Juggling Life

A Picture and 1,000 Words (well, maybe not a full thousand)

I woke up from a Sunday nap and was staring at the photos that decorate my great room wall and was struck by blogging inspiration. I am going to tell the story of each photo I have displayed in my home. Believe me, this will keep me going for awhile.

 

A small sampling of the many photo tableaux that decorate my home.

 

I won't do more than one per week, but I'm pretty excited about this idea. Are there any of you that would want to do this project with me? We could settle on a date and do a linking thingamabob. I know I would love to see your photos and read the stories attached to them--both the big stories and the little ones.

Thoughts?

Your Tax Dollars at Work . . .

Now that Grownup Girl and Grownup Guy know they have jobs the money they will make is starting to sink in (though they have a truly astounding amount of student debt--become a PharmD--Doctor of Pharmacy--is not cheap). 

GuG and I were texting today and had this exchange after she ran some numbers. I am green and she is gray.

Yeah, I think she gets it.

An MVP Update . . . and possibly a name change?

I swiped this off MVP's Facebook page. As my neighbor Brigid said, "You've got to keep that because he's not going to look like that forever." This is the same neighbor whose visiting brother was wondering who the hippie guy visiting our place was and was a little disbelieving when she said it was the same clean-cut, tall, broad-shouldered water polo player that used to LIVE in our house.

Clearly, MVP has embraced his genetic legacy (my father was [and still is to some extent] a honest-to-goddess, died-in-the-hemp, tree-planting hippie). 

MVP was planning on graduating in December, but has decided to stay untl May to earn a minor in Sustainability to go alongside his Wildlife Biology major. I have to say it pleases me that he's taking that extra step to invest in his education as it is HIS money (or future money) that is paying for the extra schooling.

Do we all agree that an MBA and a career on Wall Street look unlikely?

 

 

The One my Kids Probably Ought to Skip (No, really, I talk about sex)

Three very smart women whose opinions I respect, Mrs. G.,Phd in Yogurtry, and my neighbor all told me Hope Springs was a terrible movie. Naturally, I had to see for myself. 

Gag.

They were all right and I sure wish two of my favorite actors hadn't been starring in it. Sorry, Tommy Lee and Meryl that was a swing and a miss.

What a depressing movie. I guess one of the reasons I've been married for 25 years is that I would not put up with being lonely in my marriage to that extent for five seconds. We would be going for H-E-L-P immediately. We would have had a major blow-out, clear the air, fight and gotten through it. The need for those fights goes down the longer you've been together--I'd bet we'll go 10 years this time (trying to remember the last huge fight and I really can't), but in the early years? We were hammering shit OUT.

The resolution of everything through sex was also stupid. Sex is a symptom, not a cure. Take care of the underlying issues (and there can be many including just being damn tired) and the sex generally resolves itself. Communication begets intimicy which begets sex. It doesn't work in reverse in my experience. All couples have dry spells . . . the trick is to recognize them and realize you need to pay some attention to your relationship.

While I'm speaking so frankly, I will have to say that movies always portray the toddler years as hard on your sex life. I don't really get that as my kids were in bed by 7 p.m. and weren't getting out of bed until at least 5 a.m. That's a lot of free hours. On the other hand, when they're teenagers you have to have them come into your room at 10 or 11 p.m. every Friday or Saturday night to wake you up so you know they're home (and so you can make sure they're social life isn't getting too crazy) and then they're up for three more hours.

In the end, I'm glad I saw the movie just so I could write this post. Also? I would probably never have occasion to share my thought that IF you were going to give someone a bj in a movie theatre, it might be better to just lean over and not try to kneel on the floor. 

Anybody out there have thoughts to share?

 

 

And then the phone rang.

The call? It came! The news? Was good!

Actually, it was better than good. Grownup Girl and Grownup Guy both got job offers in San Diego--specifically the region of San Diego (it's a large county) that is right in our backyard. They start two weeks after graduation--which means their timeline is graduate, get married, move, honeymoo, start work--all in two weeks. That is the best kind of stress.

The answer? WAS YES!

OMG! Call Already!

Grownup Girl and Grownup Guy are waiting to hear if they are hired for jobs in San Diego after they graduate next May. They're supposed to get word in August or September. They got a letter that said something about "next steps" and they were supposed to get a call after 3 p.m. on Tuesday. They still  haven't hard. I actually know the guy they're waiting to hear from and this is not like him; yet I've asked around and nobody has heard of any tragedy befalling him. So we wait.

And we text. (She is the gray and I  am the green.)

 

Grownup Girl's response to my query as to whether or not she was getting used to the waiting.

Think good thoughts for us! And yes, I do have a very large font for texting. The better to still be able to read it if I don't have my contact in or my glasses handy.

Also? None of my kids think they are good writers and I disagree with every single one of them.

Yeah, I do that . . .

Saturday night I was doing my Trader Joe's run for the brunch on Sunday. It was about 7:30 and after I spent half an hour chatting my with friend Barb near the fake meat products, I invited her to come with me to my friend Susan's where I planned on beating the heat with a beer or two before I went home and cooked. 

We went to our respective homes, stowed our groceries and then I picked her up and we drove to Susan's and poured ourselves a Ballast Point Sculpin IPA from the kegerator. Then we sat on the edge of the pool, dangling our feet in and drinking aforementioned IPAs. 

It was really quite lovely.

Susan and Barb were chatting away and I had my iPhone out trying to take a cool picture of my feet in the water to Instragram, Tweet and Facebook. 

 

It just wasn't working for me . . .

 

Barb looked at me strangely for a few moments, until Susan said, "Oh, don't pay any attention, she does that all the time." 

Why yes, I do.

 

This was from 10 days ago when Susan and I were at Ballast Point on a Saturday night.

 

I guess if you are not one of "us" it might be hard to understand. 

I know Janet gets it. I am sure Karen gets it (so much so that she really needs an iPhone). Also? Heidi. And then there's Jen . . . the list goes on and on.

 The brunch was fun, but so was taking this shot, fiddling with it on Instragram, posting it and reading all the comments later.

 

The composition would have been improved by turning the orange juice carton around. Oh, well.

 

One last photo:

 

For Janet, who loves morning glories as much as I do. This is an arch I pass on my weekly bike ride at Mission Bay. This was late afternoon--it's much prettier in the morning.

 

In Which I am Right Pissed

It may not seem like it, but I try to keep the politics to a minimum. I have very strong opinions and a propensity to curse like a sailor when riled, so you know . . . 

My brunch yesterday included some very strong Republicans, one Republican for Obama, and a bunch of like-minded Democrats. Politics was brought up once (by the Republican for Obama) and I steered the conversation elsewhere. Had that party happened after the secret video release from Romney's fundraiser, I could not have kept my mouth shut.

Are you f**cking kidding me, Mitt Romney? To hear a man who has never even walked in the shadow of being hungry speak so disdainfully and be so begrudging towards a young mother who needs help feeding her children. I found it disgusting.

I am a woman who has never, in my adult life, collected unemployment, used food stamps or required housing assistance. I don't think the government OWES me anything. I pay my fair share and then some. Willingly.

How did I become the woman in the paragaph above?

My single mother got welfare--food stamps, housing assistance, job training and Head Start for her kids. She went on to become a taxpayer who contributed quite a bit to the government. Look, she didn't KNOW she was marrying a loser baby-daddy until she already had two kids. It happens.

I don't think Obama is perfect; not by a longshot. I do believe he is trying and I also KNOW that I do not want to live in Romney's America.

As long as I'm ranting (it's my blog and I can rant if I want to, right?), I have to share a link to this video that I think women of any political party will enjoy.*

I will be back tomorrow, not as angry. Probably.

*I cannot get the link to work. This is the website, Full Frontal Freedom (totally worth checking out) It's the video on the home page with the hot guys in swimsuits.

 

 

 

Division of Labor

Saturday my husband and I cleaned the house. The house may stay clean longer without kids (a LOT longer), but at a certain point it does get dirty. That time had come, plus we were having friends over to Mr. Fix-it's birthday brunch and my momma didn't raise no daughter that would have people over to a dirty house (even though my friends would not be judge-y).

So 100+ temps be damned, the house had to get clean. I did the dusting, the kitchen and the bathrooms and vacuumed the area rugs and our bedroom and polished the floor. Mr. Fix-it vacuumed all the wood floor and cleaned outside. Doesn't that sound fair? It felt fair to me.

Mr. Fix-it is also working on cleaning the garage, but that is an above-and-beyond project and I'm not taking on any above-and-beyond projects that are above and beyond Pilates, yoga and happy hour at this time. He understands.

Once I started, I actually enjoyed the cleaning--yes, my kids did it when they were here, but let's be honest, only the more dedicted cleaners among us do the corners well. My house is CLEAN.

We are going to take a bike ride down at the beach in a bit,  hit Costco and then I will cook for tomorrow's brunch at about 10 tonight. I'm going to do a potato egg casserole to reheat in the microwave and I'm buying Costco muffins--I could probably get away with serving popsicles in this weather. In the morning, I will get up at five to close up my house against the daytime heat (it worked pretty well until about two today). At brunch we will have to eat indoors in the cave-like darkness, but I'm thinking the mimosas and Bloody Marys will ensure a good time is had by all.

As I think about the couples that will join us--married more than 25 years--what I think of is that all of these couples function as a team--they work together and complement each others strengths and weaknesses. And they laugh. They laugh a lot.

Tomorrow  we will laugh . . . together.

 

 

 

 

32 +18* = 50

18 is the first Happy Birthday I wished him.

David's 22nd birthday: An old photo, instagrammed because . . . why not? Clearly he married me for my eye shadow.

Today, September 13, is my husband's 50th birthday. We will celebrate quietly and very, very cheaply (see: two kids in college). I'm having a small brunch for him on Sunday morning--five couples  we've known forever and raised children alongside) and Bloody Mary's and Mimosas (though I don't usually like to alter my Champagne with orange juice).  We will miss celebrating with another couple that were our long-time neighbors and in which the wife shares my husband's exact birthday as she's getting a surprise trip from her hubs for her 50th (see: also two kids in college. Hmmm). 

One of the husband's that will be there shares my husband's birth day but not year. We will be thinking of our dear friend, Thom, whose birthday was September 12. Yes, this birthday cluster was quite a bit of fun back in the day. I think all the common birthdays were discovered by one child saying to another, "It can't be your Dad's birthday today because it's MY Dad's birthday today . . . wait a minute . . ."

Happy Birthday to my husband--a man who is a wonderful husband, father, provider, son, brother, friend, employee, supervisor and just about any other role you can name.  He is the biggest cheerleader and support either I or the kids could ask for. He's dependable. He's kind. He's funny. And? He cleans house! Sometimes I'm not sure how I got so lucky. But I'm glad I did.

 

Our family circa June 2011 with The Girl Next Door and GrownupGuy

 

I'm hoping we get to wish each other Happy Birthday for many more years.