Carrots on submarines

There’s nothing like having your doctor just blurt out that you’re old. Or at least suggest your malady is age related, further providing that you’re old or at the very least getting old.

I had a spot on my shoulder that I was convinced was ringworm. Disgusting, but easily treatable. When I showed it to the doctor, I expected him to confirm my diagnosis and treatment. But instead he had the gall to say it was, indeed, not ringworm, but submarine carrot-osis … OK, probably not that, but something like that.

He assured me it was benign and nothing to worry about and that submarine carrot-osises grow on old people like barnacles.

I really like our family doctor, but being told I have a condition associated with advanced age was disheartening to say the least. He went on to say that there was no need to do anything about it.

No need to do anything about a barnacle on my shoulder? I think not. I was very happy to have him freeze and scrape the thing off even if it risked leaving a scar. I’d much rather have a scar than an old-lady barnacle.

So, if having my barnacles scraped off my hull makes me vain, call me a vain lady without barnacles, please.

One happy nerd

We were able to spend our Spring Break in La Jolla, near San Diego, Calif. We met my brother and his family there and had yet another fun, family vacation.

We did the typical stuff that tourists do when visiting lovely San Diego

We visited the Balboa Park with its lovely architecture and museums.

Of course, we visited the San Diego Zoo (there's funny story about a capuchin monkey becoming enamored with  my nephew Colby — but it always seems there is at least one funny animal story when we all go on vacation). That is quite a zoo. I think we walked 5 miles up and down the hilly zoo that day.

We spent one day at the beach visiting tide pools.

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But one of my most favorite places we visited just happened to be right next door to our hotel, the Salk Institute.
I know a bunch you're probably shaking your head and wondering what the heck is wrong with me — believe me, my family certainly were — but it’s very rare to fine yourself staying right next door to a major work of modern architecture.

The Salk Institute founded by polio vaccine inventor Jonas Salk was built in the early 1960s by Louis Kahn, an important 20th century architect (understatement). Without writing an entire art history lecture here, let me just say that being able to visit a building such as this over the course of week made the art-history nerd in me so happy.

Experiencing art first hand is really the only way to get its full meaning. And the series of buildings that make up the Salk Institute are rife with spectacular meaning.

These laboratories are made of poured concrete into plywood forms and left rough and imperfect. The poured concrete is paired with teak trim around the windows which are pushed out diagonally to face the ocean and bring in a bounty of natural light. The pavement, benches and fountain are travertine which ironically blends beautifully with the poured concrete.

Take a look:

Product Review: A pillow and some soap

A couple of new products came across my desk that I tried this month.

The first was a giant box from Kohl's that contained a memory fiber pillow. Out of guilt, I offered it to Robin but she graciously gave it to me. I was secretly elated because I love me some new pillow.

This pillow, the Home Classics Memory Fiber Pillow, is my new absolute favorite. Marty tries to steal it from me, and once I found it on Soren's bed. It's the pillow that everyone wants in my house and the next time we go pillow shopping it will be at Kohl's. You can buy your own memory fiber pillow on the Kohl's website here.

Then, this little surprise came in yesterday much to my happiness.

In the box were three trial sized lotions that I shared with the lovely ladies at our front desk. Here's what one of them had to say in an email about the product:

"I just wanted to let you know that I really like the lavender + aloe Everyone Lotion. I like the fragrance, not too over powering. I love that it is not greasy, that it keeps hands soft, and does not just evaporate as soon as you put it on. I use my hands a lot at work where they are often dry. I use lots of hand cream and this I would use again."

That's a pretty good testimonial if I ever read one.

Everyone Lotion is available on their website here.

DON’T call me ‘coach’

So, Soren's all signed up and ready to play baseball. He's been assigned to a team without a coach.

A number of emails circulated back and forth last week discussing the fact that there wasn't a coach. They went from "hey, we need a coach" to "OMG we need a damn coach now." I, like an idiot, replied to the more earnest one volunteering my secretarial services to the team. Instead, all of our names went into a hat and mine was drawn to "lead" the team.

WTF?

Anybody who knows me just laughed out loud when they read that. I don't know ANYTHING about sports. Zip. Nada. They could not have made a lamer choice. Fer reals.

I immediately called Marty who laughed out loud and called me "Coach." All weekend with the "Hey coach, whatcha doing." "Hey coach, what drills are you gonna run?"

I called every single number on my list and explained that I can be a great team manager — I'll make the nicest snack schedule you've ever seen — but I cannot and will not let anybody call me coach.

I organized a practice tonight which seems like it will be more of a parent meeting and me begging someone to step up and teach these boys to pitch. I think I'll wear my esperdrilles for effect.

Wordless Wednesday: Bershon

Another right of passage

It's inevitable in America these days that every single woman that gives birth will one day have to carefully place her espadrilles on a soccer field.

My day has finally come. I am a soccer mom. Shout it loud, shout it proud ... it is what it is.

Jonas all but begged to join soccer this year despite the fact that he has never watched a game in his life. He begged. I'm not sure how he even knows what soccer is and whatever he does know did not come from Marty or I. I barely know the rules. I'm like "look, Jonas, you just kick the ball toward the goal and don't use your hands."

I had to take him to B & H Sports to get his cleats and his shin guards. The sales woman was so nice. "Let me ask you a question — what's the difference between a baseball cleat and a soccer cleat?" She was so kind, explaining that baseball cleats have metal spikes on the front and cannot be worn on a soccer field.

Good to know. Now he needs a ball, I said while grabbing a big one with rock 'n roll flames. "Nope, that's the wrong size," she said while handing me a much smaller plain one.

Cleats, check. X-tra small shin guards, check. Ball, check. Socks, check.

"One more thing," I whispered, "Do the socks go on the outside or the inside of the shin guards?"

"Outside," she laughed then said, "It's okay, you're gonna get it."

On Saturday, Marty and I rolled up in the SUV at Canyonview Park. It was a sea of people, looking more like a rock concert than a little kids' sporting event. I dropped them off so I could find parking. "How do I know where to go?" Marty asked me. "I have no idea, good luck."

So yeah, I stepped my espadrilles on the field. Why I wore those shoes, I don't know, but I guess it just goes to show what a soccer mom novice I am. I was a bit exasperated by the scene, but you know what, it was super fun to watch. My kid had a blast and declared "I LOVE SOCCER!" There was lots of action, and falling down, and running in the wrong direction.

Jonas kicked his first goal — into the other team's net! YEAH!!!!

And I finally get it ... soccer is awesome!

"Where's our car?" Marty asked afterward.

"Down here somewhere," I said as I hit the alarm 15 times in a row.

"Where?"

"I don't know ... Gawd what is with all these damn SUVs?"

"Ha ha, you even drive a soccer mom car. You're a soccer mom .... "

"Hell yeah."

Office space

Here's a picture of my new "office." I'm using quotes because it's not actually an office. Instead is the hallway area between our bedroom and the music room. It's open to the downstairs, so I'm hanging out here in the open. 

But that doesn't matter because I like it.

When I first moved on to the desk from my bed, I was staring at a blank wall. It only took a couple of days to figure out that I needed something on the wall to make my desk area more office-y. I decided on a bulletin board so I can change what I'm looking at whenever I want.

I went on Pinterest and looked for boards that weren't for kindergarten teachers. I pinned a few that gave me some good ideas.

We already had an acoustic tile just lying around (what? You don't have acoustical tiles just lying around? Weird), so my mom and I headed down to the craft store in search of just the right fabric.

I knew what I wanted, but when I tried to explain it to my mom, we reached an impasse over the fact that I do not know how to pronounce “toile.” I kept trying to say the word and describe what I wanted and she kept looking at me with that, “ ‘the heck are you talking about?” face.

Finally, I found this toile (it’s pronounced “twall,” by the way) in the upholstery fabric section. Luckily, it was on sale for 40 percent off because, sheesh, have you seen the price of upholstery fabric? Good gravy.

Then we stopped at the hardware store and I picked up enough fake wood trim to make a nice frame if I cut everything correctly — which I did not. So, second trip to hardware store.

My mom and I covered the bulletin board and Bill helped me install the whole thing over my desk. I didn’t try to attach the board to the frame. Instead, we just used giant sheetrock screws to attach the board to the wall (I cut little slits in the fabric where the screws went and you can’t even tell). Then we attached the trim frame with finishing nails.

Easy peasy.
 

Wordless Wednesday: Fashion from Target

On your mark, get set ...

Sometimes I think I know my kid so well. Then she goes and does something that shocks the pants off me.

A couple weeks ago when I picked Margaret up from school, she proudly announced, “I’m going to join the track team.” I opened my mouth then closed it again. I was about to say, “’the heck?” But instead I told her it sounded like a great idea.

And I really do think it’s a great idea. I’ve been wanting Mar pick up a sport for years. Anything I suggested was the stupidest sport she had ever heard of … it didn’t matter what it was. She didn’t want to participate in sports no way, no how.

Even as a little kid, we’d sign her up for classes — gymnastics, karate, tennis — she hated them all. Well, she didn’t hate tennis, but after the first session, she’d never agree to sign up again.

So, I gave up making suggestions.

Then out of nowhere, she wants to be a runner. If you’ve seen my kid, you would have to agree that running is probably going to be good sport for her. She’s all legs.

Off to the sporting goods store we went and drained my bank account on shoes and shorts and shirts with wicking fabric because if people could see her sweat then she’d be mortified.

She was excited. I was worried. What if she hated track? What if I spent all that money and she quit after the first week?

I guess there was no way to know for sure until she tried.

Monday was the first day of practice. She goes right after school so I don’t pick her up until 4:30 (which is wonderful because now my work day is longer and I can get more work done before Mar comes home). I waited outside the school and hoped it went good enough to keep her wanting to go back.

And …

It did. Phew! I know we have weeks more of practice and track meets, but we’re off to a good start!

Hovenweep National Park

Last week, we had to go back to my hometown of Cortez, Co. Although I lived there throughout my entire childhood, places change, so between family gatherings we went out exploring some of those new places that have been created in the past decade.

There are ruins of ancient Anasazi and Pueblans everywhere. When I was a kid, it wasn't uncommon to walk through a canyon or a field and stumble upon some type of site. It happened all the time, and it was something that I took for granted.

But, in the early 2000s, it was decided that perhaps some of those ruins should be protected and the Canyon of the Ancients National Monument was born. It's huge and encompasses a large portion of Montezuma County. It's a good thing too because the economy in that area relies heavily on tourism and giving the area park status provides some sort of protection and management for the ruins.

Growing up, all of our class trips were to Mesa Verde National Park. I went there every single year throughout elementary school, except that one time we went to Pizza Hut — which was awesome. Every single home has southwest decor tucked somewhere in it. Navajo blankets, kachinas, faux broken pottery ... My first summer job was at the Anasazi Heritage Center where I gave tours of the ruins in English and German (badly) and help curate the exhibits at the museum.

When I left the area in 1992, I didn't care if I EVER saw another ruin. I longed for modern architecture, non-turqoise jewelry, and any kind of home that wasn't made from stucco. I am not drawn to the Southwest style and to this day, there isn't a single Southwestern item in my house.

But, I took a 20-minute detour on the way home to Lowry Ruins near Pleasant View, Co.  I thought the boys might enjoy checking out a pueblo and maybe learn something.

I was surprised to see how much different the site is now than I remembered it. It now has interpretive signs and a partially covered metal roof. We walked up to the Great Kiva and I immediately launched into tour guide mode. Blah, blah, blah. Marty would read the signs and say something like "Yeah, like mom said."

I didn't realize that I was doing it until Marty mentioned this picture.

I was pleasantly surprised at how the boys actually listened to me. To make it more interesting, I started telling them what their lives as little boys would have been like if they had lived there. The idea of learning to hunt with bows and having the responsibility of providing for the village really intrigued them. They started running around shooting pretend bison with their super-charged bows and arrows.

The visit went so well, we decided to continue another 25 miles across the state border into Utah to visit Hovenweep National Park.

It was different too. There's a Visitor's Center now and a $6 charge to hike the full 2 1/2 mile loop around the ruins. We'd eaten ALOT at all those family gatherings and were more than happy to take a walk.

The boys remained pretty fascinated by the idea that people built, lived and then disappeared from these houses. They found the idea of defending the villiage using the canyon pretty interesting too.

But, mostly, Hovenweep gave us yet another great day to enjoy and explore the world as a family. Maybe I could stomach just one more trip to Mesa Verde just for them sometime in the near future.