Two weeks

A man biked past our house this morning.  He was nude.  There was a sign hanging from his handlebars that said, "Hating your body is stupid."

I wish I had a picture of him.  Instead, please accept this picture of... something.

Happy Summer from Seattle everybody!  In our city, the mountains are out, the temps are rising and the people are getting naked.  Sweet wonderful weird Seattle.

I began the summer by stepping on a hoe in the garage while foraging for a paint can.  The handle came flying at me and cracked me right in the forehead.  I stood there flabbergasted for a minute, "Oh my God, that sh*t really happens?"

Looney Tunes = truth bombs

The first two weeks of summer break were devoted to the Loosh.  I handed Coco off every day so Lucien and I could roam the city without her short little legs holding us back.  It's rare for me to have one-on-one time with Lucien.  Coco's always with us or Alex is stealing him away to do "man stuff" which I can only assume involves burping and grunting and possibly hunting buffalo?

For just two weeks, I wanted Lucien to myself.  Because he's thinking all these random awesome thoughts and I'm missing them.  Because he's starting to figure out what sex is all about but is still totally confused by it.  Because he still automatically reaches out for my hand when we walk down the street and I will soak that sh*t up until the second he says "Mom knock it off I'm too old to hold your hand you're embarrassing me oh my god."

(At that moment, I will try to keep a stiff upper lip as my heart breaks quietly inside my chest.)

We covered a lot of ground in two weeks.  Here's a Lucien cell phone picture extravaganza.  I take a picture of him approximately every thirty seconds so comfort yourselves with the knowledge I left hundreds out.


The Fremont Troll under the bridge --

The Loosh in one hand, a Volkswagen in the other

Archie McPhees, where he was introduced to important things like Pop Rocks and Mad Libs and Jesus bobble heads --

Gameworks, where he refused to acknowledge he was still too small for some things --

Beaches and starfish --

Waiting for the bus with festively decorated yet cold and unfriendly people --

Lunches --

 

Miscellaneous running --

Brain Freeze --

We also bought 36 pet crickets.  They were a reward for Lucien, who's really into bugs, for being a fantastic dental patient.  He had a cavity filled and didn't move a muscle.  That's harder for Lucien than most people.

We purchased the crickets at the pet store in the "reptile food" section.  Our crickets hit the jackpot.  They will not be fed to a snake; instead they will be free to live out their short, meaningless lives on our kitchen counter. 

Having pet crickets is unexpectedly wonderful.  When they chirp, I feel like an eight-year-old on a summer night back in Ohio.  All that's missing are the mosquitoes the size of your fist that can drain your arm of blood in half a millisecond.  I don't miss those damn things.

pet crickets, not snake snacks

We also have two pet aquatic snails which were inherited from Lucien's first grade classroom at the end of the school year.  They are awful because they smell like death at all times.

But I still have to keep feeding them because it's the right thing to do.

WHY WON'T YOU STUPID THINGS JUST DIE???

Lucien and Alex recently planted some tomatoes and strawberries in the yard.  But Oscar keeps running over them while barking hysterically at dogs on the other side of the fence.  So Lucien is now protecting his plants with stakes and dinosaurs.

There's nothing left in the budget for weed removal

I'm feeling completely in love with my family today because I'm moments away from leaving on vacation without them.  There is both relief and anxiety.  I'm not going to reveal the reason for my trip right now but trust me, it's really going to be something.

Alex is taking the kids to Quebec during the same period of time.  Please wish Al good luck with the two kids on the two flights that take all day.  Poor brave Al.  Oscar and the snails and the crickets will be cared for by our housesitters and neighbors.  That should cover everybody. (?)

Happy 4th of July tomorrow.  Let's go fire up the grill and eat some meat.

(And here's a not-so-subtle clue as to my impending cricket-filled whereabouts) --



See you on the flipside,
Happy Summer!
MJ

Amen, brother

Flarp was a flop

My memoir writing class is almost over, just one week left.  It's been a very positive experience if you don't count my assignments being returned with critiques such as "MJ, YOU TOTALLY BLEW THE FIRST AND LAST LINES AND THOSE ARE MOST IMPORTANT GIVE UP AND GET A JOB HIPPIE."

To some of our more sensitive classmates, our teacher's harsh (and mostly spot-on) critiques have proven too much and they have dropped out. I relish the criticism, though, because it's the only way I'm going to learn to stop using so many goddamn opening clauses. 

"SO MANY GODDAMN OPENING CLAUSES, ARE YOU BORING YOUR READER TO DEATH ON PURPOSE OR IS IT JUST CRAPPY WRITING NOW GO CRY IN A CORNER, LOSER."

A fellow classmate and I attended the "Cheap Beer and Poetry" event downstairs at the literary mecca where I take my class.  It's a regular event and a popular one.  Rainier beers were $2 and deliciously watery as usual.

One poet recited a poem about a saggy old barn.  It had a terrific opening line --"Barn got its lean on" and got better from there.  The poem introduced me to a new feeling -- desperate and profound sadness for a barn.

Another poet broke the ice first by telling a joke --

"A young man walks up to his grandmother and says, 'Grandma, have you seen my bottle of pills?  They're labeled 'LSD.'"  And his grandma says, 'FORGET YOUR MOTHERF*CKING PILLS THERE'S A DRAGON IN THE KITCHEN.'"

My parents came for a visit last week.  I am grateful --  Alex has been traveling for work for the past two weeks and I'm losing my mind caring for our hooligan children alone.

Alex's travel took him to China, Japan, England, France, Germany, and Luxembourg this time.  He went all the way around the globe and will therefore be near-comatose upon return.  In good news, he spent a few nights in Paris and saw these people --

The Return of Virginia Mom.  She lives on, SHE LIVES ON!

Look at these jerks rubbing Montparnasse in my face

I miss you, Virginia Family.  A lot. My fragile constitution can barely handle the photographs of all you together again, sans moi.  Someday, ma biche, someday...

But anyway, back to my parents.  They are still as good as parents get.  We laugh a lot and talk over each other and never really hear what anyone else is saying.  Mom, as we yammered on as usual, said "Well, once again we've launched into indecipherable conversation." And that sums up most of the visit.

Mom and Dad brought the kids some gifts.  One was called "Flarp!" and it was a "noise putty," which we assumed meant it would make fart-like sounds when we squished it between our hands.  Imagine our surprise when, instead of making funny noises, Flarp glued our hands together with a cold obscenely sticky goo. 

As we pried our hands slowly apart, Flarp dripped (Flarp had inexplicably turned into a liquid) onto carpet, clothing, and furniture.  The more we tried to clean it off, the messier it got, the more it stuck, the bleaker the future seemed.  It was a real battle and one that was never truly won -- even after a few washes, Flarp still dots our jeans with fluorescent yellow stringy gobs.

I think the "noise" they refer to is people yelling obscenities when they realize the mess they've gotten themselves into

We scared the children when we took them up on Seattle's Great Wheel --

Frankly, I wasn't at my most comfortable, either.  It seems gratuitous to dangle patrons over the water the way they do.  It's like they're taunting us with all the ways we're gonna die if someone screwed up the assembly of the thing.  If the fall doesn't get ya, the drowning will, enjoy your ride!

Each cab on the Great Wheel is equipped with a "panic" button you can press if you want off early.  The button idea is better than what you had to do if you panicked on a Ferris Wheel in the good old days -- you just yelled "I'm panicking, I'm panicking!" into the air with nobody around to hear or care.

We also spent some time on Alki Beach.  Lucien did not understand why we were laughing so hard when we took this photo.  He will someday.

While on Alki, the weather turned.  In one direction, it looked like this --

But in the other direction, it looked like this --

So we got the hell out of there.

I'm the weather and I'm going to get you

Thanks for coming to save my sanity and give me some much-needed backup, Mom and Dad.  

Even if you did bring Flarp.

When I first started this blog, I added an email link to my sidebar so people could email me all their wishes and dreams.  After a few months of not receiving any email (save one from Bill), and after trying it myself and it not working, I removed it from the sidebar.  And promptly forgot it had ever been there.

I remembered my failed email experiment last week and, on a whim, decided to log into that email account to see what was there.  And there before me.... emails.  Dozens.  So many wishes and dreams sitting dusty in an email inbox for over a year.  I have no idea where they were the first time around but they've finally shown up to the party.

I don't know if any of you people are still reading, but know if you emailed me in the past 16 months, I didn't get it until last week because I'm a loser.  (WHO USES TOO MANY DEPENDENT CLAUSES, IDIOT.)  I hope to make my way through those emails and answer them.

I've re-added the email link.  If you use it and don't hear from me for over a year, rest assured I've somehow screwed it all up again.

Hug your barns, people, you have no idea what they've been through,
MJ

Turkey Bacon

I survived Spring Break 2012 by going to the YMCA a lot.  There's childcare there, plus a sturdy elliptical machine upon which to vent my parental frustrations.

I love the YMCA.  The YMCA is different from other gyms I've belonged to because fifty percent of its members are senior citizens.  I enjoy working out alongside senior citizens for a couple reasons: one, they make me feel as agile as a jackrabbit, and two, senior citizens are doing some really strange, entertaining stuff at the gym.

The most bizarre sightings are usually in the free weight area.  As I worked my biceps the other day, I observed a senior citizen on the ground in front of me doing what can only be described as "aggressive mat humping."  Then I looked to my left and saw an elderly woman engaged in "dangling from that bar" coupled with "slight swinging." 

Another woman was holding a weight like a baby and turning in circles.  Behind her was an elderly man who believed lying prone on a mat staring at the ceiling was exercise enough for him.  I probably should have checked the pulse on that guy.

(Please don't misunderstand -- I am not making fun of senior citizens.  I have great affection for my fellow gym members, and big respect for anyone at any age who's committed to staying active, no matter how strangely they do it.  Will I be a senior citizen humping a mat at the gym someday?  God I hope so.)

Friday morning I was on the elliptical machine when an elderly woman with a huge smile, very loud voice, and thick unidentifiable accent climbed onto the machine next to me and went gangbusters.  Her legs were flying all over the place.  She turned to me with a big open-mouthed smile and yelled, "LOOK AT ME!  I'M FASTER THAN YOU!" 

I'm not the competitive type, but I didn't like everyone in the room thinking a tiny grandmother wearing street clothes and a large straw hat could outpace me on an elliptical.  So I yelled back, "I'M ON MY COOL-DOWN AFTER 45 MINUTES OF INTERVALS SO BACK OFF, WOMAN."  

I'm thinking about trying the "Silver Sneakers Cardio" class next week.  I will be legend.


In other news,  Coco is diapering dinosaurs --

 The brachiosaurus has been a real b*tch to potty train

I'm writing this on Sunday.  My Friday and Saturday were really something to talk about, but that's for another time.

I want to talk about today because it was a perfect one, both in terms of weather and low level of annoyance with my family members.  They were downright fun -- all of them! -- all day. 

We went east towards the mountains, stopping along the way for breakfast at IHOP.  IHOP is considerably less fun since they started listing the calorie count of all their menu items right on the menu.  It made us rethink our choices then make different, less fun choices.  In related news, I hate turkey bacon. 

After breakfast we drove to Snoqualmie Falls.  We drove with all the windows down and the sunroof open, not just because Coco got carsick and threw up all over the place again, but because the day was too perfect to keep out.

I love where I live

   

proof I still exist

Our friend's brewery is right next to the falls so we stopped to grab a couple growlers.  Aren't they beautiful?

like bottled sunshine 

 

The rest of the day was spent in our backyard with the growlers, a couple wiffle balls and bats, an anthill, some light screaming, an aggressive game of tag, and many band-aids.  

 

It would have been flawless if it weren't for that damn turkey bacon.

 

Go gangbusters, little lady,

MJ