Cabin fever

I chaperoned the Valentines Day party that involved all three classes of the First Grade.  Call it insanity, but I truly enjoy my time with those kids.  I think it's their blinky eyes blinking up at me, and the way they all want to hold my hand, and the awkward toothy first-grader grins.

The party ran long.  There was no time for kids to sift through the pile of coats dumped outside the party because the buses were about to leave back at school. We had to run the three blocks from the party location to the school, without coats, GO! GO! GO! to catch those buses. I imagined the horrified expressions of parents at bus stops when Little Johnny disembarked in February without his coat, teeth chattering.

Loyal chaperone I am, I filled a box with all the coats and followed behind the sprinting masses, dragging it along the sidewalk until I couldn't feel my arms very well.  I dumped the coats onto the sidewalk in front of the buses and helped kids throw them on as they boarded.  Every kid left with a coat.

There will someday be a folk song written about me, the trusty chaperone who wouldn't let the kids go home cold, entitled, "Cold Kid, Warm Heart."

Alex and I went to see a play at Capitol Hill's Annex Theatre Friday night.  It was called "Undo" and took place in an alternate reality where, if you want a divorce, you must live your wedding in reverse.  All the same people must attend and wear the same clothes, the presents are given back, and in the case of the Jewish ceremony portrayed in this instance, the glass is glued back together.

The great thing about the Annex Theatre, and so many fringe theaters in Seattle, is there's a bar in the lobby and you can carry your drinks into the theater for the show.  The PBRs at the Annex Theatre bar are $2 and deliciously refreshing; the mixed drinks are crappy and expensive.  I think you know which way I'm leaning with this recommendation.

What transpired on the Annex Theatre stage was a beautiful piece of theatre.  Really, truly.  It had it all -- laughs, tears, and lesbians.  There was also some sad sex (you must do everything you did on your wedding day to make peace with God, even if it was f*cking on your dressing table).

The man sitting behind us said loudly at the intermission, "Watching things like this makes me realize how ridiculous human relationships are."  All of us within earshot murmured our agreement and bought another PBR.

Here's some advice if you see a play at the Annex -- at intermission, run for the bathroom.  Get there first no matter what.  Push those bitches to the ground and don't look back and here's the reason why: there are only two toilets, two single stalls.  And a fifteen minute intermission. And one hundred people in the theater all drinking beer.  Do the math then do what you must do *cracks knuckles*

Al and I and the kids went to a friend's cabin for the long weekend.  It was just us; the cabin is often empty and our friend has been telling us to use it for years.

We left for the cabin right after Lucien and Coco's swim lessons Saturday morning.  I love watching the group of boys in Lucien's class learn to swim.  They all have their own style: some wide-eyed and freaked out (Lucien), others goofy and trusting in the world (the one whose eyes are slightly glazed) and some who should never be allowed near a body of water (the one sinking like a stone).

Our friend's cabin is in the South Puget Sound area, on a peaceful little lake upon which no motors are allowed.  Paddle boats, kayaks and canoes are the vessels of choice.  The four of us climbed into a paddle boat and made it halfway around the lake before Coco started complaining her belly hurt. We figured out she was seasick when she turned light green.

In the middle of a lake on a space-challenged paddle boat, seasickness is serious business.  Alex and I pedaled as fast as we could back to the cabin but went nowhere thanks to the direction of the wind and Lucien's erratic handling of the rudder.  I imagined the other residents of the lake watching us with binoculars and laughing hard until they fell down.  Our predicament would have made me laugh, too, if I wasn't in such fear of a girl hurl.

We made it back to the dock without incident.  And now we know Coco prefers land.

Alex tried to teach Lucien how to canoe, which led to this, my current favorite photograph.  I call it "The Reluctant Canoe Lesson" --

Oscar the schnauzer came with us to the cabin.  It was immediately apparent our dog is not a majestic wild beast.  Our dog is a confused little old man who can't figure out where the hell he is so just curls up inside our suitcase full of towels and waits for it to be over.

 

I hate these people.  I want to go home.

The cabin's only source of heat was a wood stove.  It was a toasty warm, pleasantly wood-smokey scented existence until the middle of the night when the fire burned out and we awoke, so cold we didn't dare plan for the future.  I pushed Alex out of bed each morning with a frigid foot, yelling at the kids to stay snug in their bunk beds until Daddy built a fire.  Thankfully, Alex was once a successful boy scout and his fire-building skills are unmatched.

As cozy as they can be, what is is about cabins that makes them feel like they're constructed of cardboard and Saran Wrap?  And why all the wood paneling?  And why do they all smell the same, musty and woody with a hint of Grandma?

When a cabin is owned by a friend like ours, who offers it to friends and family on a regular basis, the bathroom is a mess of half-empty shampoo and conditioner bottles.  It's like a hundred hotels threw up on each other or, better yet, all the bottles are there competing for the right to wash your body.

  

 "Pick me, pick me"  

There was no internet or TV at the cabin so we were forced to unplug.  At first it was uncomfortable but then we started telling each other stories.  And cooking meals together.  And chopping wood together.  You should see Coco handle an ax, my God, a natural! 

  

We enjoyed "communicating" so much, we've added "buy a cabin" to our list of long-term goals.  We can't do it now, but maybe, hopefully, someday we will own our very own lake cottage with doilies for curtains and circa-1970s avocado green appliances.

Well isn't that just f*cking great news

Our return home was not glorious.  Lacking the desire to cook, I took Coco with me to the Taco Time drive-thru to grab dinner.  At the very moment I pulled up to order, Coco threw up in the back seat.  She was suddenly hot, miserable, and very, very ill.  

The Taco Time lady on the intercom asked for my order a couple times but apparently my words, "Hang on, baby, hang on" aimed over my shoulder into the back seat didn't make sense to her.  She said, "Excuse me?" a couple times until I said, "I'm not talking to you!"  

There was a long pause and then the Taco Time lady said, "ummm....you're not talking to me?"  And I yelled, "No, no not yet!" as I scrambled for paper towels in the backseat.  There was another pause and then she said, the way you would to someone who's obviously very dim, "Do you mean to be in the drive-thru, ma'am?"

Al and I hugged in the kitchen for awhile after I returned with my hard-fought Taco Time order.  Even though life never seems to slow down, at least that part was nice.

Your faithful chaperone forever,

MJ

Snorkel Fever and Sexy Turtles

Most important thing first.  My girl -- Camille, Coco, the Paris baby -- turned three years old over the weekend.  Three years.  Conceived thanks to a gorgeous bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape.  Almost born in a taxi.  And according to the French -- always cold.

We sure are happy to have you around, Ms. Cokes.  You are a giggly, goofy, pink-loving (much to my chagrin) perfect little girl.  You also refuse to potty train and give a swift kick to your potty chair every time you pass it but let's not focus on that part, you're THREE!

Lucien was Coco's current age when we moved to Paris.  It seems impossible.  He turned three our first month in Paris while still living in our temporary apartment.  We were so confused and disoriented by the move, we celebrated his 3rd birthday on the wrong day.  And we didn't even do it well.  Not our best parenting moment.

I think Coco's 3rd birthday went a little better because Seattle family came over and -- OH MY GOSH butterfly wings...

I sure do love that little girl but I've got more material about Hawaii now.  Sit tight, tiresome vacation tales will be over soon.

Alex and I signed up for a six-hour snorkel tour off the Napali coast, the cliff-strewn Western coast of Kauai accessible only by hike or by boat.  I love snorkeling off a boat except boats make me seasick and snorkel masks make me intensely claustrophobic.  Six hours on a nausea machine with a strangulation device attached to my face?  The snorkel tour was my idea, which makes me wonder if I've ever even met myself before.

While waiting with our fellow bleary-eyed coffee-drinking snorkelers for the 7:30 a.m. departure time, many people hummed the Gilligan's Island theme song and elbowed their partners in the ribs to make sure their partner noticed they were being funny.  Handfuls of people were doing this exact same thing yet every single one thought they were being original and irresistibly hilarious.  I'm sure the same thing happens in the waiting area of every boat tour, anywhere, ever.

I rolled my eyes at the lot of them just as Alex elbowed me in the ribs and bellowed "A THREE HOUR TOUR...  A THREE HOUR TOUR."  He was wearing his eager Fozzie Bear expression, waiting for laughs that were never gonna come.  Then he said, "You know, normally I think you're a Mary Ann type but at this hour of the morning you really look more like Gilligan."  It was mean but at least it was original.

Our snorkel tour took place on a catamaran.  Beautiful boat.  The guide told us people were allowed to sit up front on the two trampolines but those who did so were idiots  People who sit on the trampolines get drenched.  As in drenched, drenched.

This reminds me of one of Lucien's logic homework problems: is the last sentence in this series likely true or false?

A.) You have to be an idiot to sit on the trampolines.
B.)  Alex and I eagerly boarded the boat and pushed many people aside to be the first people to sit on the trampolines. 
C.)  Alex and I are the biggest idiots of them all.

They weren't lying about the trampolines.  Drenched drenched.  Compounding the problem was the extremely choppy water we encountered.  Plowing through those whitecaps -- up, down, splash, up, down, splash -- was really something.

It's true.  Drenched drenched.

When  you're prone to seasickness, there is one thing you do NOT want your captain to say as he eyes the waves in front of him.  You do not want him to say  --

"Hang on, everybody, the boat's about to do the hula!"  

But our captain did say that.  And our boat did do the hula.  It didn't take long for greenish-faced people to start hurling.  Alex witnessed one woman stumble into the main cabin and vomit many times into a garbage can.  She then clung to the garbage can like it was her best friend and she had an intense fear of abandonment.  The crew scrambled to get bags in front of pale faces before the boat was covered in a wave of a different kind.

In happy news, it turns out I HAVE met myself before.  I knew myself well enough to prepare for that boat.  I wore motion sickness bracelets, took Dramamine for 24 hours before boarding, chewed ginger gum and had those patches behind my ears.  Maybe it was overkill but glory be, I didn't get seasick.  It was therefore a whole lot of fun riding those waves, bordering on a truly intense high.

Alex "Lieutenant Dan'd" it for awhile (you know the scene I'm talking about?  Forrest Gump?  Anybody?) by white-knuckling onto the trampoline ropes as we hit some big waves.  He got slammed in the face repeatedly by water.  The crewman standing next to me cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled into the wind towards Al, "DO.  NOT.  LET.  GO.  EVEN IF YOUR BATHING SUIT COMES OFF.  WE'LL CATCH IT.  JUST.  DO.  NOT.  LET.  GO."  He had a point, too.  Sometimes the water was so forceful Al's ass nearly made a cameo appearance.

I didn't take many pictures of the boat ride, primarily because of hula boat but also because I wanted to experience the spectacular moment for real and not behind a camera lens.  It's not something I do often.  I'll admit, it was liberating.

What do you mean, I'm supposed to actually "look" at something?  Doesn't the canyon only exist in my camera?

We passed a couple sea turtles copulating in the water.  Everybody loves sexy turtles.  The crew members wolf whistled and hooted and hollered until the boy turtle looked at them like, "Shut UP, you are TOTALLY going to ruin this for me, assholes."  FYI, sexy turtles look like a spooning turtle sandwich rolling around in the water.

We also passed through spinner dolphins.  Hundreds.  Spinner dolphins love playing in front of catamarans so we passed through group after group of happy jumping dolphins.  We trampoline people may have been drenched up front but we also had a front row view -- so who's the idiot now, people inside the cabin vomiting in garbage cans and thinking, "F*cking dolphins, who gives a f*ck just get me off this f*cking boat!?"

The snorkeling part was OK.  It's not the best snorkeling location I've been to but Alex saw a sea turtle and followed it for awhile so that's something.  The snorkeling mask lived up to its expectation; it absolutely made me feel like I couldn't breathe and was going to die floating on my stomach looking at pretty fishies.

I just cannot get used to breathing through my mouth, and not just in snorkeling situations.  When I have a cold and my nose gets stuffed up, I'm likely to sit up all night crying, "I'M NOT GONNA MAKE IT THROUGH THIS."

Anyway, we all snorkeled and had some laughs and when we climbed back onto the boat the crew served us lunch and many beers.

 

The water on the way back wasn't as choppy but several more people still succumbed to the seasickness.

Like the hottie on his honeymoon there in the shorts.  Yeah... he didn't do so well.

Those ladies under the towels weren't so good either.

But me and Al?  It was all over. Six hours. And we felt incredible.  

I have still more Hawaii tales but I'm crazy over here.  It's been a busy week.  Thankfully it's almost over.  And best part -- my best friend from high school arrives tomorrow to stay with us for the weekend.  I haven't seen her in years, not since me-n-Al's wedding.  She wore a really ugly bridesmaid dress for me, a sign of eternal friendship, as it should be.

It's unacceptable it's been so long since we've seen each other. 

Come to me, Ohio Mom!
MJ

Scaring the birds

Did you enjoy my disappearing act?   Sorry if you thought I died.  No worries -- I'm fine, family is too, we've just been distracted by a big old house that needs a stupid amount of work.

But rejoice, for Banister Abbey is ours! We signed the closing documents this morning -- at 6:45 a.m. because Alex had non-stop meetings beginning at 8:00 a.m. and lasting until eternity.

Today we finally have keys to a goddamn house (though not THE Goddamn House, for which I still mourn). Our warrior real estate agent, who has been walking this road with us for a year and a half, is either going to miss us terribly or undergo a complex and dangerous procedure to wipe us from her memory.

It's been so long since I posted, I'm hopelessly behind and am going to have to let some really weird stories go.  In an effort to catch up just a little bit, here is an abbreviated version of recent events.  This is a very long post, but you'll likely not hear from me for another week because of the moving so I'm going to throw it all out there.

Prepare yourselves for the razzle dazzle.

 We saw a flying boat

I chaperoned a field trip to the Japanese Garden in the rain.  My group left shivering with wet pants thanks to near-constant puddle jumping.  I am the worst chaperone ever.  

 

 Lucien went to a fair in a wetsuit

 Coco picked up a six pack at the grocery store

We went to a very cold beach up in Edmonds...

..and took a very nice self portrait there

 I went back to our old house.  I have a lot of feelings about that. 

Another time.

We went to a party.  Alex broke a pint glass...

...so he put a hat on it so no one would know....

Let's see, what else...

Saturday was official Capitol Hill Garage Sale day.  There were sales all over the place.  I scored a set of Fiestaware for cheap, cheap.  I also met a very distraught woman who was trying to finance her divorce through her sale.  I bought all her placemats and napkins and told her everything was going to be all right. 

Lucien may be a hyper little thing but he indulges Coco's need to hold hands every day when walking home from the bus stop.

I went to see a show Saturday night with Seattle Mom and Supermodel Neighbor.  We saw Michael Hurley, famous old folk singer, at a neighborhood music venue which happens to be a bike shop during the day.  It was a hushed show amongst many bicycles.

Seattle Mom and I were supposed to meet Supermodel Neighbor inside.  We got a little worried as we approached the front door, however, because it appeared to be a very subdued show and we were not in a subdued mood.  We became increasingly concerned when we met a hipster outside who dreamily said "Hurley's like a bird sitting in your hand; you don't want to startle him because he might fly away" because Seattle Mom and I are definitely the bird-startling types.

We jumped up and down a few times to expel our rowdiness and went inside.  I liked Michael Hurley very much, especially the song where he repeatedly begged us to stop kicking his dog.  Supermodel Neighbor only had to tell Seattle Mom to "settle down and listen to the music" once.  All in all, a success. 

You could tell it was a real hipster show because they were selling eight-tracks at the front door --

My parents and my sister are on an adventure in New Mexico right now, an adventure which has apparently involved some getaway-style driving and some breaking and entering at Georgia O'Keefe's former ranch.  I'm not sure what the hell they're doing down there, but they appear to be causing trouble, and I wish I was with them.

In other news, Lucien no longer wants to be called "Lucien."  He wants to be called "The Flying Dutchman."  What the hell?

At least we finally got a house.  And what a house it is,
MJ

Plastic kids

Coco loves her dolls.  To be more specific, Coco loves two of her dolls.  The rest can go to hell.

Coco's two dolls are almost always naked.  They are almost always in their cradle.  If they're not in their cradle, they're in her arms.  If they're not in their cradle or in her arms, they're in my arms.  Coco insists.  Do you know how many times I've made dinner holding a naked doll?  It's downright awkward.

Coco's two dolls were recently in my arms when there was a knock at the door.  My two kids were in their room watching a movie on my laptop.  They were absolutely silent.  I was so happy.

I answered the door to a chipper youngish man, a neighbor, apparently, whom I'd never met before.  He said all the neighbors were getting together in a few minutes to work on the "beautification of the traffic circle," and would I like to join them?

"Oh, sorry, can't right now," I said, "I'm here with my two kids, just about to feed them."

The look that crossed his face was really something.  It was a mix of confusion and amazement with a touch of "ohhh sh*t."  I stared back at him with wrinkled brow.  Why was this jerk looking at me like I was crazy?  Did only insane people abstain from the traffic circle beautification process?

It was only after he scooted off the porch as fast as he could I realized I was holding Coco's two naked dolls in the crook of my arm.  I also realized I'd been doing the autopilot "mom sway" with the two dolls, rocking them back and forth AS IF THEY WERE REAL.  I was also, of course, holding a doll bottle because Coco insists on that, too.  "About to feed my two kids" indeed.

If I see that nice youngish man in the neighborhood again, I'm going to go outside with a rope tied around a bag of flour and tell him, "I'm just out walkin' the dog!"  I will also share my ideas for further beautification of the traffic circle -- fairy water with a pinch of snake dust.

We have good friends.  Not a day goes by I don't thank the universe for bringing them to us.  I especially thank the universe for bringing us friends with boats.

We went out on our friend "Uncle Alex"s boat over the weekend.  We learned it's hard to keep two kids occupied on a boat.  My advice to you if you plan on taking little kids out on a sailboat -- don't count on "sailboat excitement" to get you through the day because that wears off about ten minutes into your outing.  Then begins the chorus of "I'm bored" or, in the case of Coco, the senseless kicking of feet and throwing of objects.  You will end up handing them a full bag of potato chips apiece to keep them quiet so you can attempt to enjoy the sailboat yourself.

No matter what they do or say, you must not throw them overboard.  That part is very important.

I'm prone to seasickness.  Quite.  But I still love boats.  It's a recurring theme in my life -- doing things that make me sick.  (See the "Cats with a hangover" post for further info.)

The Unabomber is making sinister plans but oh my gosh!  A seagull!

We're still in post-inspection negotiations with the sellers of Banister Abbey.  The sellers are real pieces of work.  Our realtor tells us we have a real knack for finding the worst sellers in the history of selling houses.  I don't think it was a compliment.

These people are going to give us heart attacks.  Or maybe nervous breakdowns.  At the very least a vicious case of hives.  We're not sure how it's all going to shake out but we're trying hard to keep our Banister Abbey dreams alive. 

OK, off to feed those weird plastic kids that don't move,
MJ