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Silent Sunday
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Sunday, March 4, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Party Karma
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My calender for this weekend was blissfully empty. Given that it is bracketed by day trips to San Diego on Friday and Monday I was grateful. I've nothing against San Diego, indeed it is very pleasant down there, but it is rather a long commute.
I had the ability to be spontaneous, but was lacking in inspiration, so I just I took the kids to a new playground near our house. This was, until recently, one of the shabbiest little spots in the neighbourhood, a dirty sand pit with a flaky metal climber and a couple of hazardous swings. Back in my pre-kid days it was the spot where I would meet up with a rag tag bunch of dog owners on a Friday night. We would share wine in paper cups, and let our dogs wrestle in the sand pit. Now it is full of serenely beautiful couples toting gorgeous children with the kind of complex Bay Area ethnicity that will render them unlikely to ever be checking a single box on the census forms.
We were heading home, enjoying the January sun, when we saw a bouncy house being inflated. Though I recognize that having a party at a local park is a fun and economical way to celebrate, I always get a sinking feeling when our chosen play spot happens to have a party going on. My kids love bounce houses. Ordinarily quite satisfied with the slides and swings, they will mope and whine and ignore everything on the playground, itching to bounce with the party kids.
As I walked past it I noticed a few kids I knew flying down the inflatable slide, Then a few more. Then I spied several families who I know really well, who waved and beckoned as if they were expecting to see me. I realized I was looking at most of the parents and children in Geekygirl's class.
Geekygirl tugged at my sleeve. "Mommy, Jasmine gave me an invitation last week, to her birthday!" she said. I didn't recall digging any such item out of her backpack, though on reflection I haven't actually emptied the backpack for several days. I then vaguely recollected an email, and a face book invitation to this exact occasion. Such serendipity on the back of such scheduling failure! Still, I was un-made up, barely respectably dressed, and of course without a gift for the birthday girl. I confessed to the hosts that I had totally forgotten about the party, and they of course insisted that we stay. Geekygirl had set out that morning in a tutu and tights, and was quite appropriately attired. Perhaps that is a good strategy to adopt. Always dress as if you might unexpectedly find yourself at a birthday party.
Or perhaps a better strategy would be to get important social events into my calender. This faux pas falls on the back of two recent "booking the babysitter for the wrong night" mistakes, and one "showing up for a party on the wrong day" disaster. I am really quite well organized in the workplace, but haven't seemed to translate that over to my social calender. Do you think my friends will think it strange if I ask them to send me outlook calender invitations for anything they expect me to show up at?!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
What I wore Wednesday (or "i'm too old for stripper heels")
I just discovered a great blog by an American mum and feminist living in the UK.
She has a linky for "what I wore Wednesday" (because even feminists care what they wear).
I'd been looking for the opportunity to blog about my outfit choice for our company holiday party, and couldn't resist joining in.
I have become completely addicted to the classic Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress. Thanks to a steady supply of barely worn ones showing up on eBay I now have quite a collection, and I chose this racy little backless number for the work party, (with strategic spanx and a solid backless bustier for added dancing confidence). Going backless to the party was a last minute gut decision. I took a chance that I am now well respected enough at work for my scientific and strategic insights to reveal to my peers and superiors that I have a large tattoo of the San Francisco skyline across my shoulder blades.
To complete the look I picked up this seasons must have; spangled platform stiletto heels, footwear that can only be described as 'stripper shoes'. It was a good do, and as the wine and music flowed I shook my stuff out on the dance floor as if I was twenty five again. My knees, however, are forty one, and ever since the party they have been feeling rather decrepit. I am rather annoyed with myself for tweaking my knees before ski season has even got started and I suspect knee injuries are an occupational hazard in the world of the exotic dancer.
I got so many compliments though, including a heartfelt expression that I looked way too glamourous to be a pharmacologist, that it may have been worth it.
She has a linky for "what I wore Wednesday" (because even feminists care what they wear).
I'd been looking for the opportunity to blog about my outfit choice for our company holiday party, and couldn't resist joining in.
I have become completely addicted to the classic Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress. Thanks to a steady supply of barely worn ones showing up on eBay I now have quite a collection, and I chose this racy little backless number for the work party, (with strategic spanx and a solid backless bustier for added dancing confidence). Going backless to the party was a last minute gut decision. I took a chance that I am now well respected enough at work for my scientific and strategic insights to reveal to my peers and superiors that I have a large tattoo of the San Francisco skyline across my shoulder blades.
To complete the look I picked up this seasons must have; spangled platform stiletto heels, footwear that can only be described as 'stripper shoes'. It was a good do, and as the wine and music flowed I shook my stuff out on the dance floor as if I was twenty five again. My knees, however, are forty one, and ever since the party they have been feeling rather decrepit. I am rather annoyed with myself for tweaking my knees before ski season has even got started and I suspect knee injuries are an occupational hazard in the world of the exotic dancer.
I got so many compliments though, including a heartfelt expression that I looked way too glamourous to be a pharmacologist, that it may have been worth it.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Looks like we made it
I wasn't sure, this year, if we would get here. To a peaceful Christmas eve in the mountains, with the presents found, bought, delivered, wrapped and waiting to be put under our eclectically decorated tre.
With two cats and a dog and two kids all safely transported across California to the beautiful, though almost snowless mountains.
With gifts from from us to others actually chosen with thought and care, though mainly shipped by amazon, nestled under other people's trees. Although the photo books I made well advance for shipment to the Grandparents mysteriously disappeared, leaving me digging though ever more bizarre places (my company's dry cleaning closet being the most recent) as I began to believe I had only imagined that I had ever even seen them. They finally appeared last night as we packed the car, in a hidey hole beneath the extra set of back seats. They will not be arriving until the new year.
With a dare I say almost perfect fruit cake sitting proudly on the counter.
The marzipan figures are rather amateur compared to to the creations of some of my facebook friends (seriously, some of you should bake for a living), but the kids are quite happy with my creation, especially the tiny marzipan avatar of the dog gamboling in the snow.
Our tree, however, is a perfect story book fir, a thickly prickly deep green cone. It is decorated with a mixture of gorgeous danish filigree ornaments (thanks to my mother-in-law's excellent Christmas taste), and a hotchpotch of other items; precious preschool offerings, some wooden jungle animals, the mini mirrored disco balls I picked up in the Haight a few years back, my beloved disembodied cat heads, a variety of spangled vehicles and, the new additions, a couple of crocheted octopi from a recent craft fair.
The children love the tree so much. Already they remember the familiar ornaments from years past, unravelling the paper towels I wrapped them in the previous January with delight. Geekygirl is now a very opinionated decorator, and Geekyboy, just shy of four, looks at the tree reverently, and says "it is so beautiful, mummy".
The past few months have been so very busy. A new job for Geekydaddy has meant he is home past eight every might. Real school for Geekygirl is bringing homework, PTA and other obligations. Stressful changes at my work have been occupying my mind and my time.
Halloween hit, and since then I have barely had time to breathe, slamming things into my to do lists and checking them off, hardly gaining satisfaction from completing one task as so many more were waiting, but snatching breaths of pleasure and tiny moments of zen, along with family photos, whenever I could.
It seems that we have made it here, intact, to the end of the year. The last window of the advent calender has been opened (the fact that I remembered to bring it up here a miracle in itself), the rice pudding portion of the Danish "ris alamande" is prepared, waiting to be whipped into a fluffy delicious dessert that is unrivaled by any English pudding. A slice of cake, satisfyingly moist and perfect at that first cut, is waiting for Santa. The children, thrilled to have a seemingly endless eight days free from their regular routines. have made paper chains which are cheering our windows (Thanks Grandma and Grandad) They were so happy and relaxed today that they actually asked to go to bed.
And I have even completed this blog post, which feels in itself like a great big sigh of relief.
Happy Christmas, everyone.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Sayonaru Scoobaru
Last week I had a bittersweet day. I replaced my car. It seems peculiar to be sentimental about a vehicle, but Scooby, the 2002 Subaru Outback wagon, has been such an integral part of our lives that its hard to imagine life without him. We bought the car, shiny and brand new, before we were married, before we had the dog or the kids. Before I even had a proper job.
The 202,000 miles on his clock delineate the great waves of life we have lived since then. A measure of the life of a family in miles.
I watched my brand new sparkling diamond engagement ring cast rainbows on his dashboard as I drove to my first proper job.
We sat in his warm leather cocoon as we debated whether to buy our Tahoe cabin.
We filled his trunk with cases of wine as we scoured the wine country planning our wedding.
We collected Geekydog from the animal shelter, her happy dog laugh misting up the windows as we transported her to a new life of dog luxury.
I screamed through the last part of labor with Geekygirl as we hit every red light crossing town, fearing that she would be born right there on the back seat.
I nursed both kids (pulled over and stationary of course), in his passenger seat on many a trip to the mountains.
I locked two year old Geekygirl inside, prompting the most critical test of my negotiating skills to date.
We transported cribs and changing tables, then toddler beds and sectional furniture back from Ikea in his spacious interior.
We transported a dazed and pathetic Geekydog to and from not one but two knee ligament surgeries.
We negotiatied rain, hail and snow storms with sleeping kids and pets all held safe in his steel embrace.
The miles represent hundreds of ordinary journeys to work, to get groceries, to get up and down from Tahoe. Some of those miles were the extraordinary moments; first days at school, interviews for new jobs, unexpected trips to the ER, and bringing new babies home.
I drove the car for the last time last week, down to the dealership, where we left it to its fate. It was a sunny day, and the wood and leather of the steering wheel felt warm, worn, and oh so familiar under my hands. 202,000 miles of hands sitting at ten to two. I felt disloyal, as if I was taking a beloved old dog to the pound. I started to understand why some people keep old cars on blocks in their driveways forever.
We traded it in for a brand new Subaru Tribeca SUV. It is fantastic. A sleek dark indigo blue, with a pristine rich smelling cream leather interior (Though cream may not have been the best choice for a family car, I am already realizing). It is eerily quiet and rattle free, the engine smooth and powerful and the stereo as clear as a bell. I think we are going to have a beautiful relationship. But I'm still not quite over the other guy.
This isn't really a Thansgiving post, its just that the holiday has given me time to write. There's nothing like mulling over ten great years though to feel almost overwhelmed with things to be thankful for. The least of these being really good cars.
The 202,000 miles on his clock delineate the great waves of life we have lived since then. A measure of the life of a family in miles.
I watched my brand new sparkling diamond engagement ring cast rainbows on his dashboard as I drove to my first proper job.
We sat in his warm leather cocoon as we debated whether to buy our Tahoe cabin.
We filled his trunk with cases of wine as we scoured the wine country planning our wedding.
We collected Geekydog from the animal shelter, her happy dog laugh misting up the windows as we transported her to a new life of dog luxury.
I screamed through the last part of labor with Geekygirl as we hit every red light crossing town, fearing that she would be born right there on the back seat.
I nursed both kids (pulled over and stationary of course), in his passenger seat on many a trip to the mountains.
I locked two year old Geekygirl inside, prompting the most critical test of my negotiating skills to date.
We transported cribs and changing tables, then toddler beds and sectional furniture back from Ikea in his spacious interior.
We transported a dazed and pathetic Geekydog to and from not one but two knee ligament surgeries.
We negotiatied rain, hail and snow storms with sleeping kids and pets all held safe in his steel embrace.
The miles represent hundreds of ordinary journeys to work, to get groceries, to get up and down from Tahoe. Some of those miles were the extraordinary moments; first days at school, interviews for new jobs, unexpected trips to the ER, and bringing new babies home.
I drove the car for the last time last week, down to the dealership, where we left it to its fate. It was a sunny day, and the wood and leather of the steering wheel felt warm, worn, and oh so familiar under my hands. 202,000 miles of hands sitting at ten to two. I felt disloyal, as if I was taking a beloved old dog to the pound. I started to understand why some people keep old cars on blocks in their driveways forever.
We traded it in for a brand new Subaru Tribeca SUV. It is fantastic. A sleek dark indigo blue, with a pristine rich smelling cream leather interior (Though cream may not have been the best choice for a family car, I am already realizing). It is eerily quiet and rattle free, the engine smooth and powerful and the stereo as clear as a bell. I think we are going to have a beautiful relationship. But I'm still not quite over the other guy.
This isn't really a Thansgiving post, its just that the holiday has given me time to write. There's nothing like mulling over ten great years though to feel almost overwhelmed with things to be thankful for. The least of these being really good cars.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
the holidays begin wth halloween
Halloween heralds the arrival of the whole holiday season here in the USA. Fall and winter and their collection of holidays just run right along into each other without stopping for breath. The orange of fall slowly deepens to the red of Christmas as the pumpkiny-ghostly themed tableware and knickknacks morph into the pumpkiny-pilgrimy items only to be supplanted in the aisles by poinsettas and snowflakes. When I'm feeling happy and energized I love the costume hunting, the various parades, parties and community events. I enjoy the holiday card making and the anticicpation of special food and presents. When I'm tired, all of this seasonally prescribed fun seems to expand into into a relentless list of 'to do items' to be stuffed into the giant gant chart in my head. Perhaps I should start making actual gant charts for the holidays, that way I might avoid paying rush shipping for last minute presents and everyone who should get a present or card from us might actually receive one before January. Anyone know of a good "microsoft project for mothers" iphone app?
This halloween, however, I exceeded even my own expectations by getting the kids costumes well in advance and getting everyone to their various events and parades with all costume bits intact. Nobody got sick, and Geekygirl obliged me this year by choosing her halloween alter ego (Tinkerbell) many weeks in advance of the day, and for possibly the first time in history not changing her mind at the last minute. Geekyboy got it into his head that he wanted to be "max's red robot toy from max and ruby". Of course the creative mum who prioritizes her children's wishes over her demanding schedule (my alter ego) would have jumped to this challenge. The mum who prefers to order costumes online while sitting in her office (the actual me) suggested to Geekyboy that he be Plex the Robot from "Yo Gabba Gabba" instead, since this costume could be conveniently purchased with a single click.
I'm always rather jealous of families who manage to persuade their kids to take part in a themed extravaganza. One of my friends boys was an incredible miniature Elton John,and she, in an amazng feat of creativity, was his piano. My kids were delighted with their off the shelf costumes though, so I should quell the "I'm not superhalloweenmom" guilt. In fact Geekyboy so embraced his robot persona that he would answer only to "Plex" while in costume, and insisted on walking in a special and rather adorable robotty way for the entire parade. I suspect the boy may end up on the stage.
Selfishly, I ended up reviving my long dormant creative talents for my own costume. We have a party at work every year with prizes for creativity. We have a fun crowd, but recent changes have left people rather despondent. Our group decided to try and bring back a bit of the fun. Inspired by this brilliant video (warning, it may only really resonate with you if you spent six years of your life as an impoverished graduate student or postdoctoral research fellow), we did our own "lady gaga wears lab wear" team extravaganza, complete with dance routine. We won. I was really quite pleased with the way my latex lab glove dress came out. It made me a little nostalgic for times when my actual hairstyle was not dissimilar to this wig, and when I went to clubs wearing outfits that were not all that different either. I was also very grateful, as I wandered the neighbourhood trick or treating event that evening, still in costume, to live in warm, accepting San Francisco.
Happy belated Halloween!
This halloween, however, I exceeded even my own expectations by getting the kids costumes well in advance and getting everyone to their various events and parades with all costume bits intact. Nobody got sick, and Geekygirl obliged me this year by choosing her halloween alter ego (Tinkerbell) many weeks in advance of the day, and for possibly the first time in history not changing her mind at the last minute. Geekyboy got it into his head that he wanted to be "max's red robot toy from max and ruby". Of course the creative mum who prioritizes her children's wishes over her demanding schedule (my alter ego) would have jumped to this challenge. The mum who prefers to order costumes online while sitting in her office (the actual me) suggested to Geekyboy that he be Plex the Robot from "Yo Gabba Gabba" instead, since this costume could be conveniently purchased with a single click.
I'm always rather jealous of families who manage to persuade their kids to take part in a themed extravaganza. One of my friends boys was an incredible miniature Elton John,and she, in an amazng feat of creativity, was his piano. My kids were delighted with their off the shelf costumes though, so I should quell the "I'm not superhalloweenmom" guilt. In fact Geekyboy so embraced his robot persona that he would answer only to "Plex" while in costume, and insisted on walking in a special and rather adorable robotty way for the entire parade. I suspect the boy may end up on the stage.
Selfishly, I ended up reviving my long dormant creative talents for my own costume. We have a party at work every year with prizes for creativity. We have a fun crowd, but recent changes have left people rather despondent. Our group decided to try and bring back a bit of the fun. Inspired by this brilliant video (warning, it may only really resonate with you if you spent six years of your life as an impoverished graduate student or postdoctoral research fellow), we did our own "lady gaga wears lab wear" team extravaganza, complete with dance routine. We won. I was really quite pleased with the way my latex lab glove dress came out. It made me a little nostalgic for times when my actual hairstyle was not dissimilar to this wig, and when I went to clubs wearing outfits that were not all that different either. I was also very grateful, as I wandered the neighbourhood trick or treating event that evening, still in costume, to live in warm, accepting San Francisco.
Happy belated Halloween!
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