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.

Binge Dreaming

I've been binge-watching Heroes on streaming Netflix lately. About 5 years ago I attempted to watch the series on DVD Netflix. I got almost to the end of the 3rd season then my interest started fizzling out. I decided to give it another shot. I'm at about the spot where I left off the first time around.


I tend to have dreams about things that I binge-watch and binge-read. When I read all the Harry Potter books I had Harry Potter-themed dreams. When I read the Divergent series (well, most of it anyways) I had Divergent-themed dreams. The first time I watched Heroes, I had a Heroes-themed dream.


No exception to the rule, I had another Heroes-themed dream last night.


Someone set me up with this heavy-metal loving guy. His name was Loughran (pronounced lock-run). He was over 6 feet tall, had super long white-blond hair, sported a Canadian Tuxedo, worked as a bar-back at a local sports bar and was deaf. He lived in a small room connected to the sports bar. We were hanging out and talking. I was showing him the swear words I know how to do in sign language. My husband popped his head into the room where we were, but it wasn't my husband, it was Noah Bennet from Heroes, not the guy who plays Noah Bennet, but Noah Bennet. I left the room and walked through the bar. As I was leaving I was approached by a guy in a suit who started telling me it was time to pay back an old debt I owed. I started running away. I was thinking I needed to run somewhere crooked, with lots of twists and turns so the bad guys couldn't find me. I ran down a stair case, like the kind you'd find in a big parking lot. I get to the lower levels and the corridor is filled with water. I make my way up and find I'm being chased. I grab one of the concrete steps I'm running back up and throw it at one of the people chasing me. I throw it, it sails through the air in slow motion and hits the lead person.

Get the Thread Out

Until I got one for a wedding present, I had never had a store-bought blanket. My mom made them all. Some were quilts and some were afghans, but all were home-made. There are some I still use to this day. Some of them my kids have appropriated. Some of them I've kept safe and away from their sticky little grubby hands. My mom was / is always working on something. Once we had a giant quilt-sized tambour frame in our living room for a few months while my mom made a big quilt by hand. Quilt making was the go-to gift for all newlyweds and all babies when I was growing up. All my kids have their own quilts made by their Grammy.


I decided it was probably time to make my own quilt.


Two things happened the year The Girl started 2nd grade.


1) I got a sewing machine for my birthday with the intention of making a quilt.
2) The Girl got a kitten. She named it Pauly. Pauly was a very cute kitten who liked to spelunk the curtains. Today, 9 years later, Pauly is a big fat stupid cat. He is very loving and sweet and doesn't really do anything bad. He's just huge and has a brain the size of a poppy seed.


Excited to start my first quilt I went to the fabric store, bought fabric in complementary colors, created a pattern using my mad MS Excel skills and cut out 4"x4" squares.


I laid out the squares on the living room floor just like my mom does. I lined up my rows in little piles ready to sew, just like my mom.


The first night of sewing, I sewed three or four rows of squares.


Being lazy and not thinking, I didn't put the sewing machine away when I got tired. I left it on the table and went to bed.


When I woke up the next morning and the spool of thread was on the floor, all unraveled, and most of it missing.  The cat was in the corner of the kitchen trying to hack up thread.


Not knowing how much he had eaten or how serious the situation was, we all went to work and school only to return finding the kitty in the bathtub breathing heavily and not being very responsive. We took him to the pet hospital to learn of our options in helping Pauly get well. Being that Pauly was only about 12 weeks old, being that Pauly was The Girl's first pet of her very own, and being that it was my fault the stupid cat ate the thread in the first place we opted for the most expensive course of action; surgery. At about 12 weeks old our very sweet, cuddly and stupid cat had surgery to get the thread out. The thread he had eaten was all tied up in his intestines, so much so that the doctor had to cut some of his intestines out in order to remove all the thread.


I put the sewing machine back in the box, along with the partially made quilt and never took my sewing machine out again, save for making a few pa'u and bringing it out when my mom visited so she could do my mending.


A few months ago my mom was visiting. I asked her to fix my sewing machine because it was doing something funky, but I don't have the sewing machine vocabulary to explain it to you and you probably don't care anyways. She fixed it. I showed her the quilt I started making 9 years ago. She took it out of the box and put it in her suitcase.


Last night I opened the box of Christmas presents she sent us for the Kiddies. In the box along with the Kiddies' presents was the quilt.


So big giant thank you to my mom for finishing what I started. It is just big enough to fit me and my Kiddies on the couch to make snuggle bugs and cuddle fish while we watch TV.
..... or for Pauly.

Interviewing, Ironing and Interrogating - A Dream

I was in a square room.
There was one door in the top left corner.There was a window in the bottom right corner. On the left side of the room there was a square 2-top table, regular table height. On the right, by the window there was a waist high rectangle 6-top table. The room was kind of dark, not like someone turned the lights off, but rather like someone never turned the lights on.

My old boss and some man were sitting at the 2-top table. My old boss was interviewing the man but not for a job. He was interviewing him for some kind of school project.

I was at the waist-high 6 top table ironing napkins and doing paperwork, aware of the interview going on but not paying any attention to it. 

All of the sudden I felt a nudge and a rush of air. One of my napkins and a pen went flying. I looked towards the door in the top left corner and saw a blurry shadow leave the room. I followed it. When I exited the room I was in the long hallway of the house I grew up in before it was remodeled. My oldest daughter was just making her way into the bedroom (the bedroom that got turned into the entry-way for the 2-3 readers who remember what the house looked like). I realized it was her. She was the gust of wind and the blurry bit in the room sneaking past me. I asked her why she was sneaking around. She told me that she wasn't really doing anything, just out with her friends. She told me it wasn't a big deal. Besides, she said, it's not like she was in Tennessee like she was last week when she sneaked out to buy a $300 entomology / biology book because she thought it would be a good read. I could see how I would never know she was missing because the time difference is 3 hours and she flew three hours there and three hours back so she got home at roughly the same time she left (it made sense in the dream) but how did she get the money for the plane fare and the book?

Morrissey Was Wrong. There Isn't a Light that Never Goes Out.

For a very long time I was a closet Morrissey fan. See, I was this blue eye shadow wearing, big hair, heavy metal loving chick. I didn't want anyone to know that sandwiched between my Scorpions and White Snake albums there was a The Smiths album hoping it wouldn't be discovered.



As I got older I realized that there's a lot of music out there and it's OK to like more than one kind. I started to openly embrace my other music interests, even if they seemed in conflict with each other. Just as it was OK for Judas Priest to do a really fantastic cover of Joan Baez's Diamonds and Rust, it was OK for me to put Freddy Fender, Ozzy Osbourne and  Siousxie and the Banshees on one mix tape.

Anyhow, there's a guy who comes into my office every few months. He works for my company but doesn't work out of my office. He comes in for meetings and such. He's a pretty nice guy, but that's beside the point. I mention him because he looks very very much like Morrissey; hair and everything.

I told him one day that I thought he looked like Morrissey and he had no idea who I was talking about. It puzzled me. This guy is only maybe 5 years older than me. He seems like in his younger days he was kind of hip. I explained to him who Morrissey was and he looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears.

So this Morrissey look-a-like is in the office today. I asked my coworker, who is about 15 years older than me if he thought this guy looked like Morrissey. He didn't know because he had no idea who Morrissey was. Another co-worker came up. He's about 15 years younger than me. He had no idea. I asked another co-worker who looks about my age. She had no idea either.  Who are these people that they don't know who Morrissey is?

Their response was "oh I don't listen to that kind of music." That argument didn't hold water with me. I have no knowledge of Jay Z's music. I couldn't identify a Dave Matthews song if I heard it. I can't even tell you anything about Blake Sheldon's music. But I know that they are performers. I know that they play music. It seems logical to me that someone in my age bracket should at least know of the existence of Morrissey.

The only person in my office I've found (actually, he found me) who knows who Morrissey is, and who is a bigger fan than I am, is this guy I used to work with. He still works here but my job and his job don't cross paths anymore. When we worked together he would put Morrissey and The Smiths lyrics as the subject lines in his emails. For example, when he would want to know when I would have a particular piece of information available for him to look at he would put "how soon is now" in the subject line. (Ironically, he doesn't think this guy looks very much like Morrissey, though but I think it's because they don't act alike, and he's just confused.)

Anyhow, I'm really bothered by this. Bothered enough to type furiously.

Mike Rowe is a Gentleman and a Liar - A Dream (just a fragment)

Note- Just a fragment of a dream I had. I can't remember the whole thing. Darn. I like Mike Rowe.
Side note - I think I saw him a few weeks ago. I was at the Lombard gate going into the Presidio and someone who looked just like him walked in the crosswalk in front of my car. I'm not sure if it really was him, but it could have been. He lives in San Francisco, right?


Anyways, onto my dream.


My dad set me up with Mike Rowe.


I was living in the house I grew up in. Mike Rowe and I were in my old bedroom. We ended up hanging out all night long (he was a total gentleman, of course). I told him my dad was going to be mad he stayed so long. He assured me my dad would be fine with the whole thing because he was the one who set us up in the first place. I told him that was a big fat lie but we laughed about it anyways.

Tweed Baby - a dream

Note - I'm not sure if this counts as a celebrity dream because no celebrities actually made an appearance, but one was mentioned.


I was at some kind of hula show / poetry reading in a long narrow living room. I was sitting on the floor. A baby crawled up to me so I picked him up and put him on my lap. He was wearing a tweed jacket with elbow pads, jodhpurs and a flat cap. He promptly snuggled in and fell asleep.


When the show was over a couple came up to me and thanked me for taking care of her baby. She told me his name was Halstead and he was 2 years old. I told her I had a baby who was 2 as well. She and I immediately exchanged phone numbers and set up a playdate for our kids.


Then her husband pulled me aside and whispered in my ear "You know who that is, don't you? That's Lauren Bacall's grandson. My wife is her daughter."


Then I heard the "boom boom" of an ipu-heke and panic set in. I was late for class. I ran over to the room where I was supposed to be and although some of the dancers were lined up in their pukas, most of them were sitting on and around picnic tables selling crafts and making crafts.


I snuck in anyway so nobody would know I was late.

Naked Naked Naked

So we have a bunch of apples from my father-in-law's tree. I've been thinking for the last few days that I should make some apple sauce. The Boy likes applesauce. I thought it would be a nice treat for him. I thought I would make cranberry-apple sauce because I had a bag of cranberries and I thought it would be yummy. I shared my idea with The Boy. My idea was met with total disdain. Cranberries are yucky and stupid, he said. I made cranberry sauce anyways. I had to cook dinner still and wash some dishes. I didn't feel like peeling 20 baseball sized, oddly shaped apples.

I started making the cranberry sauce then realized I didn't have any juice. I never drink juice. I rarely, if ever, have it in the house. Then I remembered I was feeling a little run down last week and bought some green juice to boost my immune system. Then I forgot about the juice and it sat in my fridge for a week. Hmmm, I thought. How would it work in the cranberry sauce?

You know what? It turned out pretty good. I thought it would turn a funky color, but it didn't. It's not a bright yummy color that traditional cranberry sauce is, but rather a deeper red. I thought it would taste Spirulina-y but it didn't. I'm quite pleased with the results.

In the future will I seek out Naked Juice - Green Machine for my cranberry juice's secret ingredient? Probably not, but it worked for this batch of cranberry sauce.

Here's the recipe --

5 Cutie Tangerines peeled and sliced (you could supreme it but I didn't have the patience for it. Also I have a pretty good hang-nail going on and didn't want to get citrus juice in it. I hate it when hang nails sting.
1 bag of cranberries (the size you get at Trader Joe's, but I'm not all that brand-loyal so use whatever kind you like)
1 bottle of Naked Juice - Green Machine
1 Softball sized Golden Delicious Apple (The sauce looked like it needed either less liquid or more chunks so I added an apple)
Some kind of sweetener (I used honey)

Simmer in a heavy-bottom sauce pan until it all the fruit is broken down and it looks how cranberry sauce should look, but not the kind that slides out of the can.

My sauce this time around isn't super sweet. It would go very nicely with some pork or chicken, or turkey if you're into that sort of thing. Turkey is OK, but it's not a pork chop. Some kind of savory meat, maybe seasoned with rosemary and black pepper would be good with this cranberry sauce. I almost used truffle honey but thought that might be a bit much. Maybe next time.

Overall I was pretty pleased with my cranberry sauce prowess and innovative skills.

Enjoy.

Do the Arthur Fonza-latte!

Has anyone ever just made your day? It's great, isn't it?


Thanks to a very nice person in my office, my day was made this morning. Lookie what I found on my chair at my desk this morning. I got a present.

And if that wasn't enough to make my day, I also got to open the present. Sweet!

Wanna know what was inside?

YES! a new Fonzie Cup!

I quickly ripped open the package, pulled out the Fonzie cup, tore the lid off of my paper cup and poured my tea into the brand new Fonzie cup.

Just as I remembered. The glass is just the right circumference that it's not too big for my hand. The glass is also the perfect thickness that I can put a hot beverage inside and it won't get too hot to hold.

So Thank You very nice person in my office for gifting me with a new Fonzie cup. You completely and totally made my day. 

For that, I invite you to Do The Fonzie .......

Tiny Mango Ninjas Stabbing My Tongue

Today The Girl and I spent the day together.

We went to enjoy some sunshine in Noe Valley.

Here we are at the beginning of the day.

We went to a bird store

We went to a bookstore

We sat outside, drank coffee and kombucha and painted in a parklet

Then we got haircuts

It was a good day.

We Are Gathered Here Today . . . . .

Dearly Beloved,

We are gathered here today to say goodbye to my cup, my favorite cup, my Fonzie cup.

Just about every morning I would enjoy a cup of coffee, an Arthur Fonzilatte out of it. And in the afternoon it wasn't unheard of for me to have Fonzie Tea. I also have fond memories of reaching for my Fonzie up to have a glass of water.

Yes, that's you on the right. My favorite cup. Your brother on the left met his end pretty quick when I left him in the sink over night and the decal on the glass slipped off. From then on I was always careful not to leave you in the sink and not to submerge you in water except for when washing.

Then this morning, this dreadful morning as I was getting a glass of water from a different cup my elbow knocked you off the counter. You fell to the floor with a big crashing noise and shattered into little pieces.

You were a great cup. When I put hot things in you, you didn't get too hot to hold. When I put cold things in you, you didn't create too much condensation on the outside, thus making you slippery. You were easy to wash; my hand and the sponge could get all the way to the bottom of the glass to wash you without any problem. You didn't leave rings on the table.

You were a great cup. I will miss you.

.... And the Horse You Came in On, An Open Letter to Peet's in Embarcadero Station

So today I needed a second cup of coffee. I usually do go with just one in the morning before I leave the house, but today, two was necessary. It was so necessary that I couldn't wait to get to the office for my cup of joe.


I went to the Peet's inside Embarcadero Station.


Now I love me some savory scones. I was excited to see they had a kale and cheddar scone. I ordered one. I think they get their scones from Raison D’être. Super yummy scones, for sure. Not enough places have savory scones and I was happy to see it there.


While I was waiting for my coffee with room (which had no "room," btw) I thought it would be nice to get a marble loaf for my co-worker. We are having a busy week and I though he would appreciate the treat. I asked the cashier "Pip" for a marble loaf slice. He looked at me, put his arms akimbo, cocked his head to the side and said "You want a Kale and Cheddar Scone AND a Marble Loaf? I looked at him and said "yes, and a small coffee."


OK, maybe I am PMSing and just read the guy wrong, but really?


That is not your job, Pip. Your job is to sell stuff, not to judge the customer to her face. Your job is to sell stuff and if you would like, you're free to go in the back and make fun and judge all you want, but in front of the customer, it's your job to sell. Buy adding that extra marble loaf I increased the sale in that transaction by 30%. I'll be sure to never do that again.


Love,
Andrea


P.S. I am not a crackpot

Gluten Free Vegan Goodness. Huh.

You know me. I like food.

I try to eat more vegetables than non-vegetables. I try to eat food that's in season and food that comes from local sources. I try to limit my carbs and not have them at every meal. I prepare most of my own food and don't buy prepared food from the freezer section. I don't worry about food allergies

I say all this because of the delicious dessert I had tonight.  It was Vegan, Gluten Free, Raw and Sugar Free. I didn't buy it because it had those qualities. I bought it because it sounded really really freaking good. I had it once before tonight and I had been looking for it ever since. I bought it at one of the Food Wholes in The City. I found it in the cold case next to the bakery department. I don't go to The Food Whole very often but every time I went I looked for this treat in the same spot. Unfortunately I came up with snake eyes every subsequent time and couldn't find it.

Tonight the Kiddies and I went to a different Food Whole. I was kind of meandering through the aisles while my youngest nibbled on the hard boiled egg we had pilfered from the salad bar (it was necessary to keep her quiet and usually a nibble on the salad bar does the job) when I came upon a cold case in the frozen aisle. Oh my gosh, it was there. This yummy yummy delight was there. I bought a container and after the two littles had gone to bed, my oldest and I, with spoons in hand, dug in.  So yummy.

So what was it? What was it that was so delicious even though it didn't contain all the traditional dessert stuffs? Cacao-Coconut Mousse. It's made from Coconut Cream, Dates, Cacao, Carob, Spices and some good 'ole Citric Acid.

So it's rich and creamy and doesn't have the sticky mouth-feel that I get from dates (even though I love dates because they are so yummy I don't like the sweaters they leave on my teeth). It has little bits of coconut in it; not a whole lot but enough to notice. The coconut cream sits on your tongue and sort of melts and coats your taste buds.

It is super rich and The Girl and I were only able to eat a few big spoonfuls each, but that's OK because that means there is more to love tomorrow, and possibly the next day.

So thank you Shakti Distinct Desserts from Planetary Products in Berkeley, CA. You made a delicious dessert and it looked so delicious I didn't dismiss it when I saw VEGAN and GLUTEN FREE and NO SUGAR ADDED on the label.

I will buy it almost every time I see it. Now if only Whole Foods would keep it in the same place in every store, and fix their parking lots so that they aren't such a pain in the ass to get in and out of . . . . .but that part isn't your fault and you have no control over that. Also, Whole Foods' parking lots and how crowded, confusing, small and stupid they are is a blog post for another time.

Until I write it, and after I write it as well, please go buy some Cacao-Coconut Mousse, grab a few spoons and share it with your oldest daughter. You'll be glad you did.

And the Award for the Most Expedient Mammogram Goes To .....

Today I had my annual mammogram.



Most expedient mammogram ever; from the parking to the pressing to the pork bun.

It was like I was on a Kaiser conveyor belt, but in a good way. I pulled into the parking lot to find a great parking space waiting for me. I walked over to the elevator and just as I was about to push the button, the elevator opened. I got off the elevator, walked across the lobby and just as I got to the next elevator, another door opened, as though it knew I was coming. I got to the floor where they do the mammograms and there was nobody in line. The receptionist was efficient and friendly. I filled out some paperwork and no sooner did I fill it out did the mammogrammer call my name (pronounced correctly, no less). She led me into the dressing room, gave me a gown and told me she was ready when I was. I walked into the mammogram room, smiled pretty for the camera, and in 5 minutes I was back in the elevator on my way home. (I skipped the pork bun this time - why there is a Sugarbowl Bakery in the lobby at Kaiser, I don't know, but some days I'm sure glad there is. They make great pork buns.)

My mammogrammer was named Lilia. She had great mammogrammar. She didn't tell me to hold still or hold my breath when she was about to take pictures of my girls. Instead she used really great mammogrammar and told me to "Cease Movement" and "Suspend Respiration." Another thing she did was something no other mammogrammer has ever done for me. She showed me my pictures and explained to me what makes a good picture and what makes a bad picture, like making sure you could see certain muscles in various parts of the mammogram to let the doctors know they were receiving a complete image to evaluate.

When you go for your next mammogram, you should have Lilia be your mammogrammer. She'll greet you with a smile, pronounce your name correctly and make you feel well informed and comfortable.

If you're over 40 don't forget to get your annual mammogram. If you're under 40, and if you're over 40 as well, make sure to do regular checks of your girls and to get things checked out if something doesn't feel quite right. Mammograms don't hurt. They are a little uncomfortable, but not painful. Five minutes of a little discomfort is a small price to pay for making sure your chi-chis are healthy, and if you go to Kaiser in San Francisco, you can get a mammogram from Lilia then get a pork bun afterwards.

Tahoe Bubble

Hubby, The Kiddies and I went to Lake Tahoe this weekend. We met a few of our friends and their families and rented a house for the weekend.

Here are some highlights ----

There was a deer head on the wall. We put a hat on it.

There was an ugly mailbox. We had one just like it growing up.

The Boy had enough s'mores to last him a year. He also had on a really cool shirt.

Bean got very dirty. Here she is thinking about how she could get more dirty.

The Girl looked beautiful, as always. 

The highest of highlights of the weekend is that a very good friend of mine came to visit. 

I got to fall ass over tea-kettle while getting out of the hot tub spend time in a hot tub. I got to read my book. I got to relax. We went to the beach. We played with water guns and glow-sticks. I got to dance hula outside under the trees when everyone had gone out for a few hours. I found a new book I want to read. The Boy got to see bear tracks. A few friends got to see a bear making tracks. The Girl earned a few coins to rub together by doing some chores nobody else wanted to do. Bean got to play in the sand at the beach.

There were a few hiccups here and there, but with 4 days, 9 adults, 1 teenager, 1 six year old, two preschoolers, 1 toddler and 3 dogs there are bound to be; each of us have different opinions on TV usage, food, bedtimes, manners, behavior. We made it work, though. Most of us were adults.

Special thanks to EA Awesome for putting together a fab weekend. We don't see you enough. Also thanks to the men who manned the grill. The ribs and sausages were delicious. Thanks to Hubby for doing all the driving there and back.  Thanks to my friend for coming out to visit for a few hours. 

Looking forward to next year.

I Have No Talent - A Dream

Hubby, The Kiddies and I were going on a family vacation with a family we know but aren't really friends with, although in the dream we were. We were all going to travel in a totally tricked out semi truck that had bedrooms, a full kitchen, two bathrooms, a common room and a garden.

We drove for a little while. The wife of the other family stayed in bed sleeping the whole time. We drove to an out of the way place then the family we were traveling with turned into one of Hubby's cousins and a bunch of distant relatives we didn't know, but we knew we were related to. The kitchen was stocked with tons of food and I thought it was weird that there were drawers and drawers of old Paul Masson-type wine bottles filled with milk; enough milk to last the whole journey. Super weird. Why couldn't they just buy it at the stores we encountered on our journey. Then it turned out that the emphasis wasn't really on travel, it was on spending time with the family and we would travel when the older men thought we should.

I went out to the garden and struck up a conversation with a little girl who was poking a stick into a pond and coming up with little salamanders, which she would promptly pop into her mouth. She said it was a tasty snack. She shoved one into Hubby's mouth and he got mad; not because he didn't want to try the pond salamanders but because he was already eating something and didn't want to mix food. I went back into the semi and heard there would be a talent show. I was excited because I had a talent to share. They told me it wasn't that kind of talent show. The only talents they would be featuring were curing meat and saving money. Since hula dancing was neither a component in curing meat nor saving money, I could not participate.

Conversation I Overheard Whilst Peeing

I get it. There are people in this world who don't like coffee. I am not one of them. I love coffee and I drink it every day. I have a cup in the morning and then I usually have a cup when I get to work. On occasion I will get an additional cup. I don't love coffee enough to drink decaf, though. Seems mostly pointless. I don't drink coffee just for the taste. I also need the aroma, the warmth and, let's face it, the caffeine.


So this afternoon I was in the ladies room.. Two women came in and chatted while they were peeing. First it bothered me because I hate it when people talk to me in the bathroom, so in my head it should bother everyone else, too and they shouldn't do it.


Then I started listening to the conversation. They were complaining about one of their co-workers.
This co-worker had a headache and mentioned she should probably have a cuppa joe because she hadn't had any coffee that day.


These two women thought her logic was so stupid. Why would anyone drink coffee when they have a headache and how is it that there's a correlation between a lack of coffee consumption and a having a headache? She should just take an aspirin. That's what will get rid of her headache. She's just stupid for drinking coffee in the first place.


I waited in the hallway, pretending to be talking on my phone so I could see who these girls were. 20-ish hipster girls. Go eat your $10 toast and drink your kombucha, hipster. I'll be with the normal people drinking coffee.

Cholas Stole My Camaro - A dream

I was leaving hula class with my Hula Sister Pat. I had parked my car down the road and she was going to drive me to my car. We were driving down route 185 (a significant, yet made up road in my dream.) We pulled into the parking lot by the gas station and the cowboy-themed old-timey gift shop. As we approached my car, a white Camaro, we saw the car peel out of its parking space and take off. At this point Pat turned into my co-worker Edward. Edward raced down the street in the car while I called 911 to report my car had been stolen by Cholas. Edward's car was u-shaped, kind of like a u-shaped luggage cart at a hotel, except with a stick shift in the middle. I had trouble holding on and dialing 911, plus the 911 operator had trouble hearing me because of all the wind from driving so fast in a u-shaped car.


Then we were in a bar. There was a lot of food set out for our group. I saw a burrito cut up in slices on the table under the dartboard on the wall. I grabbed a slice. Three super douchy guys (like guys who where sunglasses on the back of their heads douchy) who were playing darts told me the burrito was theirs and not part of the food my group had. Then they said I could have a slice of burrito. As I was eating my burrito slice one of the guys started talking to me. It was this guy I went to school with from 3rd grade or so to I think 8th grade. He was super tall and had red hair and liked science. In my dream he was a security guard, not the security guard for the bar we were in, but he was a security guard. He started asking me questions about how a security guard is supposed to get girls.


Then I was back in the car and sometimes on foot being chased by the Cholas who stole my Camaro. The cops sent me the pictures they had on file of two Chola car thieves and wanted me to verify these were the girls they were looking for. I couldn't say for sure. The Cholas caught up with me and I did some serious WWF-style fighting and knocked one of the Cholas out cold.


I got my car back and then the Cholas and I became friends.