Back to School

I never thought I'd be doing this one again... taking a child to his first day of Kindergarten. Little J was a bit hesitant in the new surroundings but exhibited an amazing surge of energy the moment he saw his friend from the summer program. Mrs. T must have known they are good buddies... she assigned them tables at opposite ends of the room.

So here we are back in the same room where Little J's uncle went to Kindergarten 28 years ago. (Just remembered - Little J's daddy went to a different school so they could accommodate our schedule). Funny thing is, some things never change. We stood in long lines and went through the same registration process and filled out the same emergency forms. We went to the same new parent orientation yesterday. The room is the same and they still want a most generous donation plus volunteerism. Sorry but for me it's "just say no" to PTA duties. Been there. Done that. I'm too old. And I'm so looking forward to Back to School night. Oh geeze, perhaps grandma needs an attitude adjustment.

The dinner discussion: Little J likes his school, just as much as the summer daycare. So far, so good.

The Last Pizza

12 more days and Pinky's Pizza is closing. This might be Little J's last bite. And it might be Grandpa's last chance to play the lottery here.

Bargin' In

Times are getting tough out here in foreclosure country. Monetary decisions get to the point that at times it's a choice between a gallon of gas and a gallon of milk. Considering we had no change of luck on 08/08/08 and it's unlikely that we will win the lottery, we are curious as to what life would bring on the right coast. Surely these people wouldn't mind if we pull the Marge Barge up to their dock for a bit. Right Big Bro?

Lucky 8s

For some it may be their lucky day and Chris is ready to pay them off. My turn to brag: Looky here... my son is in the news, page 3! He loves his job.

National Underwear Day

I'm so sad. I'm not in New York. I don't get to watch this . OK, the video is, well, shall we say... interesting? I'm old, not trendy. Recently, at a red hat convention, one thing led to another and we ended up having a lively after-dinner discussion equivalent to the old boxer or brief kind of thing. I'll let you in on a secret. Here's what's in our drawers...

Kids Eye View

Little J and are fortunate to take a trip to Stinson Beach this weekend. Stinson is a place that is kind of hit or miss weatherwise and we were lucky to be greeted by warm sunshine and a gentle breeze, perfect high seventies beach weather. Little J enjoyed the surf and built sandcastles and tunnels. We had delicious servings of Fish and Chips for me and and Chicken Strips and Chips for Little J, complete with live jazz at the Parkside Cafe.

On the way home this morning we stopped off in Mill Valley at Mama's Royal Cafe to listen to Caroline at the piano. It's kind of a funky place that I have written about before. Little J was getting a bit anxious about getting home so I turned him loose with my camera. Got an interesting assortment of 30 or so pictures: this one intrigues Little J the most. He seems to think it has something to do with Sponge Bob but Little J's biggest question is... who gets to sit upside down and eat off the ceiling?

Demolishing the Worst Year

At 13 I thought it was the worst year of my life when my family moved from the comfort of a small Michigan town to Birmingham. It was traumatic enough to have this happen mid-year of 8th grade but arriving with the curse of multiple chicken pox scars nearly scarred me for the rest of my life. I endured the cruel and blatant remarks of pubescent teenage boys. I survived chorus tryouts in front of 30 new-to-me classmates and being sent down to the music study room since I couldn't carry a tune. I hid behind the navy shorts and white gym shirt, humiliated as the last to be chosen for any team. I learned that if I told the gym teacher that it was "that time of the month" that I could skip swim class and leave the ugly black tank suit hanging in the locker room... that is until Mom got a note from the school expressing concern over the frequency of these periods. I escaped the clasps of the class bully when she taunted me the day I wore my badgeless green girl scout uniform to school. I had one friend but as much as we were best friends, due to some kind of misunderstanding, we became worst enemies and I'll probably never know why (are you still around Mary? - maybe I owe you an apology? Fill me in please).

Anyway, I missed the chance to drive by the old school when I was in Michigan last week. According to the Detroit Free Press, "It's all over for Birmingham's old Barnum School... City Commission voted 6-1 to knock down all of the original 1912 schoolhouse..." OK, maybe that's sad. I wish I could have been there to throw the first rock. Oops, sorry. But somehow the mental image of that first wrecking ball smashing all those bad memories to smithereens rings bittersweet.

Paper Journals

My relationship to journals has always be kind of an on again/off again process from the small five year locking diary during the teen years to computer driven entries of the present. Last week when I journeyed to Michigan, I didn't take my computer. It just didn't seem worth the trouble to lug it around 3 airplane hops each direction especially with my Treo that works fine for email and blogging purposes while traveling. I figured I wouldn't have a lot of time to write memoirs on this trip anyway.

The second day into the trip, giving into a bit of nostalgia, I got that old yearning to keep a travel log. I found these "Write it Down" journals in the museum store in Frankenmuth. Thinking I would write, but not wanting to feel compelled to writing a "book" about this trip, I purchased a mini blank journal. It is a good size (3" x 5 1/2") to carry around for quick notes but got to be a bit of a wrist breaker when my first entry exceeded 20 pages of very fine print between the 3/16" lines. I do appreciate quality of the journal with it's substantial cardboard cover and smooth pages. I managed to fill up 3/4 of the pages during the week and plan to finish it up with perhaps a "Bucket List" of things to do next time I'm in the area as well as thoughts that keep popping in my head that I just know I forgot to write down.

And now, since I have gotten into the habit of "writing" instead of typing, I just had to order another full sized one. When I went online to the Journals Unlimited website, I discovered that it is a Michigan company. I think I have seen the journals in stores around here but somehow purchasing this one little journal in Michigan, not far from where it originated, makes it that much more special.

Old Neighborhoods

I had a chance to explore the old neighborhood where I spent my high school years. Was interesting to find our house with a for sale sign in front of it. Since I was just dying of curiosity I did the natural thing and put in a call to Sue, the realtor, to find out the asking price. Judging from the pictures on the flyer and also looking at the exterior, it seemed like it was pretty much as it was when we lived there, except for the new front door. When Sue called back she was curious as to why someone from California would be interested in a Michigan residence; her thoughts that it would be a bit of a backwards kind of deal. Anyway $175K was the original asking price. Current listing is $159K. I told her I'd offer nothing more than the $18K that Dad paid for the place in 1964. Sue told me she needed to take another call.

I considered if this might be an interesting move to make. Then we turned the corner and saw the Salvation Army and check cashing place next to the spot where we used to catch the school bus. Then I heard about the shooting that happened just down the street the previous weekend. I remember when Dad finished off the basement, paneling the walls with doors that he bargained for on the lumber lot, fixing it up as a place to escape the heat in the summer and burrow into in the winter. (At least he didn't do the ceiling in egg cartons like the previous residence). Could be a good safe hibernating place. Naw, I think I'll pass.

Enlightened Explorations

While Grandma was out exploring Mackinac Island, Grandpa and Little J had their own expedition. Somewhere in the lower Sierras they found an old railroad tunnel. I knew they were off to this adventure and suggested they might want to take along my old digital camera but since Grandpa would never have figured out how to charge the thing, he ended up purchasing one of those old fashioned disposable film type cameras. They brought back an interesting assortment of photos. This one has a special glow about it. Grandpa thinks it's the most artistic photo he has ever taken. Maybe it is. He was so proud of this accomplishment that he had it blown up into a shiny 8 X 10. I'm surprised I didn't find it poster sized hanging above the fireplace.

Little J was impressed by the abandoned tunnel but not so impressed as he was by the Circus Circus Casino arcade in Reno. He came home with his most prized possession, a Lava Lamp. Say what? Did someone clean out their abandoned '60s warehouse? And it cost Grandpa how many quarters?