Field Trip

Four months ago, my friend Chanin and I made plans to take a field trip to Grub, a restaurant in Hollywood, owned by my friend Betty, and her friends Denise and Libby aka the Grub Gals.

Summer got so busy that it never happened.

Until today.

Chanin organized us.
She even offered to drive.

We talked Julie into coming along.
That made it a party.

This morning after depositing kids in front of the elementary school, we made our way up the 15 freeway into the smog.

The drive went fast because we always get into good conversations when we travel.

Before we knew it, we were parking the car on Seward Street and walking through an arbor covered in Morning Glory.

Tucked away on a side street, Grub has a neighborhood vibe, even though it sits in a commercial area.
The patio is enclosed by a fence, covered in green, which gives it a cozy feeling.
Such a nice escape from the daily grind.
I like that.

Chanin and Julie are sampling blueberry lemonade.  Yum.

Betty wasn't here today.  I'm sad I missed her.
But, Libby came out of the kitchen to greet us.
She is just as friendly and nice as Betty.

Grilled cheese and creamy tomato soup were definitely on my mind as I looked over the menu.
I've been craving it since the Grill Cheese Festival last Spring.
Grub is famous for this comfort dish, and I know why.
It's De. Li. Cious.

After much deliberation, this is what we ordered.
Grill cheese and tomato soup, obviously.

BLT with Bri.

Steak salad.

And croissant French toast with raspberry butter.
I forgot to take a picture of that.

We cut everything into thirds so that we could sample all of it.
Sooooooooo Good!!!!

I have to tell you that the BLT is my new favorite sandwich.
The secret is the bacon.
I detected hints of cumin and brown sugar.
I don't know what they do to it, but it's seriously the best bacon ever.
The Grub Girls make that claim on the menu, and they aren't joking.  

If you are ever in the vicinity of Melrose and Fairfax, you need to stop by and have breakfast . . .
or lunch . . .
or dessert . . .
or a glass of blueberry lemonade.
That was really good too.

Grub Gals, your down home cuisine is FABULOUS, and the bungalow feel of your establishment is oh so charming.

I think I'll be making regular visits, so save me a picnic table outside, will you?

P.S. If you ever have tickets to a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, Grub makes special picnic dinners just for the occasion. How cool is that. It's my new quest. A James Taylor concert at the Bowl, with a Bri BLT. I'm putting that on the Bucket List.

P.S.S.   Did I mention the Grub Gals are teaching a cooking class at R&R.  They are!  I can't wait.   Maybe they will divulge their bacon secret.

I'm Not Pro, But I Like Hanging Out With Them - Part I

In the words of my 14 companions, Go Pro Reunion was
amazeballs,
epic,
fervor.
Best. Weekend. Ever!

It really was.
Three days of non-stop synergy.

Tyler and Wendy throw one awesome party workshop.
They are party animals great teachers.
I learn something new every time we are together.

Every single person at the cabin was so much fun to hang with.
There wasn't an annoying person in the bunch.
How often does that happen?
Not often.
They were party animals great teachers too.
So willing to share what they knew.
I love that.
There really is enough good to go around.

We had an infant photo shoot.
I struggled with lighting, but it was fun.

This little guy is only two weeks old.
He snoozed while we stuffed him in a basket, wrapped him in a blanket, laid him on a giant plate, and reposed him about 20 million times.
He didn't make a peep.
It was a photography miracle.

We shot children . . . darling, darling children,
with freckles,
and missing teeth.

We shot families that were oh so nice to drive clear up to Heber to be our subjects.

We shot children with animals.
That was hard.
The pig was not having much fun.
He squealed and ran away about 5 times.
I only got one decent picture.
But the pros -- they got some killer shots.
It was inspiring to look at all their work.

This is not their work, it's mine.
The unedited version.
I'll show you the edited version when I get around to that.
It takes forever.
I took hundreds of pictures.
And I can't decide which ones to throw away, and which ones to keep.

We had the ultimate color war.
Ultimate I tell you.

So. Much. Fun.

Curse the rental car.
I couldn't participate for fear of ruining the seats.
I was one of the designated drivers.

But I got to take photos, and that was awesome.

We came home exhausted.
We ate pizza leftovers and ice cream while we sat on the sofas staring into space.
 Then someone Wendy brought out a huge bag of glow sticks.

We spent an hour creating outfits.
The party house turned into a g-rated neon rave.


I don't have pictures of that.
I stole these from Kelley, one of the Fantastic 14.
Unlike me, she knows how to take pictures in the dark.

photo courtesy of Kelly Ford Wenzel

You haven't lived until you've watched 13 middle-aged  groovy women, and two token men dance in neon.

photo courtesy of Kelly Ford Wenzel

I need to do this for my kids.
They would love it.

I have more pictures to show you tomorrow.
Right now I have to get some sleep.
Its 1:00 a.m. and I am tired.

Melbourne Street

Summer days in Utah feel different that Summer days in Temecula. The air is dry. The trees are old. There is quiet. Things move at a slower pace.

I love it here.

Sometimes when I come home, I drive down Melbourne Street and visit the house where I grew up.

I did that today.

I drove by real slow so I could take it all in and see what had changed.

The house looked so different,  I hardly recognized it. It has a new face.  Blue aluminum siding replaced wood shingles once the color of butter. Trees surround it like a frame. It has a friendly look.

But I prefer yellow.

Sitting on the front lawn atop a backhoe was a young guy pushing levers and buttons. From the look of things, he was filling in a hole and trench that ran the length of the property.

I parked next to the curb and walked over to the hole. I didn’t know the guy filling it in, but I felt like I had to say hello and tell him: This is the house where I grew up. My great grandparents were the first owners.

He said: Cool. My buddy owns it now. I’m just here repairing the water line. It broke.

I said If it’s the same water line that came with the house, it is old, 65 years old at least.

He raised his eyebrows and laughed.

I asked him if I could go see the back yard.

He nodded and I took that as signal to go ahead, so I made my way across the lawn as he yelled: The people who rent this place aren’t home, so you are welcome to wander around.

I walked down the cement driveway that led to the back. There was a big wood gate blocking the entrance.

When I pulled on the lock, I secretly hoped that everything on the other side would look exactly the same as it did in the 60's, and that I would be able to climb the cherry tree that in the stood back corner of the yard. But of course, that didn’t happen.

I pushed on the gate and took a peek. A black dog stared up at me. She looked just like the old neighbor dog Patches,  my arch enemy.  This dog was sweet, she wagged her tail and watched me as I looked around.

What I saw was unfamiliar.   A redwood deck covered the space that used to occupy a blow-up wading pool, and metal poles that held a cloths line for hanging up wet laundry.  A big tool shed stood in place place of the brick BBQ my great grandfather built. My cherry tree was gone, and so were the violets that grew under a big willow tree.   It all looked so small.

It’s funny how different things appear through the eyes of a child. When I was young, this yard seemed so huge. Huge, like it went on forever. I really felt like I was taking a journey when I walked down to the very end, and parked myself near the lilac bushes to look up at the sky. But today, it only took about ten steps to get to the back fence.  I felt a little sad.

When I got there, I couldn’t see the elementary school through the chain link, it was completely covered with ivy.   I was 4 years old when the school and the fence were built. I still remember playing on the huge piles of dirt after the bulldozers had quit work for the evening. That construction equipment scared me to death, and I would never play in the yard while it was out there moving. Why was I so afraid? I don’t remember now.   But I do remember being sad when they put up the fence.  It took away some of the magic of the yard.

I turned around and looked at the house. I thought about all the things that had happened in my life while I was living within its walls, and I wondered about all the people who had lived in it since.

How many people have owned this place?  Were they happy here? Did they hang out the bedroom window and read by the light of the moon? Did any of their children find the treasure I buried in the back yard? Who tore out the lilac bushes? Why did they do that?

I gave the dog a pat on the head, and closed the gate. Then I walked out to the street and looked down as far as I could see. My eyes filled with tears.

It brought back memories of bustling neighbors and dads working on cars in driveways -- the Newbolds, the Nilsens, the Morris’, the Hamblins, the Capners. I wished that one of them would come riding down the street on a bike whistling a complicated tune.

They used to do that you know. Whistling was big back then. Nobody whistles like that anymore, at least not in Temecula.

It’s true what they say; you can never go back. But wouldn’t it be nice if we could, just for a moment or two?

I would climb my old tree, play Kick the Can with my friends, and sit on the front porch with my family and sing songs while waiting for the ice cream truck. And at the end of the day, I would hang out my window and look at the moon while the curtains in the window blow in the night breeze.

I wish Steve Jobs would stop fiddling around with Apples and work on a time machine.

I volunteer to be the test pilot.

P.S. The girls in front of the house are my sister Hauley, and me, sitting with a family friend. The baby in the wagon is my brother, Lane. The guys working on the car are my neighbor Mr. Hamblin, and my dad, the fix-it man, the year before he died.

Blue Lily Retreat

This house is amazing.
Nestled in the mountains overlooking Park City.
It sleeps 15 people.

Last night we had a violent game of spoons.
Then we slept.



Today we have all sorts of things planned.

First we had breakfast.
It was delicious.
I made it.
Is that boastful?

Now it's down to business.
Tyler is teaching us about custom white balance.
Everyone here has a camera setup to rival paparazzi.
They know what they are doing too.
Not me.
I have no idea what I'm doing.
It's humbling,
but oh so fun.

Tomorrow.

Guess where I am going tomorrow??

Guess, I dare you.

It involves a camera, French Toast, friends, a lot of laughing, Aspen trees, a giant house with it's own movie theatre, and the color blue.

I can't wait!

P.S. Eve, you can't guess cuz I know you know the answer. :)

Jack of All Trades

Today was one of those days that I got a lot done.  I like days like today.

I walked 3 miles with the dog.
I cleaned the house.
I did three loads of laundry, folded it, and put it all away.
I snaked the drains in the kid bathroom.
I went grocery shopping.
I filmed a video -- a tour of my house, for a woman who lives back east and can't come her to look at it in person.
I edited the video, added sound, and uploaded it to U-Tube.
I created two t-shirt designs for the high school.
I created a outdoor banner design for an attorney.
I went to a meeting for a non-profit group called The Gingham Project.
I picked 4 kids up from horseback riding and took them to dinner.
And, I made some jewelry.

Once in a while, like now, I like to write it all down so that I can remember I am productive.
Next time someone asks me What to you do all day?,  I won't draw a blank.

And when I start to worry that I could never go back to work because I've been out of the job market for so long, I have something to remind me that I've got enough skills to fill up a few pages on a resume.  It can be summed up in four simple words:

Jack of All Trades.

About Dogs.

Let me be clear about my position on dogs.

I like my dog.

No, I take that back.  I LOVE my dog.

I hate all other dogs, including your dog.

Period.

I am very sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I thought you should know.

It has nothing to do with you, it's me.

Before you think I'm a big meanie, there are reasons I feel this way.

1963 - Patches the neighbor dog.
In my four year old eyes, Patches looked like the big bad wolf.
He lived with a teenage boy who thought it was really funny to yell sick-em while I was out playing in my driveway.
The wolf loved this "game" and would do as he was commanded.
He came at me with his teeth bared until teenage boy's mother would yell out the window David, knock that off!!!
It scared me to death.
I may have peed my pants a time or two.

1965 - Timmy, the dog who lived two doors down.
Owned by two senior citizens who treated Timmy like the son they never had.
(Actually, they did have a son -- Casey who was 35 years old living in the basement.)
Timmy hated all children, and his basement dwelling brother.
I think he was jealous that Casey got to wear cloths, and he did not.
Once he hopped two fences just to come over and pay us a visit.
Not a friendly visit.
Timmy's mother said Oh, Timmy, you be nice now, as Timmy bit my ankle and made it bleed.
Clueless.

1971 -  My very first babysitting gig for a cool young couple with an adorable toddler who lived around the corner.
I  rang the bell and Susan appeared at the front door wearing a white eyelet dress.
At her feet, a tiny little white poodle dancing in circles.
He was the cutest thing.

I walked inside and Susan showed me around while Poodle trailed behind us.
I could hear the little bell on his collar jingle as we went from room to room.
As I was standing there listening to instructions, my foot suddenly felt warm.
I looked down and noticed that my white anklet sock was bright yellow.

I was so embarrassed, that I didn't say a thing.
I wasn't brave enough to utter the words Um.  Your dog just peed on me.  Do you have a towel?


I stood there with one leg behind the other until Susan and her handsome husband drove off into the sunset.
Then, I took my socks off and threw them outside in the garbage can.
I smelled like pee and my pointed white keds smelled like pee too.

I decided right then and there that I would never own a poodle.

This same thing happened every time I babysat for the cool young couple.
I finally had to give up the job -- it just wasn't worth the .15 cents an hour.
Plus, my mother got mad at me for losing all my socks.

1993 - Date with Matt at a co-workers house for dinner.
Co-worker and his Mrs. had a gi-normous Boxer -- their baby.
The dog even had his own bedroom.
When standing on his hind legs Baby was taller than me by at least a foot.
I walked in the door and he jumped on me and knocked me to the floor.
Mr. Co-worker thought that was cute.  
The dog spent the entire evening with his arms around my neck (more like a headlock) as we all sat in the living room and talked . . .
for 3 hours . . .
about Baby.

I left covered in slobber.

Did I mention that I had to make the meal because Mrs. Co-Worker cut her hand on a knife and fainted?

Worst. Date. Of. My. Life.

Matt still owes me for that one.

And that brings us to yesterday, September 16, 2011.

Elphie was long overdue for a haircut so I took her over the the Pet Smart Grooming Salon.
I walked in the door and set Elphie on the counter as I gave the stylist all of her pertinent information.

Stylist:  Current on shots?
Me: Yes.
Stylist: On a flea program?
Me:  Yes.

In walks a lady with a humongous Rottweiler, a dog so large that I thought to myself, there is no way that woman can control that thing on her own.

I was right.

The minute that dog was inside the door, he jumped on my back, and wiped his face on my new shirt.
(Did I mention that I was on my way to lunch with a friend?)
His mother said Oh you scamp, as the dog breathed all over my butt with his crusty nose.
I was most annoyed.

I handed Elphie over to the stylist and turned to walk out the door.
Ever so sweetly, Rotttweler lady said, Be careful where you step!
I looked down and saw my feet standing in a pool of pee.
Not a small pool mind you, a huge one . . . large enough in which to do a load of laundry . . . if it was water . . . not pee.

I ask you, how could that woman just stand there and pretend that her dog did not do that?

Did I mention I was wearing flip flops?

This time I was brave and asked the Pet Smart stylist for a towel.

There's a pee theme running through this story.
I didn't even discover that until just now.
It's sort of like a breakthrough you might have in therapy.
At least I think it's like a breakthrough you have in therapy.
I wouldn't know about that.
But I do know that I hate dogs that pee on me.

***

Three rules that I wish all dog owners should follow:

1)   If your friend, neighbor, co-worker has a panicked or angry look in their eyes, it means that they do not enjoy the affection, or dis-affection of your dog.    Put him in the other room please.

2)  Take your dog for a walk before you get him groomed so that he can do his business in a bush.

3) Pick up the poop you leave on my lawn.  I hate stepping in that too.


That's all I have to say about dogs.

I hope you will still be my friend.

The end.

The Green Thumb Garden

Look what Mr. & Mrs. Green Thumb gave me last night when I paid them a visit.  They are so nice to me.

I finally got to see the mystery garden.

It doesn't look at all like Little Shop of Horrors.

It's magnificent with a captial "M."

I'm not exaggerating when I say that either.  I really need to take pictures of it so that you can see for yourself.

In fact, when I walked outside into the back yard, and over the little bridge into the side yard, I said Scott (aka Mr. Green Thumb), I swear this garden needs to be in Sunset Magazine.  It does!

He laughed, and so did Christine (Mrs. Green Thumb).

But, I wasn't kidding.

I am writing Sunset Magazine a letter and telling them to get their butts out here.  The Green Thumb Garden would make the cover.

I rushed home and made tomato sandwiches, and baked squash.

It was delicious.

And I'm not exaggerating when I say that.

Generation Gap.

Well, it's official.  I'm totally "out of it."

This afternoon I made the mistake of saying:

Eden, I had a blast hanging out with you and your friends last week on the way up to Utah.  Wasn't it fun?

(Silence.)

He looked at me as he was taking off his riding boots and said: Mom, you have got to stop talking like you wish you were back in the 70's.  It's SO embarrassing.

A voice from upstairs chimed in:  Yeah Mom, when you say "groovy"  and "hip" you sound like some old person stuck in the past who's trying to be "with it."  Words like that don't mean anything to us, you know that don't you?

(Another moment of silence.)

Me:   You know I'm only kidding when I use those phrases, right?  I'm not seriously saying "groovy," it's an attempt at being humorous -- in a Scooby Doo sort of way." You know, the way I sometimes say"Rot-row"  instead of "Oh No!"  


Believe me when I tell you Eden, I NEVER used the word "groovy" in the 70's.  I would have sounded like a total nerd!

Eden:  Yeah, my point exactly.   Plus, even if you are trying to be funny, it's not funny, it's dumb.  You need to get Urban Dictionary and find some new words that people get Mom.  We don't say "hip" or "groovy,"  we say "sick!"

(Crickets chirping.)

I never thought this would be happening to me.   I'm cool, right?

Rot-row.   I feel like I'm in a Brady Bunch episode when Marsha and Greg break the news to Mike and Carol that they aren't "with it" while Alice (who is definitely not "with it") is bustling around in the background preparing meat loaf.  Carol tears up and buries her face in Mike's psychedelic dress shirt and sadly proclaims "Ohhhh Mike."

My kids left for McDonalds, and I teared up, but there was no Mike's shoulder to cry on.  Mike's in Brazil this week and I must bear this news on my own.

There was no Alice to make meatloaf either, just a guy in the back yard mowing the grass.  But we aren't  BFF's like Carol and Alice, so I couldn't talk to him.  He might just freak out if I walked outside and said Ohhhhh Manuel!

 Here I go again -- "freak out."  What do they say now days if you are distraught?  I don't even know!

I don't want get with it.  Can you just imagine me saying "Dude, that was sick!" to a bunch of teenagers?

Talk about sounding dumb and embarrassing.  If I uttered those words, I would look like some old person who was desperately trying to be cool.

That would not be funny.

Not funny at all.

You will never hear me say that . . .

until I have grand kids.

I guarantee you, thirty years from now, it will be hysterical.

Who wouldn't laugh at some 80 year old woman who jubilantly declares in a little granny voice

Dude, that was sick!

My grandkids will roar with laughter.

I just know it.

First Day

The back to school bell finally rang.  I heard it from my back yard as I was taking out the trash.  I did a little jig as I dumped my plastic bottles into the recycle bin.

We started out the day with the traditional First Day of School photo shoot.   Claire and Eden used to love it -- not anymore.

When I look at some of our older shots, I am amazed at how fast things change.

2007, First Day of 7th Grade

2011 - First Day of 11th Grade

2007 - First Day of 5th Grade

2011 - First Day of High School

It was an epic day for Claire.  She got to drive the car to school.  

Eden opted to walk with friends.

I spent the day tearing down the Back to School Boutique and getting the house in order.

It felt nice to get organized again.

At 2:30, Eden barged in the door with a big smile on his face and headed straight for the refrigerator.  It was hard to make out what he was saying as he chewed on the contents of his cereal bowl.  Apparently he had the best day EVER!   He signed up for two clubs, AND there was a big assembly with a hypnotist act.

Claire was one of the students who was hypnotized on stage, but it didn't last.  She woke up after about 5 minutes.  Probably a good thing.

At 4:00 Claire barged in the door with a McDonald's sack and ice cream.  She too said it was the best first day of school EVER!!

I think that hypnotist was a huge hit.

We celebrated by going out to dinner at the local pizzeria.  It was a sneaky ploy on my part to make my kids listen to the  "This Year We are Not Going to Procrastinate" lecture.   This is where I also insist that all technology shuts off at 9:00 and lights go out at 10:00.

It's now 10:30 and I can hear the washing machine running, and music playing upstairs.

No one ever listens to me.



P.S.  Remind me to tell you sometime about the night that I was unknowingly hypnotized while sitting in the audience of a company Christmas party.  It was hilarious. (Or so Matt tells me.)

Backing Up

In the midst of all the craziness, I failed to mention my marathon road trip..   It happened last Monday when I took these 4 guys to Utah, dropped them off at a youth camp, then drove back home, alone.

Exhausting with a capital E.  But I loved it all the same.

I was a little worried about traveling for 10 hours with a car full of teenage boys.  What would we talk about?  Would there be ultra long moments of awkward silence, or hours of whining?  Would I have to listen to hours and hours of Sponge Bob dialogue resulting in a migrane???  Would there be bodily function noises that made the car stink?

I'm happy to report that I was pleasantly surprised.  These lads are a blast.  We talked for hours,  ate treats, shared insight, planned skits, and sang along to awesome music on Bryce's I-Pod. (I'm secretly hoping I can get a copy of his play list.)

We celebrated Devin's birthday with Frosties.

We found a dead hair extension at one of our pit stops.  For some reason, even I found that seriously funny.

On the way home, I thought I would feel lonely, but I didn't.

I had wide open spaces to keep me company.

They give me pause to think . . .

.and dream . . .

and sing along with James.

Bryce, Devin, Trent and Eden -- I'm happy to be your chauffeur any time.  It was a pleasure hanging out you.


P.S.   Emily and Lisa, lunch was fun!  Let's do it again, shall we?