The Common Mommy Denominator

I'm a Mom. I need adult conversation. I need to talk about the banalities and the excitements of life, and be understood by the masses. Most of all, I need feedback. Let's chat. You about yours, me about mine, us about ours. Let's find and discuss the Common Mommy Denominator.

Friday, May 29, 2009

The Face of the Earth

We are still on it. Just thought I should mention that.

It's been busy lately; this last week-plus has included a FULL day with Kim and the kids at Disney (courtesy of Kim's neighbor, who works there and signed us in!), Jason on business first in Chicago and then in Phoenix - in the same week! - a farewell girls' night for Kim, a full-day Saturday family project to attempt to transplant some sturdy tomato seedlings (proven semi-successful so far...we'll see!), three movies (thanks to M&D and Kim watching our kids on two seperate occasions) - Earth, Angels and Demons, and Star Trek, (we haven't seen this many movies within this amount of time in...YEARS!) a YM/YW activity at our place as part of Iron Chef, with special ingredient Corn Flakes, (our team won!) our final week of watching Bella, a crazy search for a three bedroom apartment in OC (and we've found a few possibilities...for only $1750.00 a month!), and finally, the packing-in-preparation-for-leaving of Kim's apartment.

In other words, there's been very little to really discuss on the blog, but no time for discussing.

And with that, now that everyone knows I'm still alive, I'm signing off to go get the kids ready to take them to hang out with Kim and Bella on their last day here. Have a great weekend, all...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Because I Can...

Click the link to check out a map I made with Google Maps of all the hits I've had around the world on my blog. Not that I think I'm all that - by any stretch - I'm just super-excited at all the places to which my little self has at some point connected. Find you!

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=112109894296713149823.00046a5e1e45dd656f1e7&ll=38.272689,5.976563&spn=132.265051,360&z=2

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Yup

Cleaning out my wallet today, I found an old fortune from a fortune cookie...and it's totally a backhanded compliment sort of thing, if you read it in the wrong (or right?) light:

You are a person of imaginative, yet honest, intentions.

Huh.

Yeah, well, I guess that in some circumstances, that's pretty spot-on. I'd like to think I'm imaginative and have honest intentions, but I'm willing to admit to myself that sometimes my intentions are imaginative. Never really thought of it that way, though...'til now.

Have a great Tuesday, everyone, and Happy Birthday to my Lil' Sis, Kate! Love you, lady!

Friday, May 15, 2009

Jason's 32nd Birthday

Yup, he's old. Waaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy older than I am...by, like, two YEARS. (I only get to do the "two year" thing for two and a half month each year, so I'm living it up.)

So Jay turned 32...a week ago. Lots been happenin' since then, but here's the skinny on his birthday unbash.

My folks kept Ty & Mia overnight Thursday and Friday, and Jay and I hopped in the car Thursday evening and headed out to Temecula, where we checked into the Embassy Suites thanks to some of Jason's Hilton points. Love that he's a diamond member...instant upgrade to one of their executive suites, and they did EVERYTHING they could to meet his requests, like being on a low floor (2nd) and being as far from the elevators as possible (other end of the hall). When I mentioned in making the reservations that it was his birthday and he was a diamond member, they went all out: in our room were two glasses from a local winery, a bottle of sparkling cider, a dozen chocolate-dipped strawberries, and some mints, all with a birthday card for him from Hilton! Plus, ES has a free made-to-order breakfast each morning, so we each had an omelet and picked a few other things from the spread. YUMMY. The night we checked in, however, we were famished, and decided to head to Old Town Temecula to find a restaurant. We wound up at Baily's, a place we'd originally considered for Jay's birthday dinner, and had a great time feasting in the quiet atmosphere where the food was good, the portion size was excellent, the prices weren't too bad, and even though Jason's food order got screwed up and sent to another table making him wait longer, they brought him a different entree "to snack on" while they made his, which they then brought out to him, PLUS they brought him a complimentary dessert AND they struck his entree from the bill! Baily's knows how to correct a gaffe!

The next morning we headed into Wine Country for our own tour, explored a pretty little area called Lake Skinner and its surrounding camping areas, stopped at Thornton Winery for some tasty vittles (since we don't drink, we were relegated to food...which is never a bad thing!) including some garlic-oil cold-poached shrimp, a housemade salumi flatbread pizza, and some herb-marinated goat cheese, among other yummies, and got to explore their facilities a bit. (We'd be to Ponte Winery for Ira and Kerry's wedding a year or so back, but we were really glad to get to explore the vineyards in daylight a little better. WAAAAAYYYY pretty.) I confess, I still don't "get" wine - and my mother would be ashamed, if it weren't for the fact that SHE'S now Mormon - but I DO get grape juice, and I totally get long lines of grapes growing on vines. Neat stuff, people! So then it was back to Old Town to check out some of the stores there. The Cheese Shop was a total disappointment, which makes me sad, but there was also the Temecula Olive Oil Company, and OH MY GOODNESS!!! We may not be "allowed" to participate in a wine tasting, but we CERTAINLY enjoyed the olive oil (and vinegar) tasting! I never imagined that blood orange olive oil with vanilla and fig balsamic vinegar could taste like salad dressing HEAVEN, but next time we have a bit of cash to part with, I'm hopping online to their site and buying both types! (We picked up some Roasted Garlic EVOO...ask Kim, it's goooooooooood!)

From there (this ACTUALLY being Jason's birthday) we headed to Fallbrook, 20 min or so south on the 15. We stayed at the Oak Creek Manor B&B, (look them up!) and had an awesome experience there...partially because the Manor was EXQUISITE, and partially because we were the only guests staying inside the mansion! (There was another couple there, too, but they were outside in the carriage house.) This place was crazy, people. Awesome, but crazy-awesome.

For instance, you enter a big gate, and drive around a circular driveway (circling a fountain!) to park in front of this Manor that looks like Monticello! Inside the entry there's a table with a tea set, and to the left, a hallway to the breakfast room. Straight ahead is a parlor with a wet bar, a chess set, a fireplace, etc, and farther beyond is the hallway that leads to two double doors: our suite. 12' ceilings, 2 large columns, a CA King-sized fourposter bed, a fireplace with chair and ottoman, a breakfasting table, and a marble bathroom with double sinks, a vanity area, uber-plush robes, a 2-headed shower, and a 2-person jetted tub! The room also has a ceiling fan, two more sets of double doors leading to a fountained patio and to an outdoor breakfasting table, a flat-screened TV up above the suite doors for in-bed viewing, and the entire room is wired - along with the rest of the house - for house-wide surround sound with XM radio piped in! We could listen to XM in the tub at a volume we chose using our TV to set it up! The bed was SUPER-plush, and it was quieter than, well, anywhere I've been in, I don't know, months and months. Looooooooved it!

That night we went to Pala Casino for dinner at the Oak Room, where, for the first time, I had Buffalo. Jason had his traditional prime rib, but because it was cut from the animals grass fed on Indian land, he said it was the tastiest, tenderest, best prime rib he'd ever had...and soups, sides, and desserts weren't bad, either. (That was sarcasm. YUM.) We'd budgeted $20 for entertainment, so we played slots for a while (which inevitably meant we sucked for a few minutes while we tried to figure out what the heck we were doing!) and eventually we were actually UP...by...50 cents. Jason wanted to try his hand at blackjack, so I stood by and watched him play (trying to figure out what he was doing) for a while, and when we were down to $5.50 remaining, we cut our losses, shrugging at the $15 we'd "devoted" to 3 hours worth of entertainment, (less than a movie, and we got to interact a whole lot more!) and headed back to the Manor, where we had both a house/room key and a gate clicker, chocolates on our re-made and turned-down bed...and the house to ourselves. I got to wander around the house that night after a bath in my big fluffy robe and slippers, grabbing a couple glasses of lemon ice water from the wet bar without bumping into a single soul in the house. AWESOME.

The next morning I went out at took the photos you see herein, (seriously, I think the room we stayed in would have fit our entire apartment!) and then we went to breakfast, which was served in the dining room with the other two guests from the carriage house. We had fresh OJ, herbal tea, (they had coffee, of course,) praline-topped cinnamon rolls, parfaits, and the piece de la resistance, individual spinach-egg souffles in little heart-shaped crocks with bacon on the side. I also had half a cheese cream-schmeered bagel, but really, who's counting?

Then it was back home, madly throwing things around the apartment and getting ready to collect our kids to take them to a preschool "friend" of Tyler's birthday pool party, where the kids - and the adults! - had a great time in and out of the pool. We couldn't miss it, you see; Karlee, the birthday girl, is as in love with Tyler as a newly five year-old girl could be, and Tyler, like any boy, whether 4 or 24, is more or less oblivious but still enjoys the attention. Arianna and her husband Kevin were excellent hosts, and though we were invited to stay after for the family party, we declined so we could get the kids home, washed, and to bed and have a little more time for ourselves.

All in all it was a brilliant weekend, and I think/hope/believe Jason enjoyed his birthday...whether or not he enjoyed turning 32.

Happy 32nd birthday, Jason. I love you.

Skeptic No More

I think it was Julie who was telling me about the at-home dry cleaning kit "Dryel", and I remember thinking, "Yeah, but what about stains? What about pressing and those beautiful, crisp lines in my husband's slacks when they come back from the cleaners? What about underarm and other nasty odors?"

But my last trip to the cleaners (they are few and far between, mind you, but I DO have to go at least once a month for various clothing items) cost me about $15.00, so I decided to give Dryel a whirl. (You "whirl" it in the dryer. Ha.) I found a starter set at Target on clearance for about $7 and got up the courage a few days ago to try it, considering Jason and I got all dressed up on his birthday (slacks and shirt, blouse and skirt, that sort of thing) and went to dinner at the Pala Casino's Oak Room. Why would that make me want to dry clean at home? It wasn't that I wound up with buffalo meat on my blouse, no...it was that, afterward, we spent 2 or 3 hours hanging out at the casino playing slots with a miniscule sum of money we set aside for entertainment, but I'll get to all that in another post. POINT IS, casinos are notoriously smoke-and-booze-filled, and though we OBVIOUSLY weren't smoking or drinking, the smell permeates EVERYTHING. Needless to say, our nice clothes required laundering, and I wasn't prepared to drop another $15 to clean them.

Enter my Dryel set. All four clothing items - plus another couple small items I had been meaning to take to the cleaners - were stain treated with the included stain treatment, tossed into the dryel bag with a dryel sheet, and were then tossed into the dryer for 30 minutes on medium heat. Ding! Clothes are done!
They smelled great, were stain-free, and after a little bit of ironing on Jay's shirt and slacks and my blouse, everything was right as rain and good as if it had just come back from the dry cleaners. That was great, but I still wasn't completely convinced. What about more serious stains, or stains all over? What about when I didn't feel like ironing?

Today I threw in another load...four items, to be exact, one of which was a pair of Jason's slacks, and one of which was a black dress replete with those little deodorant cat whiskers. I spent an extra few minutes with the stain treatment and VOILA! stain-free! The slacks? No, I didn't bother ironing them, but I took them out of the dryer bag and they were still very slightly damp, so I hung them up to dry and VOILA! they're wrinkle-free and ready to go...even if they aren't quite as crisp as they'd be if I'd ironed them, but they're khakis, people. Who really cares? (Yes, Jason...I know you do. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you by ironing all your slacks next week, I promise. And you can even use this to hold me to it.)

So TEN items "dry cleaned" in less than a week for $7, AND I have the potential to clean up to six MORE items still sitting in the Dryel box. That, and from now on I only need to buy the refill sheets, which end up even cheaper. Say I only clean 5 items on average; that means I cleaned 15 items for $7 at less than $0.50 an item! AWESOME! And now it's convenient, I don't have to waste gas to-and-from, I don't have to go as long between cleanings, and I can even treat stains I didn't think I could treat before! (I still don't recommend Dryel for stuff like crayons, lipstick, blood, what-have-you, and think those are best left to professionals.)

I am officially a Dryel convert...a skeptic no more. If you do lots of dry cleaning and have access to your own dryer at home, check it out. I can safely say I endorse the product. Now I only wish I was getting PAID to endorse it. Anyway...Have a great day, all!

Thursday, May 14, 2009

I Don't Watch Much TV...

...but...you knew there was going to be a "but", didn't you?

There are two shows I follow. I didn't actually follow them from the very beginning, but became a convert to both over time.

Now, there are shows I really LIKE, but not that I will devote any time to watching...like Extreme Home Makeover and Deal or No Deal, Hell's Kitchen and Iron Chef, and my favorite, Alton Brown's Good Eats (which, like Iron Chef, is over on the Food Network). Then there are shows that I LOVED...back when they were on, which, unfortunately, is no more...like M*A*S*H and The Young Indiana Jones series.

But there are two shows that I dare not miss...per se. You see, we don't actually have television. No, it's not that we're not equipped for digital TV (even though I don't think we are), it's that we dumped Uverse a while back and never picked up any rabbit ears, so we've been living off our DVD collection (mostly kids' movies) and Blockbuster.com for...ages now. And honestly, I like it that way. If I want news, I jump on foxnews.com. If I want weather, I go to weather.com. Easy enough.

My two shows, however, make not having TV more difficult...or they did, until I realized I could access the last x number of episodes online at those TV stations' websites! TADA! I now watch my shows - AT MY CONVENIENCE! - online...with "limited commercial interuptions"! It's AWESOME. But back to the shows.

So like I said, there are 2. Years ago as newlyweds, we caught one or two of the last few episodes of the first season of 24, and as soon as the first season was available on DVD, we rented them successively from the local Blockbuster, reserving the next disc any time we could. We watched those puppies straight through, often 3 hours at a go (4 episodes per disc on 6 disks, each episode about 45 minutes when the commercials are edited). We were obsessed. So obsessed, in fact, that we actually MISSED THE BALL DROP on New Year's Eve, 2003 because it came down to pausing the VERY LAST EPISODE in the series ONLY 15 MINUTES FROM THE END for 3 minutes to watch the ball drop, or continue on through to the bitter, moving, emotional end. Like I said, what ball drop?

We watched 24 for the next couple of seasons while it was going, making sure to drop any-and-everything for our Monday night rendevous with Jack Bauer, (terrorists for family home evening, anyone?) and about halfway through the 4th season, Jason kinda gave up. I didn't. I'm a sucker for suspense, what can I say? He's watched little bits and pieces with me since then (this is season 7, by the way), but he usually shrugs his shoulders in disgust and walks away after about 5 minutes. Me? I stick with it to the bitter end. And this season, I think they're finally going to kill off Jack Bauer. And I may very well cry.

Hey, it's been a good, long run, and if they save him, I'll still tune in devotedly (the day after each episode airs, and via internet) next season. By the way, if you haven't seen 24, rent the first season. If you like nail-biting, nausea-building suspense, uber-intensity, and being emotionally strung up to the point that you occasionally stop breathing, MAN, that's your stuff. First season was still the best, primarily because it was willing to do things and go places that no other TV drama thus far had been willing to touch. ROCKED my WORLD. (Go rent it. Now. Ok, AFTER you finish this entry. Then go. Seriously. You won't regret it...unless you regret becoming addicted and investing too much time into watching TV. Rent it anyway.)

Then there's my OTHER show, and that one is ALL Cory's fault. Same story there. The rest of the world was halfway through season 2 of LOST when Cory let me borrow the first season, swearing that I'd love it and wouldn't be able to break away from the television, even to do the dishes. Oh, man, she was right. And by the time I finished the first season, she was handing me the second season on DVD that she had JUST bought. And I was hooked...line and sinker, too. So, thanks a lot, Cory. And I'm not sure whether I mean that sarcastically or sincerely. :)

Lost is another show Jay was interested in and then gave up on when it got really weird...and it did get really weird. In fact, I think it was the first episode of the second season where he started to scratch his head and make jokes about how the creators titled the show Lost NOT because these people were stranded on a crazy island in the middle of nowhere, but because it was the creators' intention to leave their audience thoroughly lost. Ha, ha. (Sometimes I still think he's right.)

I have followed this show since season three came up on the internet, episode by episode, and gasped and drawn conclusions and drawn diagrams to reach conclusions and played "clues to the next season of Lost" games on the internet, and even cried like a baby when Jin died. No, literally sobbed. Like a child. And still do, every time they replay Sun screaming desperately out the side of the helicopter. I'm tearing up right now. Seriously.

Tonight after the kids went down, I cried again. No, not because this season just ended with the season finale and I have to wait until the first part of 2010 to enjoy the final season and finally put all the pieces together, but because of Sawyer and Juliet. Far from Romeo, still they had a parting scene the likes of which made me weep. Amazing how wrapped up you can get in the characters, huh?

For those of you who follow Lost - which is probably NONE of you - OH MY GOSH. That ending?! The white light? Lost in black letters instead of white on black? People, I am SPEECHLESS, and as most of you know, that doesn't happen very often...if EVER. Speechless. All the woes and worries and oppressively pitiful emotions I've been feeling lately? This episode nuked them all. (wink, wink) I'm still wrapped up in Lost. I've been sitting around all evening trying to think of something else, so I had to come over here to the computer and vomit my brain-craziness into a blog entry. Geez Louise, people. Yikes. Seriously, Wow. Wowie-Zowie. Blobbity-blabbity-gobbledy-gook. SPEECHLESS.

So next Tuesday (or any day next week after Monday night) I'll be jumping onto Fox.com to watch the second-to-last installment of Jack's horrible day, (from 6 - 7 AM,) and the following week (unless they give us a 2fer grand finale next Monday, in which case I will be FREE from internet television watching until 2010!), when Jack's day will finally end...heck, potentially his LIFE will end. If a blog entry shows up sometime between next Tuesday and a week from Tuesday that says something simple like "I'm SPEECHLESS," or "Please pardon my absence from blogging as I mourn the passing of Jack Bauer," you'll understand. And maybe even get addicted, if you bomb on over to your local video store and do as I command you.

Anyway, I really don't watch much TV, but every once in a while a show (or two) comes along that really grabs me, and I waste infinitely too much time on characters who do not exist for the sole purpose of losing myself in their reality in order to momentarily escape my own. And 24 and Lost both qualify. Why? Because fighting terrorists and making sense of a 400 pieces of a thousand piece puzzle without a photo of the overall picture are far more interesting than what I'm generally doing at 8:15 on a given weeknight: waiting for my husband to come home and trying to be quiet in our teeny little apartment so my two babes can sleep in the next room without me disturbing them. INFINITELY more interesting. Both Jack Bauer AND Jack Shepherd. But I'm guessing that's just a part of the common Mommy denominator. Cest la vie.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

It's a Miracle, People!

The Biohazard unit went into the Bob & Vicky's today...and found their cat, Bandit, ALIVE! (NOTE: The photo at left is NOT Bandit, but the best I could find that looks like him on google images.) He's been in there for the last WEEK with them without food or fresh water, and yet he LIVES! They fed him, pet him a bit, and now he needs a home...and FAST. He's about 14, shy, quiet, affectionate, and ready for a home that will protect and shelter him for the few years he has left. I have major cat allergies, and I don't know of anyone off the top of my head looking to bring in a cat, but I can't bear the thought of him being taken to animal control only to be put down when he's survived what he has this last week, so if YOU - Yes, YOU! - know of anyone who would love to add a cat to the family, somewhere there are two people who I know would be eternally grateful, and there's a sweet white-with-gray-patches cat all alone in the apartment across the way just awaiting his fate who would certainly be equally as grateful. (Oh, and you'll have my undying gratitude as well!) So please...ask around - AND HURRY! - and then let me know ASAP! The front office even has a cat carrier for you!

Monday, May 11, 2009

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Perhaps I should start every blog entry with a sarcastic title, hm?

Which, of course, leads you to assume that today's title is sarcastic, and it is NOT, therefore, a beautiful day in the neighborhood, contrary to Mr. Rogers' humble daily proclamation, and you would be entirely correct.

But this un-beautiful day has nothing to do with the weather, or this dumpy apartment, or any of those fun things...no, instead, it has to do with our neighbors...

...who left the apartments last night for the last time, in body bags.

But I digress. Bob and Vicky, a retiree couple, live(d) across the way from us...literally, right across the courtyard; our front door is maybe 30 or 40 feet from theirs. Last night the police showed up at their apartment a little while after we'd got the kids to bed, maybe sometime around 9 or 9:30, called out by one of our other courtyard neighbors, I guess, due to a foul smell and the TV turned up REALLY loud. She was a shut-in with all sorts of health problems, and he was her spouse, caregiver, and (we still believe) the love of her life. The kids and I would run over there every now and then to drop off bread or cookies or...whatever, and when one of their two cats, Smokey (the other was Bandit) was ill, I took some pictures for them and framed the best, right there for Vicky when Smokey finally did move on. They were as kind and neighborly as neighbors could be, and I like to think that we were just as neighborly in return.

So we opened up the front sliding glass door last night to listen and find out if Bob and Vicky were okay while the police were here...and were even thinking that maybe they'd left to the hospital or something while we were down in Temecula for Jason's birthday this past weekend. (I will be posting something about that trip later...but this seemed more important.) I was really hoping that the smell was Bandit...he was an old cat, too, and I thought maybe he'd passed on while they were tending to Vicky's health.

Through the door, though, we saw and heard many more officers descending...and then flashes went off inside Bob and Vicky's place (LOTS of flashes)...and finally the proclamation. One of the officers was on his phone, almost directly outside our front door: "...Shot her in the head, and then shot himself in the head. Murder-suicide, pretty cut-and-dry." Unavoidably and in shock, I had a good cry, and shortly thereafter the police were at our place taking a statement. (The last time I'd seen them was earlier in the week...he'd taken her for short walks in the courtyard here in front of our apartment a couple days in a row, and then Tyler had yelled "HI, BOB!" from the dinner table like he often did when Bob was coming home from somewhere Wednesday evening, but we left Thursday evening and came home Saturday, so it must've happened sometime during that stint.) One of the policemen very considerately interuppted our conversation and went to close Bob and Vicky's front door for us, but it was another 3 or 4 hours before their bodies were removed. Jason said he'd heard something about a suicide note, but beyond that, that's all we know.

I guess Bob and Vicky aren't interesting enough to make the news, but as aggreived as I am that he (or they?) felt such desperation in their situation - enough to end their lives - I wanted to express our hope that they have found release, and make sure that they were known and remembered...and not just for their death, but for their love of one another, for their adoration of cats and of kids - which, if I remember correctly, they couldn't have - for their love of clocks (and their commemeration of every moment and event in their lives with a new clock...they didn't have a square inch of un-clocked space on their walls!), and their neighborliness. It's interesting, as we age, how our perspective changes; whereas a decade ago I might have been inclined to judge, at this point in my life I am only full of empathy and truly hope that Bob and Vicky are now comfortable, at ease, and together.

I sure hope the day "pretties-up" quick...and if my kids ever mention Bob or Vicky (and until they can both read and have interest in reading this blog, the latter being probably never), please work with us in letting them know that our neighbors have moved. Moved, moved ON...we don't necessarily feel like we're being dishonest. After all, I think perhaps the Lord was merciful to our little family in this; it's a miracle Jason got the time off so we could leave on Thursday, a blessing that my folks were willing to take the kids those days, and an equal blessing that Bella could stay with her aunt and Grandma on Friday. Otherwise, being a Stay-Home Mom (with all three kids in tow on a Friday, which is when we assume this all must have taken place), the kids and I'd have been the ones to hear gunshots (as it was, no one did, but this place is pretty empty on weekday DAYS), call the police, and perhaps even find them/come unglued around the kids/have had the kids watching the police go in and out. We're grateful that, if things had to work out the way they did, that they worked out the way they did, for our kids' sake. And again, we really hope Bob and Vicky are happy, comfortable, and have found relief and release. They were great people.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

My Son Reestablishes the Great Soda/Pop Debate and Pronounces a New Winner

I love how long that title is. It's like a Frasier episode.

So I was talking on the phone about the Great Soda/Pop Debate, pronouncing the winner "Soft Drink", and my son interuppted me.

"No, Mom...it's called BUBBLE JUICE."

Aaaah, yes. It is. He has a point. Because in our home, that's what we call it. Made more sense than anything else in trying to describe what they were about to ingest. We also call Soy Sauce "Salty Sauce" and Ramen Soup "Squiggly Soup", for obvious reasons.

So I stand corrected...not by Emily, not by Adrienne (who so kindly admitted I'm right in my own way, anyway!)...but by my son.

It is neither Soda nor Pop, Coke nor Soft Drink...it is, instead, Bubble Juice.

Enjoy!

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

The Great SODA/POP Debate

So I'm commenting on a friend's blog, (Hi, Ginny!) thinking about laughing so hard that milk would come out of my nose (because it's ALWAYS milk, right?) and then I'm thinking, "But I don't really drink much milk...and, as discussed a few entries ago, when I do it's Soy Milk, and it just doesn't sound the same to say "soy milk came out of my nose."

Not that you want ANYTHING to come out of your nose...TANGENT WARNING!

***I've always been an easy vomit, particularly when I was sick as a kid. And I don't just get sick, I get SICK...and when I vomit, it inevitably comes not only up through my mouth, but out of my nose. One particular time, I'd eaten rotini. You know, that pasta that looks like a corkscrew. And then I threw up. And it came out of my nose. I comment specifically on the rotini because, although I've also thrown up spaghetti, which is incredibly disgusting coming out of your nose in one long string, the sheer GIRTH and TWISTINESS of rotini is by far a superior (okay, maybe not SUPERIOR...) experience. NEVER, I repeat, NEVER throw up rotini pasta through your nose! Especially when it is accompanied by orange juice and tomato sauce. It's like you bore a hole a mile wide in your nasal cavaties and then pour acid through it. Trust me, just don't do it. Not that you would.***

But since I don't drink milk, what could I comment would come out of my nose? Well, I wrote soda, but that sparked in my memory a debate I had back in college: Is that bubbly stuff in the can (or, if you're that classy, the bottle) SODA or POP?

If you're from Utah, it's likely you call it Pop. If you're from back east or the northwest, you'll probably call it Soda. If you're from the very northernmost eastern US, it's "coke," no matter what it is.

But as the debate continued, I wondered to myself, "What do I call it?" I leaned more toward soda, admittedly, because asking someone if they want a "pop" implies you might deck them. Try as I might, though, I couldn't really call it soda, because that just didn't sound right, even though those two (limited) options seemed reasonable.

What DO I call it? I realized a couple months later when I was home for Christmas what it is REALLY supposed to be called, and though you may argue, it is neither Soda NOR Pop, and it's most especially NOT "coke" unless you're ordering a coke. It is also NOT that insipid conglomeration of the two popular terms: "soda pop."

For you see, my friends, having a soda pop is SUPPOSED to be called...

Having a Soft Drink. Go to any fast food place in Southern California (which, everyone knows, sets the standard...and before you haraunge me for that, that was totally tongue-in-cheek, people!) and on the menu, where you find the soft drinks listed, they will inevitably be listed under "Soft Drinks."

Therefore, to end the great Soda Pop debate...I proclaim the winning expression to be Soft Drinks. And I seal that proclamation with a very loud, carbonated bubble-induced belch. So there. And the debate is over.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

The Angel Abigail, An Early Cinco de Mayo, and the Father-Son Campout

As I type this, Jason is sound asleep (it's 2:04 PM), Miagee is taking her nap, and Tyler is watching a quiet-time cartoon about the birth of the Savior. All is quiet on the Western front, and so I was able to get a really good chuckle when a 4 year-old voice disturbed the peace:

"That's Mary. She's Jesus's Mommy. And that's the Angel Abigail."

"That's GABRIEL, honey."

"Oh, yeah! Not Abigail. GABE-REE-ELE. Thanks, Mom." Followed a few minutes later by "If you want to walk to Bethlehem, it takes a looooooooooong time, and if you have a baby in your tummy then you have to ride a horse."

"Donkey, honey."

"Oh yeah. Because it takes sooooooooooo long to get to Jerusalem. I mean, Bethlehem."

Did I mention that my son is awesome? See, not only is he adorable and a tiny genius, he's adventuresome. In order so Jason could sleep, I took the kids for a couple hours to a Cinco de Mayo fiesta going on at La Palma and Harbor today...yes, I know it's the 2nd, but it's tough to have a well-attended fiesta on a Tuesday. Anyway, we parked, walked to the festival grounds, traversed the rides and fairway games attendants, (I confess, I spent $2 to lose a ball toss game because I'm just that weak...and not that I was weak in tossing balls,) blew $9 on Tyler climbing and sliding on a giant plaything with bridges and whatnot and the kids riding in a floating plastic kayak around a manmade river through pretend tunnels and teepees surrounded by cheesy Indian statues. In fact, I still have NO idea what a plaything and an American Indian-themed boat ride have to do with Mexican Independance, but whatever.

So he climbed that giant plaything on his own, circumvented obstacles, and ended up about 30 feet in the air at one point (albeit boxed in by railings, nets, and the like), and then boarded a plastic boat chasing goldfish around a waterway. (There were actually about half a dozen live goldfish in the water, which entertained the HECK out of Tyler.) Miagee climbed in with him and was fine for about the first minute and a half...and then she started to panic...and then she started to sob and reach for the sides, rocking the plastic boat rather precariously...so an attendant held the boat for me while I fetched her. Tyler? Good to go. In fact, he'd rather have kept a crying Miagee on board...she was rocking the boat! WOOHOO!!!

For those of you not yet informed, I've started calling Mikayla Miagee...like Mr. Miagi in Karate Kid. It has to be spelled Miagee, though, because she was formerly Magoo, which has too O's. Why Miagee? I don't know. Why Magoo, or it's shorter version, 'Goo? Why Mia? Well, we know why Mia...that's what she calls herself. (Seriously. "Mikayla, what's your name?" "MIA!")

ANYWAY, Tyler ALSO had fun at the Father-Son Campout. Jason? He had a good time, too...but he DID comment that a) he's getting old, as evidenced by his inability to sleep "just anywhere" anymore, (and he's right...he's turning 32 in less than a week. SOOOOO old.) and that b) STAYING asleep while camping is not so easy, either. (Hence the nap. Well, no, that, and this week he had his second work-all-night-long-at-the-office stint in as many weeks, so he hasn't really caught up on rest yet, but certainly couldn't NOT take Tyler to the campout!) On the positive side of things, they had a blast together (and Tyler was impeccably behaved the entire time!), Tyler slept soundly (inside Nona and Papa's van...thanks for the loaner, guys!) (and for those of you thinking they were chicken for not sleeping outside in a tent, it was in the '50's last night and supposed to rain!), and it DID rain...just a little...so Tyler and his Dad spent a few minutes last night watching Bishop and Conner scramble to put a tarp over their tent, and a few minutes this morning teasing Bishop about the NEED to scramble.

As an aside, both my father and my father-in-law are the world's biggest teases. I know for certain that my Dad got that from HIS Dad, my Papa, and I see that my Dad2 passed it on to Jason...who will inevitably (and, based on his encouraging Tyler to tease Bishop about their late-night tarp battle) inherit and pass on that tease gene.

Anyway, everything went well, my family is all back together and in one piece (and resting up for more togetherness), and no matter how crappy life gets (like waking up at 3:30 in the morning realizing your husband hasn't come home from work yet!) at least we're together. So you have a great weekend, people...we will too.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Hot Mormons

So, we're in the news again, thanks to some guy putting together a(nother) RM calendar. Haven't heard? (I thought everyone had.) It seems he found a bunch of active, hot returned missionaries and put together a calendar of all of them...shirtless. In fact, there have been 2 or 3 of these calendars thus far, and he's currently working both on another and on a Hot Mormon Moms calendar.
By the way, he's been ex'ed, whether over the calendar or other infractions, no one seems to know for sure, and because of his excommunication, as is BYU's perogative as a private institution, his degree has been revoked.

So, without offering my opinion (which some of you can guess because you know me so well), I'm wondering what you think of these calendars. Amused? Horrified? Ambivalent? Irritated? Ready to audition? Please feel free to comment on this entry if you wish to explain yourself; otherwise, vote in the poll at left! I really want to know!

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Needed to Share This...

Even as I'm listening to reports of the swine flu rampant in Mexico and bleeding into the US (and that the US is not closing their borders for some uber-lame "the horse is already out of the barn" reason), I find it incredibly important to share a new blog created by a man whose other blogs I already follow. His name is Mark, and he knows what he's talking about. Check out this new blog here: http://survivepandemicflu.blogspot.com/

Kudos to him for getting the word out. Please get the word out, too, and share this blog address. Lord willing, it'll all come to naught, but just in case, there's not a single person I know and care for that I wouldn't want to be privy to the incredibly insightful, timely, and insanely valuable information in this blog. Please pass on the address. If this turns into something and you don't, I guarantee you'll feel awful about it later...

Sorry to be so bleak and glum, but I'm just being practical. 'Night.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

No, Really, I DO Need a Boob Job!

Today I was watching Bella, and Tyler was at school so I sat Magoo and Bellagirl on the couch with the Little Einsteins and hopped in the shower for the first time in 2 days. (I'm a Mom. You understand.) Now, 'Goo has this habit of opening up the shower door and greeting me with a big "Ow yooou tateena towoo?" (That's Mikayla for "Are you taking a shower?") "No, kid, I'm taking a nap." Yes, I'm in the shower...now please close the door so I can enjoy what warmth I have left.

But this time she didn't close the door...she just turned around and walked away, and less than a split second later Bella's little face poked through to say hello...but instead of "hello," she asked, and I quote:

"Jessica, where your boobies go?"

Aaaaaaaaaaah, the honesty of children.

I'd like to use the excuse that because my hands were above my head (I was washing my hair) everything sort of stretched and flattened out.

The truth of the matter is, I don't know where they went, Miss Bellagirl. Not the foggiest idea. They were there 5 years ago, but then they just sort of...vanished.

"Where your boobies go." That is a statement that will haunt my dreams until I'm able to find them again in some doctor's office. "Where your boobies go." Huh. I really don't know...but last I saw them, they were so gigantic, thanks to breast feeding, that I didn't know what to do with them. Maybe that's why they went away. I didn't appreciate them enough. But seriously, who appreciates their fourth bout of mastitis? Or their first, for that matter?

"Where your boobies go?"

Yeah. Gonna go sleep on that one. And I'm going to fall asleep on my stomach, mind you, because ain't nothin' there to get in the way. "Where your boobies go?" I just don't know, kid. And with that...goodnight.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Oh, Sweet Corn!

That was supposed to be a sort of moaning "Oooooh," by the way.

You see, today I ate some corn. Not just any corn, mind you: fresh-picked, farmer's market organic first-of-the-season sweet corn.

No, first-of-the-season is not always (okay, seldom) BEST of the season, but it is FIRST of the season, meaning it gets you all excited for the best of the season, and what a season it is! In another state, it'd be summer and early fall...here, it's RIGHT NOW.

I bought 3 ears (and ate all 3 ears) of yellow corn still in the husk from the farmer's market (where else would I get my produce?), and today decided they'd make a great lunch in concert with some zucchini-tomato bisque I whipped up the other day (using farmer's market produce...duh), so I turned on the oven and popped that stuff in.

The corn.

You see, the best way to cook corn, I've discovered, happens to be the EASIEST way to cook corn: buy it in the husk, leave it in the husk, throw it (in the husk, untouched!) into a 350 degree oven (preheat it or not, your choice), directly on the rack with the rack positioned in any area of the oven you please, and leave it there for 30-45 minutes until the husk is browned and dried out-looking and your home smells like the corn booth at a county fair. Then remove the corn from the oven (with a potholder!), let it cool for a couple minutes, yank that husk (and everything else) off the cob (feel free to twist it into a handle or just pull it off and use your spike-ended corn holders), butter, salt, and eat. (You may need to let it cool another couple minutes before you get into the eating part.)

Too long to wait for your corn to cook? Shame, really, because it's soooooooooo good that way. Fine, then husk it, steam it for 10-15 minutes, and eat up.

Still too long? Baby. Whatever...boil it for 8 minutes. But don't you come complaining to me if it's not as sweet and juicy and insanely delectable as its ovened counterpart.

Anyway, yuuuuummm. Try it out. Seriously. Farmer's Market First-of-Season Corn in the oven @ 350 for 30 minutes. Oh yeah. You won't regret it. (And you might even leave a comment on this entry that looks something like this: "Oh, Sweet Corn!") Now go forth, and good luck.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Devil and the Duck

My mom sent this to me, and I love it. I'd seen it before, but sometimes you forget...so for those of you who've seen this already, it's either a great reminder or you can skip it, and for those who haven't, well, enjoy!

There was a little boy visiting his grandparents on their farm. He was given a slingshot to play with out in the woods. He practiced in the woods, but he could never hit the target.

Getting a little discouraged, he headed back for dinner. As he was walking back he saw Grandma's pet duck. Just out of impulse, he let the slingshot fly, hit the duck square in the head and killed it.

He was shocked and grieved! In a panic, he hid the dead duck in the wood pile, only to find his Sister watching! Sally had seen it all, but she said nothing.

After lunch the next day Grandma said, 'Sally, let's wash the dishes', but Sally said, 'Grandma, Johnny told me he wanted to help in the kitchen.' Then she whispered to him, "Remember the duck?' So Johnny did the dishes. Later that day, Grandpa asked if the children wanted to go fishing and Grandma said, 'I'm sorry, but I need Sally to help make supper.' Sally just smiled and said, 'Well, that's all right because Johnny told me he wanted to help.' She whispered again, 'Remember the duck?' So Sally went fishing and Johnny stayed to help.

After several days of Johnny doing both his chores and Sally's, he finally couldn't stand it any longer. He came to Grandma and confessed that he had killed the duck. Grandma knelt down, gave him a hug and said, 'Sweetheart, I know. You see, I was standing at the window and I saw the whole thing, but because I love you, I forgave you. I was just wondering how long you would let Sally make a slave of you.'

Thought for the day and every day thereafter: Whatever is in your past, whatever you have done. that the devil keeps throwing in your face (lying, cheating, debt, fear, bad habits, hatred, anger, bitterness...), whatever it is...You need to know: God was standing at the window and He saw the whole thing. He has seen your whole life. He wants you to know that He loves you and that you are forgiven. He's just wondering how long you will let the devil make a slave of you.

The great thing about God is that when you ask for forgiveness, He not only forgives you, but He forgets.


(Love this one...)

Quick Update from Below...

Remember that bunch of Kale?

What bunch of Kale?

Yup, you guessed it...just polished off the last piece.

Hey, did anyone ever notice that the word "polish" as in polishing furniture and "Polish" as in from Poland are spelled the same way but pronounced differently? Depends on the situation, how it is pronounced and thought of. Huh.

Anyway, toasted kale.............aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhlllllll.

Family Fun Screws Up...in a Good Way

I've subscribed to Family Fun magazine for ages, and I always love the projects and things that they come up with; in fact, I've gone so far as to tear out the pages for the last 4 years and keep them in a binder of good ideas, since I know it'll be a few years before my kids can do most of the crafts presented.

Anyway, in the last issue of FF, I found a suggestion for getting your kids to eat more veggies: toss them with olive oil, lay them out on a baking sheet and bake them for x number of minutes, depending. One of their veggie suggestions - apparently the "kid preferred" veggie, in fact - was Kale. Now, kale rocks. It has an awesomely green flavor, and it's great used many ways...my favorite is chopped up in Italian Wedding Soup. So I got excited: new use for kale, and my kids will undoubtedly LOVE IT...right?
Yesterday at the Farmer's market I picked up a lovely bunch of semi-curly kale and proudly brought it home in my reusable shopping bag...how green am I on Earth Day? Whatever. Anyway, today I whipped that kale out of the fridge, pulled off some leaves (removing a good portion of the tough stem area), tossed it with some olive oil and spread those leaves out on a baking sheet, popped them into a 400 degree oven, flipped the leaves after 5 minutes, took them out of the oven after another 3 (8 min total), removed them to a paper towel-lined plate, and immediately sprinkled them with sea salt. Then I tentatively picked up one of those perfectly browned, gleaming, lightly salted leaves (attempting to keep it from crumbling on its way to my impatiently-awaiting mouth) and popped it into my face.

OH...MY...GOSH.

If you like toasted pumpkin seeds, you will LOVE oven-toasted Kale. As my parents would say, (sorry, Mom and Dad, it's too funny not to steal) my mouth climaxed. See, I LOVE pumpkin seeds...but I hate that hull, and I'm too lazy to strip the hulls away. Not so with kale. No hulls...just perfectly crisp, toasty, tasty yumminess...

...that the kids hated. All three kids, in fact, since Bella was here today too. Tyler took a little bite and proclaimed it "Not so Yummy." Bella chewed thoughtfully for a minute and then spat her small mouthful into the trash. Mikayla ate the first little bite I gave her and asked for more, so I gave her a whole leaf...which she immediately bit, crumbled the rest, and announced was "Eeeew Yucky."

Note to self: do not feed ANYONE oven-crisped kale over a black area rug when previously inundated by cockroaches. Crumbled browned kale on black fibers look an AWFUL (and I do mean awful) lot like cockroach parts.

So the kale wasn't a hit...with anyone but me. But lemme tell ya, it'll get ME to eat a whole bunch more kale (and I do mean bunch!), and the kids can just go back to popping cherry tomatoes.

As for me? Heading back into the kitchen to make some more kale chips...right...now.

Monday, April 20, 2009

THE ONE WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...

No, not news of an impending move out of state...

THE KOREAN BATHHOUSE!!!!!!!!!! YES, it is finally time!

You see, I had to seperate myself from the experience a bit...just to see if it really was as wonderful as I remember. And, ooooooh, it waaaaaaassss...By the way, the photos included herein are not of the actual bathhouse, but they are similar to what I'm talking about, fyi.

Jewels - who was rapidly beginning to wonder if she'd made the right choice, agreeing to go with me to a place full of naked Korean women - and I arrived at the Imperial Health Spa in Garden Grove sometime around 10 AM. We entered through the women-only entrance and approached the front desk...which was basically all there was in the room, minus a couple potted trees and a little table and chairs. We were asked if we'd made a reservation...and my heart sank. Reservation? Uh...no. Sorry. Never been here before...didn't know we were supposed to. The woman behind the desk informed us that the next available scrub/massage treatment for two more women would be at 11:30. Whew. No problem. Did we want a specific therapist? Nope, wouldn't know who to ask for. We handed over our credit cards and were given a slip of paper to sign - and tip, if we so chose, and not knowing what was appropriate, we each tipped $10, bringing the grand total for our (FIVE HOURS LONG) session and day to $80. Did I read that right? $80 (including the tip) for a 90 minute scrub-down and massage...plus unlimited access to all the facilities? Yup. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

So we were handed a stack of towels, a stretchy locker "key" with a number (which would later be the number by which our therapists identified us), and a robe. (We collected our plastic nubbly slippers near the door.) We both stripped down - admittedly a little nervously - and donned our robes, carrying our towels along with us. Just around the corner of the changing area was a primping area with a water dispenser, tissue, hairdryers, benches, mirrors, lotions, whathaveyou, and a row of wall hangers for robes...with about half a dozen robes hanging from it. It was time. Directly to our right was the wet area of the spa, glassed in and through a door. We peered through the glass, tried not to giggle like little girls, and looked around at the small handful of naked Korean ladies in their plastic slippers showering off at little sit-down shower stalls and scrubbing the heck out of each other...I HATE to relate it to monkeys grooming each other, because that SOOOOO is not how it was, but since that's the only thing I have to which I can compare it, well...it was a foreign expression of community I was witnessing.

Anyway, we each took a deep breath, shed our robes, and plunged into the spa area, taking a good look at what surrounded us. Most of the explanation signs were in Korean, of course, but each area had a sign in English, too: the hot, still saltwater bathing pool (sigh), the steam room and the dry sauna (double sigh), the ice water (okay...cold water...) plunge pool (that looked like a baptismal font!) outside the dry sauna (UBER-sigh!), the large rectangular whirlpool, the salt-scrub steam room (more explanation to come), the stand-up shower stalls, and the sit-down shower stalls. What's an uncultured pair of white girls to do, you ask? Well, start with a good rinse-off, just so no one thought we were planning to contaminate the water with sunless tanner or Peony lotion from Bath and Body Works...you can imagine. I'm uncultured enough as it is.

We rinsed, soaped, rinsed, and then headed for the saltwater tub. It was the perfect (not too hot, but not pansy-warm) temperature, then tried out the salt steam room. It wasn't until 20 minutes later when we saw another woman take a bowl of salt into the steam room that we got it. It was nice before, of course, but we learned by watching that the point was to scrub yourself down with salt while hanging out in the steam room, and then to sit there and let it suck the impurities from your newly buffed body, rinsing off afterward. Huh. Good times. In fact, such good times that neither Jewels nor myself flinched when we scrubbed each others' backs.

Naked? Yeah, we'd forgotten about that after a good two minutes there.

No, seriously. We did. But I'll get to that.

So we enjoyed the whirlpool, hung out in the dry sauna...and then took the plunge. I don't know that I've ever moved so quickly in my life, but after the dry sauna (on two different occasions while there, mind you!) I grabbed onto the hand rails and plunged into the (ICE) cold water to my waist...and summarily dunked myself under the water. I then leapt with the speed (but lacking the grace) of a cat back out, shaking off the cold and then lounging on a lounge chair. I just know shivered thinking about it, and for those of you in southern CA today (enjoying our 90 degree heat), just imagine the ecstacy.

But that was just the first room, people. Back out in the primp area we toweled off, collected and donned our robes, and headed into the next room, full of soft padded lounge chairs, a smoothie bar and food area, and four other rooms ready to provide us with new experiences. The first had a sign written only in Korean, but Julie and I called it the "nap room" because it was silent, contained lots of blankets and "pillows" - rectangular chunks of foam covered in a plastic-type fabric - and it was just mildly cool. The second was the Jade room, wherein the floors, walls, and decor were all jade. The (very heated) jade floor was covered by bamboo mats and blankets, and even though I thought it seemed a little nuts, I felt more mentally in-tune lying in that room than I have since...well, since I gave birth to Tyler. Of course, pretty much the only thing I was thinking in there was "wow, it's hot in here," but that "it's hot in here" though wasn't corrupted by all sorts of other thoughts, ie. "I wonder what Jason/the kids are doing right now, I have to do the dishes/laundry/feed my family when I get home, I wonder if Jack Bauer's going to die on this season of 24..." You know, the usual.

Anyway, the heat won out, and we moved to the other two rooms...one was the Salt room. On the floor were salt rocks - big chunky things - and the walls and ceiling were made of bricks of salt. Another woman joined us in this room, and showed us that on the back wall was a light switch that lit up the back salt brick wall...from the rear. It glowed. AWESOME. So we lay in there on blankets and "pillows" and chatted with the woman about how this was the greatest Korean Bathhouse in southern California, how she herself was Japanese and didn't want to return to Japan because she knew how much she'd miss this very bathhouse, and how she had been afflicted for years with a completely debilitating fibromyalgia, but had started coming to the bathhouse to enjoy the facilities numerous times a week for the last six months, and was now (though not pain-free) able to get out of bed and get on with everyday life...a miracle for her. Double awesome. So then we headed to the last, and arguably my favorite room: the Mineral Fomentation room. For lack of a better description, it looked like some railroad ties had been set up on the tile floor in 6x4 "bed" shapes and filled with large red-brown marbles...marbles that turned out to be mineral-rich dried clay from the mountains of China. Japanese woman, Chinese mud, Korean bathhouse...tour of Asia! Anyway, you lie on - more like in - these toasty-warm marbles and sweat, and the sweat causes the minerals to stick to and supposedly be absorbed by your skin. You come out (particularly if you were lying in them neck-ed, like me!) coated in red-brown powder and looking like you've got a swell tan, but the best part is not the minerals...its just lying in them. They completely conform to your body. If they'd been deep enough, I'd have used them to replace my regular bed. It's like a temperpedic, only mineral-y! Aaaaaaaah.

So, anyway, it was getting close to 11:30, so we bopped back into the spa room after a quick stop off for some water. My number was called first, and I was a little worried that Jewels wasn't being called with me, but it turned out they'd whisked her away to another treatment room; she got the room that had only one bed, lucky duck, but still, I'm not complaining. I rounded a corner in the showering room into an area with three twin-sized massage-table-sans-headrest-type beds covered in thick clear plastic, drains underneath each bed. I was in the middle, and two women - one older white lady and a younger Korean girl - were on either side of me. My therapist was not a massage therapist so much as a therapy provider; there was no artful draping, and she was wearing a heavier-lace bra and underwear. (Makes sense...with all the water sloshing around, they need something they can get wet in, and something that dries quickly!) (If you bother arguing a swimsuit would work, I'm just going to roll my eyes at you.) So I lie down on this table, and the therapist begins her work scrubbing me to within an inch of my life.
If you've ever wondered what it would be like to scrub down your body with a dish scrubber - or maybe steel wool - this was it. I can't say it is for the faint of heart (especially because my shins were a little sunburned), and once or twice I wondered if she was going to draw blood in any given area, but looking at the radiant, beautiful skin of the elderly Korean women in the place, I was game for anything. My therapist donned a pair of mitts akin to loofah pads over her hands, doused me with a bowl full of heavenly warm water, and went to work. With the exception of my face and my, um, nether portions, she scrubbed EVERYTHING. Yes, EVERYTHING. Bum? Chest? Thighs?, you ask. Come on, didn't I already say everything? Even your boobs?, you say again...YES. EVERYTHING. And it's not all that bad.

Disclaimer: It is not in any way a sexual experience. It is a sensual experience, perhaps, letting your body take a serious scrub-down, but no matter what you're imagining (gentlemen) with an underwear-clad woman buffing my buns, it's not what you think. It's WAAAAY more fabulous.

So after she did my front, she told me to flip over, and...you know how, when you scrub the bottoms of your feet, you get all that nasty crumbly dead skin? Yeah. I was COVERED in it. So she rinsed me, did my back, rinsed me, did my sides, and then sent me to rinse at the shower while she sprayed off the table. And people, my skin was BABY soft. No, that's not true...I'm pretty sure it was softer than it was when I was a baby.

Anyway, I returned to the table, she positioned a towel alongside and under my face, neck, and chin so that I could lie comfortably, and doused me with warm baby oil from what I imagine was a ketchup-like squeeze bottle. Truly, if you've never had warm baby oil flow over your freshly-scrubbed skin, you have not lived. Oh my goodness. And then began the massage. And more massage. And smack-like pounding of various parts, which, I'm astounded to report, not only didn't hurt (like they sounded like they would), but forced that area of my body to instantly relax...almost like whatever was being smacked was scared into submission. She used her fingers, hands, elbows, forearms, and at one point she even climbed on my back and massaged my hips with her knees. And I did not bat an eye. It was too wonderful.

After the massage, she placed warm towels on various parts of me and kneaded those areas after the towels came off...then she lifted my head, put a warm towel under my neck, draped some sort of cotton or paper toweling or - something - under my chin and at my hairline, and proceeded to cover my face in what could only have been semi-frozen cucumber mush. It smelled fabulous and felt exquisite. After she was done with some more massaging, removed my face "mask", and had dragged me with my under-neck towel to the edge of the table, she actually shampooed, conditioned, and made a bun out of my hair. Every time I thought it couldn't possibly get better, it did. Then she sat me up (and had to...I was a giant lump by then) and had me rinse my face with a coconut milk mixture, which she then poured on me...and offered me some warm water to again rinse my face, then rinsed me one final time with the rest of the water. She helped me up, gave me back my shoes, patted me, smiled and offered her name (which, regrettably, I've forgotten, but it was short and started with a K, so I'll be asking after her again!) and sent me on my way.

When I ran into Jewels again, we giggled like giddy schoolgirls, jumped up and down, exchanged quick and excited "Did she...?" stories, and then I hugged her. And we were naked.

I told you, you really get over the naked thing super-quick. And if you don't, let's be honest, it just doesn't matter.

So we donned our robes once more and sat down for a $9.00 (cash-only, be prepared!) lunch at the juice bar...seaweed soup, kimchi, some sort of yummy pickle-type veggie, and a huge bowl of bulgogi (bbq Korean SUPER-tender, ULTRA-tasty beef) with rice underneath it, onion and carrot in it, and lettuce alongside it. It is also served with a semi-spicy sort of soy sauce to dump over the meat, if you so choose. I SUCKED IT DOWN. (No surprise there...it is ME we're talking about.) DIVINE. Hands-down, some of the very best bulgogi I have EVER eaten, EVER, and that's saying something. Yuuuuummmm.

We did our thing after the massage and lunch and ended up spending between 5 and 5 1/2 hours there that day, but it was some of the best time I've spent, both for myself and with my dear friend and sister-in-law Jewels, in months...maybe years.

See, my therapist didn't need soft music and dimmed lighting and artful draping to make this one of the very best, most beneficial health experiences I've ever had. She just needed to know what my body needed. My shell. That which houses my spirit. And she knew exactly what my body needed to treat it just right. I'm not arguing that my body is just a shell...quite the opposite...but I think we often treat our bodies like they are too sacred to let anyone else touch them, and that's so incredibly unfortunate. Humans thrive on touch, first of all, and second, our bodies do NEED things if they are to continue to happily, healthily, and comfortably house our spirits, and we often disregard those needs in favor of, I don't know, television, junk food, obsessive work, lack of exercise, disregard for lotions and tonics and all things restorative.

So for me, this experience was a revelation.
It was also so incredibly FREEING. The idea that I could walk around stark naked in full view of - and in close proximity to, and even close contact with! - other women was baffling at first. There was no one averting their eyes, but no one looking at me to compare my body to theirs, to judge my paunches, wrinkles, flab, stretch marks, saggy boobs, any of it...we were all just women, no one wearing anything to set them apart or impress upon you their superior taste, money, style, or shape. We were just women, all there to take care of ourselves. Because that was what was important: us as individuals, and us as a unified group of women. There WAS no playing field to level...no playing field at all.

I remember chatting with Julie while we watching a mother and daughter at a couple of the sit-down shower stalls helping to scrub each other down using the same little scrubby mitts that the therapists use and thinking "that is AWESOME...and something I doubt my mom and/or sister and/or mother-in-law and/or friends will ever do with each other." Why? Because in this world, today, we equate intimacy to sexuality, and sexuality to sexuality, but not intimacy to intimacy. We are so afraid of being thought of as lesbians or snobby or - whatever - that we're afraid to be close to another woman, and I find that that bleeds into our emotional relationships...not just physical closeness. Anyone else ever notice how hard it is to make a good girlfriend as an adult? And I'm not talking pick up on a lesbian, I'm talking becoming earnest friends with another female. How sad. If only we could all take a page from the Korean Bathhouse book...
Point is, it was one of the best times of my life, those 5 hours in the bathhouse. I wish my husband could be there to share it with me, but I'm almost glad he can't...it means I either go alone (more likely than not, all you squeamish twits!) and spend the time reflecting, or I go with a girlfriend and bond on a completely different, intimate-but-not-sexualized level, something I/we seldom get to do with other women.

How awesome, people. A-W-E-S-O-M-E, awesome. If anyone is up for it anytime soon, has a few hours to invest, and is willing to drop $89 for lunch and a complete day at the spa, let me know, because I am SOOOOO "in." And like Julie said, "After the first 2 minutes, you don't even notice you're naked." It's true. You're just reveling in being free to be yourself without judgement and take care of your body for the God-given gift it really is.

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Real Quick...

This weekend BIT, primarily because Jason had to work like the slave public accountants are expected to be, but on Saturday he took a couple-hour break so we could go as a family to rent a surrey-bike in Newport! (We also had dinner at my folks on Sunday, which did not bite...WE bit. Food. Anyway...)
Can I just say HOW FUN that is?!?! No? Well, I just did...it is SOOOOOO fun! Jason and I got to sit next to each other and pedal a surrey down the boardwalk (all the way from Balboa Pier to Newport Pier and back!) with Jason steering, and there was a bench-basket in front for the munchkins. I wish we'd had our camera with us, but I've included a stock picture so you get the idea.

It cost $25/hour for the size surrey we "drove", and avoiding boardwalk traffic was half the fun. I fear that Jason's side of the bike had to do most of the work because the steering column was attached, but it was still a great ride, the kids loved it, and I couldn't get enough of the people we passed by commenting on how cute our kids are and what an adorable family we have. (It's rough to be so stinking cute!)

Anyway, we returned about 10 minutes early, the kids had a blast, and it was an odd - but fun! - memory for us all. If you get a chance, fun times, people!