We're not in Kansas Anymore, Toto.

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

Eighteen years ago this morning, around 2 a.m., I waddled into the birthing center lobby at Menorah Medical Center to have a baby. They tried to send me home. My husband tried to say I told you so, then thought better of it and shut his fat mouth. Because I had had enough of these shenanigans, 24 solid hours of being squeezed like some giant hand was wringing out my guts like a wet washcloth was enough. I planted my feet and said with quivering lip, "I AM NOT LEAVING HERE WITHOUT A BABY." The night nurse sighed heavily and checked her watch, glanced at my husband who was quietly retreating further away from the desk, then said fine, we have rooms, I guess you can stay. 

Drew was born later that morning shortly after 11 a.m. He was perfect. 

As a toddler he put himself to bed at 7:45 p.m. every night, and fed himself from a baggie of Cheerios and an apple juice box and watched cartoons while we slept in on Saturday mornings. (Under the watchful eye of his dog, Cady the german shepherd, his second mother. Having following me around for nine months like a blind assistant dog, constantly underfoot practically tripping me every single day, now she ignored me completely and only had eyes for Drew. Unless I was letting him cry it out, in which case she came to me with disapproving stares, small yelps, and even low growls until I would retrieve him. She was not having this Dr. Ferber bullshit.) 

As a preschooler he talked early and often. Constantly, in fact. (Shocking, I know, that an offspring of mine would talk to a fencepost. Who knew.) He spoke in full, grammatically correct sentences by age three, and at age four would carry on conversations with strangers about the differences between a regular tractor, a back hoe, and a combine. God Forbid he spot an older man wearing a John Deer trucker hat. Be prepared to sit a while, sir. 

Much of his younger years are already documented here on this blog. I stopped writing here about my kids several years ago for a few reasons, time being one-I got busy. But also for their privacy. Birthdays are a little different, though. 

Today he is eighteen. We've disrupted his world this summer by moving house, and now are preparing to send him off to California to attend San Diego State University. He can't wait. He's excited to join the marching band, live in a dorm, and continue being the independent, level headed, don't look back kid he has always been. I've said it many times, in many places, and I've said to him as well: my son has never looked back to see if I was still standing there. I know this, because I am always still standing there, at least for a few more minutes. He is always just moving forward, on to the next thing.

He only ever looked back once, when he was six, and realized he was lost among the throngs of people at Disneyland. For five terrifying minutes of my life I had lost my kid in a giant theme park. But he found a safe, mommy-looking woman with a cell phone and she called me, and we had him back in less than ten minutes total. Lesson learned: he could get lost for a few minutes, and be okay. Moving on. 

He'll do just fine all the way out in California. He's comfortable there, after living there a few years and visiting so many more. We have friends he can reach out to for anything, surrogate family, if you will. He knows what to do if he gets lost. 

Happy birthday, Drew Boo. You're an adult, you even got a voter registration card in the mail. Use it.

Go as far as you want to go, buddy. You know how to find us.  

 

What a long, strange trip it's been.

 Well, it's August now. I feel like I went straight from June to August, since July was spent driving across the country and relaxing at the beach. We got home late last week, and promptly threw an epic backyard party for our friends who were staying in our house, visiting from New Zealand. Now they are gone, too, and I spent the day washing sheets and towels and re-making beds and trying to avoid going outside, as it's 108 degrees. Record-breaking heat, the news says, and I don't doubt it, since it feels like you're standing under a hair dryer.

As much as I loved being at the beach, it's not always roses in a city the size of San Diego. I forget sometimes how insulated we are in the suburbs of the Midwest. Last week, as I was walking out of the nail salon admiring my freshly painted toes and sipping on the last of my Chai Tea Latte, I passed a homeless man eating from old California Pizza Kitchen boxes that he had pulled out of the trash right in front of the restaurant. The box and the pizza was crawling with ants, he was eating it anyway. He didn't seem to notice. My heart broke.

Perspective can be a bitch, sometimes. But I have it.

I am glad vacation is over, and happy to be home, despite the heat. It's been a good summer. I am refreshed enough, I have drank plenty of wine with old friends, I have done as much yoga as I could fit into my schedule (and that my stupid bum knees and shoulder will allow.) Since my return I have spent some quality time hanging out with my grandma, in what appears to be her last summer with us. I both wish for that and loathe the thought of it, drifting between not wanting to see her go and not wanting her to suffer.

I do wish that I were there again in San Diego, for BlogHer. I originally tried to make it work, when San Diego was announced as the city hosting the conference, to fanagle my vacation so that I would just stay for the conference. But in the end I couldn't justify the extra week, and I wouldn't have gotten to see my lovely friends from New Zealand. Another time.

Besides, now that I'm home and the house is quiet, I'm realizing that school starts a mere two weeks from today. I need to get organized. I need to start planning out my classroom and my lesson plans, I need to make sure the boys have shoes that fit and clothes that aren't torn or stained. And I need to make other plans, too, and here is where the other shoe drops.

My husband recently started a new job, back in California. North this time, in Silicon Valley. Right now, he is commuting, flyying out on Monday mornings and returning late Friday nights. We don't know yet if we are going to move out there or not, for now we are just playing it cool, making sure that the opportunity is what we think we signed up for, seeing how it goes. But it's likely that sometime in 2012, we will move back to California. The bottom line is that I'm functioning as a single mom with a full time job right now, or at least, when school starts in two weeks. I've never had this kind of day to day, hour to hour inflexibility in a job before. Thank God for my mother, who has become just as familiar with the Orthodontist's office as I am.

I'm excited and ready for the adventure, but I am also apprehensive and disappointed, now that I have this new teaching job I've wanted for so long. I worry about the boys, they are getting to an age where it's harder to start over and make new friends. They are just as excited and also apprehensive as I am, so far. But they miss daddy. We need to be a family.

So that's our big news. It's going to be an interesting year.

 

The dogs are alright. *

I'm not terribly good at taking pictures. I've not actually owned a camera of my own since my parents bought me a cheap little Kodak in the 80's. But now that I have a camera in my phone, I take pictures all the time. They are mostly for me to remember a moment, or document something, and share with friends and family on Facebook or via text or some other such nonsense. My point is, I take a lot of shitty pictures, and I really don't care, because they're for me.

Like this one. Max is loving have a BFF. They are tired at the end of each day, and so glad to see each other in the morning. Sometimes they play fight, jumping and attacking and chasing, but in this moment, they were just laying next to each other in the shade. He will miss his buddy when we get home, I presume. The two labs have each other, Max will go back to having just his people to entertain him. It should be interesting to see what happens.

I take pictures of my dog all the time, but they rarely come out very well. It's hard to take a photo of a black dog with black eyes when you don't know what you're doing. This one I managed to mess around with in iPhoto to clarify his features a little bit. Blonde dogs are much easier to photograph.

We are coming upon our last weekend here at the beach. I feel pretty good that we've done everything we wanted to do, seen everyone we needed to see, except of course the people whose home we are staying in while they travel in Europe. I think it's been weird for Drew to sleep in his buddy's bed every night but not actually spend more than a few hours with him on this trip.

Next Wednesday we take this show back on the road, two adults, two kids and a giant poodle in the family truckster. I'm kind of ready to go home again. I love this town, I love the beach, I love the lifestyle. But we have things to do. My grandmother is not doing well, I miss her. I need to see her before I miss her forever. We need to start getting ready for school and soccer and work and other post-vacation necessities. But it's been lovely, truly lovely to chill out here at the beach, where shoes are optional and the wine is plenty, the dogs are welcome on the patio, and the temperature hasn't reached 76 degrees the entire time. That...doesn't suck.

My life is good. I am thankful.

 

* Grammar Girl comments on the use of "alright" . I choose to use it anyway. Hey, at least I'm informed.

 

Meet the roommates.

One of the reasons we're able to stay so long on this beach vacation to San Diego is because we're housesitting, and our hotel stays have been minimal and mostly while on the road. Part of the housesitting deal involves two loveable labradors, Ada and Wooten. Max is having the time of his life, playing, lounging, eating, sleeping, playing some more, he hardly notices whether I'm in the room or not - normally he follows me around.

This is Wooten. We call him Woo Tang Lab, or sometimes, Taz. He is a hurtling hunk of blonde love, but not much ambition.

 

This is Ada. We call her Eeyore. That should be pretty clear. I'd say her slowness and empty eyed stare is because she is old, but she's been that way since she was a puppy. She also snores, louder than any men in the house. However, it's her house. She runs the show from the corner of the sofa, and has only to lift a lazy eye in his general direction to make Woo Tang Lab get up and move. It's like telepathy for dogs.

Max mostly ignores Ada, and she happily ignores him, unless he's in her spot, and then she just lumbers over and stares at him quietly until he gets uncomfortable and moves. He likes Wooten much more. Wooten actually plays with him, sometimes. But even after a few minutes of chase Wooten gets tired and goes for a nap, whilst Max is the Energizer Bunny of tennis ball playing. He is a little OCD about the BALL GET THE BALL OMG THROW THE BALL!

A rare moment of calm.

 

I'd sort of forgotten what it was like having dogs that shed. The hair is merciless, I vaccuum every day.

Did I mention the dogs are used to being fed at 5:30am? It's okay if you're not awake yet, they will happily lick you until you get up to feed them. The boys have taken to sleeping with their doors shut so the dogs don't wander in and take over the bed in the middle of the night like a 75 lb. drunk neighbor in the wrong house, then demand breakfast at 5:30am. That leaves me. 

Which is all fine. They are sweet and snuggly and I don't even mind the early morning wake up calls, all the more fine to enjoy these beach living days for as long as I can get them.

 

we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun...

We've been chillaxing here in our old stomping ground of San Diego since last Friday.  It's been insanely wonderful, hanging with friends, lounging at the beach, playing in the hotel pool.

The first night we were here, we met friends at our favorite pizza place for dinner, then headed down to walk on the beach and watch the sunset. I had to catch my breath to keep the tears back several times, just walking barefoot in the sand and feeling the cool saltwater air swirl around me. My husband noticed the smile of contentment on my face and said, "You miss it, don't you." It was not a question.

Yeah. That's sort of an understatement. He realized then, he said, while we watched the boys play in the surf, that maybe that was why I fought him so hard not to take this vacation. Sometimes it hurts too much to come back.

 It does hurt to come back, to this place where I feel the happiest as I ever have, at any point in my life. It hurts to know that we are just visiting, returning each night to a hotel only to board an airplane and go back to real life in a few days. It hurts to admit how much I hate not living here.

But I've gotten over that, I guess. I've managed to hit 3 yoga classes, the boys have seen all their old friends. I miss my dog. School starts Monday, reality will be a pretty swift kick in the ass when we return.

But for now, I have one more day to just fill my lungs with salty air, and feel content.

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink

We have had a great time in the last 24 hours, and we didn't even leave the greater KC area. My entire childhood growing up here you couldn't do that, you at least had to go to Lake of the Ozarks, or God help you, Branson (and He will, there, as it is His country, if you didn't know). Anyway I'm so glad somebody got wise to the fact that kids these days don't so much care about shopping among beautiful fountains on the Country Club Plaza. They want to be entertained, and the bigger, faster or wetter, the better. So good old Wyandotte county, and if you grew up here like me you know that no one ever expected greatness from Wy county, (no offense, David...) built a speedway, a hotel with an indoor waterpark, and a bunch of over the top restaurants. Go figure.
There are cars in this parking lot from allover the greater midwest and beyond, even Texas! And last I checked, Texas had the Shitterbaun. (thats a joke, not how its really spelled). But no, they came to Kansas for spring break vacation. You have no idea how much that blows my mind.

Christmas in Dixie.

So yeah, we're in Alabama. We had a wonderful Christmas at home Tuesday, then a very stressful afternoon with extended family. Then we got in the car at the crack of dawn and drove from Kansas City to Birmingham.
I've never blogged much about my husband's family before, for a variety of reasons not the least of which is to respect his wishes. But suffice to say they are a bunch of crazy southern lunatics, southern blueblood passive aggressives, walking stereotypes straight out of Gone with the Wind. And each time we come here I realize a little bit more than I can only tolerate them in very small doses. Like for about 5 minutes.

Hell comes via the wind.

The fire line of the Witch Fire in San Diego has moved far enough west that ash is falling at the beach.

Here's a map of the fires, the evacuation centers, full and still have room.  Its devastating.  People don't realize that eastern San Diego county is kind of rural, there are huge ranches out there, some fancy and some notsomuch, but all have animals by the hundreds.  And there's not enough places to evacuate large animals, they can't even get to the roads to load them up in trailers and drive them out.

The media keeps bringing up that some of these homes that are torched in Rancho Santa Fe are huge, wealthy landowner type estates.  It doesn't matter what resources you can afford to get your animals and family to safety - you can't land a fancy helicopter in the middle of a field of fire and load up a horse, no matter how much money you have.  Fire doesn't discriminate.  It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor, nothing left is still nothing.

World on Fire.

Oh, you guys.  All of my friends in San Diego have been evacuated from their homes, even the ones where I lived, in Solana Beach, which is right on the I-5 and mere minutes from the beach.  They have been evacuated, even though the actual fires are still further out in the mountains, because of the way the wind is blowing.  Ash is falling and it is moving their way.  It is scary.  One friend told me the sky looks is like the color of a chocolate bar, and my other friend said it looks like a warzone.

Our friends who are from Kansas City and whom I went to high school with, they live in Rancho Bernardo, and were evacuated early this morning.  They are holed up at her husbands office with two little boys, two dogs and a hamster, waiting for a hotel room to wait it out.  Reports are that their neighborhood may be burning now.  I can't even believe this is happening.

Be thinking of them, y'all.  They may not have anything to go home to.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/10/22/irpt.california.fires/index.html

Beachy keen!

So my phone sort of had an embolism the other day, all that posting of fire hazards and bacchanalian hotels and such, and plus we've been running and jumping and playing with old friends since we got into San Diego, so not much, you know, boredom, to post constantly like before, while in the car.
A few things we've learned.
1. Max is a babe magnet at the beach. Pretty much anywhere actually.
2. I don't know about this poodles like the water thing I keep hearing about, but this poodle don' like dat. It messes up his velvety coat. Priss.
3. Life is always better in thew HOV lane.
4. We are too old not hip enough for Pacific Beach, where we are staying. Oh well.