X Gon’ Give It to Ya!

Things that happened on Saturday, September 12th

I meant to get right to work after I napped and ate (some rather Welsh pizza and wings, an adjective which here means: tasted not as I at first hoped or imagined) and watched The Simpsons Movie, of course, but then I carried my bathroom book out into the living room and forgot to stop reading Anansi Boys for a while. Now, I am a rather discriminate reader. Not counting the books I flatly refuse to place in the proper bookshelf (most of which are Dave Duncan or the Left Behind series Josh wouldn’t even finish), two shelves are fiction and four large ones are nonfiction and sociological, for the most part. And yes, Toni Morrison takes up as much space as she possibly can, given the number of books she’s published. And, I’ll admit, one of her nonfiction takes up a thin sliver on the second shelf. So, aside from what I thought to be rather poor back cover copy and a smuggish picture, I pretty much assumed Neil Gaiman was going to be right up there with Dean Koontz and other airport tripe. And when I say tripe, understand that I literally liken such wretchedness to spruced up and supposedly edible intestines. But then I laughed. And couldn’t stop smiling, or at least smirking, amused by my own admission that I wasn’t going to stop reading it. And I even liked the way I can’t deny when I like something – so much so that I ended up demanding why Josh didn’t immediately like the book. (The answer is, as always, because it isn’t Ender’s Game.) So you have to understand that I’m not reading it to procrastinate, or at least not for that sole purpose. At this point, I’ve read enough of it in one sitting that I have to give my brain time to dispense with Mr. Gaiman’s language before I head back to a scene that is markedly not dryly witty and charmingly absurd.

And that smuggish picture on the back? Well, suffice it to say, after describing the fiancée’s mother as a skinny Eartha Kitt (which I assume, among other things, is a nod to her animated character in The Emperor’s New Groove) and mentioning how said fiancée arrived at the protagonist’s flat with a jug of hair mayonnaise – it’s growing on me.

Things that happened on Sunday, the 13th

Ezra’s behbeh – which is the little girl who lives with him in the box he fits into – is named Mossamonay…or however you spell that. It’s a name that Lake apparently loves. “She belongs in the box with me,” he’s explaining. O_O

He has now become bored with his father’s reading aloud of “Metamorphosis” – which he requested – and is singing through the living room and hallway.

Ezra just threw his Diego blanket over Phineas and then called him “stylish”.

Things that happened a reasonable time ago

And I’m guessing I never got around to blogging about how Ezra’s first trip to Disneyland went much the same way the rest of his life goes: people told him that they loved him. Within fifteen minutes of entering the park on day one. It started with Alice. For him he – understandably – has an undying affection. Thankfully, she was in every parade and he got to see her a lot. But then Tinkerbell spent a ridiculously long time with him…at one point sitting on the ground to tell him the story of Captain Hook. This is after about ten minutes with her and Rosetta learning to hop the way he hops. And until another parent who’d been patiently waiting with their less gorgeous child came and started to make a fuss. I should mention that we just went to the Education dept office to hand in some paperwork for grad scholarships and three other women who were NOT charged with helping us came over and interviewed Ezra for about twenty minutes, during which they told him he was too mature to be five, that he’d be famous one day, that he should already be modeling and after which they begged him to come again and insisted that he try and understand how much he’d improved their day. O_O. I don’t know. I just make ‘em.

I want to tell you all about the work I’ve been doing! But I shan’t. Later, I swear!

 

Back To Life, Back To Reality…

Which will have to reveal itself. One of us has been in school for six of our seven years (next month) of marriage. (Reflecting.)

So, graduation weekend was … a lot. I doubt I’ll even attempt to capture it all herein, but at least let me give a shout-out to Daddy. Because. He really went above and beyond that weekend. So, Auntie-God-Mom was in-house the day before we were all scheduled to head back to Santa Cruz for Joshie’s graduation – Ez and I having been up here for hair-did-ed-ness. So, the plan was to be ready to leave by 7am when she’d be leaving the hospital. Now, granted, though we were all on schedule, the leaving of the house and dropping the doggies off at their weekend getaway took until about 8am. I was already thinking to myself, “Man, I told Dad to be ready by 7:30 and now I’m half an hour late and he’s gonna be like, why’d I have to be ready so early!” And lo, when we reached his house, the front door was in fact open and he and Thanos were playing on the computer, waiting and ready.

That is, until I asked where their bag was. And Dad went, “Bag? For what?” (Me with eyes half-mast, staring at him.) “Aren’t we coming back tonight?” (Me, blinking.) “I’m not prepared to spend the night! I was going to the family grad today and then coming home for choir practice and then driving back tomorrow for the official ceremony.” (Me, exploding.) So, he decides he’ll just drive separately so he can come home that night. Which is cool with me and Auntie because we were raring to go. Get on the road. Let’s do this. There’s packing and stacking to be done before graduation! Well. A few minutes in, Daddy decides he’s not going to drive separately. Auntie and I spring into action getting the carseat resituated and Daddy goes inside to pack an overnight bag for he and Thanos.

Half an hour passes.

I go inside to find him daintily packing delicate sandwiches into aluminum foil and then into a baggy. I try not to roll my eyes out of my head, asking if I can get his bag and put in the car while he  finishes gingerly packing five or so snap peas (from his garden) into a snack baggy. He answers that he has not had time to pack it yet. He has been too busy packing snacks for the road. (Me, stabbing the air.)

So, I go outside and tell Auntie we’re going to get breakfast at McDonald’s so I don’t kill anyone. This will give Daddy time to pick out (!) an outfit for graduation. We go, we come back, we eat. Finally, a bag is ready to be packed. We’re all getting situated. Every time Daddy comes out of the house, he has a new snack prepared. Query. Why…is the door still open. Wait. Wait for it. He doesn’t know where his keys are. Auntie and I – in turn – check his luggage and all else he’s brought out of the house. He goes into the house. I check his car. You get the idea.

We did leave. One day. Which is to say, if we’d left when he told us he wanted to drive himself, we in the punctual car would have been to Santa Cruz by the time we finally left his house. O_O You heard me.

We love you, Daddy.

Listening to the Family Graduation Speaker

Josh and Ezra Morrow graduate together!

Before the Family Ceremony

Official UCSC Graduation

What is NOT pictured: Homicide-inducing fatigue after 48 hours of packing and transporting! Njoy!

 

Right In The Kisser

So, we are gearing up to get the hell out of Santa Cruz for Joshua’s graduation next month and had begun toying with the idea of actually moving out of our on-campus townhouse by the 1st of June. Josh was sure it wouldn’t bother him to commute for his finals and grad ceremony (which btw is June 13th!!!) but then the buttholes good people at the office say, while they typically try to work with people in getting the release date they want, since technically our lease stipulates a 42 day intent form to be completed….that’s what they’re gonna insist we do. Because they’re all about the letter of the law. Which is why – despite having a stipulation that Family Student Housing is considered “affordable” living – we’re paying $500 above the cost of upkeep, with a scheduled rent increase in July. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhweet.

Other than that, I’m working on a short story, which – funny story; true story – is a novel project that I’ve already mentally composed but I am enjoying the altered storyline for its shorter version. Aside from which, this shorter exploration only has one of the two paramount characters. Therefore her motivations are entirely different. This seemed like it would transfer better here, lol. Somehow not describing the original or altered story, this seems pretty confusing or at least entirely uninteresting. Funny, that.

Ezra read the words “stripe”, “stray” and “struck” today in record time. I try to compose three words a day on his chalkboard that include phonics rules from the three A Beka charts we’ve studied (6, 7 and 8). I was ridiculously taken aback today when he didn’t even have to recite the “two vowels” rule before correctly reading the first word, meaning he’s doing it in his head. Blossom.

What else is in the news… Mother’s Day approaches.

Meh. Still kinda pissed about the 42 days thing.

 

Last Spring In Santa Cruz

So being that we are happily in the last leg of our Santa Cruz residence, we decided to make the most of it. No, no, not by talking to people or going into the actual town. Pfft. By going on our favorite walk in this ridiculously beautiful weather and documenting it! Now, you can ruin everyone’s fun by asking, “Why’d you slouch forward like that and ruin an otherwise great picture with your husband taken by a four year old where it looks like your pouch is going to continue its pursuit of world domination?” But let’s take the high road and just enjoy the scenery, mkay?

First there’s Fish Lips, taken on the staircase coming down from Media Theater towards the street – followed by Ezra demonstrating how the Porter coy fish will immediately flock to any shadow above them…trusting little bottom feeders, they are – next is Ezra and I tip-toeing across the bridge(s) leading to Thimann/Earth and Marine (otherwise known as the Tiger Forest) – then comes Daddy and Mommy as taken by Ezra, on the Media Theater staircase – and finally, King Ezra atop his mighty stead in the Dragon Forest (the forest between Media Theater and College 8/Oakes).

Did I mention, Ezra now wonders aloud (daily) when we’re going to get to Montreal? A child after my own heart. Let’s get this show on the road. Iiiiiin three months….plus the summer……and go.

 

Screws Ups? Yes, We Can!

Today’s stories come out of San Diego. (Insert Anchorman jokes…..nnnnnnow.)

Now before those rightfully rejected thousands who mistakenly received an acceptance email from UC San Diego think to ask: no you can’t just get in based on “emotional trauma”. You just get a really funny story to tell at the community college.

And in a story where just about any of us can imagine the LOSER who truly thought it was his moment to shine: an already injured dog is beaten in the head with a hammer by a motorist, despite an offer from another motorist to drive the dog to the vet. This dude’s name was probably Curtis. You feel me, Jen.

And finally, if you’d like proof that you can commit suicide by cop without posing a legitimate danger to a single person, here it is. As a matter of fact, the fact that they first used beanbags to try and stun the guy makes it worse to me, not better. Not evidence that they tried less drastic measures first, as I’m sure they think. Unless something happened in the time between shooting him with bags and shooting him with live ammo – say, his threatening to kill anyone – I’m fairly certain you coulda tasered him. Pretty sure. What the hell, dude. Prolly coulda dialed back on the killing.

Dang, I didn’t even realize it was April Fool’s. Toooooo bad these are true.

Aaaaand sleep.

 

Covert Racism, or: Bethany’s Upset About Something

First of all, let me just say that Joshua got invited to serve on the Grand Jury. Josh. Not me. O_o Racism? Yes. Yes, we would.

Secondly, let me say that while Joshua was a sweetheart and supportively declaring, “Congratulations, Manny Singer!” when he brought in the mail which today had my first jury summons since, like, before I graduated from college (which was in 04), he also added, “You’re the only person in the world who likes to get these.” That’s an assumption. He doesn’t know that for sure. PLUS, they had to send me my first summons in over four years this month during Spring Break. When I’m not going to be in Santa Cruz. O_o Racism? Yes. Yes, they did.

So now I’m sitting here, trying to enjoy this slip of paper and not acknowledge that there’s virtually no way I’m actually going to get to go. That and the last time I went, I was only there for a half day before being thanked and dismissed. Which, in retrospect, was my own fault because I was wearing a headwrap and a UCSC zippy sweater. Dang it. They probably don’t much like college students. Or potentially militant Black women who went to college. RACIST. And that case was about domestic rape!!!! DANG IT! I’ve never truly gotten over that, I’ll admit.

So. Aside from the whole not being around thing. There’s also that problem about needing childcare for Ezra if I do get to go. Since I have two friends in Santa Cruz and have no intention of making more….and those are employed…DANG IT!

I hate racism.

 

Keepin’ On Keepin’ On

As you are either knowing or not knowing, we hope our post-graduation travels will take us to Montreal, Quebec. (Ie, the part of Canada that exists.) And since just today I finished making a poster of Josh’s final schedule of undergraduate courses – having Friday enrolled – it is all the more time to move on to the next big thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been daydreaming and casually obsesssing for some time now (it’s impossible not to when living in a city you’ve been in for going on six years), but now the real considerations become permissibly time-consuming. Such as Ezra’s schooling.

Aside from the sadness at the thought of my son being legally required to go to school starting next September, there is more. It appears that for our circumstance, it would be unlikely for Ezra to be exempt from attending the French language schools. Which is simultaneously what I want and about which I am concerned. Of course, I want him to go to the French school and there’s no time like this age to do it. He only barely remembers the counting I taught him so long ago (and says ‘hello’ and ‘red’ and ‘green’, etc, in Spanish when I ask him – thanks Dora) so I can’t wait. Fluency is the whole reason I’m moving to a francophone. (That and the necessity of living outside of one’s home country.)  But. What I don’t want is for him to have an extraordinary reaction to it, getting behind when we’ve tried relatively hard to prepare him to excel. This is the best age to immerse him, I’m sure, but it’s also not a situation where Josh and I will learn as quickly as he, I’m sure. So how do we help him when he doesn’t understand, if he can’t explain to us in English what the problem is? Is this a realistic concern? I have no idea. Also, I have no idea how crippled my own French skills will have become. It’s like when you read something and you go, duh. And then you look up from what you’re reading and your tongue has cut itself off and hopped out of your mouth? Yeah, like that.

In other news, I have fallen in love with a place on the Canadian MLS. Holy lord. Probably not a good idea. I die.

And things. Other things. Large, looming things. Like waiting to hear.

That is all.

Fine, I’ll tell you. It’s about my writing. There.

 

Is This A Dream!

And maybe nobody but Jennifer and I will care about this, but WTF! A Bronx Tale changed my life. In that I started dreaming about marrying Lillo and simultaneously wondering if I could reteach him how to run. I…can’t help but think this is kinda where the moral of that movie coulda come in handy, son. But maybe that’s what Lilly What’sherbuttwhoapparentlysingsorsomething was talking about when she wisely pontificated how, there’s nothing wrong with drugs…. just that some people don’t know how to use them “right”. Hmm.

Other than that, I am very proud of myself. Usually, I am a diehard loyalist when it comes to brands, particularly when the chosen one has done little to let me down. But that was before. I have promised half my heart to Macs. The half that uses Pages, iMovie and iDVD. 09. Which is going to make my head explode, it’s so yummy. Now, little has compared with getting my PC laptop the morning of my college graduation. Seriously. I don’t even think giving birth to Ezra….nevermind. ANYWAY. I cannot give up Microsoft Office on a PC… but I refuse to give up the aforementioned applications either. So despite the whole not understanding the backspace or insert keys, I am anxiously awaiting rekindling my Mac love affair.

Josh’s applications to Concordia and McGill are in the mail. I effing love making to-do lists and then completing the tasks listed on said lists. *closed eyes shudder* Ooooo. That feels delicious. I also sent out more of our Ezra movies. PEOPLE BETTER TELL ME WHEN THEY GET THEM. People. I’m looking at you two.

 

Crashlanding Complete

So, we got home about three hours ago, I think. Isn’t it weird that no matter how long you’re away from home (one month in this case), it doesn’t take any time to be “normal” again? I thought I’d be uber bored and lonely since we’ve been surrounded by people for the holidays but, nope. Feels just like it did before we left. Home really is three people.

So now that the Hubs has two quarters left of his undergraduate career and is finished with his major and other requirements (minus the minor he just took on to fill said final quarters) – my brain is entirely gone from this chapter of our lives. I know that on the surface it can look like your average bout of senioritis… but I never had that. I’m just the neurotic type who gets a dopamine releasing, pleasure sensation from planning, formatting, we’ve talked about this before, no? So I spent the entire two-and-a-half-hour drive updating our lists and those visual aids I heart so much. Which…is not what I was planning to blog about.

Another of my neuroses involves historical documentation. I have every journal I’ve ever written in and as blogged about before, I love scrapbooking (not in the conventional sense, mind you – technology makes it fun and less middle-aged) as well. WELL… tonight I was looking for something and came across the trove of journals. Opened one and read. God. I hate teenagers. Hahaha. No seriously. I wasn’t bad for the reasons I dislike modern teens. But playing a role even on paper? Even when the preceding page tells the brutal truth… um. Why so dedicated? Hahaha. Anyway. If only it were within my power to get rid of them. I’m not a pack-rat but certain things cannot be disposed of! Le sigh.

So, I just ate the last of the most tasty crab. Luckily, my husband hates the process of eating them.

 

Cheesy Potato Soup for the Collegiate Soul

Another thing that saddens me (since we’re on a super personal roll here): people who talk about how they’ve done nothing with their degrees. No, correction: who see no benefit in them. Which, I’m sure no one would actually say as we head to a recession and have never tried to get a job with a high school education. Josh will tell you that waiting tables was, for him, surprisingly lucrative and unsurprisingly soul-numbing. Anyway, I digress.

A couple things: If I get a degree and then sit it on the table, stay where I am, and don’t change my lifestyle, I could see how I wouldn’t really benefit from having it. I personally got a degree that isn’t so much for my job description – I don’t think artists “need” degrees for that – but it has proven itself to be a part of it. I also wasn’t going to get a degree and then work somewhere that didn’t require it. Also, though to a lesser degree (imho), if I go into college not understanding it’s a life-changing/effecting decision and I arbitrarily decide to be a …. um… I dunno. I can’t think of an academic program I honestly think is laughable. But say, it’s something I’m not actually interested in making a part of my life and am more concerned with getting through it. I guess I could see how that too would be a less than edifying experience and achievement. But any time you know you didn’t try, would suck. Right? If not, please stop reading my blog.

And this is obviously – and yet I have to say it which means GROSS, what kind of bizarro-society are we living in! – directed at people who’ve/who’re going/gone to actual schools. Because this is the part where I tell you what I think the actual and long-lasting and often unacknowledged luxury of college is. And. It only applies to real college. Not the culture of mediocrity so many banner ads encourage. SO: If you have to try and quantify “the point” of it, I vote for Perspective. College is – or at least should be – something you do, not something you learn. (This blog entry may or may not start to fall apart now that Ezra is crawling under the covers trying to get my “tootsies” and asking me to tickle him. Coherence…waning…) And it’s ostensibly something you do – for the “first time” – as the authority on your life. I don’t think it will/should change anyone, but I don’t see how it wouldn’t develop him/her. The way you think, the way you analyze, and yes, the perspective of others. And no, I promise, this is not just the natural progression of maturation from age 18 to age 21. For proof, go back to your high school acquaintances (if you are lucky enough to have some who did absolutely or close to nothing) and observe.

You should know that education is a personal passion of mine so. I can’t even find fault with perpetual students… I guess unless someone else is footing the bill… I only wish I were going to study every discipline that excites me. There wouldn’t be enough days in the years of my life. So I must choose the absolute most necessary one; and back to Sociology I go.

And now, some pictures from my own graduation. Who can find Ezra?!?