Juggling Life

It Turns Out Drew Carey Was Right . . .

Cleveland ROCKS!

         he Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum (designed by I.M. Pei)

This was my erstwhile companion for today’s adventures, aka me. Yes, it was that warm. Clevelandites were wearing shorts. In my humble opinion it was not that warm, but what do I know?

I am a pretty darn social person, so going places alone is not something I do very often ever. But what the heck. I don’t like driving in traffic, but I do like driving in no traffic on a good highway—so the 100 miles from Erie to Cleveland flew by at about 85 mph and to the accompaniment of Sirius XM radio’s Vinyl
Rewinds station. It just felt like driving fast and listening to loud music was the appropriate way to get to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

I cannot say enough about how incredibly cool the RRHFM is. The photographs, the costumes, the handwritten set lists, the videos, the music. AMAZING.

Highlights for me:

The video montages of various politicians and religious leaders proclaiming the deleterious effects of jazz, blues, rock & roll, hip-hop on the “youth of today.” I particularly liked when rock and roll was tied to a Communist plot.

The Hall of Fame Film which includes performance clips from every induction class. It was so fun. My only complaint was the idiot who thought his commentary would improve the experience. He was wrong.

The Bruce Springsteen exhibit; he is Mancake of the finest sort—beautiful and smart.

In case you’re still not sure how much I loved it, let me leave you with this: YOU MUST VISIT THERE SOMETIME IN YOUR LIFE! I MEAN IT. I am busy planning how to get the rest of my family there.

If you are wondering why there are no photos from inside the museum it is because boy, howdy they are serious when they say “NO PHOTOGRAPHY!”

               Downtown Skyline                                  View of Lake Erie

        Another view of RRHFM                       The Lake, Again

                                              Being Artsy

I didn’t bring my Canon Rebel, but my daughter’s pocket-sized Sony Cybershot was perfect for today. After I left the museum I drove through downtown, got on 90E headed back to Erie, realized the food in Erie really sucks (what is it with all the Burger Kings, Erie?) and made a spur of the moment decision to get off at the exit for Case Western Reserve University—if there’s one thing I know about college students is that they eat.

I bypassed the pizza and burger offerings for a Middle-Eastern place. I know it was authentic because the owner was rude to me when I asked what a couple of different menu items were. No matter because the Mujjedra was delicious. I took the scenic route to get back to the 90—I went through Shaker Heights, which had adorable houses like this:

Then I ended up in a neighborhood where this was the crown jewel:

It went a little downhill from there—I’m going to take a flyer and say that East Cleveland is not the most desirable address in the area.

All our lights in San Diego are on poles—so the lights on wires, swaying in the wind, really fascinate me.

I’m back at the hotel now—done downloading photos, wrapping up writing this and there’s a Criminal Minds marathon on. Life is pretty good.

Have you had a solo adventure? Tell me about it.

Vegas, Baby!

All the photos in this post were taken with my Droid phone camera—pretty good for no camera schlepping I think. Whether or not this post is as good as the first one that I accidentally exited out of just when I finished it, I cannot say!

Where we going comfortable shoes was a must. Thank goodness for being old enough to choose practicality over high style! Especially when walking for miles.

From this mosaic you can figure out who I went to see, where I stayed, what the view from my room was like and that I really liked the water show at the Bellagio. And their blingin’ horse.

The Divine Miss M. was in a word, divine. Two hours passed in the blink of an eye—as quick as the high kick of a Caesar’s Salad Showgirl. Bette and I seem to share similar political views, so I her jokes about Sarah Palin really slayed me.

Speaking of time passing quickly, if your going to drive 5 hours through the desert on  Saturday and another 5 hours on Sunday, the time passes pretty quickly if you go with a friend you’ve known for 23 years, but only see once a year. There’s lots of time for catching up!

Debbie is a pharmacist I worked with years ago when she’d recently moved to San Diego from South Dakota. She and her husband share the same anniversary as my husband and me (date, not year). Back in the day we used to ski together. She still skis while I pretend that I could still ski if I ever went skiing.

I haven’t been to Las Vegas to stay for 24 years. I hate crowds and don’t particularly care for gambling, so it’s not my number one travel destination. Since I was last there they seem to have connected all the hotels on the Strip via overpasses and extremely long hallways. It’s kind of cool, but it also makes me feel like a rat stuck in a maze. Even if I don’t go outside, it’s nice to know I could figure out how if wanted to!

One thing about Vegas that hasn’t changed is that seeing the seamy underbelly of the city is virtually unavoidable. Behind the glitz of the Strip the city is all concrete and alleys and dumpsters and you see it all when you’re exiting the parking structure onto a side street.

We had breakfast before we left in a classic (with very tasty food) Vegas coffee shop, Peppermills. With a long drive ahead of us, we didn’t opt to partake in the enormous Bloody Mary’s the restaurant is famous for, but we were certainly in the minority.

Peppermills was decorated in the minimalist, understated decor for which Vegas is famous . . .

If you’re a regular reader, you may know who this photo is for—Deb, email me your address; you didn’t think I’d stay at the Flamingo and not get you a present, did you?!

Total amount I gambled? $5.50. I was up $8.75 at one time!

Screen Me?

This is a follow up to a piece I posted Monday at The Women’s Colony

The attempted act of terrorism on the Amsterdam-Detroit flight has ignited (which luckily didn’t happen with the bomb) a conversation about how invasive passenger screening should be.

My opinion? Hella invasive is okay by me. Especially since they have this new screening machine—known as Backscatter X-Ray or Whole Body Imaging which means they can be invasive without actually feeling me up.

The main argument against this technology is that a screener would see us naked. The screener would be in a separate room and not actually know it was you he or she was looking at, but many still consider this an invasion of privacy and the internet abounds with comments about how titillating this would be for the screener.

Really?

I would have to say the most generous estimate of the population of an airport that I would actually not mind seeing naked is 10%. I said generous estimate.

Rather than think, “What lucky devils!” the screeners are, I would want to make sure they are well remunerated for their efforts. They are going to have to look at a whole bunch of bodies that are only vastly improved by being viewed with clothing on.

Unless there’s a flight full of Victoria’s Secret and Calvin Klein Underwear models (and how often does that happen?!) I really don’t see the upside of the whole “seeing-people-naked” thing.

If it turns out that this new technology allows me to keep my shoes on I am definitely sold!

What’s your take?

Big Brother is Watching You

Millenium Park, Chicago, August 2009

Millennium Park

Sadly, I did not have a drink here . . .

I was on the top  level of a double-decker bus in downtown Chicago and wanted a photo of this sign. As we approached the sign a semi was blocking me from getting the photo. As we passed by I twisted, twisted and twisted a little more. Just as I took the shot I felt a "ping" in my lower back.

I yelped (there may have also been a curse word involved) then I took some ibuprofen. The ibuprofen got me through Grownup Girl's moving day, a 6 hour plane ride, several load of laundry and some house cleaning.

The ibuprofen, however, threw up its imaginary arms at also being asked to also compensate for a day spent in a little tiny chair prepping first grade curriculum. It was necessary to call in the big guns--Flexeril and Vicodin--to see what they could do. Aside from the fact that I'm sleeping 18 hours a day, I feel much better.

I wonder if I can find a first day of school outfit that has a built-in ice pack over the lower back area?

The View from the Passenger's Seat

       Day 1: Utah, Day 2: Colorado, Day 3: Nebraska, Day 4: Iowa

Day 6: The Move-In and I'm Out

With a little help from Johnny Depp, we got it done.

 

We were there at 8 a.m. and were able to move furniture and unpack and then go buy some little things to make it homey--throw rugs, etc. Plus, we got all her pictures hung. There was time left over to eat Greek food before I had to be at the airport.

Driving through Cicero was quite the experience. I'm pretty sure it was illegal for the guy driving next to us to be boldly swigging from a Corona. I wasn't going to be the one to tell him though.

Her room (on the 6th floor) is 220 square feet and the bathroom setup is a Jack and Jill-style share with one other person. It's actually a pretty sweet setup for dorm-style living.

These photos are pre-finishing touches. The rug and pictures made a big difference.

We had to hit the bookstore for souvenirs and since some of the colleges (Osteopathy, Physical Therapy, Physician's Assistant, etc.) are already in session we got to see groups of students bustling from one class to the next, engaged in conversation.

From one group floated words like "lumen," "stroma," and "serosa." Grownup Girl's eyes lit up.  "You want to be a part of that conversation?" I asked. "Well,  yeah--it's histology!"

Yep, I think she might be in the right place.

In Which I Quit Whining And Get Happy

This weekend I went to the Bay Area for Mr. Fix-it's NorCal work party. Over the last couple of weeks when I contemplated going inside my head I've been pathetically sorta whiny. My litany of complaints went something like this:

• January 10 is the same day as my last CSET--now I have to wait until March to take it. Wah.
• Flying is such a hassle. Especially for just one night. I mean I could go for two nights, but Social Butterfly has to cheer at a basketball game Friday night and I don't want to take a late flight.
• If I'm only going for one night it would be totally stupid to check luggage, but can I really get ready for a fancy party out of one 1 quart bag filled with cosmetics and hairspray that are less than 3 oz. each?!
• I barely know anybody.
• It would be totally lame to take my laptop, but can I live without it?
• People in Northern California act so superior to Southern Californians. It drives me nuts.*

And then I got there. (After almost 2 hours worth of flight delays. Wah.)

And this was in the room:

And the view from the balcony looked like this:

Then I managed to eke this out of my 1 quart bag:

Followed by lots of drinking, making new friends, Blackjack and 80's music.

I took a lot of pictures and felt really stupid for my internal whinefest.

Oh  yeah, a little eye candy for the knitting bloggers out there:

 

*True story. This random guy starts to talk to me about my camera and 2 seconds into the conversation tosses out how much nicer Northern California is than Southern California. WTF? It happens every time.

A Bloggy Get-Together And An Embarrassment Of Riches

Clockwise from left: Kalynne, Cheri, Jenn, Jennifer

You know I really wanted to meet Kaylnne and JCK (Cheri's already my bitch)--I returned from vacation Friday at 4:15 and did all the week's laundry straight away so I could be guilt-free when I headed out the next day to take the RICA, a teaching certification test, and then zoom up the 5 to Carlsbad to meet Cheri, so we could zoom further up the 5 to hook up with Kalynne and JCK in Anaheim.

Mishaps aside (a fender bender for JCK and a loooong walk in heels for Kalynne) we had a great time. I'm not even going to try and count the number of Champagne splits Kalynne and I had, though the waiter did comment that it was a shame California Pizza Kitchen didn't sell whole bottles. The food was delish and the company better.

As I have found happens when you meet your blog friends, you are instant real-life friends. So far, for me, the personality that is conveyed in the blogging is the real deal. So if I like your blog, I'm pretty sure I'm going to like you.

Another thing I've found is that when bloggers get together they really cut to the chase. Conversations are deep, personal and real. It's not a cocktail party where everyone is wearing their social mask. I love that you can have diametrically opposed positions on issues, but really listen to, understand, and learn from one another.

Let's just say it was worth the 45% tip I left the waiter--he could have turned the table 3 or 4 times in the time we sat and talked and laughed--it was money well spent!

Thanks ladies and I hope to see you again soon.

An Embarrassment Of Riches

I haven't been hanging around the blogosphere for that long, but even I can see that this must be awards season. I love to see the new awards pop up and watch how they fly around. On my list of things to do is to design my own button--of course I should probably figure out how to display the awards given to me first (I can figure it out if you give me the code, a la Bossy, but otherwise I'm lost).

This gem seems to be pretty new but making the rounds quickly:

This sparkler was bestowed upon me by Deb at Etc., Etc., Etc., Jen on the Edge, TexasHolly at June Cleaver Nirvana, Oliver Rain, and the inimitable Tootsie Farklepants at Vintage Thirty. You can see why I'm blushing, right?

Trooper Thorn (a brand new blogging buddy) at Dogs and Jeans, hooked me up with this award:

Who wouldn't want to be described as Kick Ass?!

I used this button the other day, but couldn't for the life of me remember who to credit, so I didn't. (I've since learned to rename the file for all awards/buttons with the name of the person who gave it to me and the date). Now that my memory has been jogged, Thanks, Magpie Musing!

The hard part is the passing on of the award. Did they already get it from someone else? Are they "awards" kind of people? Will so-and-so feel left out if I don't pick him/her? Aaaah, the pressure!

Since I've seen the Brilliante Award everywhere, I'm bestowing it on those I comment upon who don't already have it. Wear it in good health!

The Kick Ass one I have not seen around, and frankly, I really dig it (my teens will now have to stay in their rooms forever because I said "dig it." Of course they also get upset when I threaten to "Pop a cap" if they don't straighten up. Oh well.)

So, for defining Kick Ass in a variety of ways, I give you.

Hollywood: Where Hot Comes To Die (Bite Me Fridays just crack me up. Plus, now that she can walk unaided again, she might literally Kick Ass).

Magpie Musing (Being a Lefty Commie Pinko like me is Kick Ass!)

The More The Messier (She is my compadre in kicking sulky teenage ass!)

The Philosopher-Mom ('Cause meeting a blogger who lives across the country is Kick Ass!)

Motherscribe ('Cause coordinating the get-together with the blogger who lives across the country is very Kick Ass!)

Last, but not least, was this award from Karen at For The Love of Pete:

I think everyone should have this one, it sums up blogging perfectly. So please, take it and pass it on.