family – Live Now and Zen

You Oughta Go To Granada

by MeMarch 30, 20232 Comments

In mid-January, I seized upon an opportunity to plan a quick spring break trip to Spain with my son. With two months to prepare, I cashed in my United reward miles and booked hotels, train trips, and tours. Then I began the arduous task of determining how to fit 9-days worth of clothing into a backpack, and I learned packing for a trip is the quickest way to figure out you hate all your clothes. Still, I made it work. The bag was not light and I am not the fittest, but I was going to Spain and I could suffer for 9 days. As it turns out, I didn’t suffer much.

Our first stop was Granada, a city of about 115k people in the Andalucía region of Spain, where Joe planned to spend as much time as possible with his girlfriend who is studying there this semester. I planned to take some tours and relax. The one thing Joe and I had scheduled to do together in Granada was tour the Alhambra, the most visited site in Spain and a masterpiece of Muslim art in Europe. This is where things went awry on our very first day. Not a good sign. I had a tour booked for us, but when we got to the meeting place there were so many other groups of tourists we could not find our specific group. There were no signs to aid us in our search, so Joe wandered from group to group asking if we belonged there. But the guides kept pointing us in different directions toward other groups. In the end, by the time the tours had begun, no one had claimed us. That was strike one. Undeterred, I went to the ticket window figuring at least we could do our own viewing, and I purchased two tickets. Sadly, they were not the right tickets, as tickets to the palaces we most wanted to see were sold out. I didn’t catch that with my measly Spanish. That was strike two. Joe was devastated. He tried not to be too upset and to play positive because he knew how miserable I felt for twice messing up the the ONE thing he wanted to do. Still, he was visibly disappointed, and I was disconsolate for failing my son. We did the sightseeing we could at the Generalife (the gardens and vacation home for the inhabitants of the palace) and the Alcazaba (the fortress that is the symbol of the Alhambra complex) and went our separate ways for the evening.

I lost it as soon as I got to the rental flat and cried for a while. Then I did what I always do. I got determined to find a way to make it happen. Searching online for at least an hour, I discovered there were zero tickets available for the Nasrid palaces for the next few days, either from the site itself or as part of any regular tour with any tour company I could find. Then, finally, some light crept in. Around 9 pm, I discovered there might be a possible opportunity via a private tour. It was not inexpensive, and after my two previous ticket foibles I had already exhausted too much money in this quest. But it made zero sense to have traveled all the way to Spain not to see the one site Joe, a religion and middle east studies major, most wanted to see. So, I booked it.

Turns out it was the best money I have spent in a long time. Our tour guide, Isa, was a delight. She’s an architect who literally grew up at the Alhambra because her mother, also an architect, had worked on restoring the site when Isa was a young girl. We couldn’t have lucked into a better situation. While we toured, Isa told us the history of the location, pointed out small details she knew about that others might not, and spoke Spanish with Joe’s girlfriend who wanted the practice. We spent three hours touring with Isa, talking with her about the site and about Granada, and we learned so much more than we ever would have learned in a 25-person tour. But my biggest takeaway from the series of events in those 24 hours is that sometimes when the lights fade on your vision in one way, they illuminate elsewhere and lead you to much better opportunities you might never have encountered otherwise. And yes, the third time’s a charm.

The Nasrid Palaces, built between 1238 and 1492, are awe inspiring. Although my photos miss much of what you see in person, let me use them demonstrate the beauty of the architecture and design.

Most of the color on the walls has faded with time, but if you look carefully you can see remnants of what once was there. Can you imagine how beautiful the interiors here were seven hundred years ago? You were meant to feel small here, humbled by the wealth and power of the Nasrid dynasty. I wish I could have spent days wandering and taking it all in but, alas, all good tours must come to an end. And so we said goodbye to Isa, and I went back to the flat feeling so much better than I had the night before.

Once solo, I toured the Granada Cathedral. I love visiting cathedrals. Some are so ornate and overwhelming they border on gaudy, but the Granada Cathedral is gorgeous. The first part of the church, built by Queen Isabella after the Reconquista in 1492, was completed in Gothic style and is now the Royal Chapel. This is where King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel are interred. We viewed their simple caskets on display underneath the chapel floor. The cathedral was built later in Spanish Renaissance style. If you want to feel small and insignificant, step inside a building meant to portray the greatness of God.

I also toured the Albaicín and Sacromonte areas of the city. These sections are located across the Darro River on the hillside opposite of the Alhambra. The Albaicín settlement is where the original palace workers lived back in the day after they were forced into conversion by Ferdinand and Isabella. In the Sacromonte neighborhood, Roma people (called gypsies) settled into cave houses built into the hills. You could spend days wandering the narrow, often car free, streets here. Joe and I visited the courtyard of the St. Nicolas church, located on a hill directly opposite the Alhambra, multiple times at differing hours of the day to take photos. One morning, Joe pulled out a flag he had brought from home, the Andalucían one his brother bought for him in Granada four years ago, and asked to be photographed with it. He usually only buys flags from places he has been, and prior to our trip he said he felt like a fraud for having this flag. At last, he could legitimately claim ownership for it.

I like to try new things. On this trip, I determined that would be taking a Segway for a spin. There was a tour of the Albaicín and Sacromonte offered via Segway. Joe did not want to participate, so I went with seven people I just met at the tour office. Operating a Segway is fairly straight forward with some practice. I had about 1 minute to practice before we took off. I didn’t feel fully confident, but everyone else in the tour had already ridden one and I was holding up the group.

As I previously mentioned several times, this area of Granada is hilly. Some of these hills are rather steep. With my uninformed mind, I imagined this would make the Segway an ideal mode to get around. At least I would not struggle. That was a miscalculation for a first-time rider. When I booked the trip, I didn’t understand just how narrow, windy, and treacherous these hills were in places. At our first steep incline, the tour leader dismounted and said he personally would coach each one of us up and over the first curve in the hill. Yikes. I could go into gory details about how the rest of this tour went for me but, suffice it to say, the next time I book Segway tour, I will make sure it is in a flat area so I don’t endanger anyone else. I enjoyed the experience, but I’m not so sure the tour leaders and the woman from England who fell off her ride when she ran into cautious me on my slow-going machine felt the same about their trip .

Of the places we toured on our brief sojourn in Spain, Granada was at the top of our list. It’s small, easily walkable, and beautiful with its position at the foot of the Sierra Nevadas. I will definitely return. Next time, I will bring my husband. And I will know the correct way to visit the Alhambra so we only have to pay for our visit one time.

Bringing New Life To An Empty Nest

by MeSeptember 12, 20224 Comments

I fell off the blog wagon this summer, partially due to life (son’s graduation, travel, house maintenance, family priorities) and partially due to feeling too emotionally scattered to write. I never run out of opinions to share, but I do run out of energy to deal with the jumble of unrelated thoughts in my head. Overwhelm. That is what does me in. To write, you need mental space and time with your thoughts. And because it was such an emotional summer for me as I careened towards the empty nest my husband and I now inhabit, I checked out. Focusing too long on the grief in my heart was not where I wanted to be, nor where I felt I should be as my youngest embarked on his exciting new adventure. I kept telling myself I would break down and navigate the tangled web emotions I was cycling through in background mode in due time. I suspect that time is coming soon.

What happens when you have too much time and a label maker

In the meantime, though, I have been celebrating the good. Our sons are moved in at school, settled into their study routines, and making the most of their college experiences. Thing Two’s transition has been seamless. I don’t think he missed one orientation workshop or opportunity to make new friends. Thing One has been reunited with his college sweetheart, and all is well in his world too. A thousand miles away, we are finding empty nest life kind of refreshing, honestly. Sure. It’s quiet at home, except for the barking of our sporty dogs, but we’re finding ways to distract ourselves. We’ve begun the digging out from underneath the clutter that accumulates when you spend 21 years putting your nuclear family ahead of everything else. We’ve also been meeting up with friends for long-overdue dinners and trying new things, like pickleball. We have relished peaceful nights picking shows we want to watch and enjoying them with a glass of wine and a couple chocolate truffles. So, all things considered, we’re settling into this new phase of life, to quote Larry David, pretty, pretty, pretty good.

With all the newly regained downtime, though, I’ve been doing some reflecting. Our satisfaction with our journey in this life comes down this: we make choices, and our ability to negotiate our expectations about those choices versus the reality those choices bring determines our general level of satisfaction. We chose to have children. The expectation was , if all went well, they would eventually move on to create their own lives, make their own choices, and navigate their own expectations. That has come to fruition, and we are grateful for it. In the aftermath of their departure for their own adventures, Steve and I have new choices to make. What do we want our lives to look like now? What will we choose to prioritize going forward? Yes. There is some grief in giving your children to the world, but there is joy there too. The most important thing I can do is recognize my choice in this moment. I can choose to feel superfluous now that I’ve retired from 21 years as a full-time parent or I can choose to find my next adventure. I can wallow in the vastness an empty and clean house or I can find something new to occupy the space left in the boys’ absence.

To that end, may I introduce Puppy-To-Be-Named-Later, scheduled for a late October arrival.

Life is full of decisions. There will be plenty of time to imagine my next career move later. For now, though, I will fill our empty nest with puppy breath, tiny barks, and dog hair and I will occupy myself with frequent walks, potty training, and breaking up raucous scuffles. It might just end up feeling like the old days, when our sons were young and needed me, all over again.

Touring The Roman Forum, The Colosseum, And The Vatican Museums

by MeJune 22, 2022Leave a comment

For our first, and admittedly only, full day in Rome, I booked us a couple tours so we wouldn’t miss must-see attractions. We all wanted to see the Colosseum and the boys were adamant about going to the Vatican. After grabbing to-go doppio espresso shots and a couple cornetti from a store helmed by the friendliest shop manager ever, we walked towards our tour meeting place near the Roman Forum.

Again, I have to admit that I remember next to nothing from my time studying ancient Rome in college. In my defense, when I studied ancient Rome, it was through the Classics department where I spent my time reading Livy and Virgil in Latin. I wasn’t mapping the Forum Romanum. So I was happy to have an actual Roman tour guide lead us through the ruins, some of which date back to 42 BC. The Forum was a gathering place. It began as a marketplace and over time morphed into much more, serving as central location for public elections, speeches, trials, and religious ceremonies, as well as business dealings. The Forum, the heart and soul of early Rome, expanded in size over time to nearly 5 acres. Walking among the ruins was awe-inspiring. Seeing the Arch of Titus, the inspiration for the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, was pretty cool too. The the view from Palatine Hill was worth the trek up there in the 90+ degree heat.

I think the least notable part of the Forum tour was the Temple of Divus Julius, the final resting place of Julius Caesar. I mean, I don’t know what I expected after 2,000 years, but the dull mound doesn’t exactly rival the Pyramids of Giza. I guess, in the end, it really doesn’t matter how important you are because you will end up a pile of ash just like everyone and everything else. And how many people of Julius Caesar’s importance or notoriety have there been among the multitudes of people since the dawn of upright humanity? Not many. Even the most notable of us today will be forgotten soon enough. It’s a good reminder not to take life too seriously.

After the Forum, we walked to the Colosseum to see what that was all about. Our Italian tour guide was brilliant. She was extremely knowledgable. I was happy that Luke spoke up and answered questions she asked. When she told him he should read SPQR by Mary Beard and he told her he already had, she was visibly impressed. At any rate, stepping foot inside the Colosseum was an experience. You can’t imagine the size and scope of it until you are there. It’s massive. There were elevators underneath the floor, operated by slaves, of course. Pretty cool way to make a wild animal appear on the Colosseum floor back in the day, I bet. The engineering was crazy. The tour guide debunked some of the myths about the gladiators, mainly that they weren’t exactly hardbodied like Russell Crowe in his Oscar-winning film and that many of the gladiator battles were more WWE than battle to the death. It was all about spectacle, and who the hell could tell what was really happening on the floor of the Colosseum from the nose bleed seats without binoculars anyway? The Colosseum was for entertainment and while some of that entertainment meant loss of human and animal life, not every event in the Colosseum was bloodsport.

When our tour of the Colosseum ended, we were starving. We’d not eaten since breakfast, and it was 1:45. We had to be at the next tour location for the Vatican by 2:30. So we high-tailed it to the Metro station, figured that out in a jiffy thanks for our time riding the Tube in London and the Metro in Paris, and made it to the meeting point by 2:15 with enough time to grab some Cokes and a couple bags of chips to hold us over.

Our tour guide for the Vatican may have been the most enthusiastic guide we had in our 11 days of travel. He was what Americans would term a stereotypical Italian, the type from the movies. Animated and over-the-top, full of gestures, and passionate about every last thing. I swear he knew every single item in the expansive Vatican museums, and he would talk ad nauseam about every item we passed by that grabbed his interest. So thorough he was, in fact, that we were all exhausted before we’d even reached the Sistine Chapel. Luke actually nodded off while we listened to him explain the ceiling of the chapel before entering. There are no photos from the Sistine Chapel because none are allowed. I will say that I was deeply moved by the artwork in that room. I will never forget my time there.

If I’m being candid, overall, I was a little bit disgusted by the Vatican museums. The artwork stored there is impressive, but it bothers me that a religious group holds that wealth and keeps it rather than using it to help the poor. I can’t help but think Jesus would agree with me. Just saying. Still, when the tour was over, we bypassed the museum gift shops (figuring they didn’t really need our money) and walked to St. Peter’s Square because it seemed like something that had to be done.

Then it was off to get dinner at another recommended place. We were told Hostaria Romana was a place locals frequent because it’s known for its Italian comfort food. Fried rice balls stuffed with meat, tomato sauce, and cheese, were offered up as complimentary starters. The bread just kept arriving. We had the freshest melon with the leanest prosciutto we’ve ever had. Then we devoured our pasta (even I ate pasta because the flour in Europe is vastly different and doesn’t make me ill) and shared the best tiramisu we have ever eaten. Dining al fresco in Rome. Is there anything better? Judging by our faces in these photos, I think not.

We waddled back to our rooms without using Google Maps because we were becoming that familiar with the area around the Arpinelli Relais. Although we were excited to be starting our cruise to Greece the next day, we were already missing Rome. When you book a trip to Rome, you may think you are going there to visit, but what you’re actually doing is inviting it to live rent free in your heart forever. It just happens. É la vita.

Oh, The Places You’ll Go When You Travel

by MeApril 10, 2022Leave a comment

Travel plans for next year’s trip to Monaco for the Grand Prix race are gaining steam. I’m actually starting to get excited about the race itself. My sister’s boyfriend recommended we watch Drive to Survive, and now I’m beginning to understand the appeal of the sport. I’ve also been researching accommodations and activities in Nice, France, and well, Nice looks nice. I think I can get behind spending some days in the south of France on the Mediterranean, sitting on a beach sipping wine. My sisters and I were discussing what to do after the race weekend ends, and the idea of taking a train to Italy came up. Why not hop from the French Riviera to the Italian Riviera? We could go from La Belle Vie to La Bella Vita in 5 hours. Makes perfect sense to me. Travel to the Cinque Terre has been on my list for quite a while.

I think one of the most amazing things about travel is how it opens you up to ways of being and living that are unfamiliar and fresh. It awakens your senses and your mind. Even when I can’t be traveling, learning about new places, even places I thought I had zero interest in, makes me feel positive about this life. It’s the antidote to the misery of my time-tested cynicism. It’s one of my top five raison d’être.

I have been a ridiculous level of lucky in my life to have had many opportunities to get out of the US and out of the US mindset. Every place I’ve been is now a small part of me, a small piece of colored glass in the mosaic of who I am. If the time comes when travel becomes impossible to undertake, I will simply slither through the jungle of my mental travelogue and return to the places that made me who I am.

It’s Time For Live Music Again

by MeApril 5, 2022Leave a comment

After years of streaming concerts, it seems bands are ready to trek back out again for shows. Some musicians returned to the scene last year, but this year it seems there is an explosion of bands hitting the road after too long of a hiatus from their livelihoods. This is fantastic news for me. I’ve already got six shows on my calendar for 2022 and I expect that number to increase as I see what else is coming down the pike. I am looking forward to making up for the year and a half I lost to Covid-19.

This morning, out of sheer curiosity, I did my best sleuthing to determine how many bands I’ve seen over the years. I started seeing concerts in 1983. My first show was The Police when I was 15 years old. I’ve conjectured since then how many concerts I’ve been to, but it’s all been speculation. I stopped saving tickets stubs decades ago, so the list I was working on this morning was recreated out of the few stubs I kept, my Facebook and Instagram feeds, my Apple calendar, and my iTunes account. I’m sure I missed some, but this is what I came up with:

These aren’t all separate shows, as some of the bands were co-headliners or opening acts for other artists and some bands were seen at festivals. The numbers in parentheses denote the number of times I’ve seen that band live. It’s a little embarrassing, for example, how many times I’ve seen Sting in concert. I can say for sure, however, that he was the headliner at all those shows so that helps me better estimate how many actual concerts I have attended. I made a guess once that it was around 100 shows. Looking at my list and digging through my memory, I think it’s safe to say I’ve actually seen closer to 120 shows, and it may be more since I just realized I’ve actually seen U2 three times. I shudder to think how much money I’ve spent on these shows, especially when you consider ticket prices with fees these days, but in most cases I wouldn’t take my money back for the experience. There have only been a handful of shows for which I would like a refund of time and money.

My friend Heather and I at a very rainy Decemberists show at Red Rocks on my 47th birthday

Because concert going is one of my hobbies, I’ve turned my sons into concert goers too. Joe’s first show was Imagine Dragons at Red Rocks when he was 8. Luke’s first show (also seen when he was 8) was the Foo Fighters at Red Rocks. We love seeing concerts as a family, which has become costly for the four of us. Nonetheless, we’ll be seeing Spoon in May and The Decemberists in August together. Steve and I are flying to Pasadena for the Cruel World Festival on May 14th too so we can see 80’s bands. I will get to pretend I’m 16 again. All the bands will be showing their age and reminding us, in fact, we are not 16, but I’m looking forward to seeing Blondie, Devo, Violent Femmes, and Public Image Ltd. I also purchased tickets to see The National twice this summer and we’re going to Red Rocks to see The War on Drugs for the first time as well. Have I mentioned I’m excited to get back to shows?

I know stupid Covid isn’t done with us yet. I’m vaccinated and boosted, but I know I will be risking exposure to coronavirus by inserting myself into large crowds. I do not care. Being a music fan is as much a part of my identity as being a mom is. Some people live for sporting events, others for the theater. While I enjoy attending those things too, concerts are my happy place. I’m ready to get back at it. I’m overdue.

Unmoored

by MeMarch 28, 2022March 28, 20222 Comments

I’m having a sad day. I assume you know the kind of day I am referring to. It’s as if all the difficult and emotional things in my life that have been running in background mode for a while all decided to rise up and jump on me at the same time, leaving me at the bottom of a dog pile of sadness. I’m one of the most fortunate people I know, so I fight the urge to feel sorry for myself, even when there are legitimate life experiences that are troubling me. When you have everything, it feels shallow to whine about the few things that feel off in your life.

I allow myself to feel frustration, anger, shame, guilt, and a whole host of other emotions, but sadness is verboten. I think this goes back to my childhood. There are only so many times you can hear someone sing “Cry Me A River” or say “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about” before you realize sadness is something to be avoided at all times. The past couple days, though, I let the sadness smother me. I have been throwing myself a pity party, and I’ve not been enjoying it one bit.

Tonight while walking with my youngest, I was talking to him about how I am struggling. In addition to all the truly shitty things happening in the world and the country right now, I’m facing growing older, having my kids go to college and move on with their lives, recognizing that the job I’ve devoted myself to 24/7 for the past 21 years is ending, accepting that the pandemic took a toll on my friendships and hobbies, and trying to figure out what I am supposed to do with the rest of my time on earth. If I had to put a term to what I am feeling, I would say I am unmoored. Luke, being the wise person he is, told me I need to find some anchors, regular routines or habits that will give my life some stability and meaning when I feel like I am adrift. He pointed out that he has reading and school to keep him busy and give him purpose. This makes sense, and I know he’s right.

I have spent the past two years the way many people have during the pandemic: in limbo. I’d like to start back to yoga, but I suspect the minute I do some new variant will come sweeping through, close studios, and set me back again. This fear that the other shoe is constantly about to drop and mess everything up is debilitating. I need to get to a place where I can shove my melancholy and fears aside and throw myself back into life. I need to start moving forward, but it’s hard to do that when all you want to do is lie around and binge watch shows in some sort of meaningless, feeling-less stupor. I am all over the place, stuck in a cycle of feeling superfluous one minute and lying to myself and acting as if everything is fine when I know damn well it is not the next. It’s no bueno.

I need to claw my way out of this hole. I am going to start with forcing myself to exercise and hope that sets me on a better path. It’s either going to improve my mood or kill me is what I figure. At least it will be a step in a direction, which will be better than staying buried under my demons, right?

Life is hard. Anyone who tells you it isn’t is selling you something. On a more positive note, though, I guess “unmoored” is another way of saying “free to explore new shores.” So, there’s that.

Loki, Puppy Of Mischief, Strikes Again

by MeMarch 21, 2022Leave a comment

Tonight calls for a haiku about our relentless (and adorable) little corgi who has been living up to his namesake today by pulling double duty in our bathrooms.

.

One corgi puppy

on an epic quest to maim

all the t.p. rolls

I may have to pull a 2020 move and start stockpiling toilet paper because it appears we may be in for a shortage.

Those Who Would Aim To Hurt You Can Teach You A Lot

by MeMarch 18, 2022March 18, 20221 Comment

It took me far too long to grasp the truth of this statement, and it took even longer for me to comprehend that just because someone is in your life because of a blood relation or an obligation doesn’t mean they will look out for you. Sometimes it’s a shock to discover how easily someone I trusted and believed in can turn on me to protect their own ego. There are people in my life, in my circle even, who have their own agendas when it comes to me and who I am. I know them like the back of my hand because I was them. I came from them. I know what resides in their hearts, and I let them stick around anyway. I keep them around not because I feel obligated to but because they remind me where I came from and what I’ve worked so hard to overcome. They illuminate my personal growth. Their presence in my life is a continual, flashing neon sign highlighting what I don’t want to be. The difference between the old me and the new me is that the new me knows the weakest links in my circle and doesn’t put any stock in their world view. The new me trusts my judgment and my heart. I’ve strengthened my ability to look out for myself. I know there are some people in my life who are definitely not in my corner, but it is precisely through their lack of support, forgiveness, and common kindness that I gain a little more wisdom about myself. Every time they test me and prove they are not in my corner, it hurts less and less and I feel stronger and stronger about who I am.

Sometimes, it’s best to cut and run from people who have been hurting you from time immemorial. It can be life saving, even. Sometimes, though, it’s not a bad idea to let some people who don’t deserve to stick around, well, stick around. Sometimes it’s the people who aren’t in your corner who make you see and appreciate those who are. And what a glorious day it is when, through the actions of the people who aren’t looking out for your best interests, you realize that at long last you are and now you are finally, solidly in your own corner.

The One Where Fun With Flags Pays Off

by MeMarch 16, 2022Leave a comment

On Wednesday nights, our neighborhood coffee shop/bar/gathering space hosts DJ Trivia. We have gone a couple times with some of our awesome neighbors. This week, none of our neighbors were available to join the festivities. We thought about skipping out too but, with Joe home from college and Luke without homework before spring break, we decided we had enough of a team with just the four of us. The boys were so not thrilled that we were dragging them along that Luke decided the only appropriate team name was Two Willing Participants since they didn’t want to be there.

We got through the first round with all the possible points, but it’s the easy round. We clinched the bonus question because of my gift with lyrics. Who knew that my brain would pull Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me out of its cobwebby recesses? I haven’t willingly listened to that song since, well, ever. Anyhoo, we struggled the second round and ended with 20 out of 40 points and didn’t even dare take a stab at the bonus question. We were sitting in 6th place out of 7 teams, and our confidence was flagging. Somehow, though, we rallied in the third round, scoring 60 out of 80. Luke knew the bonus question about the alloy of copper and tin (it’s bronze), and we were right back in it. Suddenly, we were sitting in third, which meant we were in prize territory.

The final round is fill-in-the-blank questions rather than multiple choice. We got the first two fairly easily, but missed the next two. We were somehow still in third place as we waded into the final bonus round, called the Do Or Die Dare round. We strategized how to play it and decided it was go big or go home. If we got the question right, we would double our entire score and could finish in a higher place, or at least hold on to third and win a prize. And then, as if the gods were on our side, the title of the bonus round question hit the screen. The title was Fun With Flags. We all looked at Joe. This was our Slumdog Millionaire moment. Joe has long been a fan of geography and flags. He’s a regular vexillologist. In his senior year, he had to give a 45-minute presentation on a topic of his choice. The title of the presentation he shared with his classmates? Fun With Flags. I shit you not.

Steve pushed himself back from the table with a “this is it” flourish of glee. A flag appeared on the trivia screens. Joe looked at it for a nanosecond, leaned forward, and said quietly with the utmost confidence, “Uzbekistan.” I grabbed the paper and wrote it down. We handed it to the DJ judge in five seconds flat while the rest of the tables sat hemming and hawing and conjecturing. It appeared no one wanted to risk all their points with an answer. Finally, a representative from the Vandalay Industries team stood up and walked to submit their answer. We all knew Joe had provided the right answer. Not because any of us had a clue about the flag of Uzbekistan but because Joe. The DJ did all the tabulating and then announced that only two answers had been submitted for the Do or Die Dare and only one of those was right. The correct answer was Uzbekistan.

The DJ read off the name of the third place winner. We smiled. Second place went to the team that often wins each week, Hot Fuzz. The room was dead silent. Someone had pulled off an upset. The DJ put our team name on the screen, and we high-fived all around while Hot Fuzz looked over at us like we’d just kicked their puppy. Two Willing Participants won largely due to the efforts of its two unwilling team participants, and the coveted $25 brewery gift card and bragging rights for the week were ours. It was positively glorious.

A member of Team Hot Fuzz, still flabbergasted by their unexpected loss, shouted over to Joe to inquire how he knew the answer to the flag question so quickly. To which Joe replied, “I have the flags of the world memorized. It’s a good party trick.” This twenty year old kid just ruined their evening, and I couldn’t have been any prouder. It made all the hours I’ve spent quizzing Joe on flags and listening to him prattle on about the poorly designed ones totally worth it.

Joe with his personal Uzbekistan flag at home after our win

I guess there are a few lessons to be learned from our trivia evening. First, never, ever assume something you are asked to do (like attend a trivia night with your parents) will be a waste of time because you never know what you might learn about yourself or others. Second, if you encourage your child’s obsessions, they might pay off. Third, if you’re going to trivia night, take Joe and Luke with you. Their arcane knowledge about flags or every letter of the Greek alphabet or the names of Roman emperors might be just what you need to humble Hot Fuzz. And finally, if your kid wants to collect flags, let him.

We’re Not In Kansas Anymore

by MeMarch 14, 20223 Comments

I went shopping for shoes for my son and myself today. He bought a pair of running shoes and a pair of flip flops. I bought nothing because I couldn’t find exactly what I was looking for (cute, comfy espadrille sandals), but Joe spied these glittery, rhinestone, ruby red shoes and pointed them out to me. I have no reason to purchase these shoes, but I did have to try them on because, well, Dorothy shoes.

When I got home, I started wondering if I should have bought them. I mean, I have literally no place to wear shoes such as these given that my usual attire is as pictured, denim and Converse. On the other hand, shouldn’t every woman have a pair of shoes like these? Does it matter if all I do in them is wash dishes? How fabulous would I be rolling the trash can to the curb on Monday morning?

I might have to go back to DSW tomorrow.