Midsummer

My event is starting to hit in earnest. Just 4 1/2 weeks to go, nearly a week of which I’ll be gone to NY for a very intimidating stint singing with a trio at Birdland (I leave Thursday). 

I don’t feel crazed yet - everything feels well mapped out and under control - but I did take a bit of a knock down of enthusiasm when two people tried fighting with me over my policies (and it’s the same argument I have several times a year, and it drives me absolutely bonkers), and it reminded me of how gnarly things are about to get, as it’s the final month and all the chaotic people start coming out of the woodwork with their multitudinous problems and issues that I have to somehow magically fix (usually by bending the rules). Sigh. It’s not pleasant, but here is where I start earning the money. 

It’s the boys’ penultimate week of rec center camp. According to Theo, there are no other kids their age there - the closest kid to his age is nine, and this week I noticed on the sign-in sheet that Bobby was the only CIT. I had been hoping we could push this camp for at least a couple more years, but now I’m wondering if they’re going to tell me next year that they don’t want to go anymore. Again, this is a problem for another time. But it’s obvious this particular camp is skewed towards little kids - most are in the 5-7 ballpark - so I don’t know how much appeal it’ll continue to have, honestly. At the moment they’re not complaining about it - I think on some level they like being out of the house doing activities rather than being glued to screens indoors all day - and I don’t ask their opinion on it. Grateful to have this inexpensive resource, for now. 

I’ve been in “tackle your demons” mode lately, so decided to address head-on the issue of my painful toe and how I end up limping through all my singing gigs (this is a lot more apparent now as I’m singing more often than usual). I had a sad moment where I realized I just can’t wear any of my shoes anymore. The combination of even the slightest heel and a tight toe box leave me in excruciating pain; but finding wide enough shoes that still look somewhat dressy and vintage that aren’t Mary Janes seems like a unicorn. After extensive research I actually found at least one pair that works - I’ve ordered three online, returned one, and am waiting on one more. I’m glad I have one pair to bring to NYC. I hope the other pair arrives in time and is workable. I need these for my event, too. No more screwing around, I need to fix this problem, pronto. I’ll save my actual heels for when I get a cortisone shot and can live pain-free for a few weeks each year. 

So soon we’ll be in school mode; it’ll be the last year that Theo will have one teacher, and I’ll be scrambling to see who he got and who’s in his class. I keep checking both their school sites for supply lists but there aren’t any yet; I may end up just sending them in with some notebooks and pens and pencils and see if that’s good enough. Thankfully we have so many leftovers from previous years that I may not have to actually buy anything. I’m going to have an eighth grader. Crazy!

53, and ten years

I am 53 today. And ten years ago last night I met the H, which, as I discovered by reading blog posts from the time, I used to refer to as Blown-Out 80s Rockabilly Tattoo Guy. Ha! He still has that blown-out tattoo, and I now have two of my own.

To celebrate, we went to the restaurant where we met, which has unfortunately turned into a terribly reviewed cheap pizza joint, so we just snapped a quick picture and walked to a nearby sushi place instead for our actual dinner.

It’s funny looking back on that night in 2015. How I had had dinner with a friend I am sadly no longer in contact with after we lost touch when she moved to the east coast, but back then, she was one of my closest friends. I was tired and fed up with what I had recently experienced from online dating - the cool, sexy movie nerd guy who blew up at me when I called him out for not texting me back for several days (now, looking back, realizing he probably had an issue with alcohol and definitely anger issues), the weird probably rapist guy who ghosted me, and all the other multitudinous rejections and misfires. I wasn’t excited about meeting this new guy - I liked his enthusiasm but was put off by his bad spelling and grammar. Still, I walked across the street to meet him, and immediately liked his kind, engaged vibe, his intensity, his stories of his difficult past. I felt like he would “get” me. And he did, in more ways than one.

Ten years is a LONG time. The difference between 43 and 53 is immense, but, as I had hoped, at 53 I still feel “like myself”. I still feel joy and contentment and normalcy, even with everything going on in this country. Having long felt that my mother lost her mind at this age and never really recovered - it was around now she started having that “mysterious ailment” that went on to kill her 25 years later - I was always worried about hitting this age. But, so far, so good. My periods are regular but erratic (always early or late but always show up), so I’m far from actual menopause, and who knows what I’ll be like when that starts happening, but as of this moment I still feel normal and competent. I hate that staying at a healthy weight is almost impossible now (it was effortless at 43), I hate that my arthritic toe makes my life difficult and painful every single day, I hate that I’m now blind as a bat. But I feel mentally sharp and physically capable, and am very much enjoying this phase of life with two mid-aged kids who are largely independent and easy to be around. We talked a bit last night about how hard it was being a mother of two young boys - it was really, really brutal at times - and how I often contemplated therapy or anti-depressants when in fact it was mostly the relentlessness of raising toddlers and preschoolers that was getting to me. Suddenly that weight lifted when Theo started school. I think my mother dying right around that time was also a big shift for the better, honestly. Everything has looked up since then.

And the four of us have so far survived a pandemic and two god-awful Drumf regimes (so far, anyway), and somehow I’m still in this house (paid off!) and still running my event (27 years!) and my relationship still stands despite the expected petty grievances and complaints (when my sister was visiting last week, I took out two large empty juice containers from the refrigerator left there by the H and said, “exhibit A”). 

I worry for the future, for sure - I worry about the environment, I worry about how the hell we’re going to pay for college, where these kids will be able to get jobs and afford to live, will they end up in their childhood bedroom well into their 30s and 40s, with no relationships and no jobs, depressed and smoking weed like so many young men today? Is that the future we’re preparing them for? Unlike the future I faced in the early 90s, which seemed bleak with talk of recession and the coming computerization of everything, but still, a young girl with no college degree like me could still land a decent office job, get an apartment, and a few years later even manage to buy a house. Will these kids have those opportunities (or luck)? I worry about this all the time. Thankfully at least they have a loving launchpad in us and this house, and they’re both smart, capable kids (and Theo has exceptional interpersonal skills, which will get him far). 

For me, right now everything is just fine - event is still going well (on par with last year, still), feel healthy, kids enjoying their summer. I can’t believe how quickly school is starting up again. No matter what it’s going to be a tight year financially due to the extra day of the event and having robbed from this year to pay off the house last October, but I have zero problem with spending our vacations in the desert (except next summer, of course) or camping. 

Here’s to another ten years. Things are going to look wildly different by then!

For the country that should be, not the one that is

Thank goodness a like minded friend invited us to a low key BBQ on the 4th with the intention of providing a refuge for those of us who didn’t feel like celebrating. I definitely didn’t feel like going to our usual high school fireworks show, not after the bill of course passed after the entire GOP caved (much to my endless revulsion, turns out some of these holdouts were only holding out to force a meet and greet with Trump for some free merch - kill me now). 

So we made the long drive up to Lompoc, picking up a friend on the way, and it was exactly what we all needed. We stuffed our faces and talked for hours about our fears. My host had just gotten her kids their first passports and was looking into dual citizenship with Mexico. Funnily enough, late the night before I had emailed a Brazilian law firm that specializes in dual citizenship to see what it would entail. This is something I’ve considered for years but never taken any steps towards. The short answer from the lawyer is yes, my birth certificate showing my father as born in Brazil would be enough, and it would cost $1500. I can, of course, do it myself through a consulate and not pay a lawyer fee. But I do have to ask myself what the purpose of it is, and if it’s worth doing. Brazilian citizenship comes with certain obligations - I would have to vote in their elections, and they do have compulsory military service for young men (if, say, we fled to Brazil as a family and I got citizenship for the boys). Since it’s not just me as an individual but me and a husband and two children, the idea of being able to “flee” quickly is kind of moot - leaving them behind isn’t an option. And to have a passport I believe requires fluency in Portuguese. So, it’s complicated. It’s nice to have a fantasy escape plan, but I don’t think this is a practical plan. Brazil wouldn’t be my escape country of choice - anywhere in Europe would make way more sense. And if it’s about possibly retiring to somewhere, like France, as a kinder, gentler place to live my golden years, I can do that without being a citizen. 

So the kids had fun with the illegal fireworks (our running joke all night was “what laws? We’re not a country of laws anymore!!”), we made the almost three hour drive home safely, and I’ve just been puttering around doing errands and working on my event all weekend. My sister comes in for a week tomorrow night and the boys start their local rec center camp tomorrow. After a few days of sleeping in, from now on every day is accounted for until school resumes in six weeks. 

I have to say, the “feral summer” days haven’t been too bad. The kids entertain themselves (with screens…) and I can pretty much go about my days as I usually would, since they can be left alone for hours now. I would definitely not want to spend more than a few days at a stretch like this in future summers, but it’s good to know it’s an option. Gone are the days of having to have activities and supervision for the kids every second of every day. This current iteration is parenting I can get behind. 

Cruising at the end of the world

So. We just returned from our first and last cruise. Ha! It wasn’t terrible. We all went in with positive attitudes and all enjoyed it to some extent. But I just wouldn’t do it again, not unless it was something special and unique in a foreign country or something (like the Mediterranean cruise I did years ago, or the one on the Yangtze River, or the Mekong River). The first day in the H and I looked at each other and said, “nope”. So, glad we were on the same page.

The good:

I did enjoy being on the water and getting to spend long hours reading and watching the waves. The weather was mostly good except one very cold and windy day.

People were very polite and friendly. I mostly avoided people because I didn’t want to hear a bunch of right wing bullshit. The H went off on his own quite a bit and met lots of people and had lots of conversations and heard a bunch of right wing bullshit. I prefer my method.

Food was decent and, of course, plentiful. We went to the fancy seated dinner a couple of times before we discovered the buffet had more variety and was generally more enjoyable. 

Pools were nice and warm and not annoyingly overcrowded, although getting a lounge chair was near impossible nearly all of the time.

We did all the silly things - ping pong, archery, rock climbing wall (kids), wave pool surfing (kids), flying practice (kids), various table games, bumper cars, trivia, name that tune, family bingo (I won twice but only called it once so some kids could win, which one did). Even with all of that it often felt like there were too many hours to fill, if you can believe that. Still, if these vacations are about family bonding, we did plenty of that, which is good.

We got off the boat only once, in Cabo San Lucas, and did a slightly scary tour of Lovers Beach and Divorce Beach, scary because the water was very rough and getting on and off the sketchy boat was a recipe for disaster. Thankfully none of us got sucked under the boat with the extreme undertow. Way too rough to swim. But I was delighted by the remote feeling of the place and the manta rays popping out of the water every few minutes. So cool!

The bad:

There was such an intense learning curve with this cruise that I get the feeling it’s a lot like the Marvel universe - you really can’t enjoy it unless you immerse yourself in it entirely and make it a whole way of life. We were the obvious newbies in the group - everyone else (it seemed) knew all the unspoken tricks and had all their shit together with their matching family cruise t shirts and personalized magnets for their room doors. I can see how people see cruising as a fun secret club and that people really get a lot of fun and bonding out of it. But, it’s just not us. So I have zero interest in doing the work of getting in the club.

I had bought a (very expensive) internet package for two devices so at least the H and I could find each other on the boat - it took hours and multiple calls to customer service to figure out how to log on and then switch devices; huge pain in the ass. 

None of us had any water the whole time - it wasn’t easy finding refill stations for our water bottles, or they were several decks away and not worth the trip. So all of us drank expensive sugary drinks all week which I hated. I could have pre-paid for bottled water to be delivered to our room, and probably should have. But again, $$$. The nickel and diming was out of control, which I expected. Even the games in the arcade all cost several dollars per play. Alcoholic drinks (for the H) averaged about $18 each. Tiny, sugary lemonades by the pool were $8. Sheesh. 

The entertainment in our room was piss poor - just a handful of pay-per-view movies and the same ten or so channels playing the same crappy shows over and over. There were many times we just wanted to relax in the room and watch something, but the options were so limited. Didn’t like that at all. 

No waterslide!!! I don’t know how I managed to book a cruise that didn’t have a waterslide, when that was the one thing I was looking forward to, but I did. 

Other than that, I was pleased none of us got violently ill (although I did feel vaguely nauseated for a couple of days - it passed); we went to a couple of (I thought) boring and crappy shows, but the kids liked them, so I kept my snotty opinion to myself. I would have liked to have checked out the disco at night - how often do I get to dance to modern (or, not 1940’s) music? - but every night we were all just completely trashed by 10 pm. Oh well. We’re just too damned old to rage all night, I guess! 

I think for me I would say cruising is a) too complicated with inside tricks and information and b) at least along this west coast, not enough about exploring cool new places, especially wild places, for me. I’d rather see Mexico from a resort involving tours to interesting places, like how my friends and I went to Cancun. 

We definitely could have - should have - done a shorter cruise by a day or two and saved some money. I wanted something where decisions were made for me…but as it turns out, there are just as many decisions to be made on a cruise as there are on a road trip. And most of them involve things I have no interest in - alcohol, getting a nice steak (puke), tacky expensive watches and jewelry and endless pitches for spa treatments and bullshit therapies. It was, indeed, Vegas on a boat. And I hate Vegas. So there you go. 

With all that said, I’m glad we tried it, and everyone had a good time. It sure was nice to zip home in a half hour after getting off the boat (I felt for people who had to head to LAX to get on a flight across the country). But I think we’ll stick with Hawaii (I know, I know, I swore off Hawaii, too, but I sure can’t beat free lodging and mostly free flights), road trips, Death Valley, etc etc. 

Now we return to endless sadistic ICE raids in our neighborhood and the passing of the Big Ugly Bill that’s literally going to cause the deaths of thousand of people. Sigh. Back to Trump’s America. Sure was nice to be somewhere else for a few days.