Prom Night

 

The day after prom and I’m at brunch with Oliver and his friend who he took to the prom. A girl who is a friend, but not a “girlfriend”.  I can’t get a word an edgewise as they tell me every little detail of the night.  The music, the hook ups, the intrigue, what illegal things were consumed. They tell me about their feelings, their dreams of the future.  I feel so in sync with their life!

Yeah, right and then I woke up in a shower like Bobby Ewing.

That’s right, that didn’t happen.

But, I did get to be part of prom weekend and I cancelled a trip in order to do so.  I am so glad I did.

The little kids and I were going to go glamping this weekend. It had been planned with other families for a while. The place is not cheap.  You are in a cabin by a fire pit, but there is a pool and they deliver food to you if you like, so hence the glam in camping.  Two weeks before Oliver told me he was going to his prom in the understated, no big deal attitude that his very him.

I returned that Perry Como vibe with my Ozzy Osborne, “what, you are?  When?  Can I take pictures?  Do you need help?  Can I get your flowers?  Do you need me to put on a chauffeur outfit and drive you around? What can I do?? Where is Sharon?”

“um, can you give me the money to by my ticket for Ida ( friend he took)?” Yes, I said signing the check with a flourish.

“I hope it’s the not the weekend I will be gone.”  He told me the date. It was the weekend I was gone.  Crap. Cut to  two a weeks of stewing about this ala The Clash.  Should I stay or should I go?  Teenagers do not place a premium on family time.  I know at his age I thought my family was revolting, and I liked them.  But, if you are a step mom who makes videos of family I’m sure I’m as desirable as a wet dog in your bed. Also, remember we are not the primary home for Oliver, his mother’s home is.  I’m what I call the “B” Team.  But, since his mom was out of town it meant he would be with us.  So desperate stepmom eager to be part of her stepson’s life really needed to make hay.

I told Vivien the trip was on the chopping block.  She pouted and crossed her arms.  Which actually pissed me off.  She knows I’m annoyed if I start a sentence with “look…” In this case, “Look, in a few short months Oliver is going off to college.  He will move away.  To a different STATE.  We will rarely see him.  He will have friends and experiences that we know nothing about ( not that I’m so in the loop now).  I want to be with him as much as I can and I think it would be really fun to see him get dressed up and go to his prom.”

Vivien, “Oliver is moving away?”  She hadn’t connected college with leave taking. “I don’t want Oliver to go.” Tears.  Oh, me and my big mouth.

Oliver kept saying, “It’s no big deal, we are going as a goof.”  Visions of my own prom night danced in my head.  When my then boyfriend Tony picked me up my parents and sister changed into nicer clothes for the occasion.  My dad even broke out his own tuxedo.  He was very proud that he owned it.  ”Do you own yours?” He asked Tony.  Tony thought it was a strange thing to ask, but hey, throw the guy a bone, he is showing his feathers, county workers don’t get a lot of opportunities to wear a tux.

Tony’s parents were out of town.  At 17 I thought that was odd.  Their last born is going to prom and they go on a trip? And that was before I was old enough to know how fleeting time is, how I would look back at the pictures of that night for years to come.  How I would regret  letting that lady at the mall talk me into that shade of lipstick.

No, I was staying.  Would Oliver care that I was present?  Probably not much, but I would care.  As a stepmom I’m a guest star, not an unconditional love player, so these moments are important.

The day of the prom I made sure he had a good lunch and continually harassed his father, who was at work, that he be home on time to take pictures.  Once Oliver started getting dressed I gave him a cold drink. “Hydrate”, not that I as encouraging drinking, but if it happened I wanted to help future headaches.

He chose a white tux on his own. Rex was zoning on TV and Viv was taking a nap so I could focus on him without distraction.  Rare.  He wasn’t sue about how to deal with cufflinks, he needed dress socks, various formal dressing aspects which I eagerly assisted. (” he needs me, he needs me!!”) I wrote another check for his part of the limo. We waited for others to arrive.  He was spending the night at a friend’s place closer to the prom.  I told him I would come get him in the am.  ”Whenever you want!”

We decided he shouldn’t put his coat on yet as he felt hot.

Then Ida, her mom and two family friends of both kids showed up.  Fortunately for me the other ladies were also eager to take pictures.  Ida, is a lovely girl and shares Oliver’s laid back attitude.

“look like you are putting the boutineer on him” One of the ladies directed.

Ida and Oliver seemed confused by our mandating the steps they should be taking. “why am I pretending to do this?” Ida asked.

Me; “because we are middle aged ladies living vicariously through you.”  She handed the wrapped flower bundle to me.  I pinned it on Oliver. Poor teenagers were getting the “let’s get away from crazy people” look.

First picture of Oliver on coolmom.

But, Mark still wasn’t back.

“um, we should go.” Oliver started.  I called Mark again.  ”Where are you? You are going to miss it”

A few minutes later he came running in.  I took a couple of pictures and then Oliver finally put his foot down.  ”We have to go.”

What I can’t take a clay impression of how you look right now at this moment? Ok, fickle teen have your way.

Mark drove them to the house where they were meeting friends and limo.

Vivien asked “Why isn’t Oliver driving?”

Me “He is going to go in a limo with his friends.”

Viv “Why?  He can drive.”

Me ” Well, the assumption is that alcohol might be consumed.”

Viv nodded.  Not bringing up the underage issue.  Should I have b.s’d that answer?

The next day Mark took Viv on a special daddy daughter hike.

I took Rex to ride the rails. We have a new light rail in LA and the first weekend was free.

As Rex and I rode the East bound train Oliver texted, “we are ready to be picked up.” Rex and I got off and then boarded the Eastbound train back to our car.  ”Getting in the car.” I texted back.

By the time I picked the prom goers up Rex had fallen asleep.  ”Anyone hungry?  I’ll take you guys to brunch.”  Rex rallied for pancakes and we had a nice time.

“So, how was it?”

“fun” they nodded.

“Was there a band?”

“no, DJ.”

That was it. Then I was on to extract new information.   Summer plans, college.  I can ask questions to monosyllabic answers all day.

I was so happy.

 

Babies are boring

Lets be honest. Babies are boring. Life affirming the object of our undying love and boring. I’m reminded of this when I got a text from a new mom friend. An honest one.
“IM SO BORED”. Yes, she knows she is blessed to have this scrumptious gift, but it’s dull. They can’t talk, play craps, play who would you rather.

That’s why when I meet mother’s who never hire a sitter or don’t have a handy relative to help I think THEY ARE CRAZY AND SHOULD GET THEIR TUBES TIED. Sometimes the monkey needs to roar.

If you have a baby it’s OKAY to think, “This is boring.” Better than thinking that you should be in a constant state of ecstasy and excitement. Better than thinking, is everyone really fulfilled and I’m the bad mom who wants to watch a movie uninterrupted, travel the world or have sex with that guy who I just saw in the parking lot? Normal thoughts.
Play out all you want in your head. Think whatever goofy fantasy or try to steal to the computer to catch a glimpse of an adult conversation.

If POW’s can get through their experience so can you.

You do have to show up for motherhood, but your thoughts are your own. And as you count the delicious little toes and put plastic blocks out for your baby to suck on you think, “I’m so BORED” that’s okay.

Very few moments of motherhood look like this.

me and Viv

Old (dead) friends

As some of you know I’m proud of my esteemed Culver City roots. But, you might not know that The Brogdon Girls were raised in the Culver Crest. Yes, that Crest, the Bel Air of Culver City. Or so we thought in our middle class minds frolicking in a sea of ‘50’s ranch houses.
Recently my sister Carole ran into a woman who was also a “crestor” . They were excited to connect as we knew each other’s families. We quickly arranged a dinner. She brought her two brothers, one who I had known, the other I did not. They are lovely, accomplished people. It’s funny how much you have in common with people you haven’t seen in over (well over) 30 years.

I had gone to the dinner thinking, oh, I wish their dear mom was still alive, I wish my dad was still alive. But, by the end of dinner I felt like the winner on Survivor.

I found out several people of our generation were gone. Some many years ago. Accidents, tumors, drugs, all different reasons. I wrote my brother ( like a brother, long story) in Australia. He called right away. He too was shocked at the names of the people who were no longer on this earth.

It is hard to reconcile the uneven teeth smile elementary school pictures in my mind with what happened later.

What a week

Oscars,

a death,

a stomach bug,

a big food event.

This has been the last few days.  Sunday morning I was at cheap hair salon in a rundown mini mall getting a blow out in preparation for Oscar night.  I went there because there is not a lot open in the way of hair on Sundays and it’s cheap.

My friends Heather and Nina, with her darling little girl Ruby, had road tripped down from San Francisco for the fun times.  Feeling good.

Then my sister Cecily called and told me her father in law Louis Mitchell had just died. Ugh.  My tummy started to hurt. Hurt for his family and recalled for me my own father’s passing.  So sad for my brother in law.  I knew he would feel the pain in his head, stomach, neck.  His father had been sick for a while, but it’s always a blow no matter how prepared you think you are. Now my brother in law was “in the club” as my friend Nina puts it. That means someone who has lost a parent.
“I can drop everything, do you need me?”  Cecily said no.  The Oscars didn’t seem quite so important anymore. Nevertheless, that hard lesson when someone you love passes is life does go on.  Although what was to be a total fun day had a tinge of darkness on it. It was also a tad annoying to have the guy who was doing my hair, “What happened?”

I told him.

“Oh, God bless, light some candles.  Light some candles.”  He repeated this so many times I was tempted to say “why is there a power outage?”  I wanted to be sad for the moment, but didn’t want to mourn next to this guy who reeked of tobacco who believed candles held the key to grieving.
I raced home to take Rex to a kiddie party, but he was asleep.  So, Heather and I decided to go and see if the Oscar attendees needed our help.  The show starts at 5:30 so Carole’s hair and make up lady arrived at 11:30.  Kevin got tickets to the big show for his brother and his wife, Meaghan and my nephew.  I was glad I showed up because I helped Meaghan with her hair.
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It was fun to see Carole getting all dolled up.  The nominee was relaxed.  He was jotting down a few things to say in case he won, but he wouldn’t share them with us.  The car arrived at 2, though they didn’t get in the car till about 2:45.
Heather said, “We have to get ready!”  So, back home we went.
Seeing Carole’s pro make up made me spend a bit more time on my own.  I was walking the red carpet , but was presiding over an Oscar watch party and Campanile and then Heather and I were going to the Fox Searchlight post Oscar party.
Rex said, “I want to wear something handsome.”  So, we put on his vest and good pants.  Vivien loves to get dressed up.  My mom had arrived at our home at 3pm and settled into watch the red carpet hoping for a glimpse of Carole and Kevin. We figured they wouldn’t do an interview with him on the big stations, but we might see him. She kept moving the channel around from E! to TV Guide ( oh people still work there?), to the our local coverage.  She didn’t see here.  Meanwhile I was getting texts from my cousin Mary and another friend, “I just saw her.”  ”She is by Octavia Spencer.”
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Me, my friends, kids, mom, Mark and Oliver and Dolly our baby sitter went of to Campanile.  It was so cool.
The catering director had set it up perfectly.  He had a big TV set up on one wall and rows of tables in C shapes fanned to the back.  Friends of ours trooped in.  I ordered everyone to fill out their ballot. The winning one would win a $50 gift card to Campanile.
As the show began we were all craning to see if we could spot them.
“They are in Row k”  My mom started counting back from the stage, “a, b, c”  Then our friend yelled, “there she is.”
They were towards the back, but visible and Kevin was on the aisle.  My mom was chuffed.  We all knew what it meant.  Winners are sat on the aisle. Time seem to fly ( not something I usually say watching the Oscars.) The Oscars are more fun to watch with 42 of your friends and family while you served the best food in LA. I didn’t have a seat for awhile.  Rex had kicked me out of our shared seat, “mommy, go get your own chair.”  But, he got tired so Dolly took him home and I got to sit down in front next to my mom.  Vivien was happy hanging with her cousin and grandma’s.

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Cecily and Lily had shown up.  She had been tending to her grieving in laws, but said, “not to be insensitive, but I’ve got an Oscar party to go to.” They all understood, “Good Luck to Kevin.”.
All of a sudden it was the editing award. What?? Everyone figured his competition was from “the Artist”, as they were favored to win best picture. The day before the editor of “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” ( who had won last year for “Social Network” told Kevin, “I”m rooting for you.”) They showed quick clips of all the editors talking.  When Kevin’s face came up we don’t know what he said because we were all screaming.
“and the Oscar goes to…”Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.”
huh?
We all slumped our shoulders a bit as we saw my sister Carole in the audience mouth “Wow.”  The winners were behind them and she said they were surprised as well.
After a few minutes I got up in front of the crowd and said, “Okay, let’s all do this together, AHHHHH.”
Many of us were saying, “hey he was nominated!” or “he will be back”.  Cecily said, “I’m taking this harder than everyone else, I just wanted some good news today.”
We did get one thing to cheer about Alexander Payne, and his co writers took the gold for adapted Screenplay for “The Desendants”. He is one of Kevin’s best friends and good person.  It would be the pictures only win, I’m glad they got something.
We also whooped it up when we got some more good shots of Carole and Kevin.

Particularly when they gave an ovation to Oprah, James Earl Jones and the other special award winners there was a shot primarly of them clapping and smiling.
“>oscar
I got texts from my cousin “great shot of Carole”.  People were cheering for Kevin all across the country.  His family who live outside of Buffalo even had a story about their watch party.  With a world full of cynics it’s sweet when people root for each other.
Party was done and all departed.  Heather and I drove up to the after party.  Some of the stars of “The Desendants” were there.  My nephew and his aunt and uncle.  We heard about their time at the Oscars.
After a while Carole and Kevin showed up.
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The were in a great mood, it was all exciting even without the win.   Then a big cheer went up.  Alexander had walked in holding his gold.  It took him a while to get to us and when he did I asked if I could take a picture with he and his Oscar.
“Only if you hold it” say things that make me love you more.  Heather snapped the picture.  But the flash didn’t go off.  I turned and Carole, Kevin and Alexander had walked out the door.  I went after them.  ”What’s going on ?”

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“We are going to the Governer’s ball”  Carole said.  It was perfect timing because I was exhausted, but I was gouch enough to want my picture.  So I asked Alexander fro a retake. In reality he obliged kindly, but this picture makes me look like a crazy stalker and he like he just had root canal or perhaps fears the crazy stalker.
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I’m not going to kid you.  I was trashed the next day.  Trashed.  I can’t stay up till 12:45, and not be.  Plus there was so much emotion in the day.  I cancelled everything on Monday to spend time with Cecily.
Tuesday I woke up sick, sick, sick.  I’m just coming out of it now. But, since I’ve only eaten jell-o and tea I’m almost at my ideal weight!
Tonight is the big Mark Peel Roy Choi mashup that I came up with ( yeah me!).  I’m telling my tummy to get it together because I want to eat the great food.  The event is sold out.
Ah, La Vida.

How to be a mom blogger : with Heather Spohr

I love me some Heather Spohr of Spohr’s are multiplying fame.  Aside from being a dear person who I have sought counsel from before, she is an established mom blogger.  She has been at this a long time and I wanted to ask her about something I had been struggling with in this being-creative-working-at-home thing. One of the most unexpected bonuses of entering this blog/vlog world has been the friendships I have made with other woman.  Often first knowing them online before knowing them in the flesh.

We met mid day between our two homes on a lovely sunny day.  Our studio for this shoot was my Lexis hybrid.  I had forgotten the clamp so I couldn’t use my camera light–ugh.. so my crows feet will be readily featured. It would have been very dark had Heather not said, “open up the sun roof”.  Smart!  Not Oprah lighting, but this is guerilla vlogging.

Where else can two mom’s talk without being interrupted but a car anyway?  Well, unless I got side by side toilets and lock on the door!

How to make it in Hollywood: Oscar nominee in the house!

My brother in law Kevin Tent has been nominated for an Oscar for film editing the George Clooney picture “The Descendants.” Allow me to burst with pride.  His is a great story of making it in Hollywood. This is no Gwyneth Paltrow with an “uncle” Speilberg story.  This is the American Dream.


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Happy couples at French Laundry ’06″

Kevin hitchhiked to LA from Buffalo when he was 19.  He showed up to go to a film school that he realized was a racket.  He instead went to LA city college and took film courses there and worked at Pep boys.  It was at LACC that he met my sister Carole. No fancy film school for this guy, but he learned the basics of film making.  Then he got a job editing educational films.  Great titles like “VD: old bugs, new problems”.  He always did his best and says that it was at Al Higgins production he learned to edit.

From there he graduated to Roger Corman movies.  He also got me a PA job and and apprentice editing gig.  This is back when editing was done on moviola’s and you needed a razor to cut the film.  I decided the long hours of post production were not for me, but Kevin steamed along.

He edited Tracy Lords’ first non porn film, the campy “Not of this Earth”.   He edited “Frankenhooker“.  We loved all these B films and Kevin worked on all of them.

The first time he had a film in Sundance I went with he and Carole .  It was for “Homage“.  The glamour of Sundance is for those on the ‘hot’ films.  Once we were there we realized our film wasn’t catching fire.  We slogged through the slush on the main drag of Park City disappointed.  I remember running into a friend of Kevin’s who was with the young star of his new film.  A perky little blond name Reese Witherspoon.  Kevin congratulated his friend on his film.

We went back to Sundance the next year for the first film Kevin ever did with Alexander Payne, “Citizen Ruth” (rent it).  This partnership would become a deep friendship and significant professional collaboration.  Citizen Ruth was a quirky comedy dealing with abortion ( who tackles that anymore) and the Christian right and girl who sniffs glue.   This trip was worth getting new boots and a parka for.  The film was getting some buzz.  I met Laura Dern and Alexander at the screening in a small movie house.  Back at the condo we had rented I was woken up as Carole and Kevin came back from a party.  Carole told me excitedly about the stars who were there.  I think Travolta, but it’s been a while.

Ironically, Kevin and Alexander’s next film was “Election” starring Reese Witherspoon.  Another must rent.

Kevin edited  a ton a film’s, but always come back to collaborate with Alexander.  Who, btw, is a good family friend and I’m very happy for his success ( he won for best adapted screenplay for “Sideways”). Alexander says “Campanile is our generation’s Chasen’s.”  Love that.


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with 4 day old Rex


So, my brother in law Kevin is the nicest guy you could ever meet.  A great dad,uncle and husband and was like a son to my dad.  He did a lot for my dad in his last years.  Following behind the ambulance that would take my dad to the hospital.  Visiting him in assisted living when my dad was doing very poorly and it was getting painful to see him.  Sometimes when his own daughters couldn’t handle it Kevin would go and sit with my dad.


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at “Papa’s” memorial. Kevin was the first to speak


He had two dear parents, Cathy and Charlie ( who my nephew is named for) that were taken way too soon.  I’m so sorry they aren’t here to see Kevin attain this level of success.  But, I know they wouldn’t be surprised.  Kevin has a great picture of he and his dad, must be over 20 years ago it was taken, Charlie is holding a Variety magazine and they are laughing as if they are reading some good news.  I told Kevin today, “that was prescient.  Your dad was seeing this nomination back then.”

It’s great to dwell for a moment in the good moments of life.  The moments that make you cry with joy.  Knowing what went into all that he has done in his adult life.  At least in this case,  a nice guy did finish first.

Freaky Friday

Weird things happened today. A mob hit?  An ominous warning?  Or just random funky stuff going down?

Awoken about 5:30 by pungent smell and damp feeling.  Ah, Rex had crawled in next to me and his pull up had sprung a leak.  I replaced it, flinging the wet diaper on the floor as I was so tired I couldn’t get up again.

Rex; “momma, I smell something.”

Me: “It’s your dirty diaper.”  I’m a class act.

After a few minute of trying to fall back to sleep with the pee smell wafting over me  I suggested we get up. Rex was thrilled.

Okay, so no big deal, just a moment of parenting.  I walk outside in my robe to get the paper.  As I walk back towards our front door I’m startled by what I see.

There lying in my garden, by the driveway near the front tire of my car is a cat.

The cat is sleeping. No, cats don’t sleep out in the open, in the cold The cat is dead.

It’s a calico cat with damp fur.  Probably doused by the sprinklers.

There is a thin brown blanket underneath it.

Different thoughts: Is someone sending us a warning?  Like a mob hit.  Did someone hit this poor cat on the street last night, thinking it is ours brought it to us in a kind ‘oops, sorry we killed your cat’ gesture?  It was creepy and I worried that it was one of my neighbors cats.  I went next door and woke him up.  He came out.  It wasn’t his cat.  It didn’t have a tag.

“well, it’s trash day”.  he said.

I really didn’t want the kids to see this.  It would have really upset him. It upset me. I ran to get Mark.  Really glad I am married as I knew my husband would ‘take care of this’.

After breakfast…which was a tad hard to eat… I was running around trying to get Vivien out the door to school. Rex was going to stay home with dad.  Mark was on the phone.  I knew he was talking to a relative about another relative who has had mental health issues.

“hey honey, will you be home by 11?”

“probably, well, not sure, why?”  Oh, just that they had decided this family member needed to be committed and he wanted to be there.

“I’ll take Rex with me.” I offered.  My trudging with a stroller a couple blocks didn’t seem that big of deal anymore.

I drove the kids while I tried to sort the placid routine of life with the bombshells life throws at you. The large socks full of horse manure, to paraphrase a Woody Allen line.

On the one hand, make sure Vivien eats breakfast and is taken to school, on the other hand someone close to us is having a breakdown.

The kids heard the word “hospital” so they were asking questions.  I didn’t lie, but tried to make it seem matter of fact.  Then Rex worried about other people in the family and started asking about them.  I told him they were fine.

“But, where is Oliver?” he asked with stress.

“He is at school”

“what are the names of his teachers?”  A few blocks later Rex came up with this:

“mommy, when I have my new daddy, he will be my new daddy.”

Me:  ”Rex, I admire that you are going to be so adaptable should something happen to your father, but your daddy is fine and he is and will always be your only daddy.”  Vivien and I tried this line for a while, but Rex kept talking about his new daddy.  I gave up and went to distraction.  Played knock knock jokes. It got a new line of thinking going.

Poor guy. I’m really glad he didn’t see the cat.

It’s was 8am.

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Cooking with Coolmom & kids: oatmeal

Cooking with young children is not a quick job, but they love to help. Nothing fancy, not giving my husband a run for his money.  Just like to get the offspring involved in food preparation.  The hope is that they

1) understand what goes in food

2) an appreciation for fresh, healthy foods

3) They won’t starve when they go to college and call me when they are 18 asking me how to cook rice (yeah, I did that, and thanks mom for not saying “read the bag you dumbass.)

I get fixated on a breakfast for about a year at a time.  Right now I’m into Oatmeal ala Daph.

Breaking up with 2011

Why is it only when we are on the verge of saying good bye do we seem to fully asses our relationship? That we not only see the flaws, but what we will miss.

That lousy boyfriends, well we did like the same movies.

That crummy job, hey I liked the polyester smock I wore.

That beater car that finally blew up on the freeway, it got me from point A to point B. Maybe I should have been a little more consistent with that oil and water thing.

So it is with a year.

2011 I’m talking to you. It’s not you, it’s me.  Well, actually it is you.

So let’s start with the reasons we are breaking up.  Well, first It’s time for us to go around the Sun again, and we need a new name for this trip.  We’ve agreed on 2012.  Yes, we have heard the Mayan predictions of doom, but I’m guessing that will be like one of those rapture things.  Fodder for late night comics.

More reasons?

1) Economy still kind of sucks.  Wages around here are flatter than a Teflon pan.

2) We closed a business in your year.  The Point in Culver City. We lost money, what else is new! So, I blame you for that.

3) I gained ten pounds.  Now, no arguments, your fault.

4) The US is still in Afghanistan and if we are there any longer it will be vying with Puerto Rico for almost state status.

5) my one word for 2009 was Hope ( not the Obama kind, just me hopeful to get my family out the Madoff ditch).  My word for 2011 was Resignation.  ”Change” was not a coming and I was resigning myself to the new normal.  The word for 2011?   I felt so tired I didn’t have one for a while and then I figured out what it was, Hustle.  Hustling for any dollar, any leg up in my work, my husband’s, working on my daughter’s school, hustle. Everyone around me seemed be in that same mode.  Which leads the Everythingness previously mentioned.

But, hey 2011 don’t look downcast, don’t go away like that.  Come back you big galook.  I have some nice things to say to you.

1) I had some great little mini trips..  My friend Jodi Applegate got married in NYC, an incredible wedding.

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I took Vivien to NYC for a Sears SMT which was super fun, my family and I got an awesome getaway at the Montage Laguna Beach ( Mark worked an event , I acted like a trophy wife, our kids like trophy children).
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laguna
2) We bought a house.
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This is a big one 2011.  I think of our home as more than a house but a corrective emotional experience.  Like Scarlett O’ Hara as God as my witness I’m not going to be moved from another home.  We love it here.  I have so much fun with my kids here.  The lady who sold it to us was right, “it resonates with joy.”

3) Rex started part time preschool.  My little man!

4) Vivien made fantastic strides in school.  In January all of sudden she was reading well and been going gangbusters ever since.

5) My mom retired and has been loving it.  My mother in law has moved to an independent living situation she likes, my sister in law moved to Holland to be with the man of her dreams.  Lots of good stuff.

So lot’s of good time ’11, not to mention 11/11/11 how cool was that!  But, it’s time we parted.  I need to find a year that along with the health and development of my loved ones brings , how can I say it…um, cold hard cash. Economic stability, sweetie, I have to go look for it.  Will there be times I miss your “we bought a house!” moments. Sure, of course, but I need a year that’s going to help me pay this house off and remodel a bathroom.

Give me a kiss and a hug 2011.  Now, get your crap and get out of here.

Thanksgiving ’11

Sigh,

We were back.  Back in a house big enough to host Thanksgiving. In our home.  Or as I call it out corrective emotional experience.  It was a great day.  Sure, my friend Whitney got my car into a little accident two days before.  It wasn’t his fault and I have a rental that is clean for the next week or so.  Sure, all my house guests never used the same cup twice and I’ve never loaded the dishwasher this much, piffle!  Everyone was upbeat, fun and ready for football. Yes, the low rent Kennedys were at it again.
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Our annual football game.  We always have the strong players, my nephew, husband, brother in laws, friend Whitney.  They actually seem to know the rules and how to catch a ball.  Then there is the plucky.  My sister Cecily who doesn’t know all the rules, but can run and catch.  Then it drops down to my sister Carole and I who are like big, dumb guards.  You do not want to throw to us, but we can block and distract. Every year there are the wild cards.  More than skill we like enthusiasm.  This year we had a European player.  My sister in law’s boyfriend, Reinier,  from Holland.  A great cross cultural experience to play with a man brought up on soccer, or as his people call it, football.

After the first down Reinier said  : ” did they score?”

“no”

“so it’s our ball”

“no, they get 4 tries”

“this is the stupidest game”  It sounds even better with the Dutch accent.  That was the name we gave him as well.  ”Dutch”.

“Dutch, you hike the ball”

“to what, where?”

It was hard to explain to him the ins and outs of football as I really don’t get it either. There is Dutch holding the ball.
football

Vivien and her friend Gracie played, but when my brother in law Kevin decided to make Vivien the running back she left the field in tears.  Great idea QB, little rough for the 6 year old.  Everyone charging at her.
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 She stayed with her Aunt Leslie after that and cheered us on.
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 Gracie was also promoted by Kevin.  Great idea.  She left bewildered and with a small cut on her hand.  Which was also a bummer because we lost her father “Neighbor Bob” who could actually play.

Brogdon girls are not known for athleticism as this photo certainly bears out.  But, we have the aforementioned needed enthusiasm.
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We played at a nearby park and towards the end two large brothers asked if they could play.  They were drafted immediately.  My team had Roman.  Sadly, they came to late.  The other team scored and the final score 2-1  ( how we score it)

“Wish you guys had come sooner.” we told the brothers. Don’t know why they didn’t want to pose with us in our final shot. Probably had had enough of this rag tag crew.

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Mark really dove for a ball at the end and got a little scraped up. Wolverine, I mean Whitney, tries to help him out here.
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Later Dutch mentioned he was surprised that Mark played only three weeks after his hernia surgery. It shows my Minnesota roots that that didn’t even occur to me. Of course he had to play football!

We head home and change into our dinner clothes.  Serve apps and the losing QB redeems himself with martini making.  I made a good savory tart, goat cheese, carmelized onion.  Cecily made one with nuts and cranberries.  Then we have dinner, go around the table for everyones list of gratitude and at desert I break out my annual “Turkey Trot Trivia” contest.

By the way, the turkey was from Campanile and was brined for days.  Mark was up at 4am for three days preparing thanksgiving dinner for over 700 people at the restaurant ( and a few carry outs like myself)

Rex was fussing, but I forged ahead as I still wanted to put the camera on the tripod and get a picture of us all.  Then we did the funny poses.
“okay, kung fu”
“okay, fake family portrait”

Poor Rexy, I finally put him down to bed and he had a little fever.  He had just gotten a cold.  Maybe it’s the time of the year for that or maybe his crazy distracted mom and family upset him.  I did worry a bit.

Though now he is better and I am congested and feel like my eyes are bleeding, so guess it was just a cold.

We do have so much to be grateful for.

Jump for joy.
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