I am leaving on a trip to San Francisco with friends this week. I've just started thinking about what to pack: Can I do it all in a carry-on (answer: no, not with my lotions and potions and general liquid requirements), how many electronics cords do I need (ipod charger, camera charger, cell phone charger, kindle charger), how many pairs of glasses (regular eyeglasses, prescription sunglasses, regular sunglasses, sport sunglasses, reading glasses), and oh god the shoes (for airplane, for walking, for running, for nightime).
I'm also remembering the last and only time I visited San Francisco. It was 11 years ago and we flew into the city on our way to a long weekend in Sonoma County. That time in Sonoma was the first time I ever thought I could live somewhere other than the Boston environs. (That thought has changed dramatically over the past few years. But that's a whole different post for a future time.) It was late September and the northern California nights are what I remember most. One night, we attended a barrel tasting at the Rodney Strong wine vineyard. The sky was not quite black even at 10 PM; layers of blue mingled with the nightime stars. Our host, hoping to sell us oodles of cases, took us away from the barrels and the people and up among the vines themselves. We plucked grapes and popped them into our mouths reveling in the way the juices flowed down our chins. I had a white top on and didn't care one bit when cabernet-colored stains dotted the front, right around 2 of the buttons. We didn't buy oodles of cases but we bought a few.
We only spent a few hours in the city itself on our way home; we drove up and down some hills, parked with great difficulty near Fisherman's Wharf, took some photos of cable cars and called it a day. I'm glad to be going back.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Shopping List for a 21st Birthday Barbecue
60 hamburger patties
20 gardenburger patties
80 rolls
10 pounds of yukon gold potatoes
1 jar hellman's mayonnaise
1 large bottle Ken's Italian Dressing
2 bunches of parsley
1 extra microphone for the Karaoke machine
½ keg of beer
2 gallon bottles of Bombay Gin
6 liters of tonic water
10 limes
6 liters of Coke
6 liters of Sprite
25 shot glasses
120 plastic cups, various colors
100 red napkins
20 dill pickles
6 bags Lays potato chips
6 bags ptretzels
2 bags Hershey's kisses
250 twinkle lights
100 blue and red cupcakes
A freezer full of ice
1 bottle pink nail polish
4 bags marshmallows
10 oversized Hershey bars
4 boxes graham crackers
firewood for the firepit
1 secure container for car keys
60 hamburger patties
20 gardenburger patties
80 rolls
10 pounds of yukon gold potatoes
1 jar hellman's mayonnaise
1 large bottle Ken's Italian Dressing
2 bunches of parsley
1 extra microphone for the Karaoke machine
½ keg of beer
2 gallon bottles of Bombay Gin
6 liters of tonic water
10 limes
6 liters of Coke
6 liters of Sprite
25 shot glasses
120 plastic cups, various colors
100 red napkins
20 dill pickles
6 bags Lays potato chips
6 bags ptretzels
2 bags Hershey's kisses
250 twinkle lights
100 blue and red cupcakes
A freezer full of ice
1 bottle pink nail polish
4 bags marshmallows
10 oversized Hershey bars
4 boxes graham crackers
firewood for the firepit
1 secure container for car keys
Friday, July 24, 2009
A List for Monique
Things Monique Needs to Know Now That She is Fifty
1.Don't show this to Donna.
2.Talking to yourself has always been normal; now answering yourself is.
3.You will never, ever be carded again.
4.It is fine to use a man's nose hair trimmer.
5.You have to start having dinner at 5:00. It's the law.
6.In a pinch, you can use your breasts in place of a swiffer mop.
7.You can never, ever wear a halter top again. (see #6)
8.Swearing is more fun than ever.
9.Think you didn't give a shit before? Now, you won't give a shit x 50.
10.The monthly meeting really is in Paris. See you on the 5th.
1.Don't show this to Donna.
2.Talking to yourself has always been normal; now answering yourself is.
3.You will never, ever be carded again.
4.It is fine to use a man's nose hair trimmer.
5.You have to start having dinner at 5:00. It's the law.
6.In a pinch, you can use your breasts in place of a swiffer mop.
7.You can never, ever wear a halter top again. (see #6)
8.Swearing is more fun than ever.
9.Think you didn't give a shit before? Now, you won't give a shit x 50.
10.The monthly meeting really is in Paris. See you on the 5th.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
More on piccole tazze.
It's the idea that the small everyday stuff is what keeps you going. The stuff that slips by and disappears like a puff of smoke if you're not paying attention. It's the phone call from a friend just to say hi, stopping to notice the way the sky looks just before the thunderstorm, the random conversation you have with the lady in the pick up truck while putting gas in the car, the compliment on the earrings. Piccole Tazze. Small cups.
We tend to focus on the big mugs, I think. Waiting for stuff to happen. Can't wait til Thanksgiving, the trip out West, the big birthday. This stuff is good, too, especially the trip part and I want to write a lot about that but if we expend all our energy on the BIG stuff we miss real life. And how many times have you felt post-vacation, post-holiday, post-mug let down?
Piccole tazze, by their nature, never let you down.
It's the idea that the small everyday stuff is what keeps you going. The stuff that slips by and disappears like a puff of smoke if you're not paying attention. It's the phone call from a friend just to say hi, stopping to notice the way the sky looks just before the thunderstorm, the random conversation you have with the lady in the pick up truck while putting gas in the car, the compliment on the earrings. Piccole Tazze. Small cups.
We tend to focus on the big mugs, I think. Waiting for stuff to happen. Can't wait til Thanksgiving, the trip out West, the big birthday. This stuff is good, too, especially the trip part and I want to write a lot about that but if we expend all our energy on the BIG stuff we miss real life. And how many times have you felt post-vacation, post-holiday, post-mug let down?
Piccole tazze, by their nature, never let you down.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I think he'll be OK
When my oldest child left for college, I wandered around his empty room sobbing. He was in a special program for freshmen which sent him off to London for his first semester. His dad drove him to JFK; I stayed home. I knew I couldn't say goodbye to him in the airport without becoming a blubbery mess. As I wandered, I wondered: Had I done enough to prepare him to cope in the world? The life of a college student is not exactly the “real world,” I know that. But he would be off my radar, with an ocean between us. At the time, he was a private person and emails and phone calls were rare. He tried to reassure me that he was fine and if he needed anything he would let me know. I backed off, but I didn't like it.
By late September, his bedroom was transformed. By extension, so was I. Closets were cleaned and cleared and rugs were shampooed. I started collecting paint chips to replace the decade old Little Boy Blue walls. In my mind, I rearranged and replaced furniture. Lists of CDs and books were made: What can be tossed? What should be saved? I didn't want to do too much too soon as I knew he would be home in December and I didn't want him to feel displaced, but I enjoyed just standing in the doorway, admiring the clean and non-adolescent smell.
As part of my transformation, I stopped automatically choosing his favorite foods while at the grocery store. No more Sesame Blue Tortilla Chips and hot salsa for the cart. Back in late August, right after he left, the sight of Amy's Cheese and Bean Enchiladas in the frozen food case would cause my eyes to tear up. I was able to cruise by the glass case display without even a glance by mid-Fall. I began to appreciate that there were no more fights over who could take the car on a weekend night. He always claimed he had first dibs because he was the oldest; this argument didn't fly with either his younger sister or me. Now, use of the car was just between my daughter and me so there was only one kid to argue with. Progress.
In November, the family flew to London for Thanksgiving weekend. He looked different: new haircut, rough beard. He confidently showed us around the city while navigating the Tube and he introduced us to new friends. He chose the restaurants for dinner. Our daughter spent a couple of nights in his dorm, showing us a glimmer of life with two kids out of the house. We found out later that the girls in the dorm wanted to take his younger sister out to clubs at night; big brother wouldn't let them. At the end of our visit I wasn't saddened by the separation – quite the opposite. I was delighted at the confident, self-assured young man who seemed to transform after a mere three months away from home.
A funny thing happens when you know your child is happy and healthy and out of the house, more or less on his own. You begin to enjoy it. You begin to get used to the relative quiet, the lower grocery bills, the smaller pile of laundry. You don't have to wait up at night until you hear the garage door open and close. You begin to realize that no news is good news. You even may begin to think your job is done.
By late September, his bedroom was transformed. By extension, so was I. Closets were cleaned and cleared and rugs were shampooed. I started collecting paint chips to replace the decade old Little Boy Blue walls. In my mind, I rearranged and replaced furniture. Lists of CDs and books were made: What can be tossed? What should be saved? I didn't want to do too much too soon as I knew he would be home in December and I didn't want him to feel displaced, but I enjoyed just standing in the doorway, admiring the clean and non-adolescent smell.
As part of my transformation, I stopped automatically choosing his favorite foods while at the grocery store. No more Sesame Blue Tortilla Chips and hot salsa for the cart. Back in late August, right after he left, the sight of Amy's Cheese and Bean Enchiladas in the frozen food case would cause my eyes to tear up. I was able to cruise by the glass case display without even a glance by mid-Fall. I began to appreciate that there were no more fights over who could take the car on a weekend night. He always claimed he had first dibs because he was the oldest; this argument didn't fly with either his younger sister or me. Now, use of the car was just between my daughter and me so there was only one kid to argue with. Progress.
In November, the family flew to London for Thanksgiving weekend. He looked different: new haircut, rough beard. He confidently showed us around the city while navigating the Tube and he introduced us to new friends. He chose the restaurants for dinner. Our daughter spent a couple of nights in his dorm, showing us a glimmer of life with two kids out of the house. We found out later that the girls in the dorm wanted to take his younger sister out to clubs at night; big brother wouldn't let them. At the end of our visit I wasn't saddened by the separation – quite the opposite. I was delighted at the confident, self-assured young man who seemed to transform after a mere three months away from home.
A funny thing happens when you know your child is happy and healthy and out of the house, more or less on his own. You begin to enjoy it. You begin to get used to the relative quiet, the lower grocery bills, the smaller pile of laundry. You don't have to wait up at night until you hear the garage door open and close. You begin to realize that no news is good news. You even may begin to think your job is done.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)