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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
Happy Burfday, Hals. You are my main teen bae. Wait. Is that redundant? I think that's redundant. Now, how do you get the "a" and the "e" to mush together again? Don't roll your eyes. I'm not THAT old.
So, today is my primary child, Hallie's, thirteenth birthday. She is officially on her way to becoming an adult and I think THAT warrants a humiliating blog, don't you?
Okay, so I've been thinking a lot about what I want to reveal about Hallie, and really if I were to do a diagram of her, she is precisely in the middle of becoming and adult and leaving her childhood. Therefore, she vacillates between this considerate, pensive, mature, witty person and basically, well, THIS PERSON.
If you havent' seen ALL of these. Google them on YouTube. We are obsessed.
Hallie is Jimmy Fallon's character, SARAAAAAA! "Cause H's are EW! Therefore, we often call Hallie, ALLLAAAHHHH.
Hallie is a seventh grader and I feel like she navigates it's pitfalls with equal grace and clumsiness. She is just CONSTANTLY walking that tightrope of insecurity and confidence. I am continually fascinated with the inner struggle, and I try to just sit back and let her figure things out on her own because the biggest gift my parents gave to me were the tools to become INDEPENDENT. Now, my room was a complete mess, and I was WAY more immature and anxiety-ridden than Hallie will EVER be, but I was completely in control of my own thought processes. In essence, I was taught to think for myself, even if it was in direct opposition from my parents', or even society's point of view.
School pic. We were going for a blond Arianna Grande, with braces, natch.
I tend to get all melancholy when one of my children reaches a milestone, especially Hallie, because she is my first. If you think about it, you cut your teeth on your first child, for better or for worse, but I justify the bad because they also are the only sibling that knows what it's like to have the undivided attention of an only child.
I distinctly remember getting down on the floor with her everyday when she was like ONE and going over the value of coins, i.e. a quarter, dime and nickel and the like. I was all, "This is a quarter. It is worth twenty five cents. Now pick it out of this line of of coins. WHERE is the quarter? Pick out the quarter. Good girl! You are SOOOOO SMART." I would then show anyone that came over to the house how brilliant she was. On the flip side, Eva, my third, rarely got her diaper changed unless it fell off from the weight and the dog started feasting on it.
So Hallie is in middle school, which I liken to Alcatraz for children. Last winter she broke her wrist skiing over Christmas break and I accompanied her through the halls of her middle school and nearly escaped having a panic attack. You see, Hallie had been getting all of this attention on social media and through texts and shit when it got out that she had challenged a tree and LOST, big time. The SAME people who had expressed the shock and awe of the story, who had had a proliferation of condolences, looked STRAIGHT at her and then at her cast, as she navigated the crowd, and then looked away in sheer ambivalence.
Now, I did not expect the principal to make an announcement the moment we arrived, but I was COMPLETELY baffled by the social climate, and then I was immediately transported back to my OWN horrible middle school existence, and Hallie had become my portal.
Well, we made our way to the nurse's office and Hallie was all flustered and nervous about gym and how she was going to write with her right hand, and I took her aside, just as the nurse left the room and I whispered, "Now listen, THIS is your SAFE place. If you need a break and you wanna be alone, JUST COME HERE, and you'll be fine."
Well, her face instantly morphed into Brad's facial expression he commonly uses when he thinks I am bat shit crazy and she says exactly what he always says at times like this sans expletives, and that is, "What? What in the HELL are you TALKING about, woman?"
"Oh, nothing," I was transported back to the emotional present. "Now, you had better run along to gym and give your teacher the nurse's note. Call me if you need me." I nearly sprinted back to my car as my chest tightened in disgust.
You see, when I think about middle school, I literally can remember like TWO scenarios, but mostly it is just a FEELING that I get when I recall that three year period, and then that FEELING makes me want to have diarrhea.
So, then, here I am again, cutting my teeth with Hallie, and I will be totally desensitized by the time Eves enters the worm hole that is middle school.
ANYWAY, when I think of Hallie, and I have been thinking alot about her these last few days. I think I sort of view her with my Mom's eyes. You see, Hallie was named after my Mom's mom, who was very young (39) when she died, and my Mom was simply ecstatic about that. It didn't hurt that Hallie was super sweet and smart and caring, and looked good in all of the Janie and Jack clothes my Mom bought her.
Such a great picture of a picture.
Hallie was special to my Mom, also, because she was her first grandchild and my Mom was not ill for most of Hallie's life so she could really enjoy her. She thought Hallie "hung the Moon" and I agree. I feel my Mom all around me lately, and I know that she is just as proud of who Hallie has become so far, as I am.
I do not IDOLIZE Hallie, but I do RESPECT her and her opinions and I love the perspective she has on life. She is not as cynical as I am, but she still has the trademark acerbic wit, which is a refreshing take on our special brand of humor. I have an absolute ball with her most of the time, when she is not annoying her sisters at mealtime or obsessing over One Direction. Here's another hilarious SNL skit we are fond of. Loves me some Paul Rudd, y'all.
Hallie is also a writer. She has been writing stories since she was in preschool, I am not exaggerating. I saved all of them, Hal, but don't ask me where they are because I have NO idea where I put them. Hallie has actually been published, which is an accomplishment I may never achieve, and I fully intend to live out all of my "writer fantasies" vicariously through her, beginning by having a custom t-shirt that says, "Writer Mom".
Sleepover birthday selfie. Clearly not the first one.
Get a load o' ol' CRAZY EYES.
Hallie, I am sorry that you are always FIRST, but I feel like the privileges tend to outweigh the responsibilities. How many times have you heard THAT one? Don't answer that and go put your bands on or you'll be wearing those braces on your wedding day!
I love you so much! I just want all of your dreams to come true. Except that one about touring with One Direction through Europe next year. Have a Happy Happy Birthday, my love, and as a wise friend once told me (Hi, Kelly!), "You don't wanna PEAK in middle school. In fact, you don't wanna PEAK while you live in this Gawdforsaken town at all!" AMEN. #southernsoulsistasunite
