Pro / Con List

Subject: Having J Home Full Time Starting This Fall

With homage to Rory Gilmore, queen of the Pro/Con list



PRO:

I'll have someone to watch trash TV with: Kardashians, Project Runway, Top Chef, endless Gilmore Girls reruns

She laughs at my stupid jokes

I laugh at her stupid jokes

She will honestly tell me if my outfit sucks

We can practice our karaoke act nonstop

I can worry about her in person


CON:

Her room remains disgustingly dirty with no end in sight

She loves to bake and there are always brownies, cookies, or cupcakes around

She swipes my stuff like lens solution, mascara, conditioner, and vodka but never replaces any of it

She comes home at all hours of the night and leaves all the lights on

I can worry about her in person

Summer Reading

I never really understood the concept of “summer” or “beach” reading. It's supposed to be lighter, fluffier, take a little less brain power to get through the pages. But, isn't summer when we have more time to read? My schedule, anyway, tends to be a bit looser. I can read on the deck, at the beach, in the airplane, waiting at the airport, on the ferry, in the hammock (if I had one). I can catch up on the stuff I didn't have time to read during the winter when Mondays are for this and Wednesdays are for that and both this and that require extensive driving time with me behind the wheel.

Over the past few years, I have read Grapes of Wrath, Anna Karenina, and The Time Traveler's Wife all over the summer. All meaty and heavy and long. It seems to make more sense to me to read more serious stuff over the summer because when you emerge it's, well, summer. Blue skies shining on me. Nothing but blue skies. I can reflect on the meaning of life and love and literature without slitting my wrists because it is 4 degrees outside and blustery and I have to get in the car and drive somewhere. Instead, Anna throws herself under the train and yes it is tragic and beautiful but man, this peach is delicious and I get to go out to pick up groceries in the Miata with the top down. All in the same afternoon.

I just finished Richard Russo's new book, That Old Cape Magic. I like Russo's writing a lot and this one doesn't disappoint. It tackles all the biggies: love, marriage, childhood, death. Some of the scenes are sidesplittingly funny, yet you feel a bit guilty for laughing because the situations are not that funny to the characters. I love that.

Gotta figure out what's next in the reading queue.

Time Suck

I hate passing up opportunities to waste time and here's a good one. First kid introduced me to this. It has all kinds of fun quizzes and challenges you can take, which help with the delusion that you're not REALLY squandering your life away, you're learning. Screw the laundry and the weeding of the garden. Delay the workout.

First kid informed me that he now knows 82% of world capitals. Impressive. He also devoted a fair amount of time this summer to solving this blast from the near past. His best time is 4 minutes.

I've taught him well.

Instant Gratification

I finally broke down and bought an Amazon Kindle. Yeah, I know.

When I first heard about it, I wasn't interested at all. I spend enough time in front of screens, I thought. I like that new book smell too much, I thought. Serious readers and writers need stacks and stacks of hardcover books on shelves, under shelves, under beds, piled on the floor, I thought. Then, I held one.

So pretty and shiny.

It's only 1/3” thick and weighs next to nothing. I'm not good at estimating weight so I'm going with it's pretty light. It holds over 1,000 books. That's a lot. You can download newspapers and magazines, too. I began to imagine getting on an airplane with just the Kindle, instead of half a dozen paperbacks and magazines. More room in the carry-on for regulation-size lip gloss and moisturizers. No more toting around huge clunky European or Caribbean guide books – voila: it's all on the Kindle! I began to imagine tossing the Kindle into my bag while assuming the role of chauffeur for Third Kid so I'll always always always have something to read while waiting for him to finish his classes or driving lessons or whatever.

Best of all: my desire and longing for instant gratification would be fulfilled. Interested in the new Richard Russo? I can have it in under a minute! Kinda bored with Three Cups of Tea? I can switch to the latest issue of The New Yorker! I can have what I want when I want it? Sign me up and ship it overnight, please.

I love it.

Learners Permit

You'd think it would get easier with the third kid, but it doesn't.

I've learned a lot (mostly through mistakes) in my attempts to raise 3 healthy, happy, eventually independent children. With the oldest, I breast fed for 12 months, carried around a food mill to grind carrots for baby food, had plug protectors and toilet seat locks, rocked him to sleep every night, limited TV watching to Sesame Street only. With child number two, I breast fed for 6 months, tried to remember to pack the Gerbers, yelled “stay away from the outlets” when she became interested, gave her a pacifier at night and allowed the Disney Channel. By the time child number three rolled around, reality ruled. He had a bottle at 3 months and was lucky I remembered to feed him at all. I made sure the toilet bowl was clean before he splashed in it. A gate was put on his bedroom door so that if he didn't go to sleep right away at least he stayed in his room. “Thomas the Tank Engine” was on non-stop.

But sitting in the passenger seat while your kid drives with a Learners Permit doesn't get easier with the third one; it is still Ultimate Torture. My foot constantly slams on the imaginary brake pedal. I dig my fingers into the seat each time he makes a left turn. I scream “mailbox mailbox mailbox” as he hugs the side of the winding country road. Just like I did with the first two kids. When I take a step back and think about Third's driving, it is actually quite good. Earlier this week, he merged onto a highway, changed lanes, make a difficult left turn and negotiated a traffic-packed rotary. Quite confidently, at that. And despite the fact that his lunatic mother was hyperventilating in the passenger seat.

His older siblings warned him: Don't drive with mom. She'll make you crazy. Dad's better at this. The reality of the situation is that mom's schedule has more flexibility than dad's and the only way to learn how to drive is to do it.

We go out on the road again today. My martini better be ready upon my return.

The Upside of Not Going to Puerto Rico This September

I was planning to go to San Juan this September with friends; we had to postpone due to the very real possibility of a fantastic job offer for Paul. Here's the positive spin in list form, of course.



I can stop doing a fucking extra 100 crunches a day.

It helps create positive thinking that Paul will get the new, fabulous job.

We will save money by not buying a new bauble for Craig.

We will save money by not buying gallons of margaritas for me.

We will save money by not buying gallons of sunscreen for Paul.

I will save money by postponing the always pleasant bikini wax.

Truman and Jackson will be happy you are home.

We can scream “My va-jay-jay hurts” whenever we want – we don't need no stinking zipline.

It's better that I don't run into Armando in my current state of mind.

We will figure out another way to glow in the dark that doesn't include Vieques. I've got ideas.

The Line for the Bathroom

I was in San Francisco visiting with friends last week; on Saturday, we spent a glorious day at the Farmers' Market. We wandered for a couple of hours testing olive oil and eggplant and peaches. We wondered at the freshness of the melon and the olives, and the friendliness of the farmers. The sun was shining and our east coast selves seethed with envy at this abundance. The snacking make us hungry; so we sought out lunch.

I finished my roasted tomato soup and needed to visit the ladies room. As I approached, I was dismayed at the line. Again? A long line at the bathroom? It was gorgeous and sunny out and I did not want to be in a line in the dank interior. No choice, though. I took my place and noticed the woman in front of me.

She was wearing a familiar shirt: American Cancer Society Relay for Life. Purple print on white. “I was in the Relay earlier this year,” I told her. “This is my first Relay as a survivor,” she said. “Me too,” I told her. Our eyes locked and that indescribable moment happened; it's happened to me before. I know what you are going through and you know what I am going through. Relief, and the need to talk. I then found out that the Relay was occurring there and then in San Francisco. She was taking a quick bathroom break. When you're going through chemotherapy, a bathroom line is a joy. It's real life.

I never found out her name. We acknowledged the beauty of the day. We each have 2 sons and 1 daughter. Isn't every day we are here magnificent? We walked out of the bathroom together.

“What's your name,” she asked. I told her. “With a 'Ch?' I will light a luminaria in your honor.” The sobbing begins; it happens often. I'm still not used to it.

A long bathroom line can be a good thing.