Birthday Shenanigans

Among the many things that made summer so busy, we took a road trip up north to visit my mom's branch of the family tree.  The visit just so happened to fall over my aunt's 80th birthday, so of course, there was a party.  Not that we needed an excuse - we would have had a party anyway.  This way, there was cake.

My aunt is a wonderful, giving, whip smart lady, but she can also be quiet and reserved, not craving attention in the slightest (in this respect, I am so much like her).  This made her the perfect complement to her sister, my grandmother, who could not possibly have done without attention.  They were the best of friends, definitely something to which we all should aspire. 

So what do you do for a behind the scenes kind of person whom you adore and want to make perfectly happy?  You hire an Elvis impersonator to serenade her and make her dance in front of 30 of her closest family and friends.  Or rather, my cousin did all this.  And kept it a complete secret from us.  Me, in particular.  Probably because I would likely have clued my aunt in at least a few minutes beforehand.  I got you, Aunty.

It was awkward, weird, crazy, and a barrel of fun for everyone, including my aunt, who said she really enjoyed the whole thing (well, maybe not that first shocking minute so much, but she came around).  We plied her with some pretty great presents anyway, so all was well.  And we ate cake for days.

Just another run of the mill, regular birthday passing by.

(How stinkin' cute is this batch of cousins?)

Tips for Doing Vegas with Kids

• Don't go in the summer. 116 degrees in June in the desert is no joke. The pool feels like soup.

•  Tell your kids that that Chewbacca and Mickey Mouse out on the street are really doctors trying to give them vaccine or make them eat their vegetables so you don't get stuck spending all your winnings on $15+ photo ops.

• The French waiters at Paris will totally bring your 8 year old a glass of wine when she orders it.

• Forget the Cosmopolitan and the Mirage.  You will spend all your time at the M&M store and Hershey World.

• Speaking of France, there's also Italy (the Venetian and Caesar's), Egypt (Luxor), America (New York New York), and even Camelot (Excalibur).  You can totally turn this into a social studies lesson.

• The High Roller sky wheel has an all you can drink bar car option.  You can't take the kids, but you can trap them in the car in front of you and watch them all the way around while you get needed alcohol-laden adult time for 30 whole minutes.

• The only free thing in Vegas is a piece of candy from the Ethel M chocolate factory. One.
• I take that back.  There are 3 trams that run short distances between a handful of hotels.  Tell the kids it's a special attraction and you can kill an afternoon riding in air-conditioned comfort.

• Slot machines look like Nintendo games.  Your children will lose all attention span.  Consider investing in a kid leash.  Or taser.  YMMV.

• You will get lost in Caesar's Palace.  Kids or no kids.

Of Sand and Shrimp

So we went on a trip.  Not a vacation per say, since given I was in charge of the safety and governing of 3 other people, all financial transactions, navigation, organization, and, well, just about everything.  So, more of a business trip.  You know, as usual.

I was toying (well, more than toying, since I was actively doing nothing to refute the opposite) with the idea of skipping a family trip this year, given the intense desire of someone in this household to replace all the windows in this place (oh my lands, so $$$$), but my travel ambivalence was somehow overridden (I still don't know how this happened), and I found myself planning a not insignificant road trip to visit some of Chris's side of the family with a few paltry weeks to spare.  My anxiety flared mightily when I realized I'd been trusting Heir Google with his day-plus-a-few-hours drive estimate when I should have realized the map mileage put it more at 2 solid, long days each each way, and once I did, noted we'd be driving as long as we'd be staying at our destination.  I wasn't sure this was a reasonable trade off.  But the chief driver (not me, ha ha, no way) wasn't daunted but this prospect, and frankly seemed really jazzed to hang with some of his blood relation (we'd traveled to/with my side in recent years), so when he said let's go, I broke out my lists & spreadsheets (yes, I'm that kind of planner) & worked the magic (magic assisted by my mother, amateur travel agent extraordinaire, but I'd like to note here that it's also magic that has rubbed off because I'm not too shabby at the travel planning myself when I'm not freaked the heck out).

Destination: Charleston.

I am the only one of our quartet that had been to the SC, and that was for the decidedly more vacation-skewing Blathering last fall.  While I was fairly certain that during that excursion I would fins like-minded individuals willing to walk around shopping and generally ogling downtown for hours, sip fancy coffee drinks, and visit historical landmarks, I was equally certain I didn't have a quorum agreeing to anything of the sort on this one.   I mean, I was the only one excited about the proposition of multiple meals of shrimp & grits.  I really didn't know how I was going to entertain the small people  for more than 4 solid days short of buying them an entire toy store.

But.

Did you know Charleston is on the coast of the United States? Did you know that includes a coastLINE?  And by which I mean beach?  I suppose I knew these things, but it didn't really connect in my mind because when I think Charleston, I think battlegrounds and plantations and seafood and biscuits and sweet tea and definitely NOT sandy tanning opportunity with wave action.  I cannot explain this.  I passed geography.

However, even with this knowledge, I had no confidence that my children would actually LIKE the beach.  These are pool kids.  Kids accustomed to chlorine and clear water and no sand to get into unfortunate places.  So I was a tad on the nervous side.  We could get there, take 10 steps across the itchy, grainy terrain, get hit with some driftwood coming on the first wave, and get slapped with a No Thank You, Ma'am right quick.  And then we'd be staring at each other for 4 days.  Or googling the nearest toy store.

What I learned on this trip: my children are complete & utter beach bums.  They adored it from the moment we set foot on the sand.  We ended up spending most of every day there with various relatives (nieces, nephews, grand nephews, assorted spouses, and even grandchildren - yes, you read that right - our family tree is decidedly kinked) walking, searching out seashells (& bringing home at least 5 pounds of them), building sandcastles, jumping waves, body surfing, boogie boarding (thanks, coastal-living family!), actual surfing (!) (& more on that in a moment), & it was incredible.  Sammy even turned down a snack - food, his dearest love - because he didn't want to take time away from the waves to wash his hands & eat.  Unprecedented.

About the surfing.  One day, the random guy came up to us, saying he'd been watching Chris & Sammy.  Not in a creepy way - he wanted to ask if Sammy would be interested in taking his surfing class.  He gave a brochure and blah blahed awhile about the lesson, saying that he guaranteed his students would be stand up surfing by the end of 1 90-minute lesson or it would be free.  My immediate (internal) reaction was, "I shall accept your challenge, Sir, and I shall win," Because I've seen my son and his gangly ways, so I was preeeety sure I'd be coming away with an invoice for $0.  (Side note: I checked & the lesson would only have cost $35, which seems like a screaming deal to me.  I expected $75 or $100).  This was in the back of my mind the next day while at dinner with my nephew-in-law (see: kinked tree), who is an avid surfer, so I told him the story.  He was joining us at the beach the next day and said he'd teach Sammy to surf.  I chuckled inwardly again and told him to give it a shot.  I expected a lot of exasperating sighing and under-breath muttering by day's end.

Um, I was wrong.  Boy caught wave.

No, he's not going to shoot the curl any time soon, but my wiggly, clumsy kid stood up on a skinny little board in the moving water and stayed put, long enough for me to snap several pictures.  Longer than his DAD (sorry, Hon, gotta speak the truth).  Sabrina chose the Cleopatra surfing option, but she had a blast boogie boarding, even when she (her words) "faceplanted".

So it all worked out.  I'm glad I front-loaded the trip with the things I wanted to do, so we all came away satisfied.  I love that the whole family was captivated by natural, free entertainment that left us happy and spent.  I'm thrilled that my vigilant sunscreen hosings kept everyone largely free of sunburn (save Chris's face, which will always turn beet red with exposure of more than 35 minutes), especially my bizarre skin that usually goes into alien mode in the presence of east coast sun (I cannot explain it, but yet it is unnatural and fairly consistent with each visit, but no longer).  And I'm happy we got to spend a pretty decent amount of time with kin we don't get to see very frequently, and even less frequently get visitors from our neck of the woods (come on, family, it's lovely over there, so get off your couches and head east I say).

Thank you to our east coast family for your time, tour guide excellence, fantastic conversation, and total embrace of my crazy kids.  Also, thanks to my Blathering ladies who reminded me of all the wonderful places we ate and wished we could have eaten (I hit up as many as I could, and am now sweating off the delicious consequences).  My only wish is that home and Charleston were just a little bit closer.  I don't mind the road trip (hey, no 3 ounce bottles!), but I wouldn't mind shaving a few hours, you know?

I'm off now to plan our next beach excursion.  Sammy needs to learn how to hang ten.

 

 

The Sequel

Last week, I headed down to Austin for me second go-around with the ATX Television Festival.  It's no secret I love television.  It's my entertainment medium of choice, and I hold no aspersions of any refined taste.  I can love cheesy schlock as much as any critically acclaimed series, and I will never draw a line of distinction.  It's all wonderful to me.  OK, maybe not wonderful, but if I start a series and don't bail after a few episodes (which is rare), I'm with you until the end, bitter or otherwise.  In fact, I've been known to watch a series finale for a show I've otherwise never watched.  I'm that dedicated.

Someone on Twitter once asked what your dream job would be (training and salary notwithstanding), and my answer would be television critic, if not television writer outright.  How I didn't drift into this over the years is a mystery and sadness to me.  Eh, maybe there's still time.

Anyway, this time, I hopped in my car and made the trip solo this year (thank you, husband and parents).  I have to say, it's much better to have someone in the passenger seat and I hope I can rectify that in the coming years.  I made it in time to get all registered up and in line for the first panel I wanted to attend, only to see my friend and kind hostess Regan standing in the I Already Have a Golden Ticket So I Get in First line.  We texted (yes, texted - I am new to the 21st century and could finally do this) to make seating arrangements, and headed in.  

Now, listen.  Last year, I got mad at myself halfway through the weekend for not talking to the celebrities and panelists when clearly other attendees were doing just that and no one seemed to mind.  That's when I decided to toss my shy business to the birds and approach anyone I darn well pleased.  Did I look sound like an idiot sometimes? YES.  But I got some nice pictures and shook some hands (or uncomfortably hugged people, I don't remember) and got over my darn self, so WIN.  This was my approach going into this year.

Until this first panel about ratings and reviews (which was information and interesting and awesome), which included Tara Ariano or Mighty Big TV and Television without Pity fame (late of Previously.tv) whom I've followed forever and admired for truly mining the essence of snark and the television recap, and well, I just couldn't.  I should have because she seems like a class act who doesn't think her sushi won't spoil, and I'm kinda bummed I missed that opportunity.  Tara, I think you're amazing.  I hope I get a chance to make a fool of myself in front of you another time.

There were other talented critics whom I enjoy reading as well, but I went fangirl for Tara (whom I'm calling by her first name because obviously we are best friends even though we haven't met).

The rest of the day passed with me feeding my parking meter, nearly spraining my ankle in a pothole, and developing a migraine that kept me from eating much at the awesome restaurant Regan picked (I am certain she now thinks I try to eat like a supermodel  when I was actually dying to munch down on the waffle fries she ordered), until it was time to drive across downtown to meet up with Jennie and her mom at the Friday Night Lights outdoor screening.  Let me make a long sub-story short (heh, like I'm slowing down on the overall story) and tell you that one of the circles of hell surely must be trying to park in Austin, Texas, on a Friday night.  I drove around for - no joke - an hour trying to find someplace I didn't think I'd get towed before I gave up and went back to celeb-watch in the hotel lobby.  Jennie assured me the evening was more about swatting mosquitoes than hanging out with actors.  I'm taking that cold comfort.

*Brisk clap* OK, Saturday.  Regan and I rendezvoused with Jennie, her mom, and Erica that morning, then went off to the screening we wanted to see.  First up for me was a conversation with Fonzie himself, Henry Winkler.  I felt like last year's luck was riding with me, and sure enough, I scored a front row center seat.  The man is exactly who you want him to be - kind, self-deprecating, truthful, and a fantastic storyteller.  He spoke for an hour and then took questions.  Remembering my new tactic, I stuck my hand in the air, ready to use the line I'd worked on a few days prior.  When he pointed at me, I told him that my husband had me promised that if I got to speak to him, I'd tell him that he was Chris's role model growing up, and what did he think of that title.  First, he asked my name and Chris's name, answered the question, and then said, "Give Chris my best."  Classy.  (There's a YouTube video of the talk and at 50:20, you can see the exchange.  Chris actually got choked up when I showed him.  Softie.)

 You look' at me? Wait, wrong show.

 The Fonz showed up for a moment.  It was greaaaaaayyyyyyt.  (Too much?)

They ushered us out of the theater before I could get a picture with the man, which is one of the great tragedies of the event for me.  Sigh.

Next was a reunion for the cast of Everwood.  I know you didn't watch t, but you've probably seen at least one actor in another role.  Treat Williams - heard of him?  He wasn't there, but he was in the show.  Again, I scored front row seats and lo, it was very cool.  So many of the cast came that I couldn't get them all in a picture, and those that couldn't come sent videos.  About three quarters of the way through, Chris Pratt, another cast member who couldn't be there, called via Facetime to David Hudgins, who was moderating, so we got to hear from him "live" as well.  What a neat little surprise.  And I asked a question again (pats self on back for hutzpah).

 Just a few of them.  No one has aged.

Isn't technology cool?

A note about David Hudgins.  He moderated the Friday Night Lights panel last year and Everwood this year, and he is just my favorite.  It's obvious why he is such a successful TV writer, plus he's fabulously witty in person.  I could with him for hours.  David, call me!  Heck, hire me! I work cheap and make good coffee.

That was all I had on tap officially, but Jennie and her mom (Peggy, I suppose I should use her actual name) were going to the Parenthood panel and could save me a seat since they had special golden ticketed and I didn't.  And it's a good thing because they had to turn people away from this one.  Why? Well, it's a really good show but also because Lauren Graham and Peter Krause surprisingly showed up.  This Q&A was entirely too short, of course.  Also, Ray Romano is on the show and was there for just about every panel, so bonus there.  (Love the man, but he seemed awfully uncomfortable talking to people about the work he's chosen to do with his life and also he could shave and put on a nicer shirt once in awhile since he's not inside his house.)

 

 I wanted to put these side by side, but apparently, this is where technology breaks down for me.

Then I did some people watching in the hotel lobby while Jennie and Peggy went back to their hotel and Regan and Erica were embarrassing Sean Astin at his show's premiere, and I finally scored a picture with some famous people.

Mission accomplished.  This is mostly for my dad, who watches Rookie Blue and Grey's Anatomy and therefore knows Gregory Smith and Sarah Drew.  I managed to get this by offering to take a picture for the girl who originally approached them and them asking her to return the favor.  Clever, yes?

I'd like to take a moment to award Sarah Drew the Connie Britton Award for Hair Excellence at this year's festival.

Sunday, I had a golden ticket to the reunion of the cast of Roswell (I know, you didn't watch that either), but I knew this was one of the biggest tickets of the weekend and it was in one of the smallest venues, so I wanted to make sure I was early enough to get a good seat.  That's when I had to brilliant idea to check out the Goldbergs screening which was happing immediately prior to the reunion in the same room.  I'd seen a few segments of the Goldbergs over the season, but this was the first full episode I's seen, and it's pretty adorable, and not only because it was about the son doing karate to his own neat kind of like Sammy.  It's charming and brought back a lot or memories for this 80s raised kid.  I think I'll watch more next season.

I saw Wendy McLendon-Covey at the hotel Saturday, and I didn't recognize her.  I thought I was watching some CW starlet get hounded by festival goers, and was shocked when I realized she plays a mom of teens on TV.  You go, WMC.

The Roswell reunion was good, although I think I'd prefer clips over the life of the show to watch the pilot in its entirety.  Another cast member (Jason Fehr) surprised the audience, and it was clear they all loved each other still (except for Katharine Heigel , who was neither there nor mentioned, so it makes you go hmm...), which makes for a nice experience.  The real cock-your-head-and-raise-your-eyebrow moment was when the last question asker turned out to be Snooki.  Yes, that Snooki.  I guess she has enough slush fund to fly down to Austin to reminisce about a TV show she once watched.  Key, whatever.  She's a fan.

They look the same.  15 years later, I do not look the same.

 

Another note: Jason Katims is a supremely talented showrunner and I'll watch almost anything with his name attached, but he should probably take a public speaking seminar.  

OK, enough recap.  I had a wonderful time staying with Regan and cannot thank her enough for giving me a roof over my head and coffee in the morning.  He children a ridiculously gorgeous and her husband very gracious to let a random internet stranger come into his house for 2 days.  I really wish she was my next door neighbor (and that Erica lived on the other side, she's just that awesome, too).  It would be the snark center of the world.  Ladies, you are the best.  Please come visit me anytime.  And Erica, I apologize for teasing you about your Ray Romano affection.  You have excellent taste and are not at all stalkery (he would totally talk to you).  I also loved hanging out with Jennie and Peggy some more and hope that continues when our book club get back up to speed.  Hey, did Snooki write a book?  Should we read that next?

Let me show you the fantastic picture of Regan and me:

And Erica and me:

And Jennie, Peggy, and me:

And Ray Romano and me:

Yeah, I failed big time on the picture and it pains me.  I WILL do better next time.

Which won't be next year.  It killed me not to buy an advance ticket with this wonderful ladies, but I already know I have a conflict next year.  Even though it's a REALLY good reason, it's still a bitter pill to swallow.  But you better believe I'm writing in 2016 in red marker on my calendar and tasking someone with buying my advance ticket when they go on sale at next year's festival.  Because my camera and I will be back, and I will be timidly yet certainly approaching Hollywood type people.  I'm coming for you.

Look.  Snook.

Return of the Prodigal Blogger

Well, it seems I took a hiatus for most of the summer.  Whoops.  I really didn't mean to do that.

It was a good summer.  Busy, not as organized as I'd like, but good.  Fun.  Over a little bit too soon even.  I know lots of people who were really to toss their kids out of a moving vehicle come the first day of school, but I was sad watching them walk into the building.  I got used to our more free form days, and let's face, I wasn't so jazzed about having to get up at 6 AM for the next 9 months.  But that's neither here nor there, and now that we're settling into a school time routine, I can feel the calm a regular schedule brings.  Or at least "calm."  It's a relative term around here.

Notice I said kids - plural - walking into the school building - singular.  Both kids in the same school, same hours, legit.  This is weird to me.  I mean, they've both been going to school in some form for years, but now there are no more partial weeks or shortened hours or (thank heaven) individual  locations.  I walk them both to the elementary school, hug them goodbye (how long am I going to be allowed to do that?), and watch them go off together to their school.  Theirs.  Together.  This shouldn't feel strange, but it does, at least for now. 

Perhaps it my general, constant state of anxiety feeding itself.  I'm nothing if I don't have something to worry about.

Anyway.  Two kids in school.  Crazy busy summer.  Me, slightly and continually off my rocker.

Seeing as I've been off the grid (well, not really, I suppose I just ran away from this here space for awhile), I think I shall hit the highlights from the summer.  Because everybody loves a rundown of other's people vacations, right?

• I got especially worried about the onset of 3rd grade even before 2nd grade ended, so I planned all these lessons and projects and reading times for Sammy.  Yeah, that didn't exactly work out like I wanted.  But we did get some things done and I hope it gives him a head start this year.  As much as I detest our state's reliance on standardized tests (and that's a whole nuther blog post, letmetellya), they become a fact of life this year.  And so, I fret.  (Hopefully not in front of my sweet boy, who deserves to have a great year despite his neurotic mother.)

• Both kids took swim lessons again this year.  But unlike last year, they weren't such a good time.  Sabrina developed a sudden fear of not being able to touch the bottom of the pool and spent several days screaming at the top of her lungs.  The thing is, she can swim.  She just doesn't believe it.  If she forgets herself for a minute, she's a little fish.  Maybe next year she'll be able to get out of her head and just go with it.

No fear here.

• Sammy is a tall, gangly boy who doesn't quite realize he has arms and legs that he can control.  Sammy's swim instructor was a little bit bowled over by this, given that she was trying to get him to hit goals for Level 4 when he was only in Level 3, but he had fun anyway.  He's not going to be Michael Phelps, but he isn't going to drown, so I'm putting that in the Summer: Win column.

• Speaking of Sammy (and it's usually one or the other, isn't it?), he started karate this summer.  The studio had a summer special, and Chris was really keen on Sammy trying something athletic having something to occupy his time, so we signed him up.  In the back of my mind, I figured that since Sammy's usual attention span makes a gnat look thoughtful, this wouldn't last too long and maybe not even the whole summer (anyone who saw him play soccer remembers that he never actually knew where the ball was at any given time).  But boy, was I wrong.  He went to class - willingly - almost every day he could (and sometimes twice) and practiced his moves at home.  The instructor told me Sammy was doing everything he asked of him and more.  He even tested for and earned his yellow belt.  He loves it.  He talks about earning his black belt, which he knows will take several years.  Everyone says it's good for him.  And even though he still looks to me as though his brain and his limbs have very little connection, he's trying and learning and engaging.  So it looks like we'll be sticking with this (but oh, my bank account is crying).  It just might be his thing.

• We took our somewhat annual vacation pilgrimage to visit family again this year, but we changed it up to visit friends and relatives in other parts of the country.  We started off with a bang, by which I got to meet this lovely lady and her husband: 

Internet, I know you're jealous. (Thank you, Internet, for making this possible!)

• Then we headed off to see my great uncle Larry (that makes him the kids' great great uncle, for those playing the family relation game) and his whole family at a reunion of sorts.  Long story short (too late), my kids are ready to move in.  My cousin Katie (3rd? 4th? 17th twice removed? I have no idea) has three girls ages 4 to 7 1/2 (and a 1 year old boy), and I'm fairly sure that Sabrina thought she was becoming the 4th sister.  Peas and carrots, these girls.  We had a blast at my cousin Terrie's house, where the kids had free reign over a trampoline, playhouse, and  a swimming pool, not to mention several kid-sized vehicles they (ahem, Sammy) drove all over the property.  Sammy also made fast friends with Terrie's husband Jeff (grandpa to the aforementioned girls + boy), who has been waiting patiently for years to do boy things with a grandkid (not too much longer, Jeff - you've to two grandsons growing as fast as they can).  Sammy stepped into that role quite nicely.  Plus, basements.  Oh my lands, do my kids love a basement.  I'm pretty sure they're ready to start digging right now.  Sammy even asked for a basement for his birthday.  And I can't even get into the breathtaking joy that is a riding lawnmower.  Sammy heaven!

 

• We spent another few days with the rest of the extended family after the reunion, and you're think that might be peaceful, but no.  Road trips with us are never uneventful.  So for this edition, we were treated to a tornado.  But.  For one thing, it happened in the middle of the night and we never heard it because we were sleeping in a basement.  I love me some basement - the kids come by their fascination naturally - but now I'm just about ready to start digging, too.  Also, by our standard, this was a dinky tornado.  The vast majority of damage was to trees, and it was sad to see such beautiful things twisted and cracked, but no one was killed.  No one was even hurt, as a matter of fact.  The worst was a woman who had a panic attack.  Seriously, this was the news story.  A panic attack.  Perhaps my perspective is a bit skewed, living in tornado country, but no death equals victory in my book. (Also, the nerd in me took great pride in explaining the difference between straight line winds and tornadoes to my relatives.)
 

• There was also vacation bible school, lots of swimming, playing with friends, Sammy's 9th (!) birthday, and vast amounts of food, but this is getting incredibly long so I won't go into great detail.  Suffice it to say we did not stop going (or eating) for 3 solid months.

And with that, I shall close.  Just reading all that makes me tired all over.  Are you tired, too?  You should go take a nap.  Or have a cocktail.  Or both.  You deserve it.