So it looks like I'll have the opportunity to practice compassion, boundary-setting, patience and a slew of other virtues/skills, I'm guessing. There's a 13-year-old boy in my new condo complex, who apparently has no concept of personal space/privacy. Okay, that's kind of extreme. Basically, he walked right into my place on Saturday evening as the bunch of us were sitting around eating after moving all my stuff. R. walked him through the process of ringing the doorbell, waiting for an answer, and also being told no, but I'm wondering what to do about this sort of thing in the future.

I'm guessing the boy is mildly autistic or something, going by his manner and his lack of normal responsiveness/interaction. But who knows? What I do know is that I don't really feel comfortable having him come over to play with my two-year-old son.

Oh, I didn't mention that? Yeah, his dad told me on Sunday that his son is "dying" to play with my son, and that I should feel free to let my son come over to ask his son to play anytime. Hmm. Part of what bothers me about this is that the dad doesn't seem to see something unusual about a teenage boy playing with a toddler. Clearly there's more to this than meets the eye.

I don't want to be a bitch and tell the kid he can never come over, but I also don't want him just barging into my place (or even onto my deck) repeatedly. Also, I don't want to somehow become an unpaid babysitter for a teenage boy at my house.

*sigh* I'd really envisioned Grant's playmates being his age or close to it. I don't want to alienate people right off the bat at my new place, but there's something about this whole thing that just doesn't sit right with me. R. suggested I have the kid, his dad and grandma (they all live together) over for tea and tactfully find out what's going on. Truth is, I don't even feel like doing that. Perhaps that will change after I get properly settled.

In the meantime, I've sent emails to a few moms on the Matching Moms site, and gotten one response so far from a mom who lives very close by and has a son Grant's age. She also sounds interesting and pleasant, and we plan to meet sometime after she gives birth (any day) to her second son. See, now that all seems normal to me.

Geez. I feel like I'm entering a slightly difficult situation with that kid in my complex. I hope I can handle it gracefully and correctly...

- Beth

Sunday

I slept till 10 and was on my second cup of coffee when Farmbeau's sister and two-year-old Beckster made their way up the front steps and pounded on the door. So we have been chatting and sipping on the deck for the past two hours and I am due at the other house for dinner at 1:00. So much to do, so little time!

I meant to call the boys, too. Told Don I’d call after we got home. We arrived last night at suppertime after dropping Aunt Ada off at Grandma's.

Good to be home. Good to be home. Good to be home.

The garden has doubled or tripled in size. We walked through it (*I* walked, Farmbeau weeded) and picked (*I* picked) beans and peas and lettuce and spinach and green onions and strawberries.

****

Boys are fine, as usual. Going to see their dad's friends' little girls today. Playing (Barney) Internet games, worrying (Don) about going to see his old aide and her son .

And I’ve got to head next door.

****

4:30 pm

My flowers all survived the heat wave, with a little help from my/their friends, Millie and her daughter-in-law in the other yard, who came over and did some watering. The cosmos still haven’t bloomed, but some pretty orange poppies have, and some giant zinnias. God, those things are gorgeous -- zinnias -- and in my case, I never know quite what they’re going to look like. They always surprise me -- the variety of them.

I should go pull a few weeds from the garden before watering the southfacing flowerbed next to the house. Must remember to take a container out there to bring back spinach for a supper salad.

Farmbeau's sister brought whitefish down from the Flin Flon area so that was the featured item at today’s dinner, along with a bursting birthday cake for Farmbeau's dad. When the balloon didn’t pop quite as expected, and dream whip didn’t cover him in white goo, the grandkids dug their fingers into it and smeared it on his face. I couldn’t see if he was smiling or not, as I stood off to the side, at the kitchen sink.

I also want to get out for a walk to the corner. Went last night just as the sky was darkening; from west to north a dusky pink light shone through the dark blue just above the horizon. Wow, thought I. Fantastic. Better than anything I have seen in the past two weeks away. Can’t beat a good sunset, I guess.

We did travel through some beautiful countryside. Southern Saskatchewan has way fewer trees than we have here, and has expanses of paper-flat fields. Wow. I loved driving over that.

Toward Three Hills, in Alberta, are the most beautiful rolling hills. Breathtaking, for the road snakes over their high points and you can see for miles and miles and miles and miles. For me, nothing much tops being able to see for miles and miles and miles and miles of colour and shape, shadow and dazzle and sunlight and blue sky. Wow.

The mountains have their own imposing beauty; I was especially awestruck by the ones you see as you approach Banff from the west. They are skyfilling, bare and jaggedly sharp in a horizontal slice-y way. The’ve been painted, I’m sure.

I am less appreciative of the views around Salmon Arm and Kelowna, since I do not like a wall of mountain too close to me, and these two cities are built on the slopes next to the valleys. Both Mom and Dad’s and Suzanne and Biff’s homes had nice vistas overlooking the lakes, so did not feel closed in.

Thank god they both had central air conditioning, though Mom and Dad’s was on the blink.

****

Monday
5:30 pm

I have lots of time to think, as I have been picking and washing and trimming and cutting and blanching and bagging and freezing wax beans.

And Farmbeau's visiting sister wanders over each morning to sit on the deck and drink coffee (with me) and smoke cigarettes (alone) for a couple hours.

So it'll be a while before I get into the swing of things. The garden will be a tyrant in the next few days, as there are pickling cucumbers ready to be picked, and a million more beans.

Oy.

Not complaining. Hell no; if I can put veggies into the freezer and not have to buy the sprayed stuff from the store all winter, it's well worth it and I'm happy. It's just that these beans were ready a week ago, comprendre?

So. I'll get back to this journal in bits and starts. Beth, please hold down the fort if you have time and inclination between unpacking and relaxing in your new home. I'm so glad for you -- you've paid your dues and can finally enjoy making your own home. Nothing quite like it.

Joseph, I got your email at yahoo.com when I got back and was just about to reply when I got interrupted and haven't had a chance to go to the site and answer again. But it was a great letter and came at a time when -- well, whenever I get to questioning why I keep the online journal and what the whole point of it is -- besides that it's addictive, right Beth? -- anyway, whenever I get in one of these states of mind, someone has always sent me a letter of appreciation for the journal -- so thanks, and I'll reply as soon as I get the opportunity.

Puff Puff
On to another spinach salad and another family supper over at South Forks -- whew! I just sat here for a couple minutes to relax with a glass of red wine, and got carried away, that's all!

xoxoetc
kate

Well, I thought I'd post once again, seeing as a.) Kate isn't back yet, b.) you may be in want of something trivial to read, and c.) I've found myself alone with a brand-new computer (R.'s — not mine). :-)

The day finally arrived yesterday. I honestly can't remember the last time I was actually entirely packed before the moving truck showed up. Yesterday was the same. My brother had graciously packed up my books, Grant's toys and several other things, but I still had a lot of clothes, bedding and JUNK around to box up. Given that I'm not all that organized these days, there was a lot of stuff strewn around that seemed not to lend itself to general categorization.

So I bought trash bags and just started filling them. Funnily enough, the one trash bag I'd actually designated for trash got moved along with us. It was fairly unpleasant last night when I was looking for something and opened a bag of used diapers, dusty papers and general crap. Unpleasant, but also funny as hell to me and my sister. But I digress...

My sister and brother should be canonized. So should my baby sister, even though she was unavailable yesterday. They've all helped me move maybe four times in the past ten years, and they've done so willingly, optimistically and uncomplainingly. They are amazing people. My parents have also helped on the administrative end, picking up moving trucks and buying tons of food for all involved. So what the heck — let's canonize them, too! See, the thing is, they all do it without question. My sister mentioned to someone that she was going to help me move, and the someone said, "Oh, nice sister!" Sis just replied, "Well, that's what we do." And yes, I've done the same for them, and would do so again in a heartbeat, 'cause like the lady said, that's just what we do.

So there we were, various folks taking turns tending Grant, and others taking turns throwing my leftover stuff into boxes and bags and hauling it out to the truck. It was HOT out. I'm a fair-skinned gal normally, so when I exert myself I turn a lovely shade of pink, then red. It's a sight to behold. Add to that the fact that I hadn't showered, and I was looking and feeling like one helluva prize.

Grant was having a grand time walking around in the 16-foot moving truck and sitting in the cab to "drive" it. That kid loves anything with wheels. If you put wheels on a dog, fer goodness' sake, he'd be in ultra-heaven. Of course, at the end of a day full of excitement and upheaval, Grant heartily puked all over R.'s bed. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Finally we got everything packed, made final potty stops and got on the road, Bro driving his loaded pickup truck, Sis driving the moving truck and me driving my loaded car. Grant fell asleep soon after we got on the freeway, poor dear.

Traffic was terrible, as we'd sort of suspected it would be. Around 4:30 we arrived at the new place, where R. was waiting to help us unload. He'd come early to turn on the air conditioner inside, as well as set up a few things — he'd clearly been busy! When I walked up to the condo I saw R. had installed latticework all around the deck so Grant couldn't slip between the railings. Yay! That was a huge load off my mind. R. had also brought us a lovely potted cyclamen, as well as a couple of cards and notes welcoming us to our new home. He'd also put toilet paper and paper towels in the appropriate places, and set huge jugs of water and milk, as well as a million cans of Diet Coke, in the fridge to chill. Of course, all those things came in handy right away. ;-) He'd turned on some music in the garage and in the house, and I think he'd even burned/smudged a little sage to freshen the place a bit more. He was very excited that we were finally there, and I really appreciated R.'s welcoming gestures.

Lemme tell you, carrying stuff up the stairs was hard work. My face had only just returned to its normal color during the 100-mile drive down, and within minutes I was red as a big, sweaty tomato again. ;-) R. kept telling me to take a break, but I was bound and determined to get all the stuff moved into the house as quickly as possible so we could eat and relax, and so Bro could go on to some other plans he'd made for the evening. Once again, Grant played in the truck, and even helped bring some little things into the garage. He was so proud of himself for helping!

I had one meltdown when I'd had to request several times that everyone bring things into the house instead of leaving them in the garage. I didn't want to drive into the garage and see all my crap there, plus I wanted as much stuff as possible in the house while I had three extra pairs of arms to carry things up those stairs. After I burst into tears for about two minutes, I was fine and got right back to work.

At last we were finished unloading the truck. Bro took off for his friend's place, and R. took Grant with him on a food run. (Fried chicken! Somehow a very appropriate and welcome moving-day meal.) Sis and I cooled our heels a while. I'd worn closed-toe shoes for a change, and they were killing me, since I'd always hated them and had never broken them in properly. (My Tevas were packed.) As I was demonstrating the reclining couch for Sis, she surreptitiously placed a flat package on the piano. Oh? A present for moi? ;-)

She'd given me the score to "Annie." See, from the moment I knew I was going to live in a place with a piano, I'd had the words to "Maybe" stuck in my head. For anyone who's unfamiliar with the words to this song, here's a sample:

Maybe far away, or maybe real nearby,
he may be pouring her coffee,
she may be straight'ning his tie.

Maybe in a house, all hidden by a hill,
she's settin' playin' pi-aaaa-no,
he may be payin' a bill...

I'd sung the piece in high school choir, and it was the piano line that had somehow worked its way into my mind and parked there for the duration of the home-buying and moving experience. (My mind has a way of finding the perfect soundtrack for my life.) It was a very sweet gesture from Sis, which I really appreciated. And yes, I cleared a path to the piano, opened the book and played for a while...

As I mentioned, Grant had had a full day of excitement, so after the grownups ate and Grant nibbled, R. took Grant back to his place for the night, and I said I'd come along later. (R. is letting me use his place as a home base while I get sheets and towels and unpack enough to start living. Plus, the water heater pilot needs to be lit, and we had trouble with that last night.) Sis and I once again hung out at the house and explored a bit, then we decided to get going. She had a long drive ahead of her, having decided in advance not to spend the night in San Diego, and I wanted to get a shower with at least a smidgen of warm water. I called R. from the car and learned about Grant's exuberant barfing episode. Apparently he was fine — in extraordinarily wonderful spirits, actually — but the upheaval of the day had been a little much for him. R. was waiting patiently for me to arrive so he could launder the sheets and let the mattress dry out. (He'd already disinfected it.) Since Grant was still revved up, we weren't worried about his needing a place to crash anytime soon. I watched TV for a while, then Grant climbed up on my lap and eventually I stroked his hand (my usual trick) until he fell asleep.

At last I got my shower. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh...bliss.

Today I've got freelance work to do, as well as one or two things at the new place. The bulk of the unpacking will have to wait until Monday or Tuesday, though.

Hey, there's plenty of time.

- Beth

Well, I think this is the last entry I'll be posting in this spot. Tomorrow is moving day, and I've still got freelance work to do, plus more packing, plus I've been on the phone with truck rental places, getting the runaround. What is it with these places? I finally nailed down a trailer, which should be plenty to move what little I've got, but what should have been a very simple transaction took at least two hours, between being told to call the 800 number, then the 800 people telling me to call the regional office, and those people telling me to call the office I'd originally called...and the original office trying to dump me back on the 800 number. AAAGGGHHH!!!

So, as you can see, my stress has not abated just yet. ;-) Ah...breathe deeply, breathe deeply. Inhale and exhale...

There. That's a little better. Luckily I have three loving siblings who'll be helping me get things done tomorrow. I know I'm very blessed to have them. :-)

The week before Grant was born, I'd thought I would have my toenails painted baby blue in his honor — besides, I thought it would give me something pretty to look at. *ahem* I never got around to it, though, and was actually lucky I had time to even trim my toenails before the doctor decided to admit me to the hospital to induce labor.

Now that the boy has been around for two and a half years, I feel the urge to Go Girly. Like, totally to the max. As in loveseats covered in cabbage roses, fresh-cut flowers everywhere, and pink-pink-pink. LOL

My sister-the-shrink says moving into my own place will give me the opportunity to show my femininity. She's not kidding! I actually asked her if she thought home decor that's heavy on the girly side would somehow have a negative effect on my boy. (She said she didn't think so.) ;-) But really, if the truth be known, I'm probably more inclined toward a Frida-Kahlo-meets-Moroccan-interiors kinda style. The cabbage roses are a fun idea, though...

Ah...today I went outside to throw out some trash, and the weather was perfect: ocean breezes, warm sun (but not hot), and the air was so fresh. I'm definitely going to miss that after I move further inland (and south). I've always enjoyed living near the beach, even if it is about six miles away or so. And it's not as though I won't be able to drive to the beach from my new location, either. It'll just take a little longer, and I'm just going to miss my familiar spots.

But I'm hoping this change will be good for me. I have projects I want to pursue. Stuff I want to spread out. Poems I want to write. Weight I want to lose. Heck, maybe I'll even date. (Omigosh.) I'd like to have someone to share the rest of my life with...

Thank you all for reading my ramblings over the past couple of weeks. I've so enjoyed having this space to unwind and let down my cyberhair somewhat...as well as subject you all to my choice of artwork. ;-) Thanks to Kate for giving me this opportunity. What a generous gesture, letting me contribute to her personal journal. Thank you, Kate — thank you, thank you, thank you...

I wish you all a place where you can be fully, vibrantly, beautifully and lovingly yourselves.

Smoochies,
Beth

- Beth

I'm starting to think eating chocolate and peanut butter ice cream doesn't really solve anything. Call it a hunch.

The best chocolate and peanut butter ice cream I've found so far is the Dreamery kind, which the 7-11 on the corner, unfortunately, is currently selling for $1.99. This is bad news. For a while, I chalked up my cravings to PMS — that whole salty-sweet thing some people like me go through on a monthly basis. I think the real deal is stress.

Yes, I'm stressed. I've got the second installment of the cat calendar to finish and submit by tomorrow, I've got to pack, I'm moving to an area where my primary contact for a while will be Grant's dad (to whom I'm not exactly close these days) and there are too many damned mirrors in this house. Seriously, one whole wall of the living room is mirrored. I guess the previous owners thought they'd try to make the place look bigger, but it's been the bane of my existence ever since I was eleven years old.

Ah, yes. I keep thinking it'll be fun to have a lake nearby (as I will in my new place), so I can ride my bike and take walks with Grant. It will be fun, I know, but the weight loss I hope to achieve will surely happen more slowly than I'd like. No, I'm not saying how much I intend to lose. ;-)

Right now the thing is...I look in the mirror, don't like what I see, and I think, well, screw it, some more ice cream won't make any difference because I'm so deep into it right now anyway. I know that's not entirely rational, but I know people who do that all the time. And besides, who said I was rational?

Blah, blah, magazines, blah, blah, stress, blah, blah, models, blah, blah, supermodels, blah, blah, society's unrealistic standards, blah...

Take your pick. There are lots of scapegoats out there. The fact is, I'm cute. There, I said it. I'm nice. I'm a good mom. I'm smart. I'm funny. My body gave life to a glorious, brand-new human being, fer cryin' out loud! But I also let what other people think of me affect me too much.

I don't like that.

I still have a membership to a gym. I got it a long time ago when I worked for the evil aerospace company and we got a cheap deal. The membership is maybe 10 years old...? Not sure. I am sure, though, that I've never used it. Is that nuts or what??

Okay, that's just me being hard on myself again. You see what I put up with? But back to the stress. I may be dreaming when I think that my stress will abate after I move. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. I hope it will. Or more accurately, I hope I can reframe things so I'm not so bothered. And use my gym membership (there's one near my new place) and take walks around the lake and maybe even wear out the tires on my bike a little, too. Okay, at least I can get them dirty.

All things in their own time. For now, though, somebody hide the ice cream.

- Beth

One of the great things about living where we live -- and having a sister who works for the state parks system -- is that we get to drop by Beach Play Day every summer at the end of July.

Beach Play Day is put on by the Police Activities League. The PAL brings kids from all over California to the beach to spend a day and a night having fun, playing sports, swimming, eating...and did I mention having fun? Some of these kids saw the beach for the first time in their lives today.

My sister is second in command where Beach Play Day is concerned. (Ranger Michelle Deboer is first.) She and her team plan the whole thing, from what activities to provide, down to the food. This usually means talking to lots of sponsors, as well as planning logistics involving kids, volunteers and staff.

There are about 600 kids plus an indefinite number of staff and volunteers at the beach for this thing as I write this. This is no small event.

So today Grant and I got up around 8:00 a.m. to go down to the beach by about 8:30 and see the water rescue demonstration that traditionally opens the event. It's quite dramatic and I always wonder how many kids see the jet skis, the helicopters and boats and decide right then and there they want to be lifeguards or police officers or fire fighters. It's really a sight to see.

First a handful of lifeguards swim out into the ocean to act as victims. Then a lifeguard or two run to the water and swim like crazy out to the victim and pull him back to shore. Next, lifeguards on a jet ski zoom out and "save" another "victim." After that, a bright yellow lifeguard boat tears out there and hooks a sharp left as a lifeguard jumps off the back of the boat. The reason for the sharp turn is to help fling the lifeguard farther than he would've been able to go on just his own power. That lifeguard then hooks up the "victim" to the sled on the back of the jet ski, which has returned in the meantime. The biggest (and noisiest) attraction, though, is the helicopter water rescue.

Ranger Michelle Deboer's husband, Dick, is always one of the guys who jumps off the helicopter. This year he estimated the helicopter hovered about 25 feet above the water before he and his partner made their jump. The lifeguards jump backward off the helicopter, then swim to the last "victim" and fasten him to the line on the helicopter. This is the type of rescue they call a "short haul," usually reserved for rescuing someone they need to get to shore fast. The "victim" dangles on the line as the helicopter flies low and deposits him on shore where other lifeguards are waiting. In the meantime, the guys who jumped off the helicopter are picked up by the jet ski.

It's way cool.

My sister is usually busy while the demo is going on, but this year she was able to get away to watch it with us. It had started to rain, so I held an umbrella over Sis and Grant as we watched the demo with the 600 kids. Afterward, the helicopter usually flies over the crowd and turns on the siren, but for some reason they didn't do that immediately this year. I think they needed to check something on the helicopter. Anyway, they finally came back over the crowd later and it was just as cool and dramatic as it always is.

Needless to say, Grant was mesmerized by all the vehicular activity. ;^) If he'd had his way we would've stayed there all day.

After the demo was over, the rain let up and the sun started to show. Phew! The show would've gone on one way or another, but it was great to have the nice weather back. The L.A. Kings had sent people to set up a street hockey activity in the beach parking lot, and some folks were setting up a climbing wall for later. I saw a water slide being set up, and I know there's a guy who brings a "touch tank" full of sea urchins, starfish and other critters for kids to examine. And that's not even all of it.

The National Guard had set up tents all over the beach for the kids to sleep in that night. Krispy Kreme had donated tons of donuts for the kids that morning. Domino's Pizza provided lunch. And more...so much more...

It's amazing to see people all come together to make such a wonderful event for kids.

Grant and I finally took off around 11:00 or so, when the sun was just starting to come out. I was tired from not having slept well the night before, so by 1:00 I was curled up with him in bed, having a nap. Man, I needed that, but I also have a lot of freelance work and packing to do before Saturday. With any luck, I'll be able to get the freelance stuff done tonight and tomorrow morning, leaving the rest of the time for packing.

*sigh* I can't wait to get settled in our new place, but I'll miss living in the area where I grew up. Mixed feelings about it all right now.

But today was brilliant.

email Beth

When I was a kid and the word "lightning" was on my spelling list for the week, my mom told me the way to remember the way lightning is spelled is to remember it happens so fast there's no time for an extra "e," and thus it's not frightening.

The extra "e" in "frightening," get it? Okay, it made sense at the time...

Yesterday we had a 20% chance of rain, and I'll be darned if it didn't start pouring around 1:00 a.m. or so. We even had thunder and lightning. It'd been hot during the day, so I had the window open, and the thunder was amazing. Grant was pretty beat from playing with a coupla kids on the next block. We'd been taking a walk (well, I was walking and he was riding his tricycle) around the neighborhood, and a mom acquaintance of mine was standing outside with her one-and-a-half-year-old son. The two-year-old girl next door joined us and the kids played easily in the one mom's front yard. I'm always worrying that Grant doesn't get enough playtime with other kids, so this was an unexpected bonus.

Anyway, it was raining like crazy last night and I knew the morning would likely be muggy. Yup. Ah well. We had a scheduled play date with a girlfriend of mine and her four-year-old son today, so away we went. Grant had been totally looking forward to playing with this kid's toys. I had to remind him we were going to play with the kid, too! :-) In fact, on the way over to their house, I had him practice saying, "Hello, _____, it's nice to see you." He pulled it off sweetly, and although the other kid couldn't have cared less, I think my friend appreciated it, and I was glad to think perhaps Grant had some kind of concept of sociability. And yes, perhaps I'm just dreaming. ;-) The play date was great, and despite Grant's lack of a nap today, he remained in high spirits all day. He'd fallen asleep in the car on the way home from the play date, but awoke when I brought him into the house. I lay down with him, thinking he would fall asleep, but instead he grinned at me and said, "You want to talk?" He kills me. I said sure, so he asked, "So how was your day today?" This is our ritual. Honestly, I don't know how I lived before he came along...

Yesterday I got into an argument of sorts with R. over the title for the condo, and I must admit the rest of my day sort of sucked afterward. Why must we both get so emotional about things??

Grant heard me yelling at R. on the phone, and later asked me, "What did Daddy say to Mommy?" Geeeeeeez. *sigh* He'd been chasing me around as I argued with R. — I think he was a little scared and just wanted to be with me, but I'd wanted to get away from him so I could say some things to R., and my kid and I'd chased around the house crazily for a while. Anyway, I told Grant Daddy just said some silly things, but it was okay because we both love him very much and he's very safe, and Mommy loves Daddy and Daddy loves Mommy (I'm sure all this is true, in some way) and it was just all...okay. My eyes were red and puffy, though, and I felt crummy and I was still crying in frustration off and on, so when I lay down with Grant yesterday for his nap, he studied me and said, "Mommy think about happy things?" I'm telling you...

So here's my wish for you: a clear day, clarity of vision, and a clearing in the brush where you find a tiny table and mismatched chairs bearing friends holding teacups and waiting for you to join them...

That, and love.

- Beth

Yesterday R. and I took Grant to the Orange County Fair, which Grant refers to as "the pear," despite our clarifications. :-) It was a good thing we started out early, as the temperature rose minutes after we arrived, and soon we were sweating profusely. (Luckily we'd brought some water.) That didn't keep us from going on all sorts of rides with the kid, though! We'd taken him to the fair last year, but then he'd been nowhere near big enough to take on any rides. Since this is our only child, and may well be the only child for either of us ever, we're both always itching to do those kid things that we've dreamed about, like taking Grant to fairs, riding merry-go-rounds, going to storytime at the library — that kind of stuff.

Anyway, Grant was more than up for riding on attractions. First R. took him on a bumblebee ride that basically goes in a circle and then raises all the bee cars into the air for a spell. Then I took him on a fast roller coaster-type thing. I took him on a giant slide — the kind where you slide down atop a burlap sack. Grant loved that one almost as much as I did. ;-) R. and I took turns riding a monster truck ride with the boy. I think Grant would've been happy to ride that one all day — he loves trucks (and anything else with wheels) so much! R. took him on a haunted house ride that Grant was dying to go on — I'd thought he'd be scared, but he emerged only mildly so. I think he was mostly intrigued by the ride in the motorized cars that carry you through the thing.

Grant would've loved to stay longer and ride more, but we could tell he was getting tired and hungry (read: a tad cranky), so we headed off in search of food. R. and I joke a bit about eating all foods on a stick at the fair, as it seems so many things are presented that way — even cheesecake!

We've never tried that, although I'm a tiny bit curious about it. R. thinks they must deep-fry it, so he won't touch it, but I think I might give it a shot sometime. Anyway, we settled for the requisite corn dogs with tons of mustard. Grant still hasn't developed a taste for these, so of course he ate his usual fries.

We visited the visual arts building to gaze with amazement on the artistic offerings of my fellow Orange Countians. Really, there's so much talent out there — it boggles my mind. I particularly wanted to see two works by one of my mom's friends, Mary Failla. (I tried to pull up some images of her works, but they're not coming up right now.) She won a blue ribbon for a photograph of a violinist in which the bow appears at several angles all at once. Also, she won second prize for a beautiful collage she did, called "Waiting for the Wives," which depicts a coupla guys slouching on a bench outside a boutique — all done with little bits of colored paper. This is the kind of work I know her for, but I'm pleased to see she's taken on photography. She's intensely creative, and I admire her a lot.

Around 12:30 we decided we'd take off and give Grant a chance for a nap in the car. R. dropped me off at home and left with a sleeping Grant for the two-hour drive back to San Diego. He'll bring the boy back tomorrow, so I can have time to pack and get a few things done. My sister came over later in the afternoon and had a visit with me and my folks. I was exhausted from the hot morning outdoors, though, so when Sis and Mom proposed a late lunch out, I declined. Instead, I climbed into bed and read further in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Yes, I've been a bit slow to get on that bandwagon. :-)

Naturally I fell asleep — for about three hours! When I awoke, Sis was back. We chatted a bit, then decided to head out for a bite with my brother. I'd been wanting to go for Mediterranean food, so they humored me and we wound up at one of my favorite places — Coach's on Main Street in Huntington Beach, right near the pier.

It's a family-type place that they've been redecorating for some time now. When I first discovered the place, they had resin chairs inside and the walls were plastered with photos of prior patrons, as well as photos of Mediterranean locales. Since that time, the walls have been scraped and repainted, and hung with proper framed posters of food and Mediterranean resorts. They've upgraded the ceiling fans and light fixtures, and gotten wooden tables and chairs and a fancy railing for the front patio, as well as proper booths inside. When I first started coming there, it wasn't unusual to be waited on by a teenage girl in track pants and a t-shirt -- that's changed, too. What hasn't changed is the family feel, despite the aesthetic upscaling. For instance, during our meal, each of the restaurant's adult male employees took turns holding a baby girl about 10 months old, and walking her up and down the sidewalk in front of the place. A couple of the women there took turns replacing the baby's little pink sock, which she seemed to always be removing. Later, they put the baby to sleep in a wind-up swing at the back of the restaurant, in front of the wine rack. :-) That charms me for some reason.

Despite my earlier nap, I was still pretty tired, and sniffly besides. I don't think my lack of weekly sleep and the air-conditioned environment at home are agreeing with me, to say the least. I finally took a Benadryl, which knocked me out for good around midnight. I feel a lot better today after 11 hours of sleep, but a cup of coffee hasn't quite restored me to my normal energy, and I've got packing to do! Best be going...

- Beth

Thursday night I couldn't stare at the monitor a minute longer, so I took Grant up to South Pasadena to see my sister. We let him push his stroller to the farmer's market down the street — every Thursday night there's a market at which you can buy not only produce and flowers, but also bread, cheese, kettle corn, fresh tamales (yum!), roasted ears of corn, baked potatoes and yams, and more. The farmers had parked trucks at the ends of the market, mindful of the tragedy that recently occurred at the Santa Monica farmer's market, in which an elderly man in a Buick plowed through a crowd stretching a few blocks, killing 10 and injuring more than 50. The atmosphere at the market is always festive and relaxed — it's hard to imagine that being disturbed in any way, much less a way as horrific as that.

At the market, we waited in line for baked potatoes and were told when we arrived at the head of the line that they were sold out. Sis got an ear of roasted corn, and we wandered off to grab a couple of tamales. I could eat those tamales every day, I think. They make all different kinds, from the traditional ones like pork, to the nouveau, like pecan and feta. I love them all!

Grant was hungry, but not hungry enough to want to try some new foods. ;-) On our walk home from the market, we stopped in at Trader Joe's and I bought some bananas. That kid ate two whole bananas on the way home, poor thing! Then he ate a big piece of hearty toast and a bigole cup of milk when we got back to Sis's place. Silly rabbit. I'd hoped that when he got hungry enough he'd be inspired to try some of my tamales at the market, but the stubborn little thing likes to stick to his limited toddler repertoire of foods. My, oh my. What to do?

I'd also picked up a potted begonia for Bee, Sis's landlady who lives right next door in the duplex. She's 92 years old and sharp as a tack. She'd been in the hospital recently, not feeling well (possibly a result of combining some medications, but my sister didn't know for sure), and a coupla weeks ago when I saw her, she seemed down, although she made an effort to sound up. Anyway, Sis and I (and Grant! he noted Bee's garden bumblebee decoration and remarked, "Buzz, buzz, buzz...") chatted with Bee prior to our trip to the farmer's market, and she said she'd enjoyed going there with her daughter the prior week when she was visiting. I asked her what her favorite thing was at the market, thinking I'd pick it up for her, but she demurred, saying she had a refrigerator full of food already.

I decided to get her the potted begonia at Trader Joe's rather than a cut bouquet from the market, in case she was already asleep when we returned — I didn't want cut flowers sitting on her doorstep all night wilting or waiting in water. Too complicated. A potted plant was the way to go. Turned out Bee was awake and her front door was open when we came back after dark, so I rang and she was pleased as punch to receive the plant. She even put it right into a basket on her dining room table. I felt like a kid who'd managed to please my own grandmother — just beaming. (My own grandmothers have been deceased for at least 10 years or so.)

We got chatting about this and that, and I was telling her about our upcoming move, as well as my ability to freelance regardless of where I lived as long as I had a computer. She then asked me in to take a look at her phone, thinking that since I knew something about computers and gadgets, maybe I'd know what to do about the phone. Turned out she'd accidentally yanked a power cord out of the phone, but she wasn't sure if it really went to the phone or her answering machine or her Life Alert machine. I didn't see anyplace for the cord to fit into the other machines, so I figured it had indeed come from the phone and I plugged it in again for her. She was so appreciative! Once again I felt like a kid who'd done good. :-) I'm so easy sometimes. After I fixed the phone, Grant burst in the front door with a tummy full of bananas and toast, and proceeded to run in circles around all the furniture. We laughed about it, but I was hoping he didn't have sticky hands as he was steadying himself on Bee's red velvet couches. (He didn't, thank goodness.)

There's something about her, I think, that's sweet and hip and just hugely appealing, that makes me want to hang around and chat and help her out if I can. She's interested in a gazillion subjects, keeps up on current events, loves to have my son around (a giant plus, of course) and is just a way cool gal. She kinda reminds me of my maternal grandmother, in a way, but minus the need (on my part) to guard my disclosures because of possible family baggage. Plus, lately I've been kind of seeking out older women to learn from — not chasing them down, but noticing when they appear in my life and trying to be aware of what they have to offer. It's wonderful.

Anyway, I hope Bee sticks around for a while. I'm enjoying getting to know her. :-)

- Beth

Omigosh. I'm crazy-busy at the moment, a day behind deadline, working furiously on a story as my son sings "Rubber Ducky" in the background. An interesting way to work. ;-) I promise I'll put something more substantial in this space later today, though. In the meantime, enjoy the image. For me, it evokes feelings of coziness and contentment. You?