As performed by my musically adventurous step-sister.
Step-Sis Reenacting Yoko Ono Performance on Vimeo.
While home for the holidays, dad and I ventured through some ol’ family photos as we consumed copious amounts of cinnamon-topped coffee. Here’s a fun photo of me & mom ~ as the reigning crown-winners (not kidding!) and title-holders (yes!) of California State Miss La Petite and California State Mrs (the only mother/daughter duo to have done so ~ big time!), we were asked to come back and perform the next year. What glamorous number did we perform?
Well, leave it to mom and I and how seriously we took the whole pageant thing, we performed “We’re A Couple Of Swells.” One of my favorite performances ever. I *heart* my mom.
And here’s the number as performed by Fred Astaire and Judy Garland to give you an idea of the actual song.
I’m not entirely sure what the Halloween plans are going to be– Halloween in the city or the small town? It should be said that I LOVE holidays. Adore them. I grew up with a mother who would give all of us cards at St. Patrick’s day, pull out all things patriotic on the Fourth of July, etc., etc., and her love of holiday celebration has definitely been inherited by yours truly.
So when mom and I were on the phone recently, she said to me “Well, I better go. Need to research zombies. Have a great evening!” I learned of her and my stepdad’s plans to be zombies at the hometown haunted house this year.
“Want to come be a zombie with us?” She asked.
Um…. Uh….
Well, if zombies wear shoes like this… I’m totally in.
(Thanks Notcouture.com!)
Dear Winter,
After 1. Numerous Venti Chai Tea Lattes from Starbucks 2. Trudging through a rain and wind storm carrying a heavy computer bag, a large box (bound for post office), and an umbrella (that tried to blow away) 3. Walking through my neighborhood that has golden and rusty red (wet) leaves on the sidewalk and Halloween decorations on stoops and in windows, and 4. Seeing this terrific illustration on SnuggleMuffin’s site…
Skating from http://snugglemuffin.vox.com/
I’m ready for you.
Don’t get me wrong… I’m officially excited it’s autumn, and I have nothing against it. In fact I quite love the autumn season: It smells good, the air starts to get cool, colors in nature get saturated and lovely, what’s old falls away and makes room for the new and exciting. Autumn’s great.
But I’m officially ready to have autumn usher you in, dear winter.
Bring on the snow! and hot cocoa! and cozy fires! and Christmas trees! and twinkle lights! and snowball fights! and…okay, you get the idea.
Hot Chocolate from http://snugglemuffin.vox.com/
I look forward to seeing you again, ol’ friend.
xo
Uptown Small Town
Previously I’ve mentioned that there is allegedly a dog in my hometown that plays an accordion. And allegedly this dog plays to a crowd on Saturday nights.
And last weekend… I saw him.
And it was fantastic.
Went to dinner at Sierra Sky Ranch which is rustic, notoriously haunted, features the head of a moose mounted on the wall which over-sees the dining room, and where we spotted a Real Cowboy dressed in black cowboy gear complete with spurs. SPURS, people. Spurs at dinner. (Pretty sure this was a real person rather than a ghost of some sort but one never knows…) (Do ghosts wear spurs?) (I was sort of expecting a wild west sort of shoot-out but unfortunately for my imagination that didn’t happen.)
Anyway, this is also where a band plays every weekend and features… a dog who plays the accordion.
At first he didn’t cooperate. See the cowboy (of the non-spur wearing variety) trying to get the little guy going? (I couldn’t resist capturing this on my camera-phone.)
Then he got into it (the dog…well, the cowboy too). He basically takes the rope that is connected to the accordion and pulls the rope with his teeth. Then the band plays with the beat set by the dog.
No joke. See?
So there we have it. Reason number 4,542,392 of why I love my hometown.
As I got ready to depart the city for the short trek to the mountains, I received this in my inbox:
That’s me in the front, in my lil’ cruiser, naturally. Then those are my two entourage dudes…because everyone needs an entourage. And pulling up in the back there…that’s the salad panda. (Don’t ask.) (Thanks, LB!)
So happy camper that I am when I depart city for mountains, I arrived just in time for the hometown Heritage Days. Oh yes– complete with Parade, Petting Zoo, and Sluice Box Derby.
And nothing says small town like a Sluice Box Derby…
And nothing makes me smile faster. (Well, a few things do, but that’s another topic all together…)
Anyway…Sluice Box Derby in the hometown. They even closed off School Road for the Heritage Days Parade! (I swear this is a real place. See, there is a brochure and everything.)
And the good people of the town lined up to watch…tail-gaters, ambulance drivers, parents, grandparents, judges, etc.
And the lil’ racers lined up, waiting for their number to be called.
I mean, it’s serious business around here…
And the first lil’ racer is ready… (I love the propane truck in the back, waiting patiently to get through…)
And he’s off! Racing through the hay bales!
Speeding down the homestretch!
To where flag-men await at the finish line! (Seriously– can’t you just feel the excitement?!) (That is not sarcasm…I love this photo.) (Okay, it may have been mildly sarcastic but it still stands that I love this photo.)
Then the lil’ race cars get towed back up the hill by the tractor. (I’m basically dying watching this… I mean…where in the city do you see this sort of thing??)
And seriously…why did I not do this as a kid??
See… She’s doing it. Representing the girls!! Go lil’ lady!
All the while the medic is standing by if necessary… Things could get seriously out of control here.
I mean, a Sluice Box Car may race by, completely out of control sending flag-men and shaded spectators running for cover!
But that didn’t happen. It was all smiles and sunshine at the Sluice Box Derby. (Especially for my friend’s son who consumed an entire bag of M&M’s before this picture was taken. Happy little camper.)
All in all, it was a good day in the mountains for me, my entourage, and the Salad Panda. And I didn’t even take home any animals from the petting zoo. (This little guy really wanted to come home with me.)
I climb into the back of my Dad’s beloved Jeepster, ready to set off on a 4-wheelin’ adventure. Hints of summer warmth still in the air, sunscreen on, ponytale in place.
Me: Dad, where’s my seat-belt?
Dad: Oh, there isn’t one back there.
Me: What if I fall out?? I could actually die from 4-wheelin’!!
Dad: [hands me a bottle of water] Well, at least you won’t die of thirst!
This was the beginning of our day-long journey to Iron Lakes (Cali). Dad driving, stepmom in the passenger seat (both with seat-belts) and me in the back. Per the Backcountry Adventures Northern California Guide, the trail has “moguls and moderately steep grades” and is touted as “steep and rocky.” Perfect terrain to travel without something strapping me into an open-aired Jeep.
Luckily, though there was definitely a bit of grab-seat-and-hold-on-for-dear-life (clearly I’m not very dramatic), I survived.
And enjoyed every single minute of it.
It was amazing to go, over the course of a week, from this (business trip to NYC):
To this:
It was much needed, this contrast. To go from Uptown to Small Town is what this blog is all about, and let me tell you, it saves me– if I didn’t have a small town to return home to, the uptown side of things would make me one wonky woman. (well, more so than I am now!)
So the big obstacle in NYC is people. Weaving in and out (which I’ve become quite an expert in…seriously…it’s the race-car driver’s daughter in me…), anticipating movements, passing, etc. The big obstacle en route to Iron Lakes was this. And his movements were not difficult to anticipate. (He stood still and stared.)
So with Dad at the wheel, away we went, up and over steep grades, and rocky moguls. Me with water in one hand and a camera in the other, it was one of those Good Days. The kind that makes one sit back (without a seat-belt) and appreciate life. And family. And nature. And adventure.
Left or right?
4x’ing!
Iron Lakes (one of them).
See all those crazy people rushing around? Me either!
Love these Swirly Roots.
And these rocks with so much color (iron!).
And I love Nature’s Graffiti.
And the texture that surrounds stillness.
And I love this giant magical tree.
And this magical swimming nook.
And my adventurous Stepmom who decided to step in and investigate a fish.
And I love seeing how much my dad love’s nature. He’s so in his element.
And I love my dad.
In honor of September 11th, my stepfather, a retired Marine, was asked to address my small hometown in Cali and speak at a remembrance ceremony. And across the country, I paid my respects here in NYC.
Having lived here (but just visiting on business at the moment), I always find it interesting how quiet this city can become when thoughts of 9/11 settle in, as if the collective consciousness becomes calmly introspective. Even the local news stations allow for silence on the air, followed by the lonely and haunting sounds of bagpipes which seem to play every year on the anniversary of that day.
It is hard to fathom, really. I suppose only a potent silence or a singular tune could really express what that day must have been like for so many.
But the respect people seem to have carried through is still expressed in small moments– as I was walking down the street, a firetruck was rounding the city block and a group of people, 4 or 5 grown men and women began clapping and one of them yelled out “Thank you!” in sort of a choked burst of emotion.
The honor here is palpable.
Now I wouldn’t consider myself a heavily religious person, but I have great fondness for the St. Paul Church near what is considered Ground Zero. This church was built in the 1760’s and has a history spanning from hosting George Washington’s inauguration to surviving the American Revolutionary War to surviving the attacks on September 11th. While buildings around it were destroyed in the collapse of the World Trade Center, this little church that could survived and became a place of refuge for rescuers and those rescued — while everything around it became chaotic debris, the church did not even have a broken window.
(photo by wallyg)
Inside of the chapel now stands a display of honor for those who’s lives ended or were altered forever by that day:
A chalice made from World Trade Center debris.
The boot of a rescue worker who gave his life.
Across this country, whether in a small town, uptown, or downtown, we come together in honoring all who were effected, all who are effected, and all who continue to serve our country and humanity on a whole.
Thank you.
I have big shoes to fill. My mom’s shoes that is. And while she is still wearing her (closet full of cute) shoes, she has decided to kick off her high heels and trade them in for fun shoes. My mother who has worked a strong and steady career since she graduated college, has retired.
Mom opening her Stiletto Martini Glass gift.
One of my mom’s best friends since college recently recounted the story of the day my mom chose her career. Apparently my mom burst in the door to the sorority house and said, “I know what I’m going to do with my life!”
Now, I don’t know about you people, but this sort of career purpose clarity seems pretty darn amazing.
And my mom has done exactly what she set out to do. She was a teacher at a school for severely handicapped children, she then became the principal, then a school superintendent (the only female school superintendent at that time!), then Director of Curriculum for nine schools (I think it was nine…). My mom has given so much of her life to helping to educate children. She has always, all ways, acted in the best interest of the students and cared with all of her heart.
She continued her own education and received her Doctorate degree, ran Special Olympics events, championed fine arts programs, kept ahead of technological advances to make sure her schools were provided available learning tools, etc., etc.
I would go on and on… but my mom doesn’t actually talk about herself all that much.
(Unlike me who has a blog to share stories.) (Well, to be fair she has a blog too but she’s not really one to talk about achievements.) (Neither am I for that matter, I suppose.) (Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.) (Sorry– please continue…)
Without further self-chatter interruption, I just want to say that I have an amazing mother and I aspire to give as she has given (and will continue to give… though not through a 9-5 capacity).
Cheers to “Freedom!” (We decided “retirement” seemed like an antiquated term.) Congrats, Mama Bella. I love you beyond measure.
xo
Moi
Commutes in cities can be rather ridiculous at times. When I lived in Atlanta, my commute was about 10 miles and it took 45 mins. Each way.
When I lived in New York, I’d zip up the puffy North Face jacket and walk to work through well below freezing temperatures just to avoid squeezing into a subway car with other people and their puffy jackets, dripping umbrellas, and scowling faces. Of course one time I decided to take the subway and was completely smooshed in (and it was one of those that packed-so-tightly-that-no-one-needs-to-actually-hold-on-as-we-zoom-through-the-underground-tunnels-because-we’re-so-close-to-our-”neighbors,”-we-hold-one-another-upright sort of packed) and the guy I was pressed into turned around.
Then he looked down at me.
Then he said: Oh…hi…
I laughed and said hi back to my suited-up colleague from the office.
Now keep in mind that our faces were about three inches apart. He looked….horrified. Which made it even funnier to me. And, how does one make small talk with a work acquaintance while their bodies are unnaturally pressed into one another by the surrounding people and their puffy jackets (because silence is even more awkward)?
Well, for our 10 minute ride into the Time Warner Center he talked all about his wife. He told me about where she was raised, her job, her likes, dislikes, how they met, etc., etc. Then we got to our stop, squeezed and ’scuse me’d our way out of the subway and said a brief “see-ya” when we arrived on the 21st floor and went about our days. (Me with heaping doses of new-found factoids about his wife. I guess it’s nice to know that while uncomfortably pressed up against a female colleague, he speaks at a very constant sort of pace about his wife.)
(My office was in that set of towers… the one on the left. Image by New Yorkled.)
(Another interesting image of the Time Warner Center by Tony Shi, NY-NJ)
Anyway, back to my point (I’m pretty sure I had one). I say all this to say: commutes can be just… odd. My current commute in San Francisco takes me through Chinatown. And, while it’s definitely not comparable to packing one’s self into the subway in NY, it has it’s packed-into-a-bus-with-pink-market-bags-that-smell-like-fish sort of thing going for it. Which is not really all that enjoyable.
Photo by ifotog
Yesterday I stood from my seat on the bus and let an elderly Asian woman sit down. And apparently this small act garnered me a temporary membership card into the seemingly tight-knit, tightly packed community of sorts. When another seat opened up, she tapped me on my leg and tried to scurry me with her hand to the seat before anyone else could take it. And it was not only her doing this, an older Asian man and another Asian woman were also pointing at the seat, telling me to take it in an excited, hurried, half Chinese/half English language.
And I couldn’t not take the seat at this point because I might lose my membership card.
So I sat. And after settling my bag on my lap, I looked up and all three of these people, in different locations on the bus, were smiling at me. Like they’d accomplished helping one of their (temporary) own. They looked almost proud.
And it made me proud. (I’m not sure if this is a sign that I’m a good person or that I’ve reached a point of work-exhaustion/delirium. Could be either.)
So while city commutes can be fairly un-fun (puffy jacket/subway), sometimes we’re lucky enough to have little small town moments that make one smile. Well, at least they make me smile. (Even if it is a delirious/exhausted one.)
