Category: Drew

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Awesome Being a girl Drew Love Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment Travel

Love locked

My parents recently went on a trip to Italy and Spain. When they returned, they posted hundreds of pictures on Facebook, which I dutifully scrolled through last week, liking some so that they would know I had looked at them. One of the pictures they posted was this one, from Borghetto:

1425434_10200961380618306_2123677357_o

I have a vague memory of hearing about this phenomenon before, but thank goodness my uncle posted a link to the Love Lock wiki page, so I could refresh my memory. You write your names on a lock, fasten it on a fence, and then pitch the key into the river – because your love will never be undone. (It’s a little cheesy, but I think that kind of stuff works in Europe and in the Napa Valley.)

Thank goodness my uncle also posted a comment that there is a love lock bridge in Napa, just a quick trip north of here. Which set my mind to working…

Today is Drew’s and my fourth wedding anniversary. We didn’t make any plans to go out tonight. (I mean, Survivor is on.) (Also, we have this baby.) But over the last couple weeks, I’ve been tyring to think of something cool we could do together to celebrate.

I figured Napa would be a good day trip – we could get brunch, seal our love with a $6 padlock from Ace Hardware, and we could even take B with us. So on Sunday morning, we packed up plenty of baby accoutrements, stopped by the hardware store for a lock, and drove up to Napa.

When we found the restaurant I had randomly picked from Yelp, we saw the long line outside and drove on by. But we were in downtown Napa (I guess?) and so we just parked and walked around. We found a place that wasn’t crowded, and had plenty of outdoor seating, with a view of Napa Creek. After brunch, we walked the half mile to the Napa Valley Wine Train, where the bridge is located.

There wasn’t much call for ceremony, so I snapped the lock on and we took a couple pictures. We debated throwing the keys away, but in the end kept them as a keepsake. I like keepsakes. Then we walked back to the car, stopping on the way for milkshakes.

love lock

(It was pretty bright out.)

It was a fun trip. I’m glad we did it. I’m glad that my uncle posted all those comments (thanks, Uncle Pastor!), and that my parents uploaded 336 pictures of their trip, and that I took the time to look through them because I thought that’s what a good daughter would do.

Four years. We’ve now officially been married longer than we were just boyfriend-and-girlfriend (not counting the 9 1/2 months that we were engaged). That’s nice.

I take him for granted, sometimes. This has been a pretty emotional year, full of ups and downs (although even the downs have their silver linings). I think the roller coaster nature of this last year has shown me how strong our relationship is, which is good to know. I’ve heard that the first year of marriage, and the first year of parenthood, are two years that test relationships. So far we’re getting an A+.

Happy fruit-and-flowers anniversary! Four more years! Four more years!

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Awesome Baby Beauty Being a girl cars Children Dreams Drew Family Fashion Food Humor Love Memoir Nonfiction Religion Sentiment Travel

A 1-year-old is an unreliable wedding guest

A couple weeks ago, we took B to a wedding. A francy wedding.

(I meant fancy, but I accidentally typed francy, and I immediately fell in love with that new word I just created.)

This francy wedding took place at St. Dominic’s Catholic Church in San Francisco. Drew and I were a little nervous about the whole day, for the following reasons:

a. wedding of a medium-close family member who might not be forgiving of 1-year-old antics;
b. ceremony at 3pm, reception at 6pm across the city;
c. our particular 1-year-old doesn’t always behave well in francy situations;
d. also we have to dress up

As a bonus thing to worry about, our car situation meant we were taking my parents’ bug, which is stick, so I had to drive.

We left plenty of time to get ready, get everything in the car, and get to SF. We got there about 10 minutes before 3:00, which was perfect. We parked right outside the church, which was perfect. I hopped into the backseat to pull B out of his carseat…and was greeted by an absolutely remarkable smell.

We opened the trunk (do you realize how small a VW bug trunk is??) and laid him down in it, button down shirt and all, to change his diaper. It wasn’t until I had the diaper half off, and Drew was digging through the diaper bag looking for the wipes, that I remembered I had used up the last wipe and forgotten to put a new package in. There were some exclamations of dismay. I mean, we were on the side of the road, outside a francy church, dressed in our best, trying to change our squirmy child in a trunk, and we had no wipes.

Luckily we had pacifier wipes, so we survived.

We got everything put together and went inside. The church was beautiful. We sat down in the back row, on the outside aisle, ignoring the waves from Drew’s family to come up and sit with them. Through a mixture of mouthing and mime, he told them, “Our kid is going to lose it so we need to be able to slip out quickly.”

We were sitting down for about 4 minutes, and the family members were being escorted in, when B opened his mouth and let out a “Aawwwk?” And then his eyes got big and he looked around, as he realized what a great echo there was in here. I jumped up and tried to jiggle him to keep him occupied, but once he started squawking, there was no turning around. We saw the bride come in, and then I ended up taking him out to the narthex, where we walked back and forth for the entirety of the service. Sometimes we went outside.

But B was smack in the middle of wanting to walk everywhere but needing to hold hands, so I spent an hour alternating between being kind of hunched over, and tossing his 25 pounds into the air to make him laugh.

After the service, we had all this time to kill, and we thought if we drove around he might take a nap in the car seat. Well, we were wrong. So we drove all around San Francisco, went up to Twin Peaks and got gas, and got caught in the worst ever traffic on the way downtown to the financial district, where the reception was.

Despite being the most anxious about the reception, it was actually really lovely. As soon as we got to the table, one of the waitstaff came over and said, “Do you want a high chair?” and Drew and I were both like, “YOU HAVE HIGH CHAIRS??” Also, the first toast of the evening was by the bride’s father, and rather than being champagne, it was a tequila shot with cinnamon and orange. So good. B lasted for a really long time before he started melting down (like 9pm – like 2 hours after his usual bedtime) – although right at the moment when we decided it was time to get him out, they started other toasts, and then one of the bridesmaids gave like a 15-minute toast and were trapped on the side of the room opposite the door.

Anyway. B’s first wedding, and it was francy, and it was inside a Catholic church, and it was late at night. And he did great!

francy2
Blurry backwards camera!
Categories
cars Drew Humor Memoir Nonfiction Self improvement Writing

Under pressure

We have a new car.

I can see how car shopping might be fun, if you’ve got the luxury of time to look around, and you’re not planning the whole time about how you’re going to afford it, and you don’t have to go do test drives on your lunch breaks.

We looked around a bit in the evenings, but we always had to take B with us, and I’ll be straight with you: he can be kind of a drag sometimes. Like when you’re just trying to stand there under the stadium lights and see how many miles this Jetta has on it, and he’s shrieking because riding around in the umbrella stroller is no fun. Not to mention, you can’t test drive anything together because someone has to hang out with the kid and try to make car shopping fun.

We went on our lunch breaks a couple times, but those car salesmen (they’re always men) really drag things out, and you can really only look at one or two cars before you both have to get back to work before someone notices you’re missing.

We were under a lot of pressure to get a car purchased, because for the last 3 weeks I’d been driving my parents’ lime green VW Beetle, which was a lucky break. They just happened to be flying to Italy for the month of October, and planning to leave their car parked at our place anyway, a couple days after my old car (which I got last September) had some kind of crazy electrical malfunction, and burned mostly to a crisp.

(Yup.)

(I’m okay.)

So. My parents’ vacation was nearing its end, and they were flying back to SFO on Monday, so we knew we needed to get this thing under control. So last Friday afternoon, Drew and B and I went to a new (used) car lot, one we hadn’t yet visited, to poke around. Almost immediately we spotted a new-looking gold 2008 Elantra…whose major selling point was the 22,000 miles on the odometer. I’ve never had a car with that few miles. I didn’t even know they could have that few miles. Don’t even new cars get that much just from the factory?

So we both test drove it (separately), then we dickered a bit with the salesman (who was super nice), then we said we needed to go talk about it and come back that evening. We walked back to the Beetle in a turmoil of emotions, and then stood there for a few minutes discussing it. We ended up turning around, marching back inside, and buying the car.

It’s going great so far and I think we made the right decision. Someone else would’ve snapped that thing up if we hadn’t.

Last Wednesday (five days later), on my way to work, I noticed that there was a light on on the dashboard. It wasn’t a light that I recognized, and I spent every traffic light flipping through the manual, trying to place it. Finally I found it: low tire pressure. When I got to work, the tires all looked good, but I was (am) still very cautious about this car, so on my lunch break I drove to Arco.

I thought the optimum PSI was printed on the tires but I couldn’t find it anywhere, so I just made sure they were all about 32, which I thought sounded right. The air kicked off, so I got back in the car and started it – the light was still on. I googled “optimum tire pressure for a 2008 Elantra” and some anonymous person somewhere said it was 38. Okay. So I went back inside, asked the woman behind the counter to turn the air back on, and I filled the tires all to 38.

By this time, a girl had pulled up behind me and was waiting for the air. I finished up and she approached me and said she hadn’t done this before, so I kind of walked her through what she needed to do, feeling very good about myself and all my Car Skillz.

Then I got back in the car, started the engine – and the light was still on.

Drew had texted me, so I called him and told him about the light, and as I was saying, “Maybe your dad needs to take a look at it–” the low tire pressure light TURNED OFF! I started cheering for myself. (For some strange reason, he didn’t join in.)

Listen: it’s rare that I can
a) identify something is wrong with the car;
b) put my finger on exactly what that thing is; and
c) fix it by myself.

This calls for, like, a victory dance or something.

Which I did, in the front seat of the car, all the way back to work.

You gotta celebrate the little things sometimes.

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Baby Children Drew Holidays Love Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment Theatre Work Writing

Happy Halloween 2013!

So much to catch up on! So many blog posts behind!

First things first: I’ve been doing all the Halloween things possible. This includes reading Stephen King’s new book, Doctor Sleep, which I am loving so far; seeing Carrie the Musical at Ray of Light Theatre in SF, which was fun and campy and had some great effects; and carving a pumpkin for our office Halloween party pumpkin carving contest. (I threw together a very last-minute mime costume for the party.)

Also, I made B a dragon costume.

Halloween collageI realized about last weekend that he didn’t really have anywhere to wear it, so I decided I should take him to work. I picked him up from his grandparents for the party, and then he hung out with me at my desk for the rest of the afternoon. He did a really great job actually. I put up boxes in front of my cubicle, put down a blanket and a bunch of toys and books, and let him crawl around for awhile.

Also: I’m pretty sure today (at work) was the first time I saw him drink from a bottle while sitting up, and just tipping the bottle up (we usually have to recline him a little bit. Also, he’s been chomping at the bit to really break out and start walking, and today he went crazy at work, running all over the place by himself. So I think it’s official: we’ve got a toddler.

It’s so freaking cute. I wonder if he’s been kind of testy lately because he’s been on the verge of breaking into a glorious new skill? Let’s hope so.

My other project has been a costume for myself – not for Halloween but for a work event I have on Saturday, that happens to be a costume party. I think I’m going to do a dia de los muertos thing (although now I’m seeing stuff all over Facebook about how that’s just appropriation of an actual holiday, and it’s offensive, so oops). I still have a couple other things to put together for the costume but I’m sure it’ll be done by Saturday. And I’ll be happy to have it all behind me.

My other, non-Halloween-related, project is the Bench Project 3, which is a night of short plays taking place in San Jose, and mine is one of them. We are teching on Sunday morning (after my sure-to-be late Saturday night) and then going up on Monday night. I am excited, but this is also another weekend that makes me tired just anticipating it.

Happy Halloween!

 

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Awesome Beginnings Being a girl Drew Friends Games Humor Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment

Throwback Thursday: Memoir

I pulled this gem off my old LiveJournal. I’m actually surprised (but very grateful) that I still remember the password.

This is from August 5, 2005. I’m really working hard to restrain from editing. (Oh, and as far as I can tell, the title means nothing but was probably the angstiest word in the song I was listening to at that exact moment.) Enjoy!

==

COLLAPSE

I have been at UC Davis for three years, and the number of things that I have exclaimed “Yes, let’s do that!” and then never done is astounding. Here is a brief list of examples:

1. Run through the maize maze (Woodland?) in the fall.
2. Gone, with any sort of regularity, to the Farmer’s Market. (And “But it’s SATURDAY MORNING” is no longer an excuse, as they have Wednesday evening FMs for which I know I am awake.)
3. Mini-golfing…Scandia…Sacramento…wherever.
4. The Davis Public Library: If I’m missin The Babysitters Club, they’re only a couple blocks away.
5. The MU Games Area.

Until tonight.

A bunch of us went to go bowling. It’s cheap, it’s accessible, it’s fun, it’s not too athletic (heaven forbid we do something cardio), and we all claimed to be bad at it. (Which was a huge lie, be careful of Drew, he will try to hustle you, but he’s bad at hustling.)

As far as I can see, bowling is bowling (*unless it’s $1.35/game and $.85/shoes*) and I thought it was all going to be very…familiar. Bowling. Ugly shoes and socks with shorts (what else could possibly be hotter?), and people watching your back, golf clapping for you whenever you turn back around but secretly chanting “gutter ball!” to themselves.

HOWEVER, UC Davis, well-known for several things, cows and a ginormous library being not the least of them, also features a “Rockin’ Bowl” to put all other “Rockin’ Bowl”s to shame.*

*Note: Writer has never actually been to any Rockin’ Bowls, nor does she know whether the term is “Rockin’ Bowl” or “Rock & Bowl,” but frankly, neither does she particularly care, and if you are still reading this, maybe you should just marry editing if you love it so much.*

So it seems to me that “Rockin’ Bowl” is made up of 4 main components. I will go through these for anyone who is unlucky enough to have never experienced the majesty.

#1. The music. Already loud when you walk in, and louder when you descend into the bowling pit, I mean area, it is turned up by a kid who can’t be older than 18 who tight-rope-walks down someone’s gutter to crank up the volume on the speakers sitting mid-lane. The number of times this exchange occurred is more than I want to remember:

*something unimportant*
“What?”
*repeat something unimportant*
“What?”
*repeat something unimportant, again, and louder, and also in a slightly embarrassed tone*
“What?”
“Never mind, it wasn’t that funny.”
“WHAT?”
“NEVER MIND!”

Then both parties would pretend to have heard the other, and that bit of conversation would be over.

Oh the glory.

#2. The music videos. Four large projection screens plummet from the heavens, and for the next…I don’t know how long it lasts. From then on, music videos are played on these screens. Music videos for songs whose names I only vaguely recognize. Music videos that are not nearly as clever as Britney Spears’ “Lucky” or Blues Traveler’s “Run-Around.” Music videos with angsty-looking men whose voices remind me sort of Phish, except I’m not thinking of these men as fondly as I think of Phish.

If I wanted to watch music videos, I would have been sitting at home whining about not having MTV. Or I would be going to Erin’s gym to “work out” and watch TV. It would not have occurred to me to go to Rockin’ Bowl at the UCDMU Games Area.

#3. The lights. Strobe and disco, namely. As soon as the fluorescents dimmed and the colored lights began to spin and I began to think about maybe getting a headache, I was also transferred immediately back in time to high school dances. (Probably more middle school, honestly, because in high school I went to 1 dance that was not a prom or formal (neither of which seemed to feature strobe lights to the degree of your everyday school dance), and I left that 1 dance pretty early.) So, middle school dances. So why was my impulse, on the strobe lights, to make out with someone? I was definitely not doing that in middle school.

Hold up, I wasn’t doing that in high school, either.

#4 and finally. The fog. I didn’t notice it for awhile (or maybe it didn’t get going until a little bit after the lights, etc., made their appearance on the scene), but once I did, I was transported to the backstage area of the Mondavi Center, kneeling on the ground, with my head in the Coke machine, filling it with fog so that the guy who played Eddie could trip over me to get in it before all the fog drifted out and we missed his entrance.

It’s funny that I “hated” Rocky Horror so much while it was going on, but now I can totally look back fondly and think “Awwww. Backstage at Mondavi, dressed up with Katie and Tyler and Eric. How cute. And foggy.”

So while, for a minute or two, I was thinking to myself, “Man, I suck at bowling…good thing I’m good at mini-golf,” I spent some time post-our-game checking out the other people playing, and I realized that most people are not that good. Except for this one girl who got three strikes in a row, I saw on her screen. There was a little cartoon of bowling-pin Caesar in a chariot. But I digress. I don’t think that the UC Davis Memorial Union Games Area is the place to be super-concerned about your bowling skillz. (I am, frankly, more worried about my inability to write “skills” instead of “skillz.”)

So all in all, I guess I learned a good lesson tonight.

And that lesson is, remember to bring socks so I don’t have to wear socks that I find in the backseat of the car, socks that dump sand everywhere when I turn them right-side-out.

Oh, and I also learned not to stress about my bowling abilities.

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Baby Being a girl Drew Family Love Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment

Happy 1st Father’s Day!

When I was pregnant, Drew and I did not find out the sex of our baby – we wanted to wait. But for some reason, during those 9 months, we both had a strong intuition that it would be a girl. Which means no one was more surprised than we when B was born and Drew announced, more astonished than ebullient, “It’s a BOY.”

B was born just after midnight, which means that aside from being tired from the hours of labor, we were also dealing with it being the middle of the night. And B, like probably most newborns who have just been shoved unceremoniously into the world, would not stop crying. Since I was sort of stuck in bed, at least for a little while, Drew took up the task of walking ceaselessly around, shhhhing and soothing. This was the beginning of the rocking/swinging dance that, for awhile, was sometimes the only way to put B to sleep.

He immediately started calling B “Buddy,” which at the time, I found baffling. Where did this “buddy” thing come from? Who actually says that, outside of old TV shows? When did we decide that was going to be a nickname? But then it just stuck. And while I say it occasionally, I still think of it as a father’s nickname for his son – something he’ll call B when they’re out fishing or playing catch or camping in the backyard or something. You know, guy stuff.

For the record, I’m sure that Drew would be an amazing dad even if our first baby was a girl. But I’ve become obsessed with watching this father-son relationship develop. I love watching my two boys together. I hope that B realizes how lucky he is to have such a great dad, and I hope he grows up to be an equally incredible friend and partner. He’s got some big shoes to fill, but he’s got the right role model to help him grow into them.

Happy Father’s Day!

husband

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Awesome Dreams Drew Humor Sleep talking

Sleep Talking 27 (but really 28 because I just realized I have two 25s)

Drew: Get a piece of wood from a tree…that’s made into a werewolf. Then…

(long pause)

Me: Then what?

Drew: Tear it.

Me: And that’s it?

Drew: Yeah.

Me: Okay.

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Books Dreams Drew Food Humor Sleep talking

Sleep Talking 26

We’ve had a couple late nights and a couple of super early mornings, so is it any wonder that we’re both a little out of it lately? But I’ve been having a hard time actually shutting down and falling asleep at night (the upstairs neighbors vacuuming from 10:15-11:30 probably didn’t help) and so I decided to read a chapter or two from my book club book to unwind. When I finished, Drew (who had fallen asleep 10 minutes prior) asked me,

“Do you like your book?”

“It’s wonderful,” I said.

“How did you like the strawberries?”

“The strawberries?”

“How did you like the fruit thing?”

“The fruit…thing?”

“How’d you like what you had for lunch today?”

“It was good. Why did you ask me that?”

“I dunno. My train of thought.”

I can only assume he was thinking (dreaming?) about Jocelyn and Kevin’s wedding shower, where we ate strawberries and fruit salad, and although it was dinner, it was like 6pm and outdoors in the sun, so I can see how he confused it for lunch.

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"Other people" Dollars Drew Friends Games Humor Memoir Not awesome

Do not pass Go

Last night, Travis, Haley, and Erin came over for dinner, and what inevitably turned into games. We played Pixar Monopoly because Drew loves Monopoly and no one ever wants to play.

I think Monopoly gets a bad rap – my initial impression of it is that the game goes on forever. (Other first impressions – Risk: people lie and get mad at each other. Clue: it’s way too easy for adults to play. Dominoes: despite playing this game all the time as a kid, I have no idea what the actual rules are.) I’ve played Monopoly with Drew one other time and he’s weirdly good at it.

pixar monopolyI tried to start strong, but I made an entire pass around the board without landing on any property to buy. On subsequent passes, I tried to collect property and save money. I got into a bidding war with Erin on Travis’ property, in the hopes that it might make her run out of money. There was a moment when Erin, Haley, and I formed an alliance to get each of us a monopoly, and I really thought that might be a turning point in the game.

But alas, I was the first one to run out of money and then property, while Drew just built traffic cones (houses) and Al’s Toy Barns (hotels) on everything ever. Erin was out next, then Travis folded, and then there were a couple more turns that were basically Haley handing over everything she owned to Drew. And, for the record, the game didn’t feel that long – when we checked the clock we were all surprised that it had lasted around 2 1/2 hours.

I guess I’m not surprised I was the first one out. I’ve never been that great at Monopoly. I keep thinking I should be better at it. I get the strategy. I just don’t execute it well. Or I don’t have good luck. But as I watched my money go – the 500s, the 100s, the 50s, the 20s – it just stung a little bit, you know? It’s just a game, except that in Real Life I also don’t own any property or have a ton of money. And just in like in the game, it’s difficult to tell where I went wrong.

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Dollars Drew Humor Self improvement TV Writing

Playing the Game: Survivor

Survivor is practically an American pastime. In its heyday, it was consistently one of the highest-ranked shows on television, and I’m not trying to imply that its heyday is over. It’s the first reality competition. People are obsessed with this show. And yet for some reason, I just watched my first season.

Drew has always loved Survivor, but I hadn’t gotten around to watching it until about a week ago. We sat down to watch Season 25: Philippines (last season) and I was HOOKED. I would have been happy staying up all night watching episode after episode, if not for knowing that that little alarm clock, in the form of our 7-month-old son, would be going off the next morning at 6:45. After getting through Season 25 in about a week, we started watching Season 26, which is currently airing on CBS, and I look forward to watching it along with America every week.

The best thing about Survivor is the strategy. Sometimes you’ll get an episode where everyone can just be blatantly honest with each other about who they’re voting off, and it doesn’t matter because of the numbers. But usually, it’s all trickery and deception and bargaining, and I find that I can never guess who’s going home because it’s just all up in the air until the moment everyone votes. Amazing.

But there are some people who try to play “an honest game.” And I understand that being able to stand up at the end and say, “I didn’t lie to anyone,” is probably a good card to play. But in general, I cheer for the people who lie at every turn and manage to blindside other people – the ones who are really “playing the game,” as they always say.

Which makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with my moral compass. Shouldn’t I be rooting for the person who doesn’t lie, who doesn’t backstab, and who tries to keep up morale? But as you might have noticed, that just doesn’t make for good TV.

But in my Real Life, I think I’m a pretty moral person. My knee jerk reaction when someone gives me too much change is to be honest. One time a bank gave me an extra $5 bill and I gave it back. When I was in high school, and trying out rebellion, I once stole a small Mead notebook from a very well-known chain store. I think I just wanted to know that I could do it. The next day, I snuck it back in to the store, and then purchased it. I mean, I’d already written in it, or else I might have just stuck it back on the shelf.

No matter how much I cheer for the person who straight-faced lies into another person’s face on TV, I don’t want to see that in Real Life. It’s only fun when it’s all a game…with a million dollars on the line. I want to be able to trust the people around me, and I want them to feel like they can trust me back. I want to teach my son that he can trust his parents, and I hope that we’ll be able to trust him. I think the reason I enjoyed my childhood and adolescence so much is that my parents were able to trust me and give me some freedom.

I do, however, understand the need to occasionally push boundaries, perhaps in the form of stealing something small, and then un-stealing it to pay for it. That, I think, is a good balance of rebellious and nerdy.