A California Sunday

Yesterday, we did what any California family does in mid-February. We went to the beach!

It was glorious; low 70's, sunny with a nice breeze. We played at the park for a bit, then watched the Wee Lassies fall down in the surf. Next we hunted for cool rocks and driftwood, and played in the sand. Then finished our playdate by getting ice cream and cruising the antique mall.

Just perfect.

Mama is the name; nutrition is my game!

I really need to get out of the house more.

Yesterday, I ran to Trader Joe's for milk and fruit. Due to all three kids being in a growth spurt/eating frenzy, a gallon of milk, a bunch of bananas and a bowl full of apples lasts about 36 hours. A box of crackers is lucky to make it to sunset. Oy.

So, I'm in line at TJs with my milk and another 10 pounds of fruit. The sweet young clerk asks if I want my milk in my bag. "No thanks. I go through so much milk, if I put every one in a bag, a whole forest would be used up by now." She laughed and said, "I don't drink much milk myself. Not even when I was little."

That when the Mama possessed me and took control of my mouth.

"You know, you only have a certain window of opportunity to build the bone density you'll need for the rest of your life." "Really?" says the willowy girl with the long, rippling hair. "When does the window close?" "Around 20 or so, I seem to remember" says I. "Oh, good. I still have some time." she said, smiling. "I thought so." I answered.

Our transaction was done, but I needed to get in one more bit of advice. She was encouraging me, after all.

"Yes, you do. And since you are tall and slim and Caucasian, you are at higher risk of osteoporosis." "OK, then! More milk!" Then the girl smiled and wished me a good day as I left. 

Public service or pain in the ass? 

Finally!

My darling Boo finally said what every kid eventually says. To be honest, I expected it long before now.

"Mama! I don't wanna go to school!"

Did she *really* just say that?

A new series here at the Fab Sub Adventure!

"Mom! You never let us take a nap after school!"

My Best Valentine's Day

I know y'all think this is going to be some mushy diatribe on the romance of marriage. And marriage is romantic. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. Married people have Valentine's Day all locked up. I want to talk to those who don't have a sweetie on this festival of Love. That's a lonely place and I'm here to help.

The best Valentine's Day I ever had was at a time I was profoundly single. I was living in SF; not really a target-rich hunting ground for the single straight girl, ya know? I was lonesome in a big city, working quite a bit and had no plans and zero prospects for V Day. My roomie Clay was also tragically single and we decided, what the hell? We don't have plans, let's go do the prix-fixe dinner at my hotel.

We got a bit fancy and headed out. The lovely folks at Roti always rolled out the red carpet for me and my guests; blowing past the crowd waiting in the lobby, we were immediately shown to our reserved table and plied with champagne. The room was full of couples at candlelit tables, all foofed up, and many looked rather tense. In contrast, Clay and I were fabulously relaxed (talk about no pressure!) and being attentively looked after by friends. The manager stopped by to chat. The chef came out and had a glass of wine with us. By this time, we were beginning to be the recipients of glances and murmurs, many of the expressions  a bit puzzled. Clay and I put our head together and whispered to each other, "Who are they?" "Are they famous?" "Should we recognize them?" We actually started to feel a bit sorry for the couples on their nerve-wracking dates.

After a few hours of wallowing in superb food, excellent wine and decadent desserts, we made our way home in a glow of contentment with the universe.

Romantic? You bet it was.

A love letter to a great friend

Modern life is complicated, people. You need to figure out what you want to "do". You need to find a way to pay your bills and take care of yourself like a grownup. You need to negotiate the pitfalls of romance and social interaction. Add a family, with all the responsibilities that go along with them, into the mix, and, well! You may just need a doctorate in psychology to get through this obstacle course of life. Either that, or know one who will give you free advice.

Thank goodness I have one of these. A old friend who will talk me down from the tower when I'm ready to scream, go fetal and start eating my hair. This week, I sent a despairing email, and my friend promptly answered, explained that perhaps, I was looking at things from an inaccurate perspective, plus sent links to online resources. I don't think he really understands how much this means to me. So, I will try again to express myself.

Dear B,

It was 17 years ago, in the days of care-free youth, that we met in San Francisco. It has been a hoot from the git-go; sneaking vodka shots in the Castro, vast quantities of Chilean Cabernet by candlelight, freezing our asses off walking around the City in July, and more pork roasts than I could possible count.

You and I are in vastly different places now from the days of yore. You are doggedly pursuing your dreams in SoCal and I'm wearily pursuing a set of squirrelly twins on the Central Coast.

Through all my many tribulations, you have been a amazing source of unending support and much needed reality checks. When I landed a husband and a ready-made family, you were there to celebrate with me and gave me a book on step-parenting. When my kids are driving me up the goddamn wall, you patiently explain, again, how all this behavior is developmentally appropriate. And when the fecal matter really hit the fan, you offered your help and support anytime of the day or night, because "emotional crises do not always keep business hours".  When you manage to get the time to visit, my children jump on you with maniacal glee and you play with them, and chase them until they drop, then read 'em a story and tuck them in bed.

English doesn't seem to make the words to properly express gratitude for that kind of friendship. The best I can do is say, thank you, very, very much, my dear friend, for all you have done for me, and my family.

much love,
Jen

Banter at Oh-Dark-Thirty

It was very dark. Middle-of-the-night dark.

Miles woke up and got a drink from the water bottle he keeps by the bed.

Me, under the covers: "That for all the world sounded like you just pulled a cork out of a wine bottle."

Him, taking another swig: "Time to party!"