Adventures in Carline

For the last 2 years, my job was helping to start and run a charter high school. I just stopped over the summer. There wasn't much of the business that I didn't have direct involvement in; it was a HUGE job to get that place off the ground. I love the kids there and I really do miss interacting with them, now that they are back there and I'm not. But the final prompt to leave was from Rio, who said what I had been thinking for a while: "Mom, I'd really like you to pick me up at carline after school instead of my staying to play in aftercare." How can one NOT throw every stable pattern up in the air and risk life falling apart to comply with such a request? We get one run through this life, and the 9 year old wants more energy and time from his mom. I know that a mom is potentially the most influential person in one's life. Mom status is powerful, and I absolutely love the adventure of it, Probably even more so because I really didn't have any interest in being one until I actually became one, which makes the whole experience truly an adventure, because I didn't spend any time imagining "when I'm a mother..." like most girls and women do.


Now that I am back from AK, I bring Rio to school each morning and go back home to do work, and every afternoon I drive back for him at 3:00. It sounds so much like just a task, but so far each drive I feel this huge wave of gratitude that I am available for him. I am rested, not rushed, I can be nicer in the morning because I am not also trying to get myself prepped with makeup and clothing and lunch and all the things that I needed to be prepared for MY day. I now listen better to what he is saying when he talks about his day in the car. We are both totally happy to see each other when I drive up, like when you pick up a good friend. It's nice to really like your child, and have it be mutual. And I feel so good as a person knowing I am actually fulfilling on my committment to him that I would figure it out for this school year to meet HIS reqest for all this.

He has told me repeatedly how great this is for him. I feel somewhat insecure financially since I've disrupted the classic paycheck flow for the first time that I can recall in my years of "jobs," and instead now only get paid for the work I buckle down and DO as a contractor. But each day Rio and I really connect and don't rush, I just know there is no way everything won't be perfectly fine. The way this feels, there's no place in the world that is more right for me to be at this time in his life. He started 4th grade, and shares the room with 5th and 6th graders... They are 11 and 12... I just spent two years with kids just past that age -- I know what kids are exposed to now, and just how young it can happen. Being with the "bigger kids," he is now going to be exposed to all that next phase of life input. It's not just about that, he is also rapidly developing more complex thinking patterns, and it's really more and more fun to hang out with both his little brain and heart. I'm going to be right there to have lots of conversations amidst Cheerios, fun stuff together, homework, PS2 games, exotic adventures, and Trader Joe stops as we veer neer the rapids of adolescence.

We really CAN improve the planet one person at a time (you know, the starfish story thing), and I choose to do it first with Rio.

8-19

8-19-05
Juneau, AK. Everyone in our group was scheduled to do fantastic adventures. LeAnn and Travis were going to helicopter to a glacier and then go dog sledding ON the glacier, four of us others were to helicopter over another glacier to really see it well, then land on it and get to trek around a while. But the weather was so stormy that all excursions involving flights were cancelled. So instead we took a bus out to Mendenhall glacier, walked out as far as possible on a trail to look at it across the lake, then went to the visitor’s center to view it further from dry indoor comfort and watch the video about it. They also have a few high-power binoculars set up on tripods to look through. I had the bonus experience of looking through the things just as one of the kayak guides across the lake took what he thought was a moment alone away from the rest of the party to relieve his bladder – turned away from them, of course – and right at my sites. I was in denial that this is really what he’s about to do until he proved me wrong. Special. And he will never know of that moment of intimacy that we shared.

Mendenhall Glacier - view from the visitor's center

Click on this- in the middle of the base of the waterfall (on a sandbar) are tiny people for a size reference to this place - and one of them is my friend, Urination Man.

The glacier is melting at a quite impressive rate – it receded 800 feet last year, which has really picked up over the last few years. So as you stand and look at it, they tell you exactly where it used to be over the past few decades, and imagining that big of an ice cube melting and breaking apart that fast is very… adventurous. As we waited for our return bus, we stood near a creek watching Salmon lay eggs and checking out the dead ones that bears have pulled out of the stream and left remnants of. The salmon really are amazing, as they spend their first couple of years hanging out in the freshwater stream they were born in, then they morph to be able to handle salt water and head out into the open ocean. After 4 or 5 years of that, the internal clock goes off and they head back to where they were born, because it’s time to spawn and die. Some of these guys go hundreds of miles up streams, after swimming really far in the ocean to the mouth of their particular river, just to get back to the same place. I think it’s a bit odd – what’s wrong with spawning somewhere more convenient down stream, maybe? Take your first left, you know? Most of Alaska pretty much looks the same… But that’s just how the system was designed, and I am sure it creates a perfect system in many ways I wouldn’t even think of.

The real deal - salmon back home.
These are about 2 feet long

8-18 a

I could write for days and still leave out so much, but I’ll try and hit the summary without sounding too “fact reporting.” Not an easy balance.

For those who haven’t cruised or been subjected to the cruise photos of others, each night you return to your cabin to find a different towel animal sculpted on the bed. Another one of those things in life that sounds cheesy and you know it really is, but you get all excited to see who will be hanging out on your bed nevertheless. I think the towel animal of Tuesday was an anteater, now that I’ve discussed it with others. We all thought elephant until we saw Wednesday night’s critter, which clearly was an elephant. Fortunately I took a photo for further retrospection, or else I might still feel unsure about this diagnosis.

Elephant? Anteater? Aardvark?


CLEARLY an elephant.

8-18 b

Yah, so this towel animal mystery is the stuff that creates angst on a cruise… not so bad, eh? Speaking of “eh,” Wed 8-17 was Skagway, the first day off the ship. Skagway is a bustling town of 800 that has doubled from 400 when I lived and worked there for a summer after high school graduation. My grandparents lived there at the time, and I stayed with them and worked in the hotel and hung out with a bunch of college kids from Washington colleges. Skagway is at the very top of the inland passage, and was the “gateway to the goldrush” in 1898, complete with wooden sidewalks, legends like “Soapy” Smith, and The Red Onion saloon and brothel. Skagway has done a nice job of holding the fort down for over 100 years and keeping it tourist-worthy. The population swelled to over 10,000 for the day as 4 cruise ships descended. Ours is currently carrying 2,362 passengers this trip, and another 841 crew members. We aren’t even the biggest ship in port everywhere, either. Sheri is the Julie McCoy of our trip (for those people who don’t know or remember, Julie was the Cruise director for The Love Boat). She did all this amazingly detailed research, which is usually my job for trips, and I was quite happy to hear someone else had taken the role! Sheri had reserved rental cars weeks ago so we could get out of Skagway and explore. She had the whole itinerary broken down into “famous places,” “bodies of water,” “places to eat,” etc. (Okay, I never did THAT - she’s been unemployed for a while… and we are all relieved to hear she will be starting a new job soon!)

Skagway, Alaska, pop. 800 to 10,000+ depending on the day

The hotel I worked in the summer I lived in Skagway

After a great little hike out to Yakutania Point in Skagway, where we took a great group shot, as well as a different hike to a gorgeous waterfall and a historic graveyard, we headed out of town to B.C., Canada, our group broken into two separate rental cars. We hit every great point of interest on the highway, thanks to Sheri's compulsive planning. Now overall, we all agreed we are grateful for her dedicated research. However, in the moment of the 7th pull-over within a 5-mile stretch of highway, our gratitude was sounding a bit course, and our car came up with a strategy. We would send Randy as our representative, as he is one of those people that loves to read every informational sign posted, which is part of what allows him to later spontaneously relate fascinating, detailed facts about seemingly trivial things, such as the names and descriptions of each kind of Salmon in Alaska, or the difference between a Cabernet grape and a Merlot grape. Our system was perfect. He'd go read, the other four of us would wait for him to return, and then he'd give us the 10-second summary of the sign, which usually related to an old railroad, a gold mine, a ghost town, or a bit of geological education, and off we'd go to the next point of interest. We finally crossed into British Colombia, where someone who shall go unnamed (not Randy) realized he'd left his picture I.D. in his "man bag" on the ship. Fortunately, Canada didn't seem too concerned, he passed his birth certificate quiz, and we passed into the country of our northern neighbors.

Photo of our group after hiking out to
Yakutania Point, Skagway

Waterfall near the graveyard

Randy doing his job as sign reader for the rest of our car. (Did you think I was kidding until you saw this pic?)

From here we went through the “moonscape zone.” This is a climate zone that is very small on a steep mountain, as it is really transition from something green into Alpine/above the tree line. It was freezing cold with lakes and pools of water everywhere, rocks covered in lichen, and small scrubs and tundra flowers growing. It would be bright and almost sunny, then within 5 minutes it would go gray and heavily foggy that whirled in the strong wind; the whole landscape would take on a dark, Moorish look. Our caravan of two rental cars then continued on into Yukon Territory in Canada, after many stops for lakes, waterfalls, roadside attractions, and restrooms. Y.T. provided an extra thrill not on the itinerary – we got to eat “Yukon Gold” potatoes right there IN the Yukon. Way cool, I love that sort of stuff. Oh, and when we stopped at a gas station and café, I actually heard a man who looked like Keaneu Reeves who was holding a café conversation with other locals… and he ended every phrase in “eh?” Oh my Gosh, it’s for real! I wonder if people who visit So Cal think this when they hear surfers say “dude”?

The moonscape zone, very surreal

More moonscape zone

Yu are in Yukon, "Canada's True North"

Anyway, I said it was freezing in the moonscape, right? An HOUR down the road in YT it was so hot we were down to just t-shirts, and I would have preferred shorts too! Crazy place up here. And everything IS bigger in the Yukon, we noticed – birds, plants, bugs, etc. In YT we saw one of the best museums of taxidermy animals any of us had ever seen, including largest mounted polar bear in the world, a few bison, a few prehistoric lions and a bison of the northern hemisphere found frozen in ice fairly “intact” and restored, as well as various bears and other real-time stuffed critters spanning the gamut from ferocious and larger than a car to cute and furry. But the only reason we bought the museum tour was to get to the sled dogs and their fuzzy puppies, since you couldn’t buy a ticket to just the dogs (although they did cost $2 EXTRA). Outside the back were probably 30 sled dogs that really do run the sleds in competition. They were surprisingly friendly and happy dogs. Personally I could have saved the $2 and taken home the smallest of the pygmy goats – she would have fit in my bag and no one would have seen her… Lunch, aside from the potato thrill, also happened to be the best BBQ chicken I have ever had in my life, no joke.

George demonstrating the life-like quality of the Yukon museum

Petting sled dogs for 2 bucks a head
(per people head, not per dog head)

The goat small enough to fit into my purse. Tempting...

We then made a quick photo stop at “what is affectionately known as the World’s Smallest Desert” – that’s what the sign said. And sure enough, this is a real desert, the sand left behind from a glacial lake that dried up. You can rent ATVs for $25 for 15 minutes – gee, we all passed.

Click to enlarge. World's smallest desert.
No clue who those kids are.

When we finally got back down into Skagway, we had just enough time to find a few gifts and a few beers at the ex-brothel Red Onion Saloon before boarding the ship. Wow - the world's largest mounted polar bear and world's smallest desert in the same day. Definitely living "Out on the Twig". I did squeeze in a little visit by myself to my grandparents' old house and the liquor store they used to run, as my tribute to them (they are long gone from this world); ironically, our Skagway day just happened to fall on my parents anninversary, and these were my dad's parents. Happy Anniversary, M&D, and greetings to the Vaughan grandparents if they happen to be around somewhere listening...

Ridiculously beautiful scenery - I just snapped this picture out the car window leaning over LeAnn because I had quit getting out at this point.

Back to our beautiful boat, the Serenade of the Seas.

8-18 c

Bonus Round

Okay, little humor story… The first day I got into the elevator and the plate on the floor of it said, “Sunday.” There are about 7 elevators in this particularly lobby area, so obviously they got clever and named them after the days of the week instead of numbering them. I think I mentioned I am part of the “take the stairs for exercise” pact, so I didn’t find myself in an elevator again for quite a few days. When I did, I ended up in another elevator in the same lobby, and realized I had this time taken the Tuesday elevator. Later Sheri and I were discussing how you take photos differently when you scrapbook (which Sheri actually has time to do, after she is done planning itineraries), such as her example of labeling vacation days in your scrapbook by cleverly taking and cutting out a photo each day of the day plates that are changed out in the elevators… I just burst out laughing at this comment of hers, realizing my own interpretation of these missed the mark - my own blondeness on this was just too good to keep to myself, regardless of the hit to the ego, and I shared it with her and everyone else.

8-17 a

one of the live shows

The live show was pretty good, a Broadway dance review sort of thing. Somehow I ended up as a judge on formal night at the Vortex dance club at the top of the ship – it was a “men’s legs” contest, and I was one of four lucky, bold women to choose winners. I was the only one of the four willing to play it up for the audience (well the emcee TOLD us to feel their legs, so I did!) so now three days later it is quite likely that I am being whispered about at the buffet as “that wild judge” – but really, it’s all relative, these other gals were just TIMID... It was ladies 80s night, so “the ladies” in our group went dancing. And we did – some of us until 3:00 am. I have blisters to prove we really did dance the whole time!

Me as a judge in the men's legs contest

8-17 b

At Hubbard Glacier - they really are that blue.

Fortunately, the next day was just Hubbard Glacier day, and didn’t hit the glacier until 1 pm; figuratively speaking only, of course, ha ha. After sleeping in and eating followed by napping, we found our ship at Hubbard Glacier for a few hours mid-afternoon. The weather was perfect – overcast so not a glare on the glacier, but not foggy or bad weather. This glacier is the biggest one anywhere around, sits 400 feet above the water, and they guess 300-400 under the water. The cruise ship came in about a quarter mile from it, which is really quite close, and it extends out under the water. None of the other ships that came in got as close as ours – probably because our captain is Norwegian and a few little pieces of ice in the ocean are not a big deal for his part of the planet. The engines went quiet and everyone outside listened to Hubbard creak and crack, scanning the 4 miles of visible face for the chunk about to fall. “Calving,” it’s called. Pieces would break off and crash into the ice water below, causing a huge wave (but not even a ripple for our mammoth boat and her stabilizers), as everyone would rush to take stills and video shots. The ride in to the bay was very cold and only those of us dressed in ski stuff were really comfortable. The temperature drop is amazing coming in to the bay, but really if you think about it, it’s like zipping at 30 miles an hour into an area of fluid that has ice cubes bobbing in it. But when we stopped the boat at the glacier it was really fairly warm, because there was no wind. To warm us up, everywhere on deck there were staff members selling hot chocolate in commemorative Royal Caribbean mugs with whatever adult additive you choose; they’d push carts about the outside decks yelling “hot cocoa” like beer and peanut guys at the ballpark.

Little boat with people in it... big glacier... note circled area...

There's the same circled area farther away... BIG glacier!

Calving - the creak, thunder-noise, and finally crash of glacial ice we were all listening for! It did a lot of this while we were there.

8-17 c

Abbas (with pepper grinder mic) and Christof (with napkin hat), our waiters attempting to sing

Onto dinner (more eating) – Italian night – our wait staff which as a group represents 23 countries (there are 40+ represented if you consider the entire ship’s crew) sang an Italian ballad to us. Our 3 guys are from India, a small island in the Caribbean, and the Philippines, respectively. What they lacked in quality and polish, they certainly made up in enthusiasm! After dinner we oohed and aahed at the self-leveling pool tables. They have gyros in them, so regardless of the boat pitch, they stay “flat” on top so your pool balls remain put until you intend them to move. It’s good, cheap fun to just sit and watch the tops of the pool tables sway and rock with gravity while gawking in amazement at the pool balls that really don’t roll about. The gyro works! Okay, part of the amazement is that the ship is actually rocking THAT much, and we can’t even tell…

The self-leveling pool tables

We continued on to the “adult” scavenger hunt in the Safari Lounge… they were all mid-game, various teams were scrambling for such items from their group as “two women’s bras with no women in them,” two grown men from your team holding hands and skipping,” and men wearing their pants inside out and backwards. Yes, it does imply they strip, reverse, and re-dress right there in the club. As I said, this is ADULT scavenger hunting… The grand finale round was a man from each team dressed as pretty as possible, complete with accessories, wearing only a bra on the top half (yes, guys, this does mean women have whipped their bras off for the cause). The whole thing really was extremely funny. How is it stuff like that sounds totally cheesy, and then when you go you can be simultaneously thinking, “yup, this is really cheesy,” while still having a blast?!

Scavenger hunt final round, lovely "ladies"??

Alaska trip photos #1

De ja vu from Hong Kong - Chinese is all over Vancouver, not just Chinatown.
DOUBLE-CLICK ANY PHOTOS TO ENLARGE

Above the clouds flying out of Phoenix

The amusing boat drill

Cruisin' baby!
Yes, they even have a rock wall on deck.

Adventure to Alaska

No photos yet due to connection problems - too slow and too expensive for now - $.50/minute which is aggravating enough at normal speed, much less the one THIS thing is doing!
We are cruising north up the Inland Passage of Alaska at 23 knots; it’s 59 degrees. The sky was completely gray this morning, but right now it is more blue than cloudy. There are die-hards out on the pool deck actually wearing swim suits and laying on lounge chairs. The boat is so smooth that it seems like we are only on a virtual boat with video scenery sliding by.

I got a total of 30 minutes of sleep the night before we left. We had to be up by 3:45 to make our flight. We flew through Seattle and onto Vancouver, B.C., then took a tour bus to the ship. Vancouver surprised me, because many common business signs are in both English and Chinese, and we passed many shops selling the same stuff I saw all over Hong Kong a few weeks ago. And it wasn’t just in the part of Vancouver that is “China Town,” it was the whole time going through the city. I would like someone to explain to me why there are so many Chinese there, but no one I was with seemed to know.

We boarded the big boat at 1:30. We have an internal room, which is an odd experience, because it has no windows. When you wake up, you have absolutely no sense of what time of day or night it is, nor what the weather is until you go out. There is the “boat cam” channel on the TV– it a camera shot off the nose of the boat. I suggested we mute the TV and leave it on all night, then it will be our window when we wake up – Well I thought it was clever...

It’s a beautiful boat, they’ve come a long way in 20 years since I was last on a cruise ship. They are much more like a regular elegant hotel than a boat. There are a LOT of places on this ship too - nooks and corners and bars and lounges and cafés and restaurants, a casino, a library, a live, 3-story performance theater, a movie theater, indoor, outdoor, and semi-outdoor spaces. There are activities that are coordinated, help-yourself activities, quiet-time places, the gym, the climbing rock wall, the spa… All of the food is included, none of the alcohol is (of course). I just can’t eat all day, it’s almost disappointing. My strategy is to only eat whatever I REALLY love. So far on my cruise experience:

(One clause, before I start – “we” is used for me plus any one of varying combinations of people from the group of 13 – we tend to float in and out of contact, doing things together, splitting off based on various interests, etc.)

We boarded, found our rooms, unpacked a bag, ate lunch, and I napped. When I woke up we had to do a safety drill so we all know where to go if we hit an iceberg or another cruise ship. Informative, and a great picture opportunity, all those people in big orange safety vests lined up on deck. We are on second dinner shift in the dining room, which is at 8:30, so we can take our time and not be forced out for anyone after us. So after the safety drill, we met on deck to have a drink and wander around the ship. I must say, the first margarita was truly exceptional – these guys really know what they’re doing! After a few minutes of looking over the pool crowd from a balcony (and quickly deciding to take that off the agenda in the future), we began to wander around the decks. We had a snack in the “solarium,” where the indoor pool is. We got another drink, and wandered some more, discovering for ourselves the miniature golf course, the over-sized tic-tac-toe set on deck, the obscure cafes that are tucked into corners, the dispensers around the ship that serve coffee, water, and lemonade 24/7. I think I agreed to meet up with a few people after that, but it’s so easy to get sidetracked here with all the input, I never quite made it, and had to apologize at dinner. Oops. I instead read the volumes of information they give you in your room. Dinner was very “dining room on a cruise ship” – big table, great waiters, great food, fun conversation. After dinner we… wandered around, took some photos, almost got blown off the deck by the winds, which of course prompts everyone at the front of the ship to do their best imitation of the “King of the World” line from Titanic. Finally, more sleep. (For the sake of my stories, there is “nap” and “sleep.” Nap implies daytime or short ones, sleep is night. There is also “snack” and “eat” – snack is not scheduled meal time, eat is official. I hate to say this, but I think these distinctions are going to comprise the majority of my reports until Wednesday, when we finally get off this boat for the first time…) But this morning I worked out in the gym - THEN we ate ,wandered around, and snacked. We did choose our "team" excursions for our 3 days in port later this week, and I fiddled with my photos on my laptop. Now here I am writing and listening to the piano player in the Windjammer bar as people in formal wear being to swarm... looks like I'd better go turn myself into Cinderella for the ball. The agenda tonight is meet the ship's captain, eat, drink, go to a live show, and then go dancing. Probably a snack in there somewhere too...

Monsoon Adventure

The edge of the storm

Genuine AZ storm - see the Saguaros? (Suh-war-ohs)

Today I learned what a haboob is. It is not something you smoke tobacco from in the Middle Eastern restaurants – that is a hooka. A haboob is the big dust storm that comes just before the big thunderstorm. We’ve had a lot of both lately. As I said a while back, I LOVE a good thunderstorm. So much that I moved here from the coast of California just so I could be in them more often. Wait, that sounds a bit flakey... it wasn't the final decisive factor, it was the original driving force (That's better). Anyway, this monsoon season I am not disappointed! It has stormed almost every day, usually in the evening after the heat builds and the towering puffy clouds form. But the last few days they have even come in the morning. The air gets heavy and begins to smell like the wet greasewood plants in the desert that are already getting rained on (creosote bushes – same things - I think they have a third name too).

Rio was reading “Where the Sidewalk Ends,” and I was working at the same table. The rain started, then it got heavier, so we opened the door to the patio to be able to see it. Rio was born on August 3^rd and came home around the 10^th of August. August is monsoon season in Arizona. So one of Rio’s first excursions outside as a week-old infant was to watch the lightening, feel the rain, and listen to the thunder roll across the Sonoran desert sky. Fortunately it didn’t scar him for life, he only has that slight fear we probably all feel with a huge nearby bolt of lightening followed by a roaring roll of thunder - Fear I like to think of as “healthy respect” for nature. He too loves storms.

Usually summer storms are very short-lived – it may pour for less than 10 minutes typically, then quickly rebounds to hot, now with added humidity. But this one POURED, and for a long time. The temperature went from 84 when it started raining (still cool by summer standards) to 74 degrees within 15 minutes. Eventually Rio moved a chair outside on his own accord, safely under the dry awning, and sat there continuing to read. When the storm let up some an hour later, we took off our socks and shoes, put on shorts, and went out to see the impact. The street was flooded side to side, the huge grassy retention basin down the street was at least 4 feet deep! We sloshed around the streets with the water above our ankles, got as far into the basin as apprehension would allow (dark, muddy water, eek), and took pictures from under a big umbrella.

When we returned to the house delighted and somewhat muddy, we discussed that our sharing that wonderful storm would not have been possible with my “old life” even two months ago. I would have been at work giving my best energy to other kids; he would have been at his aunt’s or elsewhere.

As a result of making the leap recently to change my life from always having had a “job”, to for the first time ever having work and an income, yet freedom from a “job”, I was HOME for the storm at mid-day, home for Rio. I committed to myself and to him a few months ago that I was going to create for us an “adventurous life” (facilitated by freeing and fun sources of income), knowing that “adventures” can occur anywhere, anytime, even in Target or while doing homework, but certainly including travel to the African savannah (his request for our next big trip in a few years)… and playing in thunderstorms.
And once again I am reminded of that quote, “We don’t remember days, we remember moments.”

Monsoon Adventure Photos

Rio reading in the storm

Our street flowing like a river! Double click to open larger.

Maybe all IS well.

In the course of my errands today, I ran by Bookman's used bookstore to get a book for a friend. I found the book, as well as the follow-up book, sort of like the sequel. I also found a copy of another book someone recommended to me recently. I took my three books to the register, got ready to pay my total of about $20, and the cashier says, "You won." I am fiddling with impulse buy crap they put at the register, so without even looking at him, I say, "Right on. What did I win?" I expect he's going to say "$1 off your next Bookman's purchase" or something. He says, "It's free. Your purchase today is free. Four people a day are randomly chosen through the register to get their purchase for free, and you're one of the four today." He sticks my $0 receipt into my bag and shoves it at me while I'm still thinking, "Is he SERIOUS? What's the catch??" It was only $20, so for a split-second I thought, "I should have bought more" but I wasn't willing to pay more if I hadn't won, so I let go of THAT in under two seconds. I thanked him with great enthusiasm and said, "I feel like I won the lottery, the dollar amount doesn't matter." I left Bookman's feeling a bit more faith in mankind, and delighted at my little adventure of good fortune.

Rio's Birthday Cookie

The Birthday Cookie Aflame

After the Song

Yesterday was the real Big Day for the Leo; Rio was born 9 years ago at 8:42 p.m. Glad it's not 9 years ago, but even Rio, when asked by my dad long-distance on the phone how he felt about being nine, said, "Part happy, part sad." After the pause while my dad questioned the "sad" just as you and I would have, Rio replied, "Because I'm growing up really fast." Um, if I'm not mistaken, you and I couldn't WAIT until we "grew up," and although we might take it back now if we could, we didn't have that insight THEN.

We ended up at Auntie's house - that's Sandra, John's sister, and her husband Rick. They are like extended parents of Rio's, and Sandra is probably one of the most "sisterly" relationships I have, since I don't have a biological one. A friend of theirs came over with 4 pounds of scallops fresh from the Mexican cleaning lady's father in Baja California. Rick played chef, Sebba (the friend) played wine distributor/bartender, I played tourist guide through my HK slideshow, Sandra played waitress, Randy played scallop consultant, and Rio and Trey (my nephew) played Playstation 2. All players simply stood around the kitchen counter for the entire evening, and fortunately we all agree this is the preferred organzational method as a group. I just now realized others might find this rather odd... I have stood for more meals at their house than I have sat for. I think it's because we like to stay near the source of food and drink. The dining room table is in another room, which can feel a world away from the action.

Rio's birthday dinner request was cheddar grilled cheese on sourdough, and his wish was granted by Auntie.

Rio doesn't like cake. My Brat friend, upon learning this, accusingly asked, "What did you do to him?" Look, I don't know, he just figured out at a young age that he doesn't like cake. He liked refried beans until he was 3, he hated them from 3 to 7, and then at 7 he announced that he loved refried beans (again), but not with cheese. The rest of the world orders bean burritos with cheese. But if the burrito comes with cheese, Rio wants a new one, or we will unwrap it and pick the cheese out. Yah, same kid who wanted a grilled cheese sandwich last night. But burgers have to have cheese. This is NOT my fault! He doesn't like avocados either, but nobody gives me crap for that...

So I asked Rio what he wanted his candles stuck in, and his request was a chocolate chip cookie. So I got the best cookie I know of, Paradise Bakery. As you can see from the photos, he made his wish and blew out his candles, and everyone had a Paradise cookie. Yes, their own; no, we did not cut the one cookie into 7 pieces.

Earlier in the year Rio requested a bike with handle brakes instead of little-kid foot brakes. So we used the birthday occasion to get the bike on the way home. Of course it's Phoenix in August, so this child will never have a birthday party in the park, and most outdoor-activity type birthday presents are deferred for use until October. I wish I were being sarcastic, but this is reality. However, the monsoon rains have come lately and cooled things off each late afternoon, and at night it is darn un-hot. So he may actually get to ride it in the evening this week without risking sun poisoning, dehydration, and heat stroke.

I've been here 17 years, but I still sometimes feel shock at just how stupid-hot it gets in the summer. Then I block it out again in the fall like a traumatic memory. Do you KNOW that the steering wheel will sometimes get so hot in a closed-up, sunned-on car here that you really can't touch it to drive until the car airs out a minute? When you first open the door to your four-wheeled broiling oven, you CAN'T HOLD the steering wheel without at least mildly burning your skin! But because you are in denial of how stupid-hot it is, you refuse to actually put oven mitts in your car as a solution; it would be admitting something is wrong with one's choice of habitat. So you do the tip-of-one-finger steering thing, punctuated with "Oh, ooh, @%$!, aaack!" until the air blowing across it begins to cool it down. But there are many incredibly good things about the Sonoran Desert, which I will skip for now, and it is alternately just as insane to have to plug in your engine to keep it from freezing in Montana, or to live in Florida where they have have permanent "Hurricane Pickup Site" bus signs, which implies a matter of when, not if. I digress.

At the end of the night Rio and I were talking in his room. We considered what happened 9 years ago - I was alone in a sense, with no known biological family (I'm adopted), and then that night at 8:42 p.m., I had a person here on the planet that I was fully connected to, who I cared about more than myself. I told him once again that I am thrilled he came to join me in this life, and that he is my absolute favorite person here. He replied that he too is so glad to be here with me as my son. I am biased, but anyone who gets to know him agrees he's one of the sweetest, kindest, most easy-going, funny, wise, common-sense kids you'll meet. Since before he was born, I consider it my job to assist him in becoming exactly who he came here to be, while having a great, adventurous time together on the way. I've been here longer, so it's my job to show him around the planet and give him tips, but also to listen for his fresher perspective, because I certainly don't know everything, and "my" way has definitely not always played out to be the best (understatement). He most often reminds me to listen to my intuition, to follow that voice inside, and all will be well (I told you...he's a freak). So for the official World Wide Web record, I, Jennifer, am honored to hold one of the most privileged roles in this amazing person's life - that of his mother. How did I get so lucky??!

The Electric Slide All Over

Today I called Michelle in Hong Kong to test my new calling card. I felt all international going to the Chinese Cultural Center in Phoenix (Yes, we have something that cultural, for those of you who like to make fun of our little oasis in the desert) to buy my Hong Kong calling card. I made friends with a few of the Disney people there in HK, and they are all too slammed busy to answer e-mails since the park opens soon. So I figure I can reach out and touch them through the airwaves; they may be busy, but they are still a chatty bunch. In calling Michelle, I actually went through this thing of being concerned because I didn't call my forever-friend Kraig first, because it turns out I didn't have his number saved, and then if he hears from Michelle that I called HER and not HIM, then how would he feel... (Just when I thought I was over taking care of other people's imaginary feelings that only exist inside my busy head...)

That's Kraig in the photo, whom I have known forever, and is one of my very best friends.

Anyway, it was great to talk to Michelle, and I also got Kraig's number (uh oh, now he knows I HAVE it but didn't call, but I was on my way to a class and was almost there when I hung up with her - SIGH - NEVER MIND), and I also got Flip's blog site. Flip is also in Hong Kong, a delightfully witty person who lives in the same building as Kraig, Michelle, and Chris.

Chris, Flip, Michelle, and me "downstairs," a.k.a. 2121 Bar.






So now I have TWO blog addresses - Michelle's and Flip's. Very exciting, I just doubled my blog journal reading opportunities. You see, I had heard of blogs, read about them in Consumer Reports, I think, but hadn't actually been to one, ever, until a couple of nights ago. So this is a whole new world of communication to me.

So I go onto Flip's site, which is artfully displayed in the fine black background like mine, and I get to read what he's had to say about his stay in Hong Kong too. Then I click on a comment there, and I find that takes me to a profile, and then a link to that person's blog, someone else I met in HK. But off of hers is a link to someone I've never heard of, but who apparently also works for Disney. So this can radiate out like 6 Degrees of Separation in reverse, and before you know it you're engrossed in the ramblings of someone you have never met, never will, and it feels a bit like watching them through their windows in the dark. Sort of interesting, sort of creepy.

But what I realized when I backed out of the blog surfing, (other than the fact that I should just route my friends to the writing and photos of these guys in HK that I mentioned, because it seems redundant for me to recreate descriptions of the same places I went), is that I feel like I did the first time I saw people do that thing together. I was 23 years old, at a dance, a new song starts, and people pour onto the dance floor. Hm, now granted the song is just starting, but it doesn't seem to be that great of a dance tune. Whatever, there's no accounting for musical tastes. But then they line up in straight rows and begin to sway in unison as if someone is choreographing this. It's been a normal dance thus far. Did I miss an announcement? Is there a cue card somewhere beyond my line of sight? What is happening, and should I be going out there too? They all start to step and spin more or less together. They aren't well-practiced as a group, but they clearly are all attempting the same pattern. Now I took dance for a lot of years, but we didn't cover this. WHAT ARE THEY DOING, HOW DO THEY ALL KNOW WHAT TO DO, AND WHERE WAS I FOR THIS LESSON?! Apparently I expressed this out loud, as someone leans in to kindly inform me "Oh, that's the Electric Slide." Okay, question one has been addressed, but the informant is of no help with questions two and three. As I watched this ritual in a mix of amusement and horror, I vascillate between deciding they were a bunch of nerd-hicks for actually knowing this dance, and alternately wondering what is wrong with the path of life I have led thus far that would have sheltered me for 23 years from exposure to this "everybody knows it but you" thing I was witnessing.

Yah, so that's how I'm feeling about blogs - like there's a secret society of bloggers, everybody knows about it, and I finally stumbled into it the other day. I'm a little late, but at least I am not nearly as judgemental of blogs as I was of the silly slide dance.

Can I just say that "blogging" feels a little egocentric. A bit of me cringes that I am writing "all about me." I know who my friends are that want me to do this, they have always liked letters and e-mails from me, but I guess it's different when I address a specified person and put their name on the top. Then it's communication. This just feels like oration. And I'm not so sure than anything as worthy as Sermon on the Mount is going to come out. But at least you might be amused, and a good laugh can be worth more than a profundity at times.

Photo Just for Gail

This photo is being posted just for Gail, my dear, height-challenged (short) friend. Michelle, Gail, and Me at Big Surf. If I didn't tell you, you just might believe her to be that tall, eh?

Rio's 9th "Beach" Birthday

Stephen, Alex, and Rio - Happy Birthday, Pookie!

Brooklyn, John (Rio's dad), Rio, and Nicodemus

Rio's 9th "Beach" Birthday

My child, Rio James, is a freak. Ask him what he wants for his birthday, and he says genuinely, "I just want for my friends to all be together." I am sure he's balancing the planet for some other 9-year-old on the other side of somewhere that is consumed by consumerism.

So for his birthday we went to Big Surf today. His birthday is actually Wed, Aug 3rd, but today is Sunday and the friends were available to play. Big Surf is a water park that I made quite a bit of fun of when I moved here to Arizona from the coast of California. I had lived no more than 5 miles from the coast all my life, up and down CA. To find everyone in Phoenix excited about this "fake beach" was idiotic to me at the time. It had sand, it had wave. The plural form, "waves," can only be accurately used if you scientifically measure the evidence across the span of more than 3 minutes. You see, Big Surf's biggest attraction is a gigantic toilet bowl sort of contraption that releases every 3 minutes sending out one big wave. Everyone screams in delight and panic, jumps on their raft, and attempts to surf in to "shore." Upon either coasting in or being pummeled to the bottom of the pool by the luckier of the screaming masses, everyone shleps back to their staked-out spot in the proverbial porcelain bowl. The mural painted with a sunset ocean and palm trees at the back of the "beach" where the wave originates looks like just a wall. But it's not. It's a tank. Just like the one that fills and flushes on the back of your toilet. I'm seeing a little Wizard of B.S. (that's Big Surf) somewhere behind a wall pushing down a little silver handle every time his egg timer runs out of sand, enjoying the power of controlling the ocean...

Well the years of sun and heat and failure for the San Andreas "Big One" to yet delivere up our Arizona beachfront property has worn me down. They have removed the sand and put in cool decking, added dizzying-height water slides, lots of grass (but wisely kept the cheesy Beach Boys music), and I have to admit it's fun in a desert dry-heat sort of way. And 9-year-olds love it.

So we spent most of the day there today at Rio's request. A good time was had by all. We verified that in tandem raft sliding, the heavier the teammate going down the water slide, the faster the inner tube goes (we won't mention who turned out to be the fastest ride partner but at least it wasn't one of us girls). A fantastic Monsoon storm moved in just as we were ready to go at the end of the day, complete with black clouds, warm rain, the smell of wet creosote bushes, and a cooling breeze - the kind of storm that made me fall in love with Arizona years ago. It made it just a bit easier to settle back into AZ after prying myself from Hong Kong.

6/23/05 Flying to Portland

I sent this out to some friends in June (6/23) when I wrote it. It is from my trip to Portland. But it's so damn good that I want to post it here, as hey, I crack me up. So if you are reading my blog and you've already read the following well then scroll on, it's the same as before, except I have removed the name of my friend.

I wanted to come to Portland, for myself and the adventure of it for sure, but as the time grew closer and I talked to my friend, I knew I was more importantly coming here for her, my dear Unicorn friend. I call her that because she is something beyond typical human in a fragile but powerful sort of way, like I imagine Unicorns to be. At this time in her life she is buried underneath emotional sludge. Last time I was here she was doing fabulously, totally on track in her life and feeling incredible, and it was me who was a shelled-out, exhausted wreck emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, as the high school was only 6 months old and I was the seemingly sole caretaker of an oversized, demanding infant named New Samaritan High School. Last time I was here the weather was cold, it snowed, and I stayed on the couch for 3 days keeping warm and talking and drinking hot tea and sleeping when I felt like it. Visiting her helped to build me back up so I could take on another semester upon my return to AZ.

But this time I am better than I have ever been in my life, and it’s her that is in need of sanctuary. So I am it, bringing me to her, so we can bring her back to herself. Here I am at 2 a.m. on the couch by a large, brown dog, the sound of the small fountain trickling in the corner, the cool, moist air coming in the open window. I’m wrapped in the down comforter.

So tomorrow morning, in the back yard surrounded by wild Oregon greenery, we will have coffee out of pottery mugs. And we will begin to call out my friend from herself. I do so love pottery, it feels like stone to the skin, and the weight of it is lovely and solid in my hand.

But first let’s go back to the real beginning of this adventure – the airport. The flight to Portland looked to be boarding when I arrived at the gate; everyone was standing and the door to the furnace-hot walking tube was open. I felt lucky that pre-boarding had not yet begun, as I was taken to secondary inspection by the FBI. Okay, so they’re not the FBI, they are the TSA I think, but the flight nazis anyhow. They saw the screwdriver set on the x-ray. Yes, the miniature steel death tools in a little black box that I was going to wield on the plane… to open the back of my laptop to install the extra memory. SIGH. It didn’t even cross my mind that the damn things could be an issue.

I could take them… IF I checked them into my bag and checked the bag into cargo. But I wasn’t going to check a bag. Well Christ on a cross, what a total pain in the ass, okay, I’ll let you guys check my bag. And he was nice enough to loosen those two screws on the back of the laptop for me before I loaded them into my now-check-on-bag. Okay “nice enough,” AND the passenger is not allowed to touch the offending items of destruction once TSA has procured them. Apparently at that point in the transaction, the screwdriver set had become a ward of the federal government by power granted through the sub-contractor, TSA. So he was authorized to unscrew, but I wasn’t. Hm. Maybe next time I need a household item repaired I’ll take my repair item and the appropriate power tool through baggage check. Might just be worth the dollar-per-second parking garage fees. But then I find out OHHHH… you aren’t going to check my bag through for me like they do at the gate when it’s too big or when a stroller goes as far as it can go, you’re going to send me all the way back downstairs to the original ticket counter that I breezed by with the boarding pass I had printed that morning on line at I-fly-SWA.com. Well that certainly changes my casual I-can-walk-right-to-the-gate time frame, doesn’t it. But he has given me a conciliatory “fast pass” of sorts to come back through the line expediently when I return.

So back I go to the Southwest main check-in counter downstairs, where I need to wait for the next ticket agent, who tells me “If your bag doesn’t make this flight, then it will be available first thing in the morning.” My head snaps up, and upon checking with her, yes, she is serious, there is a good chance my bag will not make the flight. I imagine being there with no bag AND having my friend drive all the way back to the airport tomorrow just for my damn bag… and I pull the little death weapons out of the bag and say, “Forget it, it’s not worth it, I can buy a new set of these in Portland, and America will fly safely for another day.” I leave the ticketing agent standing at the baggage pass-through furrowing her brow and looking at the small black plastic case she has in her hand, to which as I walk away she is replying, “THIS is what they wanted to have you check your bag for?” And trying to be as not-bitchy as possible because I know none of this bullshit is really exactly any one particular person’s fault, not even Osama Bin Laden’s, I simply throw a “yes” over my shoulder as I zoom back toward the escalator with my un-checked bag.

Now for the love of God, there are seriously about 6 people in this part of the terminal that are actually travelers and not merely TSA employees. But the gal that is our first stop for clearance, who was ironically the SAME gal that was doing the same job in the same chair six minutes ago when I was last here, actually asks to see my I.D. and boarding pass. I smile, pull the same boarding pass and passport she has seen just 6 minutes prior to this, and say dryly, “Yes, it’s all still the same as it was when I was here six minutes ago.” I remind myself that again, this is no one’s fault in particular… And again, back into the plastic tub goes the laptop, after again pulling it out of it’s bag, and again putting that into a separate plastic tub. Again, back into another tub goes the offending bag. (I was actually bracing for a whole new round of inspection because I still have the bag that they sent me out to check, you’d think they’d notice that and get suspicious that I’m trying to pull some funny stuff, but apparently TSA’s policy requiring employee short-term memory loss is not discriminatory – everyone within the department equally forgets everything they have seen. I wonder if perhaps they have a memory flush cue of five minutes and I just missed the deadline… but I digress). Again, off go the tennis shoes, into their own plastic tub too. I really should have worn those flip flops.

So as I began before, when I got to the gate somewhat frazzled and sticky-hot due to the lovely weather we’ve been having, I felt very fortunate that they had not yet started loading, because everyone stood in lines poised to sprint down the furnace tube. I took my place in the “A” line, feeling very web-savvy and new millennium for having checked in on line that morning. 15 minutes later we learn of the air problem on the plane that they are “working on,” and not sure when they will be done. But rest-assured, they’ll keep us posted. An hour later, we boarded. But hey, the air was cranking. It was 9:45 pm. That means arrival into Portland at 12:15. The hour, although irritating, was productive; I did install my memory while I waited (alas, to this moment I have still not officially tightened the screws, and the safety of the guts of my laptop hangs precariously on the edge of gravitational force), played with a few photos, and begin a tutorial in Photoshop.

I couldn’t wait to sleep on the plane. I did, not very deeply, sort of that lucid dream-like thing where you are more asleep than not, but you hear everything around you. I have this nagging ego that prefers to not awaken with my mouth hanging open in that stupid sitting-up-asleep-person-on-a-plane fashion. Keeping myself from fully going under seems to be the only recourse when one is in the seat in front of the emergency exit row, because those seats do not recline. So I give up good rest, but I’m gonna have first shot at getting the hell out that door and sliding down the wing of the plane in an emergency, provided of course that the wing remains attached in said emergency. Anyway, I told the man next to me to please tap me when the fight attendant came by for an order, because after all the waiting preceded by all the rushing preceded by a workday with all the training of new employees, I was ravenously hungry. And Southwest had sent my drink tickets with my free pass, and by God I was going to use a few of these bad boys, because THIS time I had actually remembered to bring them!

My seat companion came through like a champ, as did my flight attendant, and I was set up with two bags of peanuts, three bags of Ritz bites, a diet Sprite and a Bailey’s rocks. (Well come on give me a break, I figured it was like a B-52 on the rocks without the Kahlua and without the Grand Marnier. It was the end of a long day and I approached it as liquid ice cream dessert on the rocks with a kick). So I lean out to pass my four tickets to the flight attendant guy and he says softly with a wink, “This first one’s on us.” Well isn’t that just hunky dory, a free drink! Welcome to vacation. I wasn’t going to seem ungrateful by sharing with him that I really was looking forward to using these tickets. I was only going to get one drink, but now I regroup and decide to use them for round two.

Round two, and again, he refuses my tickets. Okaaaaayy, I need to sleep, I do not need to get wasted by myself at twenty thousand feet at midnight, so I just give up after that and try to go back to sleep. Maybe I’ll try again on my trip home and I’ll get a militant attendant who’s not in the mood to “make my day.” The coupons do expire the last day of this year, and although I do not usually order alcoholic drinks on planes, just for the principle of it I don’t want the freebies to go to waste. However, I am getting the impression that when I explain next year that I couldn’t get anyone at their airline to take them in 2005, Southwest would honor them anyway. They are, afterall, the Luv Airline; I feel so loved. And a little buzzed.

As I disembarked, all I could do was give him a huge smile and a really genuine thank you so he knew that he had succeeded in both making me happy and making sure that I will again fly the friendly skies with SWA.

Tomorrow entails a trip to Powell’s bookstore, the best bookstore on the planet according to some, as long as you particularly go to the downtown Portland location. Four stories of pure literary bliss, complete with a coffee room and free wi-fi connection. Ahhhhhh.