grandfather passed away, and saw my close (female) friend who is a partner at my firm standing on the corner with another (male) partner who is not any sort of friend and who probably didn't even know my name (oh but he does now), and i rolled down the window as i drove by and hollered, "HEY! HOW MUCH FOR A BLOWJOB?!?" omg. wtf is wrong with me?! i have yet to receive a call from HR thank you lord.

so anyway. when i was in college i worked for one of my professors. i think he was the only male professor in the critical gender studies department. he was the very definition of a masculine feminist. when i got the job, this douche* in my class (who was clearly taking the course to satisfy some GE requirement) said i only got the job because i was cute. i resented the implication on many levels, not least because, in my mind, professor forsee was above reproach. prematurely-graying professor trying to bed his young, not-unfortunate-looking TA? he would never be so petty or predictable. and i didn't think about him "in that way," either. admittedly, i wanted to be the best, most brilliant TA in the history of TAs, because i'm a first-born over-achieving ass-kisser and that's how i roll. but he was married and definitely not professor mcdreamy or anything.

from the get-go, DM was suspicious. but i constantly assured him that there was absolutely no funny business going on. i didn't think twice about the fact that the professor and i spent hours discussing things other than queer theory in his office. we emailed and texted. i'd heard his whole life story inside my first week, and he delved into many of his personal demons during the course of our work together. he talked about his marriage - the good, the bad, and the ugly, and i told him the tumultuous tale of Mackenzie and Daddy Mack. he asked me which significant other i had loved the most, versus who i had been the most in love with, and whether they were the same person. i said yes. he said no. at the time, i was on some gnarly prescription drugs pretty much 24/7 due to a chronic pain condition, and he said he liked the days i didn't take them because he got to see more of "the real me." (i didn't have the heart to tell him that his perceptiveness re: the medicated or non-medicated state of my pscyche was wrong half the time, and probably had more to do with levels of caffeine consumption than some special insight into my soul.) we talked about sex and ... ahem... onanism... and i mean on a personal level, not as academic topics. being blind, none of this raised any red flags for me. i still have to give him the benefit of the doubt. i really never got a creepy predatory vibe from the guy, he was just one of those dudes who wanted to talk about feelings.

then. my professor made me a mix tape. (well, a CD, really, but "mix CD" doesn't have the same ring to it.) to DM, this was pervy per se. but i can think of situations where one would make a mix tape for another without explicit designs to have The Sex. i mean, i've made mixes for friends and coworkers, my sister and my dad. my sister-in-law made me a great mix for my commute. so, to me, it was not de facto out of line.

but here is where i lose those last shreds of plausible deniability. below is a list of the songs:

Amie - Damien Rice
The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice
Lonseome - Tears Beck
Sunday - Sun Beck
Be My Number Two - Joe Jackson
Hometown - Joe Jackson
It's Different for Girls  - Joe Jackson
Fade Into You - Mazzy Star
I Deserve It - Britta Phillips & Dean Wareham
California Stars - Billy Bragg & Wilco
Rain - Patty Griffin
Pink Moon - Nick Drake
California - Rufus Wainwright
At My Most Beautiful - R.E.M.
Inside of Love - Nada Surf
Holiday in Spain - Counting Crows
The Sweetest Gift - Sade

i shit you not. i told DM at the time and he was like, "are you fucking kidding me?" and i was like, "what? it's not like that!" seriously, guys. i am really and truly this ridiculous and out of touch.

i stood by that for a good long time. i still mostly do, because, well, A) nothing happened so if he did want to get in my pants, he obviously wasn't trying very hard, and B) i guess i still have him up on this pedestal in my mind. i just don't want to think that my brilliant and beatific professor would fall prey to such a cliche. but then the other day we were listening to music and one of the now infamous mix-tape songs came on and DM gave me the hairy eyeball and we started to rehash the whole "i swear he wasn't trying to make out with me" debate and then i stopped and just started cackling because a particular memory had been jarred loose, causing the bottom to fall out of my already tenuous argument: i remembered the part of the story where my professor said (apropos to what? god only knows), "did you know that [noted feminist theorist] bell hooks actually condones erotic relationships between teachers and students in the name of subverting the dominant paradigm?"

uhhhhmmmm, yeah.

i do love me some bell hooks, though.

the end.

* someone once told me it was very un-feminist of me to use "douche" as a derogatory term, but sometimes, 'a useless and terrible man-made invention to make vaginas smell like pinesol' is just the thing. i especially like to pair it with "bonnet" because i think it makes me sound french and fancy.



"all of you people, there is a big world out there... bigger than prom, bigger than high school and it won't matter if you were the prom queen, the quarterback of the football team, or the biggest nerd in school. find out who you are and try not to be afraid of it." but do be afraid of that teacher not-so-subtly trying to get in your pants, unless you want him to subvert you with his dominant paradigm.
source: twentieth century fox and the google

i'm the naggy one

according to my little brother, between us three siblings, i am "the judgy one" and "the naggy one." this is probably not an unfair assessment. i tell him to cut his fingernails and stop scratching at his eczema and stop smoking and don't drink so much and grow up and finish school and get a job. hugs not drugs. and he's still mad at me for discouraging him from getting a snoopy tattoo when he was 17. (correction: a red baron snoopy tattoo ;) by the way, i didn't say "don't get it," i only wondered why someone who was an amazing artist would want to be a permanent brand ambassador for Peanuts cartoons. i suggested he draw something original instead. at the time i told him to wait six months and see if he still really wanted a snoopy tattoo, thinking there was a zero percent chance of that actually happening. but it's been five years now, so, brother, if you still want a snoopy stamp, consider this my blessing. maybe get a job first though, so you can pay for it yourself ;)

in my defense, i am the oldest, so it's sort of my job to be a big pain in the ass to my younger siblings, isn't it?

and, for better or for worse, since my mom and stepdad (brother's father) died, i basically dubbed myself his personal deputy and replacement mother figure, much to his chagrin.

and he probably has a point. i could certainly stand to be more "live and let live" in many respects. but some things i just can't let slide.

for example. when we're in the car, or the house, or the grocery store, or camping, or eating dinner, or, or, or .... and there is music on, he sings along at full volume. so i say "hey, brother, who sings this song?" brother: "Kenny Loggins." me: "let's keep it that way." brother: [if looks could kill.]

here is my humble opinion on the matter:

times it is cool to sing really, really loudly over other music -

when you are in the shower, alone
when you are in the car, alone
when you are at a karaoke bar (which is why i avoid karaoke bars)
when you are a broadway star or opera singer
when you are holding a musical instrument in front of a large crowd
when you are holding a guitar near a campfire
when you are in church
when you are in a choir
when you are auditioning for american idol, the voice, etc.

singing when there is no other music on is fine (or, for example, accompanying an instrumental piece), as long as your voice does not cause me physical pain. other than that though, let's leave it to the professionals.

he gets mad, but really it's nothing personal. i don't like when anyone does it. i am sort of a sound scrooge in general. my kids' whining and crying feels like a physical assault on my ears. seriously, i am in constant amazement that there is not actual blood seeping from my ear holes as a result of the endless fussing and fighting. the sounds of coughing, sniffling, chewing and swallowing can send me into murderous rage. (it's a legitimate medical condition. i swear.) i also really dislike whistling, unless it's like, in an otis redding song, in which case i want otis redding to do the whistling. but like, some random guy in line at the bank? i'm thinking to myself, shut the f*#% up man. keep your goddamn sunshiny day to yourself. just kidding. sort of ;)

and hey. i get humming the tune of some song you really love, or catching yourself bopping your head and singing to yourself. but in my brother's case it's a bit extreme because it is every song and he has a really deep resonant voice and he is very loud and he sings (and dances) with great gusto so it's sort of like a gay james earl jones shouting song lyrics at me... or like a white barry white auditioning for american idol, in my car. it completely obliterates the underlying piece of music. so basically i'm just listening to the "loud brother music" station on pandora. so i tell him to be quiet. so mean, i know. trying to stamp out that beautiful ray of sunshine ;) like i said. i'm a scrooge.

i can't be the only one. there has to be at least one other person in the world who feels this way.
whoever made this meme is my ears' soul mate.

judgy mcjudgerson

i got into a big ol' argument with my brother the other day. the topics were broad and far-reaching but the over-arching theme was that of judgy-ness.

let me back up a bit. my brother was in town for a couple of weeks. he and DM and i embarked on a super wild thursday night of drinking bourbon, folding laundry, and watching the season finale of project runway which actually ended like 6 months ago. i mean, i would be remiss if i didn't share with my young, single brother the siren song of domestic life.

so, i was folding laundry, holding up a northface fleece and my brother says, "EW. i have come to the conclusion that anyone who wears northface who is not actively climbing the face of a mountain is basically a terrible person."

me: "wow. that seems like kind of an over-generalization. especially since i wear northface when it's 65 degrees in san diego."

brother: "nope. sorry. it's pretty much true down to the last person. except you, of course. northface and lululemon. very reliable indicators of bad character."

at this point, tim gunn of "project runway" fame comes on the television and my brother says, "did you know tim gunn is asexual?"

DM: "yeah. that's just weird."

me: "i read that too. he seems like a nice guy but that's a bit strange."

brother: "strange? that's rude. my friend so-and-so is asexual. do you think she's strange?"

me: "um, yes, for that among other reasons. i mean, i like her a lot, but she's definitely a bit peculiar."

my brother then became extremely offended on behalf of his dear friend so-and-so. phewwwww-eeeee. he was not happy. he tied it all back to another concept he recently educated me on - "sex positivity," a.k.a. any amount of sex you want to have with other consenting adults (or, in this case, not have) is okay, and people shouldn't be shamed because of it. and i'm all for this, in theory, though in practice, i do think the issue of "consent" gets a little sticky (no pun intended). but anyway. yeah. brother was in a rage. he told me that i was a judgy bitch and none of his friends like me.

so, to sum it up, drawing conclusions about a person's character based on what they wear = okay. expressing a personal opinion about someone because they abstain from sex = not okay. my brother says this is because choosing what to wear is not an essential, important decision (though apparently it can still dictate whether or not you are a good person), while what you choose to do in your bedroom is THE most important, and most private, decision that there is. i'm not sure i agree it is THE most important (or if there is a most important), but i'm with you that it is important, and it is your right, and what you do in the privacy of your bedroom is none of my business. unless you share that information with the national media. i'm sorry, but if you tell US magazine that you can only get off by sticking a purple dildo in your ear, i reserve the right to think that's "a bit strange." not that we can't be friends or anything. whatever floats your boat. just don't stick it in MY ear.

the argument then devolved into religion, evolution, creationism, and dinosaurs, with DM playing devil's advocate and throwing punches from whichever side caused the maximum number of tail feathers to be ruffled, as he is wont to do, particularly when he's been drinking. i'm not going to get into the specifics but DM definitely said something like, "God and the science behind carbon dating both require 'faith' and who are we to say that 'faith' in science is 'better' or more reliable than faith in God?" (which kind of reminds me of this poem by matt cook in the book "nuyorican poets café" titled "science was invented by a bunch of guys who were so ugly they couldn't possibly believe in god.") at this point my brother went through the roof, but at least it took some of the heat off me and my newly minted title of queen bee-atch.

so yeah.

things I learned that night:

1) do not stay up until 2:30 am drinking bourbon with your 23 year old brother when you have to work at 7:30 am.

2) do not argue politics, religion, or sexuality when intoxicated, or really, ever.

3) do not attempt to "season" cast iron over the gas range after engaging in the behavior referenced in numbers (1) and (2), above.

4) everybody thinks they're right.
4a) your age and your level of thinking-you're-rightness are inversely proportional.

okay. first. about asexuality in particular. you can't deny that to be asexual is to stand out in comparison to your average vanilla, missionary position, american. this is evidenced by the fact that my brother thought it was a characteristic worth mentioning in the first place.

telling me you don't like sex is like telling me you don't like cheese or alcohol. my first impression is going to be that you don't like to be happy. i may be wrong, i may be right. but hey, at least i'm being honest here. maybe there is a reason for your decision. maybe lactose makes you sh*t your pants and alcohol makes you an asshole. maybe something happened to you that turned sex into a negative thing. maybe you're just wired differently. i don't know. all i know is that, like cheese and alcohol, in my book, if you're abstaining from sex (like, on purpose), you're missing out.

now might be the time to point out that i didn't say, "tim gunn is an insane freak of nature and i wouldn't let him within ten yards of my children." i said "he seems like a nice guy," but the fact that he hasn't had sex in twenty years is "a bit strange" (to me). i don't know tim gunn. it's a little silly to be using someone i've never even met before as an example. but just for the sake of argument, i don't even think strange is a necessarily negative adjective. i consider myself quite strange. to me it means out of the ordinary. i like strange. ordinary is... well... ordinary.

what is that dr. seuss quote? "we're all a little weird and life's a little weird and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."

yes. that.

DM has another way of putting it: "you're my kind'a asshole." that works, too.

okay. so, second, the notion of judgyness in general.

i myself have decried the judgy bitches of the world. it's not nice when someone decides that because you're different from them, you are somehow less than. but when you break it down, judging, in and of itself, isn't really all that bad, is it?

judge: v. form an opinion or conclusion about.

judgment: n. the ability to make considered decisions or come to sensible conclusions.

sounds pretty reasonable to me. when you look at it like this, judging others is actually kind of inherent and perhaps even essential to human interaction, wouldn't you say? i mean, maybe you are super evolved and whenever you form a judgment you immediately, thoughtfully contemplate and analyze said judgment and refrain from allowing it to inform your reaction or behavior. but i'm calling bullllllllshit on anyone who says "i don't judge." it's like those people who say "oh, i don't see skin color." ummmm, unless you are legally blind, you do, in fact, see skin color. i would hope that you would not let your perception of skin color affect whether or not you treat that person as a fellow human being worthy of your kindness and respect. but to say you don't see or notice it is a load of crap.

anyway, i'm not saying you shouldn't be you. i'm just saying you being you may or may not mesh with me being me. ya dig? with family, you're stuck with what you were given. but we get to choose our other fellow passengers on the plane of life, and the further i travel, the pickier i get. i used to want people to like me. even people i didn't know. i cared what "People" thought. but the older i get, the less time and patience i have for bullshit. i don't have a whole lot of room in my life, and if i'm going to make space for you, you damn well better be worth it. it's like dating when you're 20 versus dating when you're 50. at this point in my life, i need the mom-friend courting process to be as efficient as possible. i just want to cut right to the chase. it's like that book, "the rosie project." have you read it? it's cute. anyway, the guy tries to make a scientific survey to vet potential wives. [spoiler alert] in the end it turns out that love trumps the scientific process, but i totally understand the intention there. we all deserve to be around people that love us despite our little peccadillos, that make us happy, that bring out our best selves. not people that upset us, stress us, or put us on the defensive. and it would be awesome if there was some sort of application process to weed out the rejects before we wasted any more time.

mine would look something like this.

do you (or have you ever) (check all that apply):

have nice things
knit your own washcloths or churn your own butter (okay, actually, i take that back. if you churn your own butter i definitely want to be your friend)
abstain from cheese or alcohol
talk about crossfit
use a netipot in the women's restroom at work
think epidurals and/or formula are "poison"
take up more than one parking spot at a time
think taco bell is mexican food
say "the F word" instead of fuck
believe eggplant is fit for human consumption
believe sarah palin is fit to hold public office

now. it bears mentioning that i have loved ones and dear friends who would check one or more of the above boxes. it's not like you're automatically disqualified. think of it like the college application process - if you bomb your SATs, you better have a kick ass GPA and some standout extracurricular activities. think of it as affirmative action for our friendship. the only one that is an automatic red flag for me is being against gay rights/gay marriage. that, to me, is like flunking out of high school. basically, at that point, you're relying solely on nepotism to get yourself a spot.

on the other hand, you can earn extra credit if:

"you like pina coladas, gettin' caught in the rain....
you're not much into health food, you are into champagne"
you like the idea of working out
you like yoga and diet coke
you would not refuse a cold glass of Tang if it was set in front of you, FD&C Red #3 be damned
you love day drinking
you love naps
you think most anything is better with cheese and hot sauce
you prefer books to television
you have a library card
you have a passport
you love adventure, but realize you're too old for hostels two-star hotels
your "style inspiration" (and basically everything else in your life) comes from target

the term "judgy" has become shorthand for thinking you're better than somebody else. but that's not what i'm talking about here. i'm talking about picking up on cues about other people based on thirty-four years of human interaction. going with your gut. finding common ground. i do it every day, and i'd be willing to bet you do, too.

finally, please keep this in mind. just because our particular brands of strangeness don't jive doesn't mean you are any less deserving of my respect or basic human kindness. i generally believe people should be allowed to think and do and be whatever they want, as long as their thinking and doing and being doesn't infringe on the rights of others to do the same. and being a grown up citizen of humanity means you have to be able to coexist with people who might not believe what you believe, and, in the words of tim gunn, ya gotta make it work.

truth.

e-love

DM and my little brother and i saw "Her" on Saturday night. yeah, about three months after it premiered. what can I say? we don't see grown up movies often. anyway, i thought it was interesting. it kind of made me uncomfortable and sad, which, i suppose, means it was a good movie. it got me thinking about how we, as a society, are becoming more and more dependent upon computers as a buffer or proxy for human emotion and interaction, and ultimately, those computers might just replace human interaction altogether.

sometimes, i am thankful that i have a computer or a "smart" phone there to do my bidding for me. but there are some relationships that i don't want to be digitized, like those with my family, my friends, and my best friend and partner, DM. in today's day and age, though, it takes work to keep these relationships "real." it's so easy to get sucked into the black hole of the interwebs. to fall prey to the ease and convenience of sending a quick text as opposed to really talking to one another. to allow the simultaneous playing of candy crush saga in each other's general proximity to count as "quality time." (i am speaking hypothetically here. if you ever see me playing candy crush saga, you can assume my body has been taken over by alien life forms.) maybe i'm old fashioned (or just old), but i think this new wave of "e-relationships" are a knockoff version of real human contact and you are going to have to drag me down that road with my heels dug in, kicking and screaming.

this is not to say i'm immune. i know how hard it is to find time and energy to foster the relationships that are important to you. i remember learning about the advent of "modern conveniences" in the home and how women's relationships with one-another suffered as a result. yes, you could do your laundry and your dishes in half the time, but gone were the conversations over the clothesline. it's even worse now. we are expected to be "on" and available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. "did you not get my text/email?" "um, i did, but it was 3am, so I decided to wait until normal human hours to respond." but at the same time we're not really there. the only person i really talk to on the phone is my father. romance, too, is digitized, automated. why entertain and captivate each other when there are 1,000 television channels ready and willing to do it for us?

the other night DM and i were planning on an "at home date night," a.k.a. having our own personal wine tasting and movie screening on our couch. this is actually one of my favorite things to do, even though it may not be the most exciting or interactive or romantic way to spend an evening. DM was reading something on his phone and i was giving him the hairy eyeball like, c'mon, man! time's a-wastin! he responded, "hang on, i'm reading my wife's blog." it was funny, but it's also sad, and true. a testament to these times we live in. why would i waste my breath telling him how my day was when he could just read what i posted online? well, because, it's not the same. reading some sanitized-for-public-consumption version of my stories is an inadequate substitute for a one-on-one, give-and-take, face-to-face conversation. my husband shouldn't be finding out about what's going on in my life by reading my blog.

it's so easy to fall into this, though. i'm so, SO tired at the end of the day. every day. i just read a line in a book that said something like, "I was tired in the way that you are when you have a job and a husband and small children, the type of tired that feels like a persistent low-grade illness."* it's so hard to stay "on" past dinner and bath and bedtime battles, to save anything for my dear husband at the end of the day. i don't want to just give him the leftovers, but that's often all that I have left to give. i'm so talked out. i'm so touched out. I just want to veg out. but i, we, all of us need to make that effort, to be aware, and wary, of just phoning it in, of giving ersatz, Xeroxed versions of ourselves to those we love the most.

the other day DM and i were emailing each other. yes, again, welcome to the 21st century. i was telling him about how i had emailed the city council to tell them i disagreed with their recommended approach to street improvement initiatives in our town, because i am a giant dork, and how the deputy mayor (who i've actually worked with on a project) emailed me back thanking me for my insight, AND, though of course i do not take credit, the council actually changed their course of action! DM responded "WHOA! how do you know all this stuff?! your civic engagement is HOT! i want to get to know you better. date night?"

we are nerds. but i just think he's super cute. i lurve him. and i do want to get to know him better.

how about you? are you due for a date night, too? ;)

DM: "you know you're on vacation when you're taking pictures of your feet."
i think we might actually need a date week or date month.
i'm not sure a night is going to cut it ;) 

how apropos. i was just about to post and then someone sent me the link to this video, "look up," by gary turk. it's so true. and it made me so sad. especially the part about our kids. i want to throw my phone in the river and cry. let's all get off the grid and move to an ashram and eat collard greens (which, according to whole foods, are the new kale) and drink hemp milk and sing kumbayah together!



* i think it was "still life with bread crumbs" by anna quindlen but i can't find it again to be sure.

family vacation and other oxymorons

okay. this is a well-worn topic over here at cheesy-town, but that's not going to stop me from saying it again. traveling with children is (or can be): fun, adventurous, entertaining, rewarding, and worthwhile. traveling with children is not: relaxing, rejuvenating, restful, quiet, or serene. traveling with children is not a "vacation."

we went camping last weekend. and by "camping" i mean car-camping at a site overlooking the beach with hot showers and a well-stocked camp store 5 miles from our home and the nearest target. (my parents were actual, legit campers so i feel like i have to add that caveat as they're snickering at me from their perfectly pitched desolation wilderness camp in the sky). it was a really great trip. my brother and sister and her family came along, which was a special treat, and the kids barely lost their minds at all, which was a minor miracle. but i was just chuckling to myself about my mind's stubborn refusal to accept the fact that our lives have changed, a lot. not better. not worse. or, maybe, better AND worse. but mostly just ... different. :)

i had to work friday but DM took the day off to finish packing and setting up camp. i left him and my brother a list of last-minute things they needed to gather, including the following:


"other shinguard"
(jack had a soccer game saturday morning, and one of his shinguards had disappeared into the "other" black hole of children's things, along with other socks, other shoes, and other shreds of mom's sanity)

i also said on my way out, "oh, don't forget to bring cards and other grown-up games." see, in "the old days," DM and i vacationed like it was our job. these adventures usually involved secluded beaches and white sand and rum drinks and naps in the daylight hours. this was also in the era before cell phones and social media ruled our lives. we never watched TV or fell down our individual internet rabbit holes on our smart phones while sitting side-by-side. we played endless games of gin rummy and scrabble and backgammon and chess, and read books and listened to the waves or the wind in the trees. and there was no more perfect place for cards and games than on a camping trip. once DM had exhausted his four-song repertoire on the guitar, we would spend the evenings drinking wine out of plastic cups and playing travel scrabble or rummy by the firelight.

while i know, logically, that trips with the kids are very different than vacations from the days of yore, my subconscious is a little slow on the uptake. hence the request for an array of old-fashioned entertainment for our family camping trip. i get this selective amnesia every time we go on "vacation," and then i am reminded again of the reality that the days of reading on the beach or drinking cold beer while playing lazy games of poker by the campfire, or hell, even just sitting - i really miss sitting - those days are gone. or at least, on sabbatical. by the time we wrangle the crazy kidlets to sleep, which is no small feat when they're hopped up on s'mores and fresh ocean air, and finally succeed at exiting the tent (on the tenth try - our finely honed silent ninja skills seriously compromised - there is no "sneaking" out of a tent), we are so beat it's all we can do to keep our eyes open while we nurse our beers in stunned silence. scrabble?

that is not to say we didn't have a good time. we absolutely did. i think it was one of our most successful trips yet, despite the fact that we were nearly blown off the cliff into the ocean by gale-force winds friday, and spent the night in soggy tents and sleeping bags. but the definition of a good time has definitely been revised for the 21st century ;)

wind: 1, EZ-up tent: 0

"quick! someone take a picture of us! everyone act natural! hurry, before we have to return to our regularly scheduled routine of preventing small children from falling off the cliff into the ocean or getting run over by a car or burned in the campfire or stabbing each other in the eyeballs with marshmallow roasting sticks."

at the end of the day, though ... life is not terrible.

insert requisite inspirational family travel quote here:

"there are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. there are seven million." seeing the world again through the eyes of a child makes these harrowing, sweat- and snot- and tear-soaked adventures worth it. at least, that's what i keep telling myself ;)

[source: alexinwonderland.com]

just as soon as i recover and finish the laundry from the last one
[source: one kings lane]

the end