High fashion?

Yesterday, the reigning king of street style fashion photography, The Sartorialist, told us to take note of a certain designer and then showcased a few looks.

I must say there were some good pieces and I liked the styling. And then I got to this photo:

And all I could think was: "Attention old Mormon Dads: letting your stretched out "g's" (white boxer briefs for the non-Mormons out there) hang out the bottom of too-short shorts is now considered high-fashion. Your children no longer have to be embarrassed."

And then I had a good laugh to myself.

Did anyone else's dad/husband rock this look? Usually straight out of bed? Just mine? Sorry, Dad.

Kenny suggested I update this little blog lest anyone go thinking I died of a bladder infection. So...here I am. I survived (but just barely; UTI's are the worst).

Other than that, not too much of note has really gone on.

By the way, I realize this blog has become little more that a "travel log" of sorts, i.e. "here's what we did, here's where we went, etc." And it's boring. At least it is to me. I was going through my archives recently and, while I'll admit there's nothing amazing in there, it does seem that I used to have a lot more to say. No, I'm being hard on myself. In truth most of those posts were written while at work where I was all too eager for a diversion and (given that I was in front of a computer all day) it was easy to blog any random thought that popped into my head. Most of these thoughts probably should have remained in my head... regardless, I do miss having a record of the (mostly banal) musings that I entertained (and continue to entertain). If nothing else, they make me laugh now.

Yesterday I read most of the day - i was determined to finish Jane Eyre. Why I had never read it is beyond me, but I finished and I can now be in that club. There were several passages I noted so that I could go over them again and let the words sink in a bit. Kenny calls me a nerd (with affection) and he's right. I am. However, I'm also a dumb kid who loves mindless entertainment. Case in point: the second I read the last sentence of Jane Eyre, I pulled up an episode of Phineas and Ferb and mentally checked out. And I enjoyed that almost as much as I liked reading all day.

Today, I got really into dusting/polishing. Like with q-tips and a toothbrush. Although I oddly derived some satisfaction from the process (as well as the result of course), I couldn't help but fantasize about selling everything, save one chair. My chores would all but disappear! I entertained this idea so much that I actually suggested it to Kenny upon his arrival home. He took his usual stance (we've had the discussion before) and reminded me that he really liked having a couch. He knows this because we went without one for four months the last time I convinced him to sell some stuff. (He eventually resorted on folding an air-mattress to resemble a futon.) I reminded him that I said I would keep one chair - for him. He sort of smiled before Lola stole his attention. I think I may ware him down. Anyone looking for an apartment's worth of furniture, keep your eyes glued to Craig's List. Any day now...

And here I leave you. Very much alive and UTI free.

Breakfast.

Azo + Cephalexin + ibuprofen = breakfast. Yum.

And hopefully it means a better day than yesterday.

Saturdays...

It may just be me, but it feels like Saturdays have become a day of non-stop eating. Ugh.

On the plus side, we've had some pretty great weekends. Kenny won all three baby-sitting auctions at our church's recent fundraiser which means we've been going on some fun dates every week. On the day of the supposed rapture we celebrated my brother-in-law's graduation from college and saw Yelle play at the Music Box in LA. Both were awesome. Jeff is the very first person to graduate college in his family. As the daughter of a college professor, attending and graduating college was a given; I never even considered doing anything else. So to be the very first in one's family to do so... wow. I was super impressed and proud of him. Congrats, Jeff. F'reals.

Yelle was wonderful as usual. I loved her french accent when she'd yell out "It's the end of the world!!!" and wished the entire time I could dance like her. Or at least that I lacked the inhibition that keeps me from even trying. In another life I'm going to kill it on the dance floor.

Other events included the Yo Gabba Gabba art show (which was packed so full of hipsters that it was almost comical*), yummy dinners, good movies (I loved Midnight in Paris and really enjoyed the new X-men), the Team Davy benefit, and a few BBQs. And tomorrow the Husband and I are dropping Sweet Dee at grandma's and spending the night in Palm Springs for a mini-anniversary getaway (eight years! Yikes!).

Word is that we got hooked up with a suite at the Ace. I'm really excited.

In other good news, Trader Joe's just started offering their "tree-ripened peaches" (a seasonal item I've been anxiously waiting for over the last month or so). My taste buds did a happy dance and then I bought two boxes. One may not last us through the night.

*The kind of hipsters that are trying REALLY hard. Does anyone (besides Elise) watch "Happy Endings" ever? If you do, there's an episode where Max teaches Penny how to be a hipster so she can date one ... so funny. And pretty spot on actually. The best line: "all those [weird] things you like? He likes them ironically."

UPDATE: lest anyone go thinking my life has been all rainbows and unicorns...I also cleaned an obscene amount of poop out of an otherwise empty bathtub this morning and fished some books out of the toilet this afternoon. Both tasks also required thoroughly washing the hands of a cute, but guilty one-year-old. This stage is fun.

Another birthday.

A few weeks ago Kenny was teaching a group of 14/15-year-olds and mentioned his birthday was coming up. They began to guess his age. "24?" No... "25?!" No... when they got to 28 they were doubtful he could be "that old" and when he told them he'd be 32 they were shocked. Kenny embodies the whole "young at heart" thing and it shows. I love that.

I also remember a few years ago we were boating with some friends at Lake Mead. I noticed that while all the "boys" were still toned and strong (and tan thanks to a few days on the lake), they all sported some manner of facial hair (mostly full beards) with various amounts of hair on their chest to match. My teenage self would have been so grossed out by all that hair, thinking it characterized old men. I wondered aloud "when did we start liking men?" Somewhere along the way, our teenage preferences for smooth, baby faces gave way to scruffy, rugged, handsome men. Kenny is such a man. I love that, too.

So, to my manly man with a fun-loving, youthful soul, I wish you a very happy birthday. I know you don't feel any different than you did when you turned, say, 20, but I'm happy for the added experience and wisdom this last year gave you and I look forward to another year of watching you grow. It's cliche, but you get better every day. I love you.

(And your daughter's sort of crazy about you, too. Before we know it she'll have the words to actually articulate that truth, but for now she'll just smile that goofy grin and say "Hi-Dad!" - like it's one word - over and over and over again as she makes laps around the house looking for you. All day long.)

A belated Happy Birthday

My mom turned 40-something yesterday. (Happy Birthday, Mom!) While we wished we could have spent the day with her and taken her to do something fun - or at least kidnapped her from her job for a bit - Lola and I instead spent the day at the beach in her honor. We're thoughtful like that.

If my mom had been with us yesterday, she wouldn't have minded the wind. She would have buried her feet deep in the sand and turned her face toward the ocean and then up to the sun, likely with her eyes closed and smiling big, almost to herself. She grew up in Southern CA and the Pacific is in her blood. She is, however, an equal opportunity ocean lover - she raised two young kids on the east coast and made sure my brother and I spent plenty of time splashing in the north Atlantic. I am a sucker for a lighthouse and a grassy beach.

Anyway. I'm grateful for moms. But truly I like mine more than others. Today I passed an old man walking home along a busy rode struggling under the weight of a single grocery bag and found myself (after a brief inner debate) turning my car around to offer him a ride (which he, of course, refused). I continued on my way home in tears. Crying because I'm a sucker for old men. Crying because I am my mother's daughter and I cry over everything (privately). Crying for reasons I didn't really understand and could never articulate. And finally crying in gratitude for a mother that must have demonstrated similar acts of kindness and compassion throughout my life. I can't remember a specific instance at this moment, but doing it myself felt familiar and natural. I notice I too often dismiss good intentions or reason my way out of performing good deed. I need to stop doing that. I prayed this morning to be a good mother and even though Lola was oblivious to what was happening, I felt like stopping to offer assistance to that man was the answer to my prayer. And then I felt grateful that I've had good parents who were good examples.

So...

I don't really know where I was going with that. I guess I just wanted to wish my mom another Happy Birthday and, for some reason, on her birthday or Christmas or on Mothers' Day I always end up assuring her that I'm trying to be a good person as if the best gift I can give her is to remind her that I'm not a total screw-up. I'm sure she appreciates it, but I'll bet she'd really love some jewelry, a night out, or a vacation, too. Maybe next time, Mom. Anyway, I hope Utah gives you lots of good weather so you can wear the dress/sun hat/sandals I sent you to your local pool LOTS this summer. Universe, be nice to my mom. She's a good lady.