Conversations
Who knows what the boy might come up with on any given day. His brain is always percolating. Always.
Bootie Boy: “I made this card for you Mom.”
I read the card out loud: Mom. I love you. Cuz you ar nise. ”Thank you buddy, it’s beautiful. You did a great job,” I say.
BB: “The red stuff is blood and the green stuff is slime.”
Me: “Oh, ok.”
BB: “Ya, blood and slime.”
Me: “Well, I love it. Thank you.”
Sometimes the boy comes up with crazy random things.
“Mom, if you ever come up to a black mamba you should not climb a tree, because a black mamba can climb a tree better than you can.”
“Oh, what should I do then?” I ask. I’m game for this what-would-you-do type of scenario. It’s good to be prepared I say.
“Oh, you’re gonna get eaten.”
“Oh, alright. Well , I hope I don’t run into a black mamba.”
It kind of bothers me, knowing there is no hope for me in the black mamba showdown. But then, I’m not really surprised. I mean, I run like a 12 minute mile.
BB: “Mom?”
Me: “Ya buddy?”
BB: “Do you also wish that our back yard was Six Flags, like I do?”
Me: “Hmm, that depends. Will everyone be coming in to use our bathroom or are there bathrooms out there?”
It was in that moment that I felt old, when I answered that way. The boy just looked at me. I learn so much from him. His perspective on the world is unique and bright-eyed and curious. I remember feeling that way as a kid, and really, I still feel that way now. Admittedly not as often. Life shakes it out of you sometimes.
My semester has gone crazy, but I’m reading a really fun book called How They Croaked.
It’s interesting, full of tidbits about the lives (and deaths, of course) of famous people.
The Cake Raffle
At the Fall Festival at the Bootie Boy’s school, there are twelve cool Halloween-themed cakes to be raffled off. We buy two raffle tickets to try to win a cake. There must be about 100 tickets in the little coffee can. Little Tommy is all excited to win a cake. He keeps asking me when they are going to start pulling tickets. He patiently waits. Finally, at 5:00, they start the raffle, and the boy goes and stands by the cake the wants, an orange pumpkin-shaped one with a green leaf on top, and just STARES at it. The rule is, if your name is called, you can pick any cake you want. Winners are coming up to choose their cakes, but nobody takes the Bootie’s cake. He whispers to me “I’m GUARDING my cake, Mom.” Soon, it’s down to 3 cakes, and a parent decides to move the remaining three cakes to a table by the person choosing tickets and calling out names. The boy moves with his cake. He stands in front of it, staring at it, unblinking. I begin to think, This can’t end well. There are a lot of tickets in the can and we only bought two. Statistics are against us. But still, the boy is there, by his cake, ready to hear his name called. I’m preparing the you can’t always win, let’s go get a Kit Kat speech in my head.
Suddenly, the person pulling tickets and announcing winners comes over to me and whispers in my ear, “What is your boy’s name?” I tell her, and she pulls a ticket. “The winner is… Tommy!” Of course this is not our ticket. The boy throws his hands up in the air, “Yes! This is the best day of my life!”He picks up his cake, turns to me, and says“Come one Mommy, let’s go.” The whole crowd is smiling.
On the way to the car I tell him, “Dude, you set your intention and you got that cake.” He says, “Ya, I knew I was gonna get one.” It was an awesome moment.
It reminded me about believing. This boy believed he could win. He didn’t look at all the tickets in the can and decide to give up and hit the road (which is what I wanted to do, to beat the exit traffic, I’ll admit). And I know that he was helped by the kind parent, that his ticket wasn’t actually chosen, but his intensity about winning made it possible. So Tommy has again taught me a lesson, this time about setting your sights on what you want, and not giving up. And about believing in possibility.
The cake was pretty tasty too.
Hello Cable, My Old Friend
I really do want to be one of those people who doesn’t like to watch TV. Or who is so busy pursuing a creative passion that Top Chef Season 9 and 3 football games on Sunday holds no interest for them because you know, they are at the pottery wheel or whatever. I am in the Survivor pool but could not watch the show, and my chica got herself booted anyway, so I got my money back. Mine was the granny shot spoken word artist whose claim to fame was having a video on Youtube. I know, I was surprised she didn’t make it either. I mean, when you are camping and have no coffee or Pringles or Jiffy Pop or a tent, don’t you love it when people recite poetry to you? Yep, me too. Side note, if Billy Collins is ever on Survivor, he can recite as much poetry as he wants. I know Billy loves his coffee though, so I doubt we’ll see him on that show. Anyway, after a brief respite from cable I have learned that I do in fact need a little bit of outside world channeled into the house in the form of Billy the Exterminator, Parenthood, and other wholesome shows like Extreme Couponing. And now, we’ve got the Biography Channel. This makes me very, very happy.
Head’s Up: Top Chef Season 9 begins November 2nd, clear your calendar my friends.
New book recommendation: I am listening, not reading, I should clarify: The Invisible Wall by Harry Bernstein. Reminds me of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, so you know it’s good.
Also reading Walden. Thoreau makes me feel better about the fact that I hardly ever buy clothes and soon will no longer be a home owner. So thanks for that Henry. or David. Or whatever you like to be called.
Say Yes to Water Park
At the water park we met a solo mom, whose kids had declined the offer of a day of slides and sun, snow cones and man-made waves. Her 17-year old reportedly responded, “No Mom, I actually have friends.” Her 11-year old did not want to go for reasons unknown, so she hit it alone. I had to laugh at the response of her oldest child, because at 17 I doubt I’d have gone to the water park with my mom either. But there she was anyway, doing all the rides at the water park without the cool kids. She and Heather hit the Black Widow together, and those chicas flew out of the tube so fast they were a blur. The mom rated the Eye of the Dragon as “Okay, not too fast.” She seemed game for all of it. And after slides, she was headed to the adult-only section of the park for a big-girl beverage and hot tub time, a luxury some of us can only observe wistfully as our kid dunks us in the Lazy River. And while I do sometimes long for the bar called Kokomos and a book and some quiet, there is nothing in the world that is better than lying on the hot pavement next to the Bootie Boy, making wet body marks as we dry off in the sun from our Lazy River laps, talking and singing along to The Lazy Song. Especially because I know that soon, not right away but what will go by in a millisecond soon, I will be the mom who is not cool enough to be his water park buddy. But until that time, yes son, we can do whatever you want to do together at the water park.
Today, say yes. Tomorrow, say yes.
Am I Kool? That’s Okay. I’m Over It.
On my way to work each day I pass the casino billboards that advertise concerts and shows, and currently one of the bands playing is Kool and the Gang. I know right? Emergency! Emergency!
I’ll admit proudly that the first concert I ever attended was Kool and the Gang. It was the summer before my freshman year in high school, and they were playing the local fair. I went to the show with the daughter of my mom’s co-worker, a girl I had never actually met until the day of the concert. I remember that day clearly, not because of the concert, but because of the girl. My mom and I arrived at her house early, so my mom and her co-worker could visit and I could get to know the girl a bit. We did not hang out, me and the girl whose name I don’t remember, because she took two hours to get ready for the concert, leaving me ample time to sit on the couch and ponder why I was not the type of girl who took two hours to get ready.
This was not the first time I have compared myself to others and come up feeling short, and it would not be the last. My life at times has felt like a constant quest for what is right, as decided by other people. I chose journalism because people told me there were no jobs for English majors, I put off writing because people told me there was no money in it, I even didn’t pursue playing soccer in college because people told me being a superstar at a small school didn’t count for much.
As a child I was told I weighed too much for my height. “You should be a size __ like your friend ____. When you stand with your feet together you thighs should not touch (who knew?). You should wear makeup. You should like turtle necks and leg warmers and dance class.” Ugh. How come I could never just be who I was? And then I internalized that voice. It become my own voice. And now I feel like I am finally shutting that voice up. Or at least fighting the good fight everyday to not listen.
I go to campus and I hear the younger students lamenting the tragedies of their lives. “Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing, I accidentally sent that text before I was even done writing it, that’s so embarrassing, she’s gonna think I’m dumb…. Oh my God, she texted back, she probably said, ‘you’re dumb’.” I want to turn around in the long book line where I am listening to this horrible tragedy and say “Chill out sister, I promise you, there will be bigger tragedies in your life. Let it go.” But I don’t want to be that person. The one who diminishes people. And how many times have I freaked out over stuff that really doesn’t matter? I only know, at this point in my life, I am all done diminishing myself by comparing my insides to other people’s outsides. And I am done playing small to make other people feel good. I am just going to enjoy this day, chill, and be who I am. Wahoo! Celebrate! I am not going to see Kool and the Gang though. In Reno, right now, it’s all about the RIBS.
I’m also trying to eat real food on all the days that don’t start with S. Cool website for your perusal: http://www.100daysofrealfood.com/
Current book: The Help. Have you read it? I loved it. I borrowed the copy from my best friend, and then had to buy my own because I’ll need to read it every year. It makes you appreciate your friends and your life. A lot.
Camping Rocks
I love camping because it involves important work: carving sticks for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, building fires, reading in a tent by flashlight, and sending driftwood to the lake from whence it came:
It also involves big questions like, beach or hike? Coffee again? More firewood? Nap? Traditional or Reeses S’more?
Love this blog: http://liveyourlegend.net/
Reading: Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things by Prof. Gail Steketee and Randy Frost
Who Knew Dips Could Make You Puke?
So, I am doing this B&B Buster Boot camp. When I hear B&B, I think strong hot coffee and a warm, buttery scone, preferably eaten outside on a secluded deck in one those Adirondack chairs that is perfectly placed to overlook an ocean or a valley or a parade or something. Preferably my empty coffee cup is refilled by someone else while I continue to sit, breathing in the cool, crisp, relaxing air, to complete the utter laziness of the experience. This kind of B&B that is getting me out of bed way too early is Belly and Bootie, not Bed and Breakfast. Damn.
Day 1: I did not throw up. I have thrown up after a work out, but not today. But there was a moment there when I thought, if I wanted to, I could puke, yes I could. And more power to the lady who teaches kickboxing 3 times a week and is just trying to lose that last 6 pounds, but at 5 a.m., it’s a little much. Go kick something, come back and see me. That’s the lack of caffeine talking. It doesn’t help that I don’t drink coffee until after the work out.
Day 2 (recovery day): ow. I am going to protect the identity of my B&B partner, but I’ll first say I am so glad she is doing this with me. When getting out of your chair to walk to the printer to pick up a print job that is 10 feet away feels like climbing Mount Everest, it’s nice to have someone nearby who understands. When I hear her sneeze in her office and then say painfully, Owwwww, well, it makes me feel better. Yes, her pain is consolation for my own pain. I dropped the soap in the shower this morning and just looked at it for a second. Do I need that soap? Probably. Ow. My B&B buddy says she dropped her hair clip and didn’t ponder too long before deciding this would not be a hair clip day and left it right there. I laughed and it hurt so bad, damn her.
Day 3: Back to the B&B. Best pre work out snack: apple with peanut butter. No thoughts of puking. Must have been the banana. It could NOT have been the fact that I am a tiny bit out of shape. This time was better, although sore muscles made every yell ow, ow, ow and cuss a little (hmm, maybe that was just me…). You know it’s a good workout when the trainer says “Now we are going to run and your B&B buddies say, “thank God.” Running I can do, it’s those things called squats, lunges, burpees, pointers, dips, sit ups, push-ups, jump squats, and planks, that I am not as fond of. But soon I will be lean and mean. Oh, but I miss my coffee during the ordeal, let me tell you.
Soon, Kat the trainer tells us, we will do something called Burpee Madness. If you look burpee up on Wikipedia, it’s actually there (P.E. teachers everywhere are so happy), and there are about 15 variations. I guess that’s where the madness will commence, in those 15 variations. Interesting side note: According to the OED, burpees are named after the guy who invented them, Royal H. Burpee. I think he’s dead now, some pissed off boot camper probably killed him.
More later on this riveting saga.
Reading: Small as an Elephant by Jennifer Richardson Jacobson
I plan to re-read Vagabonding. If I can get it from the library today, wouldn’t that be an awesome camping book?
What’s in Your Cup of Awesome?
On the name plaque outside the door of my office at work I have a picture of a “fashion girl” holding a purple purse, drawn by Tommy. I gave the girl a cup of coffee too, because she seemed to need one. The cup says “awesome” on it. My coworker told me the other day, on her way into my office, “Cool, I like your cup of awesome.” That made me smile. I started thinking of my life as a collection things to put in my cup of awesome. I feel very lucky, it would be a very full cup. William Zinsser, in his post on American Scholar.com, talks about the choices he has made in his writing and in his life. He says, “Whatever our age, whatever century we were born in, we are trying to have an interesting life. I don’t think of my life as a product; it’s a continuing process.” That’s all I really want: an interesting life. More yes’es than no’s.
My cup of awesome so far this summer includes:
- cruising down the Tortuga slide at Wild Island in a double tube with the bootie boy, singing, “Today I don’t feel like doing anything…” (The Lazy Song; Bruno Mars, you rock) and helping Tommy meet his summer tally of 67 tortuga rides (we are currently at 28)
- Old Navy T-shirts
- Sour Skittles
- 3X3X365 and Tiny Buddha
- Harry Potter 7.5
- The person who thought to put a scoop of vanilla ice cream at the bottom of the snow cone
- The library and all of the awesome programs, including movie and free popcorn night
- Artown and ballroom dancing demonstrations, as well as the invite to stand up and learn to Tango. T-A-N-G-O
- World Cup Soccer
- Perfect running weather, and friends to run with
- Backyard soccer and juggling
- Sonic Slushies
- Bulleted lists of awesome and the potential to add forever
To be honest, I don’t know if teaching is going to be part of my cup of awesome. I like fonts, books, creativity and writing. All my life I’ve known I wanted to be a writer. I’ve done a lot writing in the form of blog posts, papers for school, and 20 years worth of letters to my dearest friend who lives in Atascadero, California. I wonder what would happen if I really focused on it? Made a daily writing date? Still, I am in summer school, so I’m not giving up yet.
Ivan Illych said, on his death bed, “What if my whole life has been wrong?” I don’t ever want to ask that question. If I live an interesting life, full of awesome, I know I won’t.
Reading: The Element by Ken Robinson
Trending Now…
When I read this I was inspired to live better. To be kinder. Especially hitting home was the part about ridicule. Because I’ve done that. I’ve made fun of people to get a laugh. It feels good to make people laugh, I’ll admit that. I enjoy it quite a bit when people tell me, hey, you are funny. But how much of my funny comes at the expense of other people? I hope not much, but this post by my friend (um, ya, I can call her a friend now since we met and I have the picture to prove it…) reminds me that it’s not okay to get what I need by putting other people down. Love does not do that.
Summer school: I love it. Am I crazy? I am sleeping little, caffeinating (hmmm, not a word. Weird.) lots, but I love being on campus when no one else is there. I absolutely love getting a semester’s worth of work done in 4 weeks. That rocks.
Trending now, haphazardly, in my brain…
Pop chips are so delicious. I can’t wait for Harry Potter 7.5 to come out. I’m wondering how much caffeine is too much. Thinking I should quit sugar but I just love it. Trying to do some sketching, but have no clue how. Doing it anyway. Need to get my passport and my sub license. Thinking I should learn a language, probably Spanish, again. Wondering if Lady Gaga’s peeps will write us back. Telling myself, as it says on the kindergarten graduation invitation, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” I am the person who cried in the produce section of Winco because we noticed the boy cut his first tooth, so I am sure I will be crying a little bit on Friday, Graduation Day.
Check out the blog I currently love.: http://tinybuddha.com/category/blog/
And this is cool too: http://advancedlifeskills.com/blog/would-you-rather-be-a-butterfly-or-a-caterpillar/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+advancedlifeskills%2FMClm+%28Advanced+Life+Skills%29
