The Birthday Squeeze

Last night the ex and I were texting.
Me - Gonna be late getting the kids back. Having a mammogram then going to dinner.
Ex - Everything OK? or just your annual Birthday Squeeze?

Just my annual Birthday Squeeze. I like it.

I felt like I was slacking. I hadn't had my annual mammogram yet. I always have it around my birthday. You can read about 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2014 right here. Last night I had to go to my doctors office to do something so I decided to throw in a mammogram for fun of it. The kiddies were with me. I thought it would be a quick trip because getting a mammogram only takes a few minutes. While it still rang true that the mammogram itself only takes 10 minutes, we had to wait an 20 minutes past our appointment time.

My mammogrammer wasn't as memorable as last year's but she was nice, she gave me a pink pen and some pink post-its. And she took a picture of me before the action began.

My kids were going a bit bonkers. They were hungry. They were done being at the doctor's office. The guy at the reception desk was done with them being there. They were mad at me for not letting them get Gatorade and chips from the vending machine. They were more than ready to go when it was time. The guy at the reception desk was happy to see them leave as well. My babies are sweet and I love them a bunch but hungry kiddies at 7:15pm at the doctor's office is no fun for anyone.

Here are my youngest ones making germ angels on the floor in the doctor's office waiting room.

After the mammogram, the kiddies and I had shakes and burgers at Mel's, colored and did homework. My oldest and I were bummed that our dinner wasn't offered in a paper car like the kids' dinners were. We asked for our food to be served in a car but they charge $2.75 extra so we skipped it. I love the cars Mel's serves their kids meals in. It's not as cool as the bullet train bowl at the noodle place in Japantown that I like, but it's still cool. I like that they are old cars, like the kind that Ralph Nader hates with the fins and pointy bits.

Paper cars.

We got home. The kiddies spent some time with their dad. I got settled, got them ready for bed, had a fantastic shower, caught up with a friend on the phone and then fell into a peaceful sleep until my alarm woke me up. My alarm is an asshole.

The "So What" of this post, and all other similar posts is this ... stay up to date with your mammograms. Check yourself regularly. Take care of your girls. The pain in the ass of making an appointment, dragging your ass to the doctor and then enduring the 10 minutes of discomfort from having your boobs stuck inside a panini press is a whole lot less of a hassle than having cancer.

Be Prepared

I don't remember if I wrote about this before so if I have, forgive me. You'll have to endure it again because it's on my mind right now.

When I was about 6 or so I was at Sunday School. It was my job this particular day to take the offerings from my Sunday School class and take it to the Sunday School office. Most kids threw a few quarters in the basket but this particular day one kid put $2 in the basket. On my way to the office, I stole the $2 and just turned in the change. When I was about 30 I had a crisis of conscience and  put $2 in an envelope and a little note apologizing for stealing so long ago. I didn't sign the note though. I never identified myself ........(until now, mwahahahaha! just kidding).

A few years later when I was about 10 I distinctly remember another life lesson. I don't remember if it was at church or school but seeing most of the time both took place at the same address, I guess it doesn't really matter. Anyhow, the story was about being prepared, handling a crisis and trusting God to bring you out of it. There was a woman who had the worst string of bad luck over the course of a few years, like Job x 10 bad. She lost her job. Her house burned down. Her dog was hit by a car. Her grandpa died. Her dad died. She was in a car crash. Then one day something truly awful happened and she was devastated. She had no idea how she was going to see her way out of such grief and how to figure out a way to rebuild her life. One morning it all became clear. God was preparing her. All the trials she had endured in her life, all the lessons she learned from getting through them prepared her to deal with the worst tragedy she'd ever faced. She at that moment felt a bit of peace. She knew that God was showing her how to deal with tragedy, how to work through adversity and how to be strong. God was telling her to trust Him. He would, once again, show her a way to endure her troubles.

This story has haunted me from the moment I heard it. Whenever anything tragic happens I'm constantly going through a list of all the unfortunate things that have happened in my life (not that there are a lot, but everyone has bad experiences, right?) and all the moments in my life I consider turning points and thinking two things; 1) Is this what God has been preparing me for? and 2) If this isn't what God was preparing me for, whatever's coming in the future will be worse than the tragedy or happening at hand.

Last week I hit a milestone. One day last week was exactly a year ago that my marriage ended. It was a shit day, I tell you. But there was a really great positive that came out of all of it; I made it. I made it through the year. I am not where I want to be yet, but compared to a year ago, life is so much better today. I finally got a job. I have truly amazing friends. I've gone on a few dates, including an extra few dates with the same person. Life is getting better.

So, is this what God was preparing me for? Or is there more in store for me? I was talking to a friend of mine the other night about this. Was God preparing me for this event or is God preparing me for a future event. My friend's answer was simple; BOTH.

Dang it.

Online Fun Offline

A lifetime ago when I was 18, 19 I worked at a burger joint. Most of the time I worked the closing shift. There were a handful of regulars who would come in most nights and I got to be friends with some of them. They were short-lived friendships but we had fun. One of the people I would hang out with was named .....I don't even remember his name but I remember he told me a story about the time he did drugs in the bathroom of a party with Tony Geary of "Luke" fame on General Hospital. Anyhow, this guy was friends with a guy named Jeff Vilencia. I have no idea why I remember his name or why my encounter with him was so memorable, but he stuck with me. I haven't seen him since I was 18, 19. I haven't talked to him either. I have no idea what this guy is up to or if he even remembers me. Anyhow, below is a movie he made. He had this thing about women with large beautiful feet squishing bugs. I thought about him a few days ago when I was looking at an online dating site.

I almost went on a date, I went on a date and then I went on another date.
I knew I'd be rusty. I knew I'd be nervous. I knew the chances of any guy I meet on online dating being Blane McDonnagh, Ronny Cammareri or Lloyd Dobbler would be slim. I knew he probably wouldn't even be my Jeff Vilencia, or guy who did drugs with Luke Spencer. I knew it would probably be fun, though.

I almost went on a date.
I had been using the chat feature and talking to this one guy. We talked on the phone and I immediately realized that those were the wrong sort of bees. He was not for me. The deal was sealed when he sent me a message and asked me to send him a picture of my feet. I haven't communicated with him since.

I went on a date.
Dude looked about 10 years older than his profile said he was and the profile picture looked about as much like him as I look like the weight my drivers license says I am. The food was good. We had fried pork necks with cumin and spare ribs. Dude was nice but kind of dull. Not in a "my voice is my passport" kind of way, but still, not for me.

Luckily the experience didn't sour me too much because
I went on another date.
I met this guy in a bar. Unlike the other two guys, this guy I didn't speak to on the phone first. My sister would tell me that was a mistake. What if he had an Urkel voice? Luckily he didn't have an Urkel voice. He had a bit more gray than his online picture presented but I could tell who he was from his photo. We split a pizza. Nice enough guy. While he was not Blane McDonnagh, I did see some hints of  Ronny Cammareri with a little bit of Palmer Joss sprinkled in there. His eyes were all his, good eyes and he has a nice face-in-repose-half-smile thing. I'd happily meet him again.

So I'm not going to chronicle every encounter I have via online dating. I may have some interesting stories to tell but I'm not interested in trash-talking anyone. I'm not interested in identifying anyone. I'm also not interested in giving you all the details about myself I'm not willing to give.

In summary, I officially put myself back on the market. Blane McDonnagh, Ronny Cammareri and Lloyd Dobler are not real people, fried pork necks with cumin are delicious and that Sam Elliott side glance half smile resting face totally works.

Tag Team Mussels - A Recipe

My oldest and I made a great dinner the other night. We were sort of tag-teaming with bathing and watching the other two. I would do some cooking while my daughter would stand in the doorway of the bathroom watching the little one in the tub and the other one one in the living room, then the one in the tub would need something so we would switch places and I would be on bath duty and she would do the cooking.

Our Tag Team Dinner came out really really amazing and it was super easy. Super great cheater meal if you don't have a lot of time and you want something really delicious.

Tag Team Mussels and Gnocchi

1 box of frozen mussels from Trader Joes - the kind that has herbs and such in the bag with the mussels
Tomatoes (we used tiny cherry tomatoes)
Butter
White Wine (We used Sauvignon Blanc)
Garlic
S/P
Trader Joe's Gnocchi, the kind that is self stable.

Cook the Mussels according to the directions on the box. It's pretty much bring a big pot of water to boil and put the unopened bag of mussels in the water. 7 minutes or so later they are done. Set aside.

Saute some minced garlic, maybe 2 cloves. If you don't want it to be super garlicky then just smash the garlic and put it in the pan. The garlic will be more subtle that way.
Add the tomatoes. I like to use cherry tomatoes because they create little bombs filled with scalding tomato juice and hot sticky seeds and then when they cool off they shrivel and the juices inside are all saucy and yummy. When it was my oldest's turn at cooking she popped all the tomatoes in the pan.

Add the gnocchi and add the liquid from the mussel bag. Let everything get all and yummy and bubbly.
Add the wine. I think I added about a glass of wine, a generous pour. A pour someone would make if they were pouring good wine they didn't buy.
Add about 1/2 a stick of butter
When that gets melty and bubbly add the mussels and coat them with the pan sauce.

Have some additional liquid handy. The starch in the gnocchi kept making the sauce thicker and thicker. Depending on your preferred viscosity you'll need to play around with how much liquid to use. Some kind of vegetable stock or chicken stock, white wine, even water will help you thin it out.

Squirt with some lemon or lime juice. I think Meyer lemons would be the best choice. If you were thinking ahead and not making this tag-team style, you could add some shallots to the step where you saute the garlic. You could add a ton of italian parsley.

This was a big hit. We'll have to put it in the semi-regular rotation.

Setting Myself Up

(see note at bottom)

I started online dating. Eh, that's not totally correct. I haven't actually started online dating. I signed up on a dating site. I haven't dated anyone or met anyone in person or spoken to anyone. I didn't quite know what to expect, and I still don't, but I find the whole enterprise really odd. You fill out a profile for yourself of what you look like and what you like to do and if you have kids and if you like pina coladas, then you answer  questions about what you're looking for in a mate. Do you just want a booty call? Do you want to get married upon meeting? Do you want to chat constantly for 2 days and then stop communicating abruptly? What's your religion? Do you only side-hug like Duggars or will you try to round third on the 1st date? What are your feelings towards 420? What's your "shoe size"? Do you speak any other languages? Greek, perhaps?

It's odd. It's hard to interpret someone's tone of voice or inflection in type. I wish there was a standardized way to do that in type since that's how people communicate these days. You'd think the written language would evolve to include punctuation to indicate intention; sarcasm, sadness, regret, pride, humor, love, etc. Maybe emoticons serve that purpose. I'd rather see it reflected in punctuation rather than symbols, but that's just me.

Anyhow

I have to tell you, I'd rather meet someone naturally, or be set up with by a friend. Being set up by a friend seems to be like a good option because I know my friend will grill any guy to a stub of nothing to make sure he's a good catch for me. At least if the friend does the set up, he's already been through the toughest part of the initiation. By being set up, I can be sure he passes their tests.

 I'm not looking for a husband. I'm not looking for a booty call. I'm not even looking for something really serious.
So what am I looking to get out of this experience? Hmmmm. You know what I want? Someone who is more than a friend who I can be me around; someone I look forward to seeing and get all giddy when a text from him comes through, someone I get along with and enjoy being around but referred to mostly as "this guy I'm seeing."  Maybe there are dates here and there with other people, but "this guy I'm seeing" stays in the picture.  "This guy I'm seeing" is a good guy. I just want to take my time in finding out if he's the right guy. Think I'll find him?

That said, I have chatted through the dating site to a few people. There have been a few creepers but those conversations are quickly ignored and go away soon enough. There have been a few who decide it's not to be and communication stops. We'll see how this all turns out. I'll probably pee my pants a little if anyone actually suggests we meet in person.

(note at the bottom)
I wrote this piece a few weeks ago. Look for an update soon.

I Should Have Had a V8

The first Catholic church I had ever been in was in Long Beach. I was about 7 years old. My sister and I were with a family friend. The family friend was supposed to take us to see the Angels' play. She told us we had to go to Mass first. We didn't know what Mass was. We knew what Church was, but we never called it Mass. It was just Church. My sister and I were so mad when we realized we were going to church. Who went to church on a Tuesday? This church was the biggest one I had ever seen; statues and candles, weird little alcoves, foot rests kneeling pads. We sighed and fidgeted the whole time. We were certain we were going to miss the game. Finally Mass ended. We made our way to Anaheim to watch some baseball. We weren't late at all. We arrived just in time for the National Anthem; of course performed beautifully by Chuck Mangione on his fluglehorn*.

When we thought we were moving to Long Beach, I got The Boy registered at the school run by this particular church. I let the school know we wouldn't be attending. The school must have already contacted their host families because my host family sent me an email today. The host family invited me out to drinks to talk about school. Now I've been a host parent before and I call the family, send them and email and invite them to the welcome parent breakfast, and introduce myself, but I've never thought to invite them out to a pub in the neighborhood. I am totally doing this the next time I am a host parent.




*I don't actually remember who did the national anthem at this game, but I did go to an Angels' game where Chuck Mangione did perform so I am only kind of lying, but maybe not

Me Time

Last night was one of those nights where a switch flicked in my head and with that flick I came to the conclusion that I needed to get the H E Double Hockey Sticks out of the house for just a little while. I love my kiddies more than anything but sometimes I just want to get away for an hour where I can be a person, an individual, a woman, and not necessarily a mom.

I put the smallest one to bed, got the middle one ready for bed and asked the oldest one to very sweetly watch over her sibling, telling her I'd be back in a little over an hour.

I threw on a bit of mascara, put on some shoes and headed out the door. I ended up at my local watering hole. I sat at the bar. I ordered a beer and watched the band set up. I saw a dad from my kid's school. I gave him a head nod; a nonverbal "'sup." He replied in kind before joining his friends.

A few minutes later some guy came up to me and asked me if I came there tonight to see the band that was setting up. I told him no, but the drummer was taking a long time to set up. Who did he think he was? Neil Peart? The guy laughed so hard he bought me a beer. He told me he just moved to SF. We talked about the Sunset a bit. He told me he surfed and we talked about Kelly Slater and 2011 Rip Curl event that we both went to. I totally held my own. I don't know how I did it but I totally pulled off talking to a surfer talk about surfing, or maybe I didn't and he was just humoring me.

I ended up talking to him, plus two of his friends he came with; two girls. I think one of them was his girlfriend (oh well, can't win 'em all).

For a night where the only conversation I thought I was going to have started with "What'll it be?" and ending with "IPA, please," I had a fun night.

Aunty Ku'uipo of San Diego; All in the Hands

Today at the Marin County Fair my oldest and I saw a `ukulele group perform; The Ukulele Friends 'Ohana.  While we were waiting for the group to set up I noticed an old woman sitting near the stage.  I had never seen her before and never heard of her before, but I knew there was something to her. I pointed her out to my daughter. See that Aunty over there? Yeah, the old lady with the lei po`o. I bet you she's somebody.

 At one point during the performance this woman was invited to the stage; 96 year old Auntie Ku'uipo from San Diego. The old women stood up and walked onto the stage. When she started dancing to "Lovely Hula Hands" I could tell immediately that she had been dancing hula all her life. Her body no longer moved as it did when she was 20. It was now more cautious; tempered by all the things that make a body old. She moved with a grace and confidence underlined by experience. On the outside, her body may have not been able to do get down in `aiha`a as far as she used to, but it didn't matter. You could just tell; her fingers so fluid and the Aloha you could feel coming out of her was such an honor to watch.

As we were leaving the fairgrounds, Aunty Ku`uipo was walking in front of us. I hurried my daughter along with me and we caught up with Aunty and the women she was walking with. I got up to them and said "Excuse me, Auntys." All three of them turned around. I looked at Aunty Ku`uipo and told her Thank You for dancing and told her she had beautiful hands. She gave me a hug and a kiss then hugged and kissed my daughter.

It was nice.

Dancing Hula on a South-facing Shore

I hyphenated. I don't know why I did. It just gave me a complicated long last name. I should have just chosen one. I referred to myself using my husband's last name. I only used the hyphenated version for legal things.

I'm in the process of restoring my first last name. I'm not looking forward to the work of getting all new cards with my name restored, but that's what I get. I'm the one choosing to have my name restored.

When I first started my blog, I had recently moved to Ocean Beach and wanted to get on the blogging band-wagon. I started writing. I started recording. I started sharing.

Of course readers only know what I tell them about me, but I think in parts I've let you in a little more than I had planned to.

I am a woman in transition. I think my blog should reflect that. Over the next few whatevers you'll see my layout and pictures change. If there's anyone I know out there (no strangers) who wants to design my blog for free on blogger, lemme know.

You may have noticed I changed the blog's name. As I transition from my life in San Francisco to my life in Long Beach, I want to record it. From Ocean Beach to a South-facing Beach in Long Beach, I will try to illustrate my crazy new journey from the funny weird things to the super hard and annoying. I hope I don't screw it up.

Excessive Use of the Dot Dot Dot ..... An Open Letter to Steven Bochco

Dear Mr. Bochco

The Girl (my teenage daughter) and I have been watching Doogie Howser, MD on Hulu. We put in a few episodes a day. I'm enjoying watching it with her for a few reasons. I love the hair. I love the old technology. I love the clothes. Mostly I love the relationship Doogie has with his girlfriend Wanda. I love watching Vinnie and Janine. I love watching Vinnie and Doogie, and I especially love how Vinnie totally has the hots for Mrs. Howser.

What I really love about the show, above everything else is the opportunity that I get to tell The Girl stories about when I was growing up and the different situations I've been in; funny, sad, silly, stupid, learning experiences during my teenage and young adult life. Hopefully some of them are cautionary tales, hopefully some are funny. Mostly I just hope she finds that they show her that although I grew up in a different time, I still encountered a lot of the same or similar teenage problems and situations that she has, or will encounter.

There's the story about my first date where I spent hours figuring out how much blue eye shadow I should wear so I looked hot but not slutty.

There's the story about when I was 14 and my friends got busted for stealing stuff at the mall and about how I really really wanted to go with them but was too chicken.

There's the story about the time I scolded Danny Glover in public.

Whilst watching The Doog tonight I was reminded of the accidental date I once went on.

It was soon after I had moved to San Francisco. A Midsummer Night's Dream was playing at the Coronet or some such movie theater on Geary St. that doesn't exist anymore. I was too much of an insecure freakshow to go to a movie by myself. I wanted to see it and none of my roommates did. I didn't really know a lot of people. I knew one guy who was into film. I didn't know him very well but I gave him a call and asked him if he wanted to come with me. He said yes.

He showed up at my door. He was freshly showered, freshly shaved and had on a clean shirt. The moment I saw him I thought "oh shit, this is a date." I had not intended the night to be a date. I just wanted to see the movie and didn't want to go alone. The "oh shit, this is a date" was cemented in fact when we got to the movie theater and he bought the tickets, winked at me and said "you can get the popcorn."

While we were at the movies, my roommates and a few other friends were at Slim's watching some band. In my head it was Desmond Decker but it may have not been. I could be making that part up but I don't think I am. I think it was Desmond Decker. After the date the guy asked me what I wanted to do. I told him we should go to Slim's.We did. We saw Desmond Decker (or someone else, who knows).  I drove home with my roommates and he, as far as I know, went home alone.

The Girl found this story amusing, but I feel bad about this night to this day. I didn't want this night to be a date, but I should have at least been nicer to him. He was a nice guy  I assume he is still a nice guy even though I haven't spoken to him in at least a decade, and looking back, he was probably a pretty good catch.

Luckily this guy became friends with my roommates and me and even lived in our apartment for a few months. It's been a long time since I've seen him. When The Girl is ready I have another story about him that I find terribly amusing. When there's a Doogie Howser, MD episode that relates to it, I may tell her.

So to this guy, thank you for playing a part in life. I'm sorry for being kind of a jerk that night we saw that movie. If I had to do it over, I would have let you drive me home instead of abandoning you at Slim's. I probably wouldn't have wanted to go out on a 2nd date, but I would have been nicer.

I'm glad we became friends anyway.

To Steven Bochco, thank you for Doogie Howser, MD. I'm having fun watching it with my daughter.

Thanks,
Andrea

P.S. I am not a crack-pot.

A Different Kind of Yummy - Dream and Food Review

It was a pretty good Sunday.

The Kiddies let me sleep until 10am. I was having weird dreams all night long and had to sleep until I had a dream that wasn't creepy. I ended up waking up to a dream where I was being held against my will at a book store because they thought I was shoplifting. They searched me and determined I was not shoplifting but they still needed to charge me $10 for taking time out of their day to search my bag. They wouldn't let me leave until I paid. I told them they were stupid and I wasn't going to pay, then The Boy's school principal handed the store owner a check for $10 so I berated the store owner for taking money from a nun. I figured at 10am that's the best I was going to get so I should just wake up. So I did.

I spent the next hour drinking a particularly yummy cup of coffee, in my Fonzie cup, of course, eating honeydew melon and watching Doogie Howser, MD on Hulu snuggled with my kiddies under a home-made quilt on the couch.

Turned into a pretty swell morning.

We finally got around to getting out of the house. We went to a yard sale and picked up a few books, a Walter the Farting Dog stuffie, some shoes and a skirt for $6 and a Starbucks gift card that may have had $25 on it or may have had only 7 cents.

My oldest Kiddie was craving a sandwich so we went to Cheese Plus. CP is located on the corner of Polk and Pacific in SF. I was stoked to find parking just a short block away. When I worked at a local business we used to order their cheese platters on a regular basis. They were always super yummy and a big hit.

I don't, however get to the actual store very often enough. I'm happy we made the trip today.

We got to the sandwich counter. The Girl ordered her sandwich. I ordered a Cubano sandwich for me and a Tuna sandwich for Bean. The Boy was mad that CP didn't have cheeseburgers and fries. He grabbed a bag of pop chips and I ordered a Crissy Field sandwich for him. He was mad that I ordered him the sandwich and told me he wasn't going to eat it and I was stupid.

We got our sandwiches and took a seat in the parklet. The Girl opened her Toasted Crissy Field sandwich. She said it was delicious and she ate the whole thing. The Boy opened his bag of pop chips and his odwalla juice, tucked his knees inside of his t-shirt and ate silently, giving me "you should have gotten me a Cheeseburger and Fries" attitude.

I handed Bean 1/2 of her tuna sandwich and opened up my Cubano sandwich and started to enjoy it. She took a bite of the Tuna sandwich and said "This isn't the kind of yummy I like," and gave it to me. I gave her a bite of my sandwich and she took it from me and didn't give it back. She put it on her lap and ate it layer by layer until it was gone. She loved it. Tuna sandwiches are the wrong sort of bees for her, I guess. Cubano sandwiches are right up her alley, though.

Meanwhile The Boy was finding his popchips and odwalla weren't enough. I opened his sandwich; a Crissy Field, untoasted and handed it to him, He reluctantly took it from me and sniffed it. He dared to take his first bite, then he decided he could suffer a second bite. With the third bite he figured that if the first two bites hadn't hurt him, the next one would be OK. By the fourth bite he was committed to the idea that the sandwich wasn't such a bad sandwich after all. By the time he had finished the first half he said that his sandwich was the best sandwich he had ever had and that all sandwiches should be made exactly the same way as the Crissy Field Sandwich, untoasted is.

So, if you want to feed a hungry teenager who really wants a sandwich, go to Cheese Plus and get her a Crissy Field Sandwich , toasted. She will eat all of it.

If you want to feed a hungry 2-1/2 year old, don't get her tuna. Get her a Cubano Sandwich. She may not eat it sandwich-style, but she'll eat the whole thing in a manner that makes sense only to her and make yummy eating noises while eating it until it's gone.

If you want to feed a hungry 7 year old who thinks that Cheeseburgers and Fries are more delicious than a stinky freshly made sandwich, get him a Crissy Field, untoasted. He'll be suspicious at first then decide it's the best darn sandwich he's ever had and wish for all future sandwiches to be so yummy.

Then we went home. The Girl did her homework. The Boy had some Minecraft time and Bean and I hung out and watched some Dragon Tales together. (Man, I hate Dragon Tales).

We had dinner, took baths, washed hair (the only sucky part of the day because my two youngest think washing hair is worse than bamboo under the finger nails) then went to bed.

I'm ending my day with some cashews and a nice glass of Petite Sirah.

I'll take a Sunday like today any day.

Up Next on Sick Sad World

So this is me. This is what I look like right now, only not as much color. In fact, take away the red cheeks and add some gray roots. Make sure to draw really dark circles around the eyes, the eyes with a vacant stare; the kind of stare where you're not sure if I'm all there, but I am. Also ,make sure that it is completely clear that the sun in the background is flipping me off.

So a week ago Sunday I started feeling a little tickle in the back of my throat. By Thursday morning I was totally bed-ridden. Well, couch-ridden at least. I slept the whole day. Friday I had Bean with me so, well, let's just say we watched a lot of Daniel Tiger and Curious George. Saturday was pretty much the same as Friday. Sunday I thought I felt better, then I took a shower and realized I had spent all my energy for the day in the shower. I was too sick and woozy to even drive The Boy to his basketball game. Yesterday I was couch-bound, slept most of the day, but felt good enough to go grocery shopping, but I think I may have shopped one too many aisles because when I got home I could hardly get it together to cook dinner,

I've been drinking hot tea like nobody's business. I make sure to eat, although I don't have much of an appetite. I smell like vapor rub. I sang Soft Kitty to myself a few times just to make me feel better. None of the cold meds I've been taking have been working, or if they are working, I'd hate to see how I'd feel if I hadn't been taking anything. We've been ordering take-out because either I can't stand long enough to cook or I don't want to touch anything my kids touch.

I can't decide what's worse; having a job and having to take a week off because I'm sick or being so sick I can't drive or even walk 1 block to Walgreens just a few days after my services were released into the industry. If it has to be the latter, I hope I coughed near a few choice people. And I hope I didn't cough on others.

I have confidence in Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow is Wednesday. On Wednesdays we dance Hula . We are learning new things this month and I can't miss it. I won't miss it. Tonight is my last night to be sick. You hear that, body? Tonight is my last night to be sick. I will wake up tomorrow morning so super healthy no one will ever believe I was sick.

Me and Mr. Somebody - A Dream

Last night I had a dream I had an almost-boyfriend.

There was this guy who was sweet on me. I can't tell if it was Eric Roberts or Anthony Bourdain. (I'm hoping it was the latter. Screw it. It's my dream. I'm going to say it was the latter.)





He was taking me out on a date. While I was getting ready I stepped in some weird mud and had to hose off my feet and change my clothes. I changed into a yellow one piece jumpsuit, baggy pants halter top type thing, a flowing scarf, a big floppy hat, brown sandals and big round sunglasses. 
We drove in his convertible. He took a very beautiful yet super scary route along the coastline. One lane hugging the rocks with waves splashing over as he drove down the road. We got to our destination. It was an all-star baseball game. I told him I'd never been to an all-star baseball game but I had been to an all-star hockey game and the arena was empty. It was nice to see a full stadium even though I was totally overdressed. We got to our seats and instead of bleachers or stadium seats, everyone sat on pillows on the floor. Some people from work with big impressive titles were sitting near us. I heard one ask another "what's she doing here?" and the other answered "they're kinda sweet on each other." Then the first one shrugged and said OK.

Down the Drain -- A Dream

I don't like Caillou at all. The talking puppets creep me out and I think I may want to punch every single one of them on the show, and Caillou twice. Don't even get me started on the way Caillou pronounces the word Pizza.

The other night I dreamed I was hanging out with Caillou and his mom. I don't think they knew I was there. I was just there not participating.
Caillou's mom was giving Caillou a bath. All of the sudden Caillou's mom heard the front door open and said "Oh, (insert favorite expletive here)" and grabbed a baggie out of her baggie mom jeans' pocket and emptied a baggie of little blue pills down the drain. Since the water wasn't draining fast enough the little blue pills kept floating to the top. Caillou and his mom kept pushing the pills down the drain until they all went down.

A Hose and a Stick - Book Review

So my disclaimer right up front; I didn't read more than a few paragraphs; OK, only one whole paragraph and a handful of sentences and not all of them were in the order the author intended. My 2.5 year old loves books and always wants someone to read to her. She'll walk up to any bookshelf and pick up any book that looks interesting and ask in the sweetest voice ever DEMAND "Read to me. Read to me."

Tonight's selection was Marley; A Dog Like No Other by John Grogan.

Now when Beanie gets a book read to her, she decides what page gets read when, and in what order. Tonight she ran up to me holding the book she had chosen (Marley, as stated before), climbed up onto the couch, jumped around a little bit then settled and snuggled right up next to me in the crook of my arm, opened the book and pointed to a passage and demanded with sugar on top that I read.

The first passage she had me read was all about how this guy had lost a gold necklace and just as he had given up looking for it his dog pooped it out. He explained in detail how a hose with a spray nozzle and a stick freed the gold neckl.....

Then Bean turned the page and pointed to another part of the book where the dog had graduated from his dog training class but as soon as they had to apply what the dog had learned in the class into real-life scenarios, the dog failed and they were no better off than they were before they started going to dog training school.

Then she turned a few more pages here and there but never let me read more than a few words or phrases. She was satisfied when we got to the last page and closed the book with a content sounding "The End."

In summary, I don't think I'll actually sit down and read the book. From the passages and phrases I did get to read, I was entertained and so was Bean.

Oooh! That Smarts.

When I was little there was a commercial for Wonder Bread that I just loved. Two sentient loaves of Wonder Bread were talking to each other about how fresh they seemed because of the way they were produced and packaged. Then a woman comes up and squeezes one of them and it says "Oooh! That Smarts!" Then the two sentient loaves of were tossed into the lady's shopping cart and off they went with a happy heart, to be smushed into little balls and used as bait at the local fishing hole, smathered with peanut butter and jelly or stuffed with hot fried baloney and yellow mustard.

So one day I was grocery shopping with my mom and I was just hoping beyond hope I could see someone squeeze the Wonder Bread. AND OH MY GOSH!!!! Someone did! I saw a lady reach out her hand, squeeze the bread then at just the right moment I gleefully blurted out "Oooh! That Smarts!" The lady jumped then she and my mom laughed about it. Best Day Ever!


So this weekend I was visiting some of my family and The Boy was grabbing onto my hands and trying to do this weird balancing climbing thing that only makes sense to a 6 year old boy. I told him that I needed to change the position of my hands because when he did what he was doing it smarted. He asked me what that meant. Right on the spot, I came up with a definition for Smarting that seemed to fit perfectly with the situation, and, well, let's face it, it fits perfectly well with life. For the rest of your days, please feel free to use my definition of "Smarts."

Smart - any kind of pain that hurts as it is happening, but stops hurting the moment whatever is causing pain goes away. Pain without any lingering pain or side effects.
Example - I had a cortisone shot in my knee once. It hurt like a (rhymes with) brother trucker while the needles was delivering its medication, but the moment the needle was removed there was no pain whatsoever.
Another example - Plucking one's eyebrows. It smarts when the hair is plucked but doesn't hurt at all afterwards.

You're welcome.

So, Now I Know

Our house is a typical Sunset District house; living space on the upper floor, garage and weird spare room on the ground floor.

Freshly married and shortly after we moved into the house we live in now, I thought "I wonder if I can hear the doorbell when I'm in the garage." Then one day, about a month later I was in the garage switching the laundry around. I heard bounding down the stairs, the front door open, the gate buzz and my husband welcoming a few friends inside. They saw me in the garage and the first thing I said was "So, now I know." One of my friends asked me what did I know. My response was "now, I know I can't hear the doorbell when I'm in the garage."

When I got pregnant with my Pua Bean I wondered why God would would send me a baby at 42. Yes, I know how babies are made. I'm not an idiot, but I don't believe in chance. I was certain this baby was sent to me for a reason. I just had no idea what that reason was.

My little Pua Bean is the sweetest little girl. She's happy. She's sweet. She's funny. She loves to make animal noises. She loves to dance. She loves to read. She loves to cuddle. She'll carry a bucket of lego up to you and demand you to play together. She loves to eat. She wants to wear skirts and calls them hula tutus. She loves to color, mostly on herself, with sharpies, but still, she loves to color. She is super fun to talk to  and spend time with.

These last few months have been the suckiest suckfest of suck I could ever imagine. It's my little Pua Bean I can count on to  turn whatever kind of bad stuff that's happening into something that makes me happy and makes me thankful. Unlike the two other sweet babies of mine, she is blissfully ignorant of all the suckitude going on. She is our escape while still grounding us firmly in reality.

So, now I know. Now I know why God brought Beanie into our lives. He brought her to us to make every bad day good at the end of it.

So now I know.

Thankfully I still get to dance.

Hula was hard last night.




It was hard because I haven't danced in a while. I kind of checked out after the big hula show in October. I have to admit I was a little hula'd out. We were dancing tons leading up to Ho'ike Nui. Not only did I have to get to class, I had to make sure my daughter got to her own hula classes. Combined with work / other kids (for me) and school / homework (for her), making all our practices was certainly a challenge. We did it though. We did it without missing practices. We did it without missing class. We did it without missing work. We did it, but we were exhausted. We needed a break. That break cost us about 6 weeks of class.
It was hard to get into the swing of things, and I felt as though my brain had forgotten everything and my muscle memory was in the background pointing and laughing at me.


Also, Hula was hard last night because life in general is really hard right now. Life, as it seems, has looked upon me and said "You! It's your turn," and not in a fun way. My husband and I separated about 5 months ago. Let me tell you, as right as the decision is to end this marriage, it's a suck, sucky, suck-ass road to go down.


In hula, one's emotions are very close to the surface. One's emotions show up while dancing. If you're sad, angry, distracted, had a bad day at work, dropped your shave-ice in the sand, whatever; it all shows up while you're dancing. I am certain my lack of practice and my lack of focus was noticeable. I'll have to work on that.


Thankfully I have a rag-tag team of great support.


Thankfully I still get to dance.

Spending Time With Mr. and Mrs. Carter - A Dream

I had a dream about Jay Z a week or so ago but I didn't write about it. Last night I had another dream about both Jay Z and Beyonce. I guess the universe is telling me I have to write about them now.

Dream #1

I was at work about to enter the elevator. I got in. A lot of people from the 7th floor of the building were in the elevator as well. I pressed the button to my floor and immediately someone cancelled that floor and the elevator went straight to the 7th floor. That wasn't fair, I thought. Then the elevator went all the way down to the first floor and picked up more 7th floor-ers. Again I pressed the button for my floor. A woman from the 7th floor again cancelled my floor. I pressed the button again. She cancelled it again. I pressed it again, she cancelled it again. I looked at her and said "What gives, Lady?" She told me that Jay Z was going to perform in their office later today and they needed to make sure everyone who was supposed to be at the show was there and those who weren't supposed to be there weren't. She also didn't want Jay Z to have to stop at different floors before he got to the floor where he was performing. I told her that her logic was stupid. By not letting me off on my own floor, what's to stop me from getting off on the 7th floor, and why couldn't she stop on my floor right now? Jay Z wasn't even on the elevator. He wasn't scheduled to be there yet.

Dream #2

My oldest daughter and I were in the living room of the house I grew up in. Beyonce was sitting on the couch with her arm on the arm and her hand supporting her head. Jay Z was standing behind me leaning against the 3-sided fireplace. Beyonce said hello to my daughter and asked her if she had a boyfriend. My daughter told Beyonce it was none of her business. Then they started talking about Leelah Alcorn, the trans-teen who took her life last December. Beyonce said she didn't know anything about it. I told my daughter that Mrs. Carter probably doesn't read about current events. Then Jay Z and I were walking through New York City. (In my dreamlife, NYC is based on what I believe NYC looks like, and not what it actually looks like. I've been there once when I was 15. I have no idea what it looks like. However, in every dream I have that features NYC, the same green building shows up across from the same triangle shaped median, across the street from a fancy library.) I asked Jay Z if he ever walks around without a disguise. He said never. I asked him if he ever just dressed like a normal person in regular clothes that aren't expensive or custom made would he get recognized and he said yes. Then we were driving in a car through Big Bear, the car turned into a rickety old private plane and the landing strip was in an alley.