It's Sunday in Thousand Oaks. Not only is it Sunday, but it is the afternoon, which means church is out. I should know better, but off I go to Trader Joe's for wine and milk. After circling the parking lot impatiently, I settle for a spot far, far away and make my way past today's charity cup holder at the entrance. You know them...you give a few times, then start to wonder...do they just go home and crack the can open, laughing all the way? Do I sound cynical?
The lines are as long as the day before Thanksgiving. Seriously. I greet a few friends, grab my few items and settle in to the "express" lane.
Then a baby cries and the woman standing one lane over offers to hold her. The mom hands her over and the baby settles down. Wow. What IS this place? Then an older gentleman behind me offers to take my basket in his cart. I accept, mostly because I feel like he would feel good about himself. We get to talking and he tells me he was born and raised in LA. Traveled a bit during WWII (Navy) and I ask about kids. He had two sons who have both passed away, and he goes on to tell me his daughter was a raging alcoholic until two years ago. Now she helps others on the journey to sobriety (I move my wine under the chocolate chips). No grandkids. Tells me he turned 90 last week and he and his daughter are the only left in his entire family. Then he goes on to tell me he feels so fortunate. He says he has a great daughter who is such a strong person, and he can still walk to TJs to shop. After I check out I turn back to him to say goodbye and he gives me a hug and a peck on the cheek.
As I leave I toss a couple coins in the can and feel an ache in my heart. Sometimes life feels so poignant. We are so lucky.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
New Family Additions!
There has been a lot of debate this week about people adding to their already large families. I have my own philosophies on that subject, and since this is MY blog I will say I think adding 8 kids to a family of 6 is just a little, hmmmm..... sick? Ya. That's the word. Not that I am opinionated.
Then I thought I would share my own dark, little secret...we have added two new members to OUR little family.
Time to share...
We got this little gizmo, thanks to the recommendations of our cool neighbors Tim and Suzanne. It is an aerator that actually decants wine by the glass. You hold it over your glass, pour the wine in it, and as the liquid goes down, air from 2 little holes on the side is drawn in and oxygenates the wine. It really works. We did a test....VERY scientific. It is available from BevMo for about $40 and I love it. There. I said it.


Our next little addition is a fitness "program" called the P90X. Perhaps you have seen the infomercial? It lures you in with REAL people telling REAL stories of REAL fitness. I mean really...look at those arms! (not mine, btw) In the package are 13 dvds of various exercises. One day is Arms and Back, where you do an impossible number of push ups (who knew there were so many ways to do a push up?) and pull ups (omg, I hurt). Each day is about one hour of torture. Yesterday I did Kenpo (look it up) and one day was Plyometrics (you'll get used to my new big, sporty language). And let's not forget the hour and a half of Yoga. I almost cried. But now look what I can do:
I go from a push up into this yoga pose, then back down for another push up. Wow.
Truthfully, I have to say I don't look that different yet (from my mouth to God's ear) but I feel soooooo much better. I can leap, jump, squat, throw, and balance better than I have in years!
So it is only a couple new additions...sometimes quality is better than quantity.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Whew!
Well, we have had our share of big winds this week! Some serious Santa Ana's bringing hot temperatures and leaves in my pool....but the biggest wind blew through this house this last weekend! Lisi turned 17 on Friday...whoosh! 17 years since that child was placed in our arms. Are you joking? Don't you hear "Fiddler on the Roof" now? Sunrise, sunset.
Saturday was the Senior Ball. Not the biggest event for Lisi. The location was over an hour away, they freak dance, the food is just so-so. Lots of cons, but she decided to take out the sewing machine and whip out a little black dress and now needed somewhere to wear it! TaDa! I think it took her about an hour to make. No pattern. We know that she did not get this talent from us.
Then Sunday night she decided to invite about a zillion of her closest friends to her birthday party here at our home. It was a great blend of Band and non-Band people. They laughed, danced, played foosball and the piano, sang, and talked. They have so much to say! They blew into our house, ate all we had and left MNMs and cups all over. A tornado of fun. The absolute hit was the cake that my friend Lauren Piper made. She designed it to look like the tenor drums Lisi plays! Including drumsticks with gum drops on the ends! (she always has been an overachiever! It tasted fantastic too.)
The winds are calming down now...we might even get some rain this week (10% chance..hahaha). Time for me to clean up around here.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Milestones
It's a big week at the B2 home front...Lisi got her driver's license on Monday (happy dance) and she turns 17 on Friday! It's all good. Often Band students end up getting their licenses a little later than other students...we think it has something to do with their schedules. Lisi is a good example...she leaves for school at 6:40am and during the Fall Marching season she doesn't finish until 6:00pm at the earliest. That can put a cramp in any extracurricular activities. But now we are celebrating her new freedom and letting her take the car. Here are a couple of pics I took while hiding in the bushes. I will spare you the story of the scary-driver-test-lady. Don't we ALL share that same story?
And a pic of the little-little at Drumline Camp last weekend.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Bummer, and the mean mean English
So the little white paper came in the mail today and broke our daughter's heart. Rejection sucks. I thought about sending back my Cambridge sweatshirt, but it's a really nice one. Oh well. So I fell back on my Jewish cliches and started spouting off "When God closes a door He opens a window", and other such dribble. The bottom line is life is kind of like that: doors opening and closing all the time. I often wonder where I would be if I hadn't played soccer, or the violin, or if my sister hadn't gotten pregnant with Lisi....Wow! Life would be so different...(WHAT? Not the Band Booster President????!) Enough about me (hahaha). She will be better than fine, because she is a spectacular person. and now we get to check out what's behind door number 2 (and 3 and 4 and...you know what I mean). Thanks for being such supportive people for her.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Sitting still
OK, so this is on my list of things I could improve on: sitting still. That goes along with waiting, being patient, staying calm and a whole host of similar (note: boring) actions. So, for the New Year, fate (or Cambridge) has decided to help me improve on my skills in these areas. We wait patiently for any word and hear none. We make a pact to check emails and websites NO MORE THAN once a day. And I thought my fitness program was hard! Ha! I practice nonchalance...I really think I have it down until I see "one new message" pop up.
There is room for growth.
There is room for growth.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
More from Lisi
Denise and Lisi just arrived in the Netherlands. Here is the ditty she wrote about her interview:
LE INTERVIEW!
I was very, very nervous the morning of, so to calm my nerves, I listened to some Fratellis and then Lily Allen while dancing around madly to get in the English spirit! Denise and I headed to Queens’ College in the icy midday weather. Once we arrived at the office for Queens’ (which, ironically, is the smallest and least-imposing of all the Colleges of Cambridge – of course I pick the one college that looks like it could have been Anne Boleyn’s summer cottage), I met a nice English girl and we headed up to the group meeting room, but not until Denise could snap a photo of me all dolled up. In the group room, I chatted a bit with some very nice kids: one girl from Pakistan, one from another part of England, and a guy originally from New York but living in Denmark. He was actually sort of a creeper. Oh well.
So, at about 2:50, all four of us headed up to the top floor of the Cripps building, which houses the classrooms for the college, to take a written test. About ten or twelve of us were there in total, with only two guys out of the lot, which amused us all. Before the proctor arrived, we all chatted a little and the other interviewees, once they found out I was from California, asked me if I was jet-lagged, et cetera.
Once the proctor arrived, we took our written exam, a nice little essay about a 17th-century poem, ‘The Mower’s Song’, which I tried to spice up with lots of punchy adjectives and the like. After we finished the essay, I bolted out of the building and literally ran (or as much as I could in the world’s most painful flats. Aren’t flats supposed to be comfortable?) to the Fisher Building, where my interview was scheduled.
I was a little shaky with nervousness before they called me in, and the professor who opened the door offered his hand to me, which I of course, in my idiocy, took as a sign that he wanted to see my confirmation paper. He of course jovially replied “Well, I was going to shake your hand.” Ah, I knew I couldn’t get through the interview without making an ass of myself at least once, so that was out of the way.
The two kind professors (both men, one around 50ish and the other late 30s) proceeded to jump right in to the questions, asking me the literature I was familiar with and then the poetry. Our subjects began with the Beats, ranged to Whitman, Steinbeck, segued to Shakespeare, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, and then to a poem entitled “Break, break, break”, which we explicated in depth. Then, it was all over! They seemed pleased with my answers – and I felt absolutely overjoyed with the in-depth, intellectual, free-flowing conversation I’d just had. Because that’s what it felt like – a conversation. Good times.
LE INTERVIEW!
I was very, very nervous the morning of, so to calm my nerves, I listened to some Fratellis and then Lily Allen while dancing around madly to get in the English spirit! Denise and I headed to Queens’ College in the icy midday weather. Once we arrived at the office for Queens’ (which, ironically, is the smallest and least-imposing of all the Colleges of Cambridge – of course I pick the one college that looks like it could have been Anne Boleyn’s summer cottage), I met a nice English girl and we headed up to the group meeting room, but not until Denise could snap a photo of me all dolled up. In the group room, I chatted a bit with some very nice kids: one girl from Pakistan, one from another part of England, and a guy originally from New York but living in Denmark. He was actually sort of a creeper. Oh well.
So, at about 2:50, all four of us headed up to the top floor of the Cripps building, which houses the classrooms for the college, to take a written test. About ten or twelve of us were there in total, with only two guys out of the lot, which amused us all. Before the proctor arrived, we all chatted a little and the other interviewees, once they found out I was from California, asked me if I was jet-lagged, et cetera.
Once the proctor arrived, we took our written exam, a nice little essay about a 17th-century poem, ‘The Mower’s Song’, which I tried to spice up with lots of punchy adjectives and the like. After we finished the essay, I bolted out of the building and literally ran (or as much as I could in the world’s most painful flats. Aren’t flats supposed to be comfortable?) to the Fisher Building, where my interview was scheduled.
I was a little shaky with nervousness before they called me in, and the professor who opened the door offered his hand to me, which I of course, in my idiocy, took as a sign that he wanted to see my confirmation paper. He of course jovially replied “Well, I was going to shake your hand.” Ah, I knew I couldn’t get through the interview without making an ass of myself at least once, so that was out of the way.
The two kind professors (both men, one around 50ish and the other late 30s) proceeded to jump right in to the questions, asking me the literature I was familiar with and then the poetry. Our subjects began with the Beats, ranged to Whitman, Steinbeck, segued to Shakespeare, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, and then to a poem entitled “Break, break, break”, which we explicated in depth. Then, it was all over! They seemed pleased with my answers – and I felt absolutely overjoyed with the in-depth, intellectual, free-flowing conversation I’d just had. Because that’s what it felt like – a conversation. Good times.
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