Theo graduates 6th grade

Theo graduated from 6th grade today in a nice ceremony at school, which officially ends our elementary school experience which began in 2017 when Bobby started kindergarten. What a long, strange trip it’s been!

As always, I have mixed feelings about it all - part of me is done with the little kid stuff and ready to move on to the next phase, and with Bobby two years ahead I know exactly what that will look like. But I couldn’t help but look a little longingly at the parents at graduation cradling newborns or corralling littler kids - all of that is in the rear view mirror for me now; it’s hard not to get a little misty about it. Any ideas I had about getting really involved in their elementary schools and really bonding with the other parents is over - things went down the way they did, and that’s it. I stood a chance at their old school, but then Covid ruined that momentum and we never really recovered. 

Theo got a citizenship award (no doubt for being a kinder helper all year) and the presidential silver award (with our loathsome president’s sociopathic signature on it - I thought about blacking it out, but then thought it might make an interesting historical artifact some day). Bobby played hooky from his last day of school to be there, and of his own volition chose to dress up. Now we’re home sorting through Theo’s leftover supplies and artwork, then we’ll go for lunch and end of school ice cream later. I asked Bobby if he would still get ice cream on the day he gets his Masters and he said yes. 

We’ve got a few days to prepare for Hawaii and then we leave on Monday. I’m looking forward to having this time off from the daily grind, especially dragging myself and everyone else out of bed (to be fair, Theo’s always up because he’s a morning person, but Bobby and I hate it). The kids don’t start their summer camp until after 4th of July, so we have a nice long break before we have to be on a schedule again.

On to High School

Bobby graduated from 8th grade on Thursday. There were no caps and gowns and no diplomas, but a nice walking ceremony and some acknowledgments. Bobby got High Honors, Perfect Attendance, and Service in Action. I had him wear his black pants and shirt from homecoming, and I’m glad I did, since almost all the kids were dressed up. This is a funny age, since there’s such a discrepancy between the kids who have gone through puberty and those who haven’t. Some of the boys looked about nine years old; others could have been eighteen. Bobby is right on target, I think. 

We all got up early and went to wait on line, then the H left after Bobby walked, and I thought went to work - then I get a notice that our front door is open and our alarm has been tripped. I can’t check my ring camera because I just happen to be charging the battery; I have about twenty minutes of sheer panic as I’m trying to get a hold of neighbors to go check it out, and then the H calls to tell me he went home frantically to pee and couldn’t remember our alarm code. Why he didn’t call me the minute this happened, I don’t know, but at least our house wasn’t being ransacked as our 8th grader was graduating. It took a good hour for the adrenaline to leave my system enough for my hands to stop shaking. 

Bobby came home after graduation, but I did make him go to school the next day. He told me they did nothing but play hacky sack and hang out on their phones; and they have three more days of this. Grades are in so nobody’s teaching anything, they’re just being baby sat until they reach the required 180 days of school. Theo graduates Wednesday and Bobby wants to go, so I’ll let him play hooky that day being as it’s the last day of school so nobody cares. That means two half days and then an early morning graduation and then we’re done. 

My sister is visiting and we took a hike up by the boys’ old school. I could see the graduation getting underway there…I still have moments of wishing I had just let both kids stay there through 6th grade as originally planned. But I know I need to get over that because the kids are fine - they don’t regret the move, and it all worked out. I guess I feel guilty/bad that I’m so disconnected from their current schools and never made an effort to connect with any of the parents. There’s still time, of course. But I feel like I’ve failed in that department. I have my dance community and those are all the friends I need, really. But it would be nice to be connected to other parents. 

Closing out for the season

It’s odd to close out a vacation home for the summer…at the beginning of summer. But it honestly makes sense for my life schedule - 90% of my work is in the summer, between my event and singing at Knott’s every weekend. So summer is not relax time for me, it’s work time. I hate it, but hey, at least we get a nice summer trip in there somewhere. We leave for Hawaii in two weeks. 

It was hard to be in the desert this weekend knowing we won’t be out there again until September or possibly October if that weekend after my event is too hot or I get a gig or something. I couldn’t help escaping the constant thought that soooo much will be different by September, in ways I can’t even conceive right now. First, the California governor and mayor races will be more honed (primaries are Tuesday and both races are contentious and stressful); we’ll be just two months shy of the mid terms, and personally, I’ll know what happened at my event. The uncertainty of the moment is almost unbearable. I keep compulsively checking my turnout against last year, but at three months out, I’m still behind so there’s no way I’m not losing more people. As always, the question is, just how bad is it going to be? And, more importantly, how far is this going to go? Is this going to turn around when the economy turns around, or are big splashy dance events like this becoming dinosaurs? Boy do I wish this was happening ten years from now and not right now. This event still has to be successful for sixteen more years if I’m going to survive. Right now that’s not looking so great. Which a couple of years ago was a thought that wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. How do we survive the one-two punch of COVID followed by Trump? I honestly don’t know. Just try to survive. That’s my motto.

This week starts the graduation extravaganza - Bobby graduates Thursday, Theo the following Wednesday, with a confusing collection of half days and pot lucks and activities for the remaining eight days of school. My sister comes into town Tuesday, and I finally get to get my will paperwork together and signed and notarized. I also have an engineer coming over to assess the collapsing garage, and a mortgage guy working on my HELOC to hopefully pay for the garage and provide a buffer against economic issues for the next few years. 

This weekend we had a nice small town vibe of visiting the local public pool (would be a lot more fun if it wasn’t always freezing cold) followed by the new (lame) Star Wars movie at the old timey drive in. Then I stripped the beds, packed up the old food and anything that could melt in 120° heat, and we left. Boy, am I dying to know what our lives will be like when we return. Everything is happening so fast these days, you can live a whole lifetime in just a day. 

Grad night

Bobby is currently on a bus headed up to Six Flags for 8th grade grad night. Around midnight I’ll make the trek over to school to pick him up. Then one more short week, a couple of days, and he graduates from junior high. Sunrise, sunset.

I remember my end of middle school very well even though it was forty years ago. It was especially poignant for me because, as noted in my last entry, I was leaving my elite private performing arts school (which I got full scholarships for each year, I might add) to join an arts-leaning public high school that I’d have to take the A train to every day where I knew no one and had no idea what to expect. That summer - the summer of ‘86 - I had a cassette of Peter Gabriel’s  So with Tears for Fears’ Songs From the Big Chair on the other side which I listened to non-stop and still listen to regularly. I had recently seen American Graffiti for the first time and had become obsessed with the 50s, suddenly wearing my Salvation Army finds with much more intention. That summer we finally got a television after not having one for four years (I entertained myself by re-enacting musicals while listening to original cast albums, compulsively reading Little House on the Prairie or the CS Lewis Narnia series over and over, or making elaborate Victorian costumes for my cloth hand-made dolls), and I distinctly remember parking myself in front of the TV for the entire day all summer since there was nothing to do and nowhere to go. Sometimes I would watch Manhattan Cable’s Channel J, which featured all-nude talk shows, a guy named Ugly George who interviewed people on the street while his balls hung out of his shorts, and porn with large blue stars covering any naughty bits. Ah, the 80s in New York City.

Entering high school would be a huge culture shock. My first day of school I wore a neat skirt and blouse and ballet flats, picturing myself in American Graffiti, but soon learned this was not the way. My outfit quickly became ripped jeans, sneakers, and Jimi Hendrix t shirts. I talked to almost no one until April of that school year when an extrovert adopted me and insisted I join her for afternoon hangouts at Washington Square park, a moment that would change my life forever. I always thought moving around a lot taught me how to be adept at making friends, but lately I’ve been taking a second look at this assumption; being naturally shy and terrified of rejection, I think I actually suck at making friends but luck out when people who are good at it randomly choose to talk to me. When I think about how much I changed my speech, behavior, and appearance in that first year of high school in order to fit in and make friends, I wonder how much of that is “masking” and how much is just normal social adaptation that everyone does. The kids at Bobby’s school, from a distance, all appear to look and act exactly the same. While in the 80s I feel like it was more socially acceptable to make a statement with your appearance, I also know that even then you had to make the right statement. Turns out counter cultures can be even more restrictive and gate keep-y than culture itself.

Recently I came across the “fan theory” that the Alison character in The Breakfast Club was actually alone in detention and made up all the other characters in her mind - the stereotypical jock, princess, geek, and burnout. Mind blown! We have yet to show the kids any John Hughes movies due to the rampant sexism and racism, but I think they’re just about the age where we could show them with some guidance beforehand. 

Last night I attended an informational zoom about a 10th grade trip to Korea that Bobby has been selected for. Turns out it’s going to cost $5400. Ummm next! There’s no way we can afford that, even eighteen months away. There is a senior trip; we’ll save for that instead - maybe things will be less gnarly by 2030 (please).

Money concerns dominate my thoughts right now, as I know they do for so many Americans. My event is lagging, and even though I’m fairly confident I’ll just squeak by this year, two years in a row of losses is not good, and makes me wonder if events like this will even be feasible going forward. Am I going to be out of business by the time Bobby graduates? After thirty years, are big dance events going to end because nobody can afford them anymore? I’m terrified.

In light of this, I’ve taken it upon myself to look into taking out a HELOC on the house. There’s zero reason not to - it’s just an emergency fund in case everything goes to shit (and even if everything doesn’t go to shit, I’ll for sure need it to pay for the collapsing garage wall and maybe to supplement the kids’ college funds). I’m working with the guy who did my refi during COVID, and he’s confident with my equity and good credit that I can get a good deal. So hopefully sometime in June that’ll be in place so I can feel less panicky. Boy would it be nice to not worry about money, huh?

Graduation countdown

I didn’t realize just how long it’d been since I last blogged!

I guess there hasn’t been much to talk about other than the usual themes of money and political fears and rages. We’re all in countdown mode - three weeks of school left for both kids, plus a few throw-away days in June. For Bobby, at least, he still has several days of school left AFTER he graduates on June 4. I’m not sure how to make the case that he should still attend. It’s wild - and scary - to think he’s starting high school in just a few months. Of course, for him, unlike me, the transition will be barely noticeable; he’s staying at the same school he’s already been at for two years, with all his same friends, some of which he’s known since kindergarten. I, on the other hand, was transferring from a small elite private performing arts school to a large public school in a completely different area where I knew no one and would suffer in isolation most of my freshman year until an extrovert adopted me in April. Bobby will not have this experience, and I love that for him.

He’ll also be joined by his brother who, having been at the feeder elementary school for three years in which nearly all of his friends are switching over with him, will no doubt be awash in friends. Theo wants to check out the sports program and I hope he does. I still feel a lot of guilt about never getting these kids into sports - but I had my reasons; first, the pandemic hit right at the time most kids start sports, then budget was always a concern, then I didn’t want our entire lives eaten up by practices and games (pretty much every mother I’ve talked to with a kid in sports tells me how much they hate it). But if Theo can get his sports kick at school, bring it on. 

After jumping through various hoops, Bobby has been accepted as a CIT at the rec center summer camp. I think the resume, the interview, the applying was all just procedural, really - only three kids applied and we still have to pay full price. But I’m pleased he still wants to do it, and at least we have one more summer of both kids being occupied and fed lunch for the final five weeks of summer. Who knows what next summer brings, but for now, one summer at a time.

For some unknown reason I have become obsessed with reviving my long dead failure of a vegetable garden and have been obsessive/compulsively putting it together for weeks - and just in time, too, since we’re at the very end of plant season here. I had a friend come over and do a general consult on my space - she recommended utilizing all the southern light in the front of the house, and using my many abandoned pots so I can move things around if they’re failing. Something about her light and fun approach to gardening was really infectious - if something doesn’t thrive, pull it out and try something else, just enjoy, it’s fun! Gardening has such a HUGE learning curve and can be so frustrating, but I think if you look at it as a learning experience and an adventure and not something that has to be 100% successful, it’s a lot more enjoyable. For me, having everything in front where I see it every day has been a game changer - I remember to water, I keep an eye on their progress. So far everything is doing well except the Thai basil. I currently have: two tomatillos, two tomatoes, Japanese eggplant, jalapeños, shishitos, lunch box peppers, two mints, Thai basil, thyme, parsley, stevia, a raspberry bush, dill, and I planted a “living lettuce” and living basil from the supermarket. I also have calabacitas squash, Japanese sweet potato, strawberries and zucchini along the side of the house where the chickens used to be. In the fall I’d like to turn the shady back yard planter into a mushroom hub and plant a passion fruit vine along the fence on the east side. I don’t expect all these things to survive or be fruitful, but I’m getting a kick out of watching them grow. Maybe I needed something hopeful in these dark times? Perhaps. 

April ennui

I’m experiencing my usual April ennui - it’s sort of an in-between time, when the major holidays are behind us but summer is still months away. Now it’s just the weeks plodding along until the kids graduate. Being the anxious person I am, with my eldest headed to high school in August, I have all kinds of thoughts that I’m sure are common right now:

What do we do about college? Despite saving vigilantly, we probably will end up with a third to a half of what they’ll actually need if they attend four year schools. I don’t want them starting their lives in debt. And all the research and work to figure out how to work the system is going to fall solely on me. Not to mention helping choose careers and colleges at all (I’m assuming - I don’t really know what role high school guidance counselors play at this point). And now every move you make as a young person centers around what impact AI will have on your career plans.

Where will these kids live? They certainly can’t afford to live in LA. Will they just live with us forever? Will I, in fact, end up converting the shed into a garçonniere for one or both of them to live well into their adulthood? 

Will they have relationships? Will they find careers they enjoy? Will they have children? Will they have good lives? I feel like I struggled so much as a young person and was so unhappy so much of the time - but again, I was feral. I was entirely on my own with no family support and no pathway to achieving my dreams, not to mention broke and isolated and bored. Will it be different for them? Will they go to college and have friends and goals and hope for the future? Despite the hope that being born under Obama brought, they’ve now lived their entire lives under Trump (or the threat of Trump), and although I expect an unraveling in the next few years, it’s going to be slow and not at all guaranteed. The world will never be as good as it could have, should have been. They’ve been robbed. And yet I have to keep this thought to myself lest they be plunged into despair. 

Right now, neither kid knows what they want to do, neither kid has any interest in anything except video games. It’s depressing, but I also don’t know what to do about it - you can introduce musical instruments and cooking and sports as much as you want, but if they’re not interested, they’re not interested. How much of their lack of interest is my fault and how much is normal for kids this age in this time, I don’t know. They still seem to be happy kids who have lots of friends and get good grades and the teachers all love, so I must be doing something right??? 

My job is to get them to school on time, make sure they do their homework, make sure they brush their teeth and shower, make sure they get to the dentist and doctor, plot out our vacations, sign permission slips, plan holidays and birthdays and presents. Theo will need a computer this year for school; next year he’ll get a phone. Starting next year I’m going to have to educate myself about college - how to apply, where to apply, how to fund it, how the California UC system works. The one thing they have on their side is plummeting birth rates - I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing a lot fewer kids will be applying for college in 2029 than there were ten years ago or even today. 

I’m in the autumn of my life - suddenly all my ambition is gone; I have zero interest in trying to get a new business off the ground or start a new hobby or do anything, really, except just count down til I don’t have to do my event anymore and can just live off my paltry savings and social security, a reality that’s only sixteen (or less) years away. Right now the possibility of even being able to run sixteen more events is looking pretty grim - attendance is lagging, hotel room booking is lagging (still not sold out and it’s almost May - in previous years I was sold out in January or February). I’m preparing for more losses this year, and I’ll squeeze by thanks to my giant tax return - but that’s not sustainable. If I keep losing year after year I’m in big trouble. Thankfully I appear to have a decent contract person at the hotel with whom I’ve been working to implement some protections in future contracts, ie, the ability to downsize the event without penalty and with late notice, not years in advance where I can’t possibly predict what’s going to happen. The fact that the big Swedish camp has been going since the 80s and has survived economic trends and social trends and all sorts of horrific political upheaval in our scene, far worse than I’ve experienced, gives me hope. Events don’t typically die unless the people in charge choose to kill them, especially not established beloved ones like mine. But, adjustments may have to be made, mainly, dropping the Thursday night and returning to our old format, which would be a huge bummer but may be necessary if I lose people again this year and then again in 2027. At that point I’ll have no choice. 

And in the middle of all this, in the next four to five years, I’ll have kids going to and graduating from high school, and getting on with their lives, and quite possibly moving out. I can’t fathom what it will be like to have kids that are out on their own and you don’t hear from them for weeks or even months…and yet, if all goes well, this is exactly where I’ll be in just a few years. I’m glad I have other things in my life, mainly, the dance community, otherwise I don’t know what the hell I’d do without the comfortable routine of taking care of kids. No matter what I’ll be an emotional wreck, this is certain. 

I went to the desert by myself last weekend because the friend that was supposed to join me got sick. Honestly, it was boring and lonely. I’m so used to being constantly around people that I don’t like being alone anymore. When you’re surrounded by people you long to just read quietly and cook for yourself and have some quiet, but then when you get all that it just sort of feels hollow. But I also know it really is what you’re used to - years from now when the H is gone and the kids are gone and I am in fact permanently on my own for the rest of my life (unless I meet another man, which is unlikely), it’ll be a lot easier to lean into it and make the most of it like I did in my thirties - joining clubs and traveling and trying new things. It’s sad and somewhat alarming to think of our desert place as not being practical once the H goes. So much of what happens out there depends on his brute strength and ability to fix things, and things need fixing pretty much all of the time. If the kids aren’t interested in keeping it, it may have to be sold, and nobody would want a place like that unless they were slightly crazy. One thing that happened while I was out there was the neighbor with all the shipping containers texted me that he wants to sell and do we want it. My first instinct was YES so that we don’t end up with some nightmare neighbor, but then I realized it would have to be a cash sale (there’s no mortgages for places like that) and I had a local realtor come by and assess the place, and his thought was everything on it plus the land is worth about $50,000 but honestly it’s not really worth anything to anybody. It’s just a mess of half-finished projects - even the little cabin they built is completely unfinished, just studs like it was two years ago. And that’s my main feeling about it - we don’t need any of that, and it’s just more money and headaches right when we’re done with that phase. It can’t be lived in or rented. It is, as the realtor said, valueless. So I passed, and we’ll see if he actually lists it or gets any takers. Personally I think the best case scenario would be if he took all the crap away that he hauled out there and abandoned the place, leaving it the way it was when we moved in, with a nice unobstructed sunset view. I think a lot of people are like him, they find places in the desert and have high hopes and put in a ton of work, but they all lose interest when they find out how inhospitable it really is out there. It’s the story of Wonder Valley, really - all the LA hopefuls who bought cheap 5 acre plots in the 50s, built tiny cabins, used them for a generation of target practice and tortoise chasing, then the kids had no interest and let the places rot. That could be the fate of our little place, too. 

Back on the app

After some fiddling around, I was able to get back on the old blog app on my phone and upload photos for the boys’ birthdays, yay! So I’m back in business. I felt disincentivized to blog without being able to share photos, especially when there’s trips or milestones involved. Glad that’s been resolved.

Last week was our spring break trip, which was a bit of a throwback to our pandemic travel days. We spent two nights in an Airbnb trailer in Bombay Beach and revisited some of that area that I think we last saw in 2021 or ‘22 - Salvation Mountain, East Jesus. And added on some things we missed last time along the south western tip of the Salton Sea such as the “mud volcanoes” (accessed next to a geothermal plant which involved some mild trespassing) and searching for some more geothermal pools out in the marshlands which we never did find. We finally got a meal at the Ski Inn (the only restaurant for miles). We also visited Shield’s Date Shakes in Indio and Slowjamastan (a self-declared sovereign nation in the desert) and did a hike in Anza-Borrego called The Slot. Here are some shots from that first two days:

Then we headed north to our cabin and hiked a gnarly trail called The Ladders which took nearly all day - slot canyons, bouldering, and an encounter with a baby rattler, but we survived! 

By the time we got to our cabin late Wednesday we were pretty tuckered out - and we were dealing with some pretty extreme winds which made us not want to do anything. I got us to go to the Mojave National Preserve for some sand boarding, but the winds were too intense and then Theo announced he had to poop, so we had no choice but to head back to the parking area and give up. I spent a small fortune on a two hour soak in a hot tub at a small hot spring resort about five minutes from our place that was, in my opinion, worth every penny.

Saturday we went to see Gary Numan at Pappy & Harriet’s (which was so awesome!) and drove home after.

Despite a little flailing around when we got to the cabin and not really having much to do, I thought it was a swell trip. So much so that I’ve been pretty sluggish and disoriented ever since I got back. It definitely didn’t help that Monday morning I had to get up at the crack of dawn to go line up to register the kids for summer camp. I was able to get Theo in, but apparently since Bobby is a CIT there’s now a separate interview and training process that he’ll have to go through before he’s admitted, so that still hangs in the balance. Then yesterday we were all bracing ourselves for nuclear war. So, needless to say, I’ve been a bit distracted!