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.