Goin' to Chi Chi's

Eves outside of Narcoosee's, our fav restaurant.

So, this recent vacation has been eye opening, in terms of being a Mom of kids that are growing up, and then analyzing said World that they are evolving in.  I could talk about so many things here that have stressed me out both individually and globally, when it concerns parenting, but let's just put it this way... I spend an indeterminable time worrying about my kids, and sometimes it feels a bit unhealthy.

One night I was thinking about this, and imagining what my Mom would make of it, and what MY childhood was like, and connecting dots and the like, and I came to the realization that she would have been around 31-years-old, if I were to draw direct chronological parallels, in terms of my children's ages right now, and from what I remember...the bitch did whatever she wanted.  I mean outside of working and paying the bills (which were done by check, mind you, and a ledger.  I shit you not.)  She was an accountant, and she was meticulous about our finances.  It is absolutely a TRAVESTY that I am her daughter.  I literally gained ZERO insight into the financial world while she was alive, except that "We don't have the money."  END QUOTE.

Remember that, y'all?

I just NEVER say that to my kids, even when we don't.  I try to look at things realistically, and frankly, I am at a loss.  There is just so much PRESSURE now, and most times I succumb to it, but every now and then, I say "ENOUGH".  That is a future post, so let's just focus.

Anyway, I've been thinking that I may take over the finances for this VERY reason.

My husband has been threatening for years.  He always wants to "sit down" and show me shit.  But, then when I suggest we "sit down" so that I may show HIM some shit.  He caves like the molten lava cakes my kids just ate on vacation.

EVERAY night, yo'.  We were on the dining plan at Disney World, where they had insisted on desserts with EVERY meal.  No no, not just dinner... breakfast and lunch.  NO, no sides allowed to be substitutions.  Eat a fucking brownie bowl.  This is the happiest place on EARTH!

Yep.  That's my 13-year-old with the signature Mickey Mouse Club hat.  I mean, the expectations to have a good time.  They have GOT to be hot.  They just won't admit it.

OK, let's be REAL.  This blog isn't really about what I originally intended, or is it?  Is it about my vacation or is it about Chi Chi's? Well, if you have ever read this blog, it is about BOTH.  It is an exercise I do, to avoid playing Candy Crush or Words With Friends. Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times to avoid having your Mom pinch you when you go to grab the rotating petal at the end of the "It's a Small World" ride when the cameras are "RIGHT THERE!"

My eldest daughter, Hallie, actually asked to see my phone at one point, to my annoyance, of course, and brought up my "Period Tracker" app that displayed "YOUR PERIOD WILL START IN 2 DAYS."

"Umm Hummm," she smiled, nodding her head and showing the other children.

The sight of the verbal altercation in front of my kids and my Dad and Diana. I mean, it is so FUCKING hot.  Look at them, they are miserable.  They just won't admit it.  All in the name of Mickey.

Soon after that, I got in a verbal altercation with another Mom in front of the Castle (I mean, whatevs) because she was fumbling with her camera (camera, right?) and her kids weren't even posing, and I was all, " SMILE".  It's 5000 degrees, and this bitch is standing RIGHT in front of this frame, and she was all, "Oh, IIII'mmmm sorry, am I in YOUR way?"  And then I was all, " You know what?"  Listen, if I EVER start a conversation with you and it begins with "You know what?" (and my ENTIRE family can attest to this) I am about to Fucking LAY into you and you deserve it.  I then I followed up with, "Yes.  Yes, you ARE in my way."

Then, she said something like, " Wellllll, excuuuusssseee ME!" alla Steve Martin.  And then she said, "There's always one in the bunch," as she steppped aside and kept fumbling with her camera.

My kids delivered this entire scenario to me, countless times on vacation, complete with inflection and body language.  They each would play different parts.  Everybody always fought to be the camera lady.  I mean, who wouldn't?

"One of WHOOO in the bunch?" I would retort.  "The one in the bunch that gets shit done in oppressive heat?  The one who ASSERTS herself?  Follow my lead, bitches. It's survival time."

It's funny, your kids get to a certain point, where they have your NUMBER.  But, you also have THEIRS, so it begins this chess game, of sorts.  I mean, you can get mad, or you can laugh, right?  Lately, I don't see much room for any other emotions regarding my children on vacation than THOSE two opposite ends of the spectrum.  I imagine a meter that is broken and only goes to extremes.  THAT, my friends, is what I am like at Disney World.  I vacillate between being excited and hopeless.  In my defense, it was 110 degrees with the heat index, EVERAY GAWDDAMNED DAY!

Couple that with two teens and a child that NEVER runs out of energy, and it is a recipe for disaster.

Mills at Disney, many years ago.  But not really.

Disney is such a weird vacation for me.  It was the first year we had been there since my Mom died.  We went EVERAY year growing up, and really, since I had kids, but it's exhausting because you feel (or at least, I did) like you HAVE to do everything and there is so much to do, that you literally lose that sense of self that allows yourself to take breaks. But it is made even MORE pressurized because you are paying so much and everyone has so many expectations - least of all, which encompass the word "vacation".


Which brings me to my point...my mom started going to the Chi Chi's that opened in the strip mall down from our house EVERAY Friday night with her "bus crowd".

Gimme a break, it was the eighties and gas was scarce, so all the cheap, I mean, "civically-minded" people, in our neighborhood started taking the TARC downtown to work.

Well, they formed this like, weird click of professionals ranging from t.v. production to secretarial work, and they started getting off at the bus stop by the strip mall and drinking as many sweet ad sour heavy margaritas as they could in a two hour period.

And it was this moment in time that my previously tee totaling mother discovered HAPPY HOUR.

I mean, girlfriend did not even come home first. Bitch got OFF at the bus stop 2 blocks away, which we were always reminded of, when she delivered her afternoon call from work to make sure we had made it home and had not simultaneously murdered one another.

Thus, the phrase "GO TO CHI CHI'S" was borne.  And I use the "E" at the end of born to make it more important and rooted in history - like House of Cards and Bruce Jenner's gold medals.  That's a whole different post, I've been ruminating on - waiting for a little more research (aka Kardashian episodes) to complete my thesis.

So Jody started going to Happy Hour, and she had an ABSOLUTE ball, until she encountered the HANGOVER.

"I just don't like how I feel the next day," she confessed, as she lit a cig and then stamped it out after gagging, one Saturday morning after a Chi Chi's bang.  "The PEOPLE have changed," she continued, "and I guess some spouses have grown tired of the routine."

My Dad had stopped meeting her there after like three months because he claimed he didn't like the salsa.

I don't think she was specifically referring to him. I think all of the Douglass Hills and Plainview "better halves" were weary.  But, so was my Mom. She had an occasional "bus party" after that, and even remained close friends with some, but gas prices improved and she bought herself a new candy apple red Mazda RX7 two-seater (to accomodate a family of four, mind you) and she began driving to and from work again.

My Mom was hilarious.  She really was.  Sometimes it was her witty dialogue, which I always anticipated, because she repeated herself a lot, but the TRUE hilarity almost always lay in her actions.

This is the way I remember ours, but I'm probably embellishing, like I do.

My close friends and I refer to "Going to Chi Chi's" when things get too intense with our children and we remind each other to "take a step back".

THAT is what "Going to Chi Chi's" is for me.  When you are literally so involved in your children's lives that it DOMINATES  your behavior, you need to take a page out of my Mother's playbook and get off at the bus stop right before YOURS and remember what it is to be an ADULT.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with putting yourself first and letting your children fly.

When we were at Disney World this last week, it was hotter than HADES, with a 110 degree heat index (How many times have I mentioned the heat? I am trying to establish a motive for my behavior.) and my older kids were putting all kinds of pressure on me to go to three parks, I just let them go.

They had become familiar with the whole transportation system, and I was just simply DONE, and I let them go and went to dinner with my Dad and Diana and Brad and Eva.  It was GLORIOUS.

We were able to keep tabs on them via text and they sent us pictures and everybody was happy.

I guess my point is this...don't be afraid to go to Chi Chi's once in a while.  This train we call parenting has just left the station. It's a nail biter, for sure, but you HAVE to let them go, once in a while - for YOU and for THEM.

Everybody knows that chick on their dorm floor that wasn't allowed to do anything growing up, that positively LOST HER MIND in college.

I feel like freedom is not a state of mind anymore, when you are a parent.  You are not allowed to put yourself first.  It's all about your kids and their activities and their moods and their meals.

Maybe it is just the summer, and I am constantly with my kids, and although we are extremely close, I find myself looking for Exit signs.  Does that make sense?  Just a little sliver of remembering what it is like to be an adult and allowing yourself the opportunity to be with other adults of the same mind and body, and remembering what it is like to be totally uninhibited or irresponsible.

I feel SURE that Jody thoroughly enjoyed her newly discovered Happy Hours, even though it made her Saturday mornings HELL.  She soon replaced them with buying Madame Alexander dolls at flea markets, which tended to make her only feel bloated from the hot dogs, which was WAY better than a sour stomach.

Let's go to Chi Chi's, y'all...collectively or individually.  The next time your best friend is yammering on about how the line up in softball is unfair, or that her child's swim coach didn't put him in enough events - take a deep breath, listen to yourself, and then get off the bus at Chi Chi's, where selfish dreams come true - at least every Friday from 5-7 pm.

Or as my tennis partner said one Wednesday match morning, (we'll just call her Christina Mckenna, because that is her name) "Tuesday is MY night."

"Why, Tuesday?" I ask, innocently, because she has a Chi Chi's frequent flyer account.

"Because weekends are for pussies.  Now let's play.  Bring your A game."

She's the Mick to my Keith.

So, I digress.  Go to Chi Chi's on a Tuesday.  Go there MIDDAY, hookers!

GUIDANCE: Actually, Hudson 29 has an AWESOME Happy Hour, 4-6, I think it is.  If you are an early bird like Brad and I are, it will totally work in your favor.  Specially priced apps and signature drinks are abound.  On Sundays, they have HALF-PRICED bottles of wine, yo'!

That way you can TOTALLY get back in time to check your kids Instagram accounts and then parent accordingly.

Good luck!  And I'll see you at the bus stop!

This is how the Chi Chi's from my childhood looked for, like, ten years after it closed.

The Pancreatic Roast

Okay, soooo last Friday, I issued a challenge to all of you to ROAST me in the name of Pancreatic Cancer and friendship, as it is the one year anniversary of our friend, Kim Whybrew's surgery.  I could not for the life of me figure out how to work the financial end, but I think that we came up with a good solution.

One year ago today.

So, without further adieu, I introduce to you CINDY TZAGOURNIS, guest blogger and ROAST HOST.  Oh my GAWD, writing a blog WITH someone is a lot less lonely than writing it alone.  Too bad she's so sleepy.  I have about a 45 minute window, here before she expires right next to me.

Her choice

My choice.

So here goes...


Really? How did I get this gig? I would do anything for you ,Kim, and gladly roast our girl Johnna - the material is endless! But strangely enough, this is not my thing. Well here it goes, Johnna Underwood... what can I say.  You crazy.  My kind a crazy. Raw, smart, raunchy, sarcastic, emotional, hilarious, creative...wait this is a roast right? Let me focus on the bad stuff, or at least embarrassing.

Can I start with your crotch sniffing dogs? Without fail, every time I'm at your place your dog (whether they are Elaine or Scarlett) zeros in on my lady parts and remains in the area until I leave (the next day). Regardless of my attire - white jeans, skirt, bikini (lol)- I am literally ravaged and humiliated while Johnna screams at the dog to "STOP DAMMIT!" Then, she quickly forgets about me, turns her cheek and laughs as the dog lurches toward my unmentionables...goodtimes.



Okay, I'm warming up now. Can I chat about our Famous Dirty Christmas Cookie exchange? Seriously... classic Johnna. A party where you are invited to have the privilege to bake 4 dozen Christmas cookies, make an appetizer, bring a gift, maybe a breakfast casserole for the morning and if you are lucky get asked to be the entertainment.

Like she eatin' those cookies.  Bitch, puleeez.

Wait...this sounds like I'm putting on the party? Oh yeah and when you fall asleep at 10pm your friends take demoralizing pics of you with a double chin.... Merry Christmas.

Good Morgin'

This blog would not be complete without mention of her overzealous intrusion into my sacred bathtub. I can't remember exactly how this went down but somehow we ended up back at my place, shortly after moving in. After having clearly had a few too many spirits that evening, Johnna decided she should stay the night. I know that seems responsible, but that is not my intention, nor hers.  Johnna loves sleepovers and invading your space and borrowing your things...especially if they are nicer than hers.

Me " Johnna can I get you some Jammies?"
Her " Yes you can and fill up that bathtub and get me some bubbles I'm takin a Bath!"
Me  " Oh well then ok let me get you a towel ma'am"

She stripped it down and dove in.

Her" ahhhh this is great, Can you grab me a glass of wine? Thanks girl"

Yep thats Johnna. If anyone else did that it would be so weird but with Johnna Totally normal.


  I truly could get much more graphic and tell story after story but I need to refrain. I got Kids!

  This guest blog gig is all about our girl Kim. Ive known Kim and Johnna for as long as Ive lived in the U.S.A. 25 years! That's a long time and I have 25 years of memories that mostly make me laugh til my stomach aches. My life has been blessed with a lifetime of laughter with my ladies that help me escape the realities of the daily grind. One of my ladies as you know Kim Whybrew has courageously battled her fight with pancreatic cancer. It's been one year since Kim had surgery to remove the cancer and Johnna and I want to in some way help fight this cancer, while giving her a laugh on what could be a stressful day.

OK.  The commitment part of the blog...Johnna and I and HARBOR YOGA are putting on a Fundraiser for Kim and Pancreatic Cancer at 7pm on May 15th.  We will go out for drinks and apps after.

WE LOVE YOU, KIMMY!!!!

Sign up online and let's fill all the slots.  Any donations appreciated.  Let's celebrate Kim and raise some money for Pancreatic Cancer Research!



The direct link to the Pancreatic Cancer Fundraiser for Kim is https://clients.mindbodyonline.com/classic/home...  THANKS TO ALL!!!!

I'm serious, Hookers.

The Proposition

Just think of the EXPOSURE, douchebags!

Some of you have been waiting for this opportunity all your lives!

So I've been mulling around like two things lately, concerning this blog.  One, is to invite guest bloggers because I have been trying to get my writing going again, but I committed to a couple of things that are out of my wheelhouse, like Mystery Reader and lunchroom monitor, and like I don't have TIIIIIIIMMMMMEEE for this horseshit.

My second thing I have been contemplating is that it is almost my friend, Kim's "anniversary" of  her surgery (what a fucking misuse of THAT word, right?)' and I want to do something momentous and fun for it, that takes her (and her family's) mind off it all.

For those who don't know what I am talking about, you will have to look up the post on my blog. Providing a link would simply be too taxing.

Of course, Cindy is in the middle.

For those of you who DO know what I am talking about, then, I've been thinking about raising money for the Pancreatic Cancer Foundation (read: Paul and Kim going out to a nice dinner) and well, I just LOOOOVEEE a good ROAST, so my proposition is this....

I could do an online auction of sorts where people PAY to roast me each week and then we give, let's say HALF of it to Kim and Paul, a quarter to me and a quarter to the Pancreatic Research Foundation.

Juuuuussssttt fucking with you (but seriously inbox me if you think this is a good idea).

I could choose say, 10 people, one each week (let's face it yo'  there are a PLETHORA of people out there that would like to tear me apart, even though they are super special to me), post the blog to the individual's page and whoever gets the most shares or likes has to donate a specific amount.

How's THAT for a clustergram? You want to participate, and you want to knock it out if the park, but if you do, then you have to DIG DEEP and donate to something that you are SURE will enable me to skip the country, never to be heard from again.  Hilarious.  Who's IN, ballers?


Another avenue is INVITE 5 - 10 people, (I'm getting skittish now and thinking of my ego) people to roast me in my own blog - down in my basement, AAALLLLL authentic, like -  glass of wine, fire  even though it's Spring, and a blanket, windows open, candles lit, music playing with Southern Charm on mute, all while intermittently folding laundry - MINE, I hope.

It would be EXACTLY like those "Mom's Night Out" packages you force your husband to bid on at the PreSchool silent auction, only you don't have to invite anyone, you can wear sweatpants and neglect your hygiene for another day, and you have a free Uber home.

I don't drive anyone but my kids around, as a rule.

You could write a blog and then we'll do this grassroots thing where I have a PayPal account and if you like it, you donate ONE DOLLAR to the PayPal account and if you SHARE it, then you have to donate FIVE DOLLARS.  (I'm gonna be RICH, RICHEY  RICH, y'all!)

It's the bucket challenge, HONOR SYSTEM thing.  I DO NOT want you to donate more.  SURE the transaction probably costs more than the donation, but who the HELL cares? You bitches spend a lot more on a Whole Foods pear.

A third option is for me to get a sponsor who will donate a dollar for every LIKE or whatever.  Unfortunately, CompetitorSwim, Inc. is out of the running.  You don't piss where you eat, folks.

ORRRR, you could each get your OWN sponsor and then the number of likes determines how much they pay.

Can you imagine the sponsors here?  Like strip clubs and auto body shops.  I am imagining each guest blogger's sponsor now and it is not pretty folks.  The company I keep is shady, at best.

This is starting to sound as complicated as the Allergy Walk.  When I first saw the signs, I thought, why don't they just take Zytrec, like my kids do? But then I was told it was more about food allergies, which is a whole different deal and some of my friend's kids have them, so I had better tread lightly. I never got to see them walk, but I am sure the snacks at the end were AWESOME.

Guidance moment:  Zyrtec at night and Nasonex in the morning is the BEST recipe for seasonal allergies. I used to call on ENT's when I was a Pharmaceutical Hooker and they all said 10 years ago that this is the only combo that WERKS.  Both products have been around forever and the Zyrtec tends to make your little ones sleepy.  So, give it at night, if you are so inclined.  Nobody is going to pass judgement on you.  It's indicated on the label.

Anyway, I'm just throwing out ideas, looking for advice (participation AANNNDD approval, I guess) on how to structure this whole deal.

AND I'M SERIOUS, BUTTHOLES.

Here is what is to remain constant, though, guest bloggers that are from different parts of my life that I CHOOSE and some way for others, other than myself, to benefit.

I would also like to showcase how funny my friends and family are and GIVE THEM an opportunity to let their light shine, because I BELIEVE they are all underestimating themselves in terms of the literary talent they all share.  If I were a truly BENEVOLENT person, I would let them just tell a story, but if I have not reiterated enough, THIS SHIT IS ALL ABOUT ME, YO'.

The one thread that all of my close friends and family have is that they all give me shit.  They KNOW me.  They are incredible, caring, beautiful human beings, but they will call you out on your bullshit without blinking an eye.  PREACH!

I've written blogs about you guys and then you start getting texts and you have all these social repercussions, and I am sure it is all very frightening to click on my link when your name is unsuspectingly in the title.  But, whatevs, I made you all immortal sooooo... you're welcome.

Now let's turn the tables.  Give everyone your most obnoxious, humiliating stories and quotes you've endured in my presence, and we'll do something good with it, and I can take a FUCKING break, y'all, while simultaneously revitalizing this blog.

I need inspiration and a good laugh, and a reason to put a smile on Kim and Paul's face.  Not that they don't already, just maybe, a WIDER one.

Give me your thoughts in the comments of this blog for a change.  I am doing the 5th grade video and I simply cannot handle jockeying FB right now.

Let's get this party started.  Are you with me?

I cut my hair off, peeps.  Changed my emoji, FIRST THING!

Interpreting Pop Culture and Instagram Tomfoolery

Awww...here they are.

Sooooo I approach social media  and pop culture different than most, I think, and I thought I might enlighten the rest of you.  I finally succumbed to the fact that it has altered our lives forever, and I have decided, like ANY old person would, that I am going to make it my bitch.

The best thing that you can do for yourself when you are old and progress slaps you in the face, is to combat that fact like Brandi Glanville would, and just unleash a full glass of Pinot Grigio that so stuns your competitor that they act in a way that they NEVER would normally in their real life.

Today I was folding laundry like I ALWAYS DO....EVERARY DAY and I decided I was going to commit to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion - there are parts ONE, TWO, aaannnndd THREE mamas- because it is sooo fucking intense.

Now, three has not aired and is part of my guidance today so, you're welcome.

There was a time in my life that I could not tolerate ANY of the Housewives series.  WELLLL, I'm BACK in the saddle and it, well, it just feels so NATURAL.

I am in constant AWE of all of them, yet, I SEE why they are doing what they are doing - not just to seem RELEVANT, but bitches be payin' their BILLS, y'all.

Brandi Glanville knows EXACTLY what she is doing.  The hilarious thing about her is that on one episode I caught ,she got a big unexpected CHECK and so she went and bought herself a hundred thousand dollar car, which she pulled up and parked right in the circular driveway of her rented home!

GAWD love her!

She is an wax museum lookin' fool after my own heart.

Just upsetting.

Part of the reason these women do this is because they have acquired a lifestyle that they need to afford.  The other reason is absolutely to remain relevant. The third, obscure justification is that it is somehow cathartic, in their botoxed, overfillered minds.  The final reason is that they are just plain crazy, but mostly I think it is for the check and the notoriety.  Now, some are hawking their restaurants and their skinny girl drinks on one level, but on another, there just HAS to be some other motivation because there is just no product in this world that would let me allow myself to go on national television and exploit my personal life and family.  Now, this blog is a totally different thing.  It is partially invented, I curse a lot, I am nuevo riche, wine is constantly being consumed....Wait, sorry, there IS no difference between them and me.  My bad.

Moving on...the act of seeing oneself on television must be mesmerizing.  In today's world, so much is recorded and documented that it must be intoxicating for them to actually be able to rewind a reel and see EXACTLY what happens when you are buzzed and put in a situation where you are bound to be at your WORST. Lisa Rinna, who seems fairly innocuous, was absolutely driven to the BRINK in one episode, so provoked that she threw her wine on another "wife" and not satisfied with that, broke her wine glass on the table like she was christening a boat.  The other housewives were so terrified, they actually ran away from the table and sought shelter outside because of course this all happened in a restaurant in another country.  Are you enticed yet to watch, who wouldn't be?

Klassy! She got her pic in US, though, and thus got her contract renewed.

I think, more than anything else I like to analyze the housewives, not judge them. Analysis is different.  It is detached and does not include pesky morality.  It is all about MOTIVATION and how they each got from where they have been to where they are now.

I make it sort of an intellectual exercise.  I am not allowing reality television to manipulate me, I am using it to make observations to try and understand interpersonal relationships better while also engaging in pop culture, so that I may stay relevant, as well.

That, and I really like Brandi's hair in the reunion episode and I made an appointment to cut all mine off this Monday, like hers, but I am fairly sure her "asymmetrical bob" is not real like her cheek bones and forehead and breasts and it is just "tucked under" as if in a tranny's leotard.  This is upsetting on two fronts - one being that I am trying to emulate something that does not exist and two - I have let reality tv dupe me again, just in a different way.  UGH!  Didn't see that one coming.  I guess I need to find a new hair role model.  Brandi is an imposter, apparently.

Instagram is another fun one for me.  I follow random people : artists, obscure celebrities, comedians, NY club owners, nail polish videos, hair trend videos, L.A. flower arrangers, and then family members and friends.  I am selective who I let into that world because Facebook was all about just "reconnecting" with people, and my Instagram is more personal, and still fun.

I used to like to follow all of my friends' kids, but now I have unfollowed and blocked most adolescents because I don't want to let them into my little world I have created.  Did you realize that people actually care what their Instagram "looks like" in terms of the compilation of photos on their page?  Hallie brought that to my attention.  Apparently, it's supposed to be aesthetically pleasing or some shit.    The level of attention that must be paid is somehow important.  I wish she felt the same about her room.

My emoji.  See...technology can be FUN!

Anyway, let me share with y'all some of my favorite random posts.  I screen shot them and then send them to my friends via text along with my own emoji that I have created.  These are fun ways to use technology and pop culture, that don't bring you down like self-promoting Facebook posts and the invasive ads you endure when you are trying to watch YouTube videos that creepily advertise products you've researched on the Internet.

Just try to look away.  You can't.  The image is burned in your mind forever.

I sent this one to my friend, Susan.  Should have waited till her birthday today.  Happy Burfday, SUS!!!!

I mean...priceless.

I hate duck lips.  It's weird.

This is probably my all time fav.  You just never know what will be on your feed tomorrow, though.
And that is the joy of it.

In my defense, this was posted by a hilarious Jewish fella, who is responsible for most of these.  I'm obsessed with him.

The caption read:  "When you broke as fuck, but she still believe in yo' dreams." OK. I've got to stop. I could literally do this ALL DAY. 

There is a yin and a yang to everything.  One cannot exist without the other, peeps.  You just HAVE to find the good and the positive, when you feel overwhelmed or disheartened by social media, so that you can appreciate the meaning of it all.  Does that make sense?  YOU ultimately are in control of how you receive the "AGE OF SOCIAL MEDIA".  You do not have to become a slave to it.  Edit the things about it that you do not like, and appreciate the things you have access to...like this, for instance.

Ummm.  Hmmmm.

It's more about the CONTENT than the MILESTONE

My favorite photo of the trip. 

Sooooo TODAY is my 20th Wedding Anniversary and I feel nothing.  I see that as a testament to my marriage, actually.  I don't feel a sense of accomplishment, or sentimental, or terrified or any of the other typical feelings that wedding anniversaries conjure up.  Is that BAD?  I think it's GOOD.  You know why?  Because I have been married for 20 years, that's why.

I mean, are you supposed to CONGRATULATE yourself?  Congratulate your partner for putting up with you?  Should you view it as crossing a finish line, only to keep running?  I don't understand.

Don't get me wrong, I have TOTALLY begun researching the restaurant I want to go to tonight and looked at the menus on Open Table.  Now THAT is something I can really get behind.  I just feel, well, SILLY about celebrating this milestone anniversary and I can't for the LIFE of me figure out WHY.  So, I will just use this post to analyze my feelings, rather then pay a therapist or take meds.  Your welcome. But, do not misunderstand me, I anticipate using my new 20 year marital status for the next year, and ALREADY have used it, to get a better room or table or sympathy, or whatever I can get out of it, because believe me, Brad will.

Now, my Mom would be ALL OVER THIS.  She literally watched our wedding video more times than I am willing to admit, and hosted more viewing parties than I will even allow myself to THINK about.  I imagine that my Dad is celebrating the fact that I never moved back in with him in the last 20 years, or that he had to pay for maybe two MORE weddings in that time.

I think if we were getting on a jet plane to some exotic island tonight, instead of getting in the back of a smelly Uber cab on it's way to the Short North, I would be a little more inclined to be excited, but then I would really just be excited about the VACATION and the possible upgrade, more than the milestone, itself, you know?

It feels like we are celebrating Sweetest Day or something.  It feels forced and abbreviated.  You see, Brad and I took a vacation along Hwy 1 last summer that I considered our anniversary trip because I just KNEW that we would not be able to get away right now and I wanted to use my imaginary upgrade powers.

But, NOW we have booked a trip for the end of January to celebrate our anniversary, and quite frankly, it feels the way it feels when I buy myself a Christmas present early, while I am supposed to be shopping for others, and I end up wearing it or using it because I need it BEFORE Christmas and then I ask for something entirely different for Christmas, as if my holiday indiscretion never happened.

I just LOVE that feeling.  I just find that special cocktail of guilt mixed with anticipation so intoxicating.

So, if I am rationalizing, is today just a technicality... until January, or should we reminisce about California?

I chose the former.  Why look back?  Even if I DID get an upgrade.  I mean, what if the Upgrade Gods do not shine down upon me in January?  That is a very REAL scenario and one that I shall use to justify my assholery.

You know what?  I chose BOTH.  I say we wax nostalgic about Hwy 1 today, and then anticipate the future tonight, so we have something other to look forward to than our three daughters and I cycling (menstrual not Pelatonia) together one day. That is the answer.  There we go.  Therefore, we should NOT go to a fancy restaurant, and just get appetizers at like Applebee's or something, and then I don't have to wash my hair.  Done.

I'm just fucking with you.  You know me better than that, Brad.  Cool Girl vanished when you put a ring on it - the original GONE GIRL, if you will.

Alright, let's talk about Hwy 1 and how much fun it was.  The older I get, the more I like to DO things on vacation, rather than just CHECK OUT, like I used to, when the kids were little.  I think that goes hand in hand with cross body bags and wearing "dress" flip flops instead of heels to dinner.  It's a slippery slope to fanny packs and orthotics.

ANNYYYWAY, Brad and I drove from L.A. to San Francisco, and it was my favorite vacation the two of us have taken to date.  We have always vacationed well together because as Brad says I "become a COMPLETELY different person".  I guess I should take offense to that, and I would, if I hadn't been married to him for 20 years.  Gone Girl also possessed sensitivity, which has since been replaced with a hardened cynicism lens I view everything though, including myself. At least I'm still laughing, I guess.

Now, this began as a "Work Trip" so we attended the National Swim Championships in Irvine.  Guuurrrll, it was outdoors and was the "perfect" venue for that event.  Currently obsessed with Matt Grevers and Missy Franklin.  Check them out.  Fun Fact:  it is an unspoken courtesy that the officials wait for Michael Phelps to do his "butterfly arm slapping ritual" before they begin any race he is in.

Ok, so we began in L.A. and ate lunch at The Ivy on a Friday.  Of course, we were early, because we are OLD, and all of the starlets don't eat lunch until like 2pm, so all WE witnessed were smarmy Eurotrash, big haired Texans in their latest Louis Vuitton finery, and lonely Cougars bubbling over at the Mimosa Bar.  I was in HEAVEN.

Oh, and the whole time we are sitting there, we played, "Who would you want to see here?" and then Brad kept breaking in with preposterous sightings of antiquated "B" celebrities.  "Oh my Gawd, I just saw Tom Selleck walk out of the bathroom!" or "You just missed it, Cindy Lauper just left in a limo!"

Raspberry Rhubarb cocktail.  Soooo yummy.  And reasonable.  That is, if you think blowing your wad on one drink is sensible.  No.  No thank you.  No lunch.  Just more bread.  Thanks.  We're from the Midwest.

Next, we stayed at Casa Del Mar in Santa Monica.  It is by far the nicest hotel that I have EVER stayed at.  Loved EVERY minute.  At check in we were behind a very posh, but harried, emaciated mother, who asked very loudly, "Ummm, where's the nearest liquor store and pharmacy?"

We stayed at 6 hotels total in a 7 day period. I repeated that line at EVERY check-in. 

Anyway, we received an upgrade to their corner suite as a surprised Brad looked on as I announced our 20th anniversary stay.

Ummmm. where's the nearest absinthe grotto and hash dispensary?

The following day we had the longest leg of our trip from Santa Monica to Santa Barbara along Hwy 1.  We had a long stretch of highway in which I was not allowed to urinate or eat, and although it was scenic and I took a lot of pictures, I was convinced the entire time that I was just marinating in a urinary tract infection. I mean, instead of water boarding, the US government should just make a suspected terrorist informant go on a road trip with my husband.  I would have SUUNNNGGG like a canary, I was so physically uncomfortable in that car. I would tell anyone my deepest darkest secrets.  Hell, I would make shit up, like this blog.

Oh my Gawd, I've got to pee.

That whale sighting makes me want to pee.  Must have been the blow hole.

My eyesight is starting to go, I think I'm losing consciousness I have to pee so bad.

Finally, we found THIS Oasis along the coastline, and truly it was one of my favorite memories of the trip. It is called Ragged Point and it served us up some 805 Beer (a San Francisco area code) and grilled chicken, and oh, wait for it...an authentic hippy couple that plays the Sitar or some shit while singing off key, as if they were Peter, Paul and Mary, minus one of the dudes, natch.  Enjoy.

I just LOVES me some bonafied hippies.  I admire how they just COMMIT to the sound and the clothes and the hairstyles.  I wonder at what point in my life I will just decide to stop time, and never buy another new piece of clothing again or cut my hair in a new way.  And what is the precipitating factor in that scenario?  Do I just get SO uncomfortable with progress that I have to hit the Pause button, never to Resume Play again.  In that case, I need to actively participate and analyze what ERA that will be so that it is a conscious decision and not a surrender, you know?  Like, CHOOSE what time period I was happiest and start dressing, speaking, acting and styling my hair accordingly.

Heeerrree we go.  And I know JUST the person who will be willing to give up the Good Fight, right along with me.

Ok, next on to Santa Barbara.  I loved The Square.  We stayed at a boutique hotel called The Canary Hotel. The decor was right out of Anthropologie.  Here is a sample.  I think if I had to do it over, I would have stayed in Big Sur one night, instead, and hiked, but you just have to make choices on a vacation like this and take notes, you know? Your welcome, hookers.

This is about the only space that wasn't hijacked by the wedding party there, at the risk of sounding like a Trip Advisor Troll. Cute hotel, though, and great rooftop pool. Santa Barbara is too interesting to spend all day at the hotel, though.

My favorite place on the trip, hands down, was Carmel.  We stayed two nights and my favorite night was at Clint Eastwood's place, Mission Ranch.  It is little more than a renovated Motel, just outside of town that overlooks a sheep ranch with a tiny inlet in the background.  The restaurant is exquisite and boasts an extensive wine list (it's California, peeps) and several unpretentious candlelit fireplaces on it's veranda, while hosting an equally unaffected karaoke session comprised of local retirees and a live piano accompanist, after sunset.  Of course I participated in both.  One of the best nights I have ever had, hands down, because it was completely fresh and unexpected. I mean, who could predict that they would be singing Elvis to a crowd of elated seventy-year-olds when they are getting dressed for the evening?  Not me.  And not Brad, I assure you.  Or maybe he did.  After all, we HAVE been married 20 years.

Perfection.

Karaoke.  They took it seriously, y'all.  You betta bring your A game, if the music is live.

One of the outdoor fireplaces.  Subtle and beautiful.

Also, I came across this little gem on the patio, which is clearly the inspiration for Garth on Wayne's World.  He was dining with his elderly mother, and would repeatedly become exasperated with her when she would feign self consciousness while taking photos of the sheep herd.  "Be yourself, Mother!  Christ!  Who CARES what other people think!"  Word. He's a little time capsule unto himself, now, isn't he?

Mother can be so irritating. 

While in Carmel, we hung out at the beach, ate and drank and shopped a little.  I just fell in LOVE.  I GET the hype about California now because of my experience there.  Mission Ranch is not to be missed and it is reasonably priced compared to everything else in the area with just a fraction of the ambiance.

I cannot end this trip without showing you this INSANE video that we encountered on the leg from Carmel to San Francisco.  We got off Hwy 1 and went 101, so that we could make better time.  And then THIS happened.

This cop came out of NOWWHERE and began swerving wildly in mild traffic for like TEN minutes, across four lanes.  When I googled "Why is a cop swerving across all lanes of traffic", because Brad and I assumed that it was some "freaky deaky Cali thing", and this was the first entry on Google, and I am NOT paraphrasing.

Answer:  "Common practice. Usually indicates a situation ahead.  Sometimes it means the cop is high, but not usually."

Hilarious.

Well, the swerving officer just exited the highway with zero fanfare, nor explanation.  My money is on midday bong hits.

Finally, we arrived in San Francisco.  We stayed at another boutique hotel there called The Mystic.  The room was typical and really unexceptional, but the bar was amazing.  The bartenders are "mixologists" and the atmosphere is pure San Francisco = COOL.

I don't always drink Bourbon as a night cap, but when I do, it's usually something REALLY expensive and prepared by a mixologist.

The Highway 1 trip was a trip of a lifetime.  I hate to use the term "Bucket List" because that is morbid and implies that I will never do it again.  In truth, there are so many VERSIONS a person can do of this trip.  One could do low budge and stay at motels along the coast or even camp in some spots.  OR you could do an extremely HIGH END version where you begin your trek at the Chateau Marmot, then Shutters on the Beach (Casa Del Mar's sister hotel), La Playa in Carmel, Ventana Inn & Spa in Big Sur and finish up at the St. Regis San Francisco.  This is not even touching on Silicon Valley, Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, Malibu and the like.

My recommendation is just to DO IT and do it with your Bae, because any vacation with kids is just a completely different experience no matter WHERE you go.  This trip, like marriage, is just living moment to moment and appreciating the unexpected vignettes you string together as you look forward to the future.  As much as I loved the Casa del Mar corner suite, I think I was happiest finally relieving myself at The Ragged Point and then drinking a cold beer whilst ingesting half a roast chicken.

As a side note, I recently realized this is my 200th post.  In my mind, this is met with the same ambivalence as my anniversary, for it is not the milestone that should be celebrated, but the content. The jury is still out on that one, as far as I'm concerned.

This picture makes me have to pee.

He just LOVES it when I think I am taking a picture and it's a video.

This your first time at The Ivy?  I come here every Friday for the mimosa bar.  You look like a Pisces, no?

Happy Anniversary, Brad.  I think tonight's dinner will be EPIC because I'm gonna be married to you tomorrow, and the day after that.  Thank you for the content.  It's not perfect.  We're not always on vacation when it happens, but it's OURS and we built it and I'm proud of that.

Whole Foods, Tax Write Offs and Smart Cars

My view of The Whole Foods that day. DAMMMNNN.  My car is FILTHY!  Maybe I'll saunter on down to the Moo Moo Car Wash, now that my belly is full.

OKAY, sometimes I just become OVER a thing that has become a habit in my life, and I just need to take a BREAK, people.

The Whole Foods, that is a hop, skip and a jump from my house, is ONE of those habit-forming THINGS that has been gettin' on my LAST nerve.

Now, before I begin, there is an EXCELLENT blog on this topic that is ground-breaking, and is literally the Madonna to my Miley Cyrus.  Ruuuhhhspect!  It's called "Surviving Whole Foods" at http://yoganonymous.com/surviving-whole-foods.

I just feel that the subject hasn't been exhausted, yet, and that there is a hole that I need to fill because NO ONE ELSE is speaking up, and I'm starting to suspect that Oprah owns The Whole Foods.

But, I digress.  I didn't mean to jump to conclusions, I am still in the "making observations" stage, soooo let's get started.

Just to clarify, I wrote this about a month ago, in the parking lot of The Whole Foods on my phone.  I shit you not. It is as follows:

So, I have a major LOVE/HATE relationship with Whole Foods, and as of late, I've decided it's UNHEALTHY for me.

For a while there, I was even walking through CONSTRUCTION with my family to partake of The Whole Foods Experience, if you will.

Here is my farm raised, grain fed BEEF, y'all.


No.  I do NOT want to round up my purchase to donate to a fund to put gardens in schools. So there.  First of all, my purchase ended in .19, and secondly, because I come here like a hundred times a week to purchase your overpriced, albeit yummy organic inventory. Now that ADDS UP, and I cannot write it off, and also because when pressed, you cannot even tell me the name of the organization that is handling said garden.

Oh I know, call on me...is the organization called Supplemental Income Alliance?  How about The Fat Cat Executives of Whole Foods Ponzi Initiative? Or my personal fav, Rent Overdue 'Cause I Was Cut Off By My Parents Coalition? It goes without saying that it is impossible to claim a donation to something that is less than a dollar, twice a day, 7 days a week. Well played, Midwest Faux Hippie Chick.

And what's with that, too?  Where did all the authentic hippies in Whole Foods go?  When I lived in Boulder after college, the "health food" stores were always run by REAL hippies that like saw Vietnam.  It may have been from their playpen, in their diapers, like on T.V., but STILL.  They were high and they were sweet and they smelled bad, and they were all "No worries," because they genuinely didn't HAVE any, (because compared to Vietnam, forgetting your hemp bag really isn't a big deal) and I took great comfort in that.

Now the "health food" grocery store employees are just AWARE.  Socially, nutritionally, and globally.  And they smell like natural deodorant and coriander.  They are scrubbed clean, with something abrasive.  And they are WORRIED, people, worried to death. What have they lived through?  The Tech bubble bursting? I just don't get it.

ANYWAY, I just want to purchase my ridiculously expensive, just prepared 5 seconds ago sushi, and devour it in my SUV with the air on and the windows rolled down, sans chopsticks, while intermittently guzzling my equally indulgent Joe's Peach Tea that I've developed an addiction to, just enough to satisfy me to the point that I can move on to my next destination that is the Used Instrument Shop to purchase the wind instrument that my child will never master. Is that so much to ask?

So, lady at the register, you can take your shame based expression featuring those downcast eyes and  pursed lips elsewhere, because I am not pickin' up what you're puttin' down, Mi Lady.

And yes, I would like a BAG with that, even though I could comfortably juggle my loot leaving one arm free, and if it could be made out of baby seal skins sewn together by the tiny nimble hands of homeless six-year-olds, that would be great.  Oh, but NOT the one made by the homeless FEMALE six-year-olds, because that would be SEXIST.

I mean, SERIOUSLY???  You gonna show up at Da Club in that, Holmes?  Then you betta park it at the bike rack, Son.

Ok, and finally, I refuse to leave this subject alone without examining the sociology of the SMART CAR owner profile in The Whole Foods parking lot.

Why can't you apply those same Mother Earth lovin' principles of human behavior you display INSIDE the Whole Foods as you eewwww and awe over the latest organic kale macaroons, to that person driving the smart car at 180 miles an hour through the parking lot?

EACH TIME I am exiting my parking spot, I literally have to INCH OUT for like 15 minutes to avoid hitting you in your ridiculously tiny vehicle.  LOOK, I am saving YOU here.  My 8-year old daughter, Eva, could put you in Intensive Care with her big wheel if she wanted to.  You do not have immortality or "Smart Car Super Powers" because you are reducing emissions and conserving fuel.

Bring it, Al Gore.

Let's just put it this way...if you have to get down on one knee or SQUAT, even, to enter your vehicle JUST to reduce your carbon footprint , then just save yourself the humiliation and go get yourself a bus pass.  You are impressing NO ONE by whizzing around in your Mountain Dew mobile. I mean, do they make any other colors besides green?  We get it!  Environment.  Green.  You do not have to hammer it home!

Ok.  I'll stop there.  I just got full.  Maybe next time I write a blog, I will eat first.  Hashtag low blood sugar rage.

Can you write off Service to the Community?  I need to Google that.

My advice today is obvious and two fold.  Donate to organizations that you get a receipt for, except Salvation Army and street musicians, and don't buy a Smart Car.  LEASE one for Pete's sake. Oh, and double up on that insurance, while your at it.  Collision isn't going to pay your hospital bills.