the bowling gene

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

I am a perfectionist.

I am also the world's worst bowler.

I'm not being self-deprecating to be cute or ironic.  I am really bad.

I'm actually OK with this.  Surprising, for a perfectionist.  But I find that when you bowl like once a year, you can stink it up with impunity.

*     *     *     *     *

Durel has also accepted how bad I am at bowling, though he marvels at the sheer crappiness of my game.  He's pretty good.  He's just really athletic, so he's good at stuff.

I switch things up by going from the left gutter to the right.  Every now and then, I get a freak strike. It's like when the really drunk person at the bar sinks the eight ball.  Just the universe playing a little joke on you.  

*     *     *     *     *

Jack appears to have inherited Durel's bowling gene, not mine.  This is good news.

We bowled the other day with one of Jack's buddies.  Team Bernard represented well, no thanks to me.

Universal Truth:  The shoes are a lot of the fun.

Sneaking up on it, as we do.

Go, bowling ball!  Be free! 
A spare!

It's like Uptown Funk meets bowling alley.

Hope you get a spare in the game of life today.

Talk soon,
Heather

little wreckers

Friday, May 15, 2015

Yesterday, I had a Plan.

Get up.  Take Jack to school.  Go to gym, with Sawyer accompanying me.  Have lunch.  Take Sawyer home to nap.  During Sawyer's nap, dominate things like my email inbox.  Cook delicious, Whole 30 dinner.  (OMG, Whole 30.  More on that later.)

Unbeknownst to me, Sawyer had other ideas.

Since I am taller than him and had the car keys, we did get to the car.  We even got on the road to the gym.  Then, I heard a cacophonous baby snore from the backseat.

Shit.

Sawyer's had a cold or an ear infection for like, ever.  I am not at the mercy of random car naps, but I could tell that this was serious sleep, which I respect.

So, I pulled over and did email on my phone.  (Heeeey, data plan.)  He sniffled and snarfled himself awake after a while, and looked at me with those eyes, as if to say:

"Hey Mom.  What are we doing just sitting in the car?"

Sure. 

Back to the Plan.  Back on the road!

Then, I heard a cacophonous baby dissent from the backseat.  

Hunger.

So, we went to one of the closest delicious food serving establishments, Torchy's Tacos.  (You are my true love, TacoDeli, but you weren't around.)  I got Sawyer a kid's combo of fried chicken strips and fried avocado pieces. It's called the Little Wrecker.

Indeed.

You thought we were going WHERE?
No.  We were always coming HERE. 
You have done well.

I love my job.

Since I'm taller than him and still had the car keys, we went home after that.  He napped. 

I can't believe I ever thought I was in charge.  Little Wrecker, indeed.

Hope you find David and Goliath analogous to something today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Napa, Part Two: morris and chuck

Thursday, April 23, 2015

I forgot to finish my Napa story!  Where is my mind?  (Cue The Pixies, obviously.)

*     *     *     *     *

After the drive from San Francisco to Napa, we rolled into our delightful accommodations and were all -- now what? We were all that kind of tired where your eyes are burning and you think you're hungry and you barely know your name.

Ellen went to exercise (she is SO GOOD).  Nancy took a nap (she is SO SMART).  That left Mandy and I looking at one another with our crazy, tired eyeballs.

The conversation went something like this.  I don't remember who said what, because Mandy and I are basically brain twins, so it doesn't matter.

One of us:  What should we do?

The other one:  I don't know.

One:  Should we take naps?

[silence]

One:  I kind of want to explore.  You know, get the lay of the land.

The other:  Yeah!  Me, too.

One:  Find stuff.  See where downtown is.

In unison:  Totally.  Let's go.

*     *     *     *     *

We toured downtown Napa (cute!) and found Oxbow Market.

Oxbow Market is an industrial building converted into an open marketplace filled with outstanding gourmet food vendors, restaurants, and the like.  I could basically live there.



We walked in and saw an Italian restaurant, with a bar.  And I instantly could not believe that we HADN'T HAD ANY WINE YET.

So, we fixed that.


We decided that a selection of deliciousness from Oxbow would make a great dinner for us at the hotel.  Meats and cheeses!  Breads and olives!  Yes!  (Seems logical, but we were so tired, this was a pretty big idea for us.)

Rather than have too much fun without our friends, we drank our wine and then responsibly head back to the hotel, but not before stopping at the grocery store to buy (obviously) Diet Coke and water for our rooms.

And then we had this conversation:

Me:  You know, this is exactly what Morris (my dad) did every time we went somewhere.  Left us in the hotel to rest and then went off to "get the lay of the land."

Mandy:  Um, that's exactly what Chuck (her dad) did, too.  "Just gotta scope it out."

Me:  We are turning into our dads.

Mandy:  We are turning into our dads.

[smiles and silence]

*     *     *     *     *

If taking a 40th birthday trip to Napa didn't make us feel like real grown up adult type people, turning into Morris and Chuck certainly did.  And we really couldn't be happier.

Hope you are delighted with your own adulthood today.

Talk soon,
Heather




sawyer with a chance of meatballs

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

We went out to dinner the other night.  On, like a Tuesday.  We are wild.

We love Rocco's.  Most importantly, Jack loves it, and has since he was three.  When a three year old loves a restaurant that has a full bar and does not have a playground, it's a little bit like winning the lottery.

But ... would Sawyer like it?


OF COURSE Sawyer liked it.  He is perhaps the most agreeable person I know.  

He is also, lately, the hungriest person I know.  Cute little agreeable hungry men must be my type, because it's the best thing ever.

Sawyer ate:  the entire (small, round) loaf of sourdough provided to the table, his entire kid's menu order of cheese ravioli (with Alfredo sauce, because we need to fatten him up, which is a horrible hardship, isn't it?), and at least one of Jack's meatballs.  

He was pretty psyched about it.

We may need to find a restaurant with a full bar, no playground, and like, unlimited kids refills on ravioli and meatballs.

Side note:  I am not ever permitted to sit next to a dish of Alfredo sauce again.  Ever, ever, ever.  Because Alfredo sauce is AMAZING.

Hope you get to choose your favorite sauce today.

Talk soon,
Heather


Napa, Part One: The Sappy Stuff

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

I moved from DC to San Francisco in 1998.  It was the high point of the "dot com boom."  

People talked a lot about angel money.  CEOs were like, babies. Corporate Foosball table ownership soared.

I worked for Burson-Marsteller, one of the big PR firm greats.  I did brand marketing.  One of my clients was Evite.  (They had a Foosball table AND a baby CEO.)

I lived in Nob Hill and walked to work in the Financial District because it was downhill the entire way.  I took the cable car home, because it was uphill the entire way and because, CABLE CARS.

I had not been to San Francisco since I left in 2000.  I went back last month.  I hadn't left my heart there, per se.  But a piece of it?  Yes.

Oooh, a plane trip without a baby.  That was nice, dude.

*    *     *     *     * 
We all moved to Lewiston, Maine in 1993.  They lived in Page.  I lived in Parker.  I think we all met at the orientation clambake.

(Yes.  We had an orientation clambake.  Bates is a divinely preppy place.)

None of us had gone to, like, Andover or Choate, so we didn't have automatic groups of pedigreed instafriends.  But, we found one another pretty quickly and have been friends ever since.

We realized that we've been friends now for longer than we haven't been friends.  (I love that.)

We decided to take a trip to Napa for our collective fortieth birthdays, all of which happen in 2015-ish.








I wouldn't say that I left part of my heart in Lewiston, per se.  But I did leave part of my heart wherever these ladies are.

And yes, the next post will have annoyingly gratuitous pictures of wine.  Just had to get the sappy stuff said first.

Hope you annoy someone with your unbridaled sentiment today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

the bowling gene

I am a perfectionist.

I am also the world's worst bowler.

I'm not being self-deprecating to be cute or ironic.  I am really bad.

I'm actually OK with this.  Surprising, for a perfectionist.  But I find that when you bowl like once a year, you can stink it up with impunity.

*     *     *     *     *

Durel has also accepted how bad I am at bowling, though he marvels at the sheer crappiness of my game.  He's pretty good.  He's just really athletic, so he's good at stuff.

I switch things up by going from the left gutter to the right.  Every now and then, I get a freak strike. It's like when the really drunk person at the bar sinks the eight ball.  Just the universe playing a little joke on you.  

*     *     *     *     *

Jack appears to have inherited Durel's bowling gene, not mine.  This is good news.

We bowled the other day with one of Jack's buddies.  Team Bernard represented well, no thanks to me.

Universal Truth:  The shoes are a lot of the fun.

Sneaking up on it, as we do.

Go, bowling ball!  Be free! 
A spare!

It's like Uptown Funk meets bowling alley.

Hope you get a spare in the game of life today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Friday, May 15, 2015

little wreckers

Yesterday, I had a Plan.

Get up.  Take Jack to school.  Go to gym, with Sawyer accompanying me.  Have lunch.  Take Sawyer home to nap.  During Sawyer's nap, dominate things like my email inbox.  Cook delicious, Whole 30 dinner.  (OMG, Whole 30.  More on that later.)

Unbeknownst to me, Sawyer had other ideas.

Since I am taller than him and had the car keys, we did get to the car.  We even got on the road to the gym.  Then, I heard a cacophonous baby snore from the backseat.

Shit.

Sawyer's had a cold or an ear infection for like, ever.  I am not at the mercy of random car naps, but I could tell that this was serious sleep, which I respect.

So, I pulled over and did email on my phone.  (Heeeey, data plan.)  He sniffled and snarfled himself awake after a while, and looked at me with those eyes, as if to say:

"Hey Mom.  What are we doing just sitting in the car?"

Sure. 

Back to the Plan.  Back on the road!

Then, I heard a cacophonous baby dissent from the backseat.  

Hunger.

So, we went to one of the closest delicious food serving establishments, Torchy's Tacos.  (You are my true love, TacoDeli, but you weren't around.)  I got Sawyer a kid's combo of fried chicken strips and fried avocado pieces. It's called the Little Wrecker.

Indeed.

You thought we were going WHERE?
No.  We were always coming HERE. 
You have done well.

I love my job.

Since I'm taller than him and still had the car keys, we went home after that.  He napped. 

I can't believe I ever thought I was in charge.  Little Wrecker, indeed.

Hope you find David and Goliath analogous to something today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Napa, Part Two: morris and chuck

I forgot to finish my Napa story!  Where is my mind?  (Cue The Pixies, obviously.)

*     *     *     *     *

After the drive from San Francisco to Napa, we rolled into our delightful accommodations and were all -- now what? We were all that kind of tired where your eyes are burning and you think you're hungry and you barely know your name.

Ellen went to exercise (she is SO GOOD).  Nancy took a nap (she is SO SMART).  That left Mandy and I looking at one another with our crazy, tired eyeballs.

The conversation went something like this.  I don't remember who said what, because Mandy and I are basically brain twins, so it doesn't matter.

One of us:  What should we do?

The other one:  I don't know.

One:  Should we take naps?

[silence]

One:  I kind of want to explore.  You know, get the lay of the land.

The other:  Yeah!  Me, too.

One:  Find stuff.  See where downtown is.

In unison:  Totally.  Let's go.

*     *     *     *     *

We toured downtown Napa (cute!) and found Oxbow Market.

Oxbow Market is an industrial building converted into an open marketplace filled with outstanding gourmet food vendors, restaurants, and the like.  I could basically live there.



We walked in and saw an Italian restaurant, with a bar.  And I instantly could not believe that we HADN'T HAD ANY WINE YET.

So, we fixed that.


We decided that a selection of deliciousness from Oxbow would make a great dinner for us at the hotel.  Meats and cheeses!  Breads and olives!  Yes!  (Seems logical, but we were so tired, this was a pretty big idea for us.)

Rather than have too much fun without our friends, we drank our wine and then responsibly head back to the hotel, but not before stopping at the grocery store to buy (obviously) Diet Coke and water for our rooms.

And then we had this conversation:

Me:  You know, this is exactly what Morris (my dad) did every time we went somewhere.  Left us in the hotel to rest and then went off to "get the lay of the land."

Mandy:  Um, that's exactly what Chuck (her dad) did, too.  "Just gotta scope it out."

Me:  We are turning into our dads.

Mandy:  We are turning into our dads.

[smiles and silence]

*     *     *     *     *

If taking a 40th birthday trip to Napa didn't make us feel like real grown up adult type people, turning into Morris and Chuck certainly did.  And we really couldn't be happier.

Hope you are delighted with your own adulthood today.

Talk soon,
Heather




Tuesday, April 21, 2015

sawyer with a chance of meatballs

We went out to dinner the other night.  On, like a Tuesday.  We are wild.

We love Rocco's.  Most importantly, Jack loves it, and has since he was three.  When a three year old loves a restaurant that has a full bar and does not have a playground, it's a little bit like winning the lottery.

But ... would Sawyer like it?


OF COURSE Sawyer liked it.  He is perhaps the most agreeable person I know.  

He is also, lately, the hungriest person I know.  Cute little agreeable hungry men must be my type, because it's the best thing ever.

Sawyer ate:  the entire (small, round) loaf of sourdough provided to the table, his entire kid's menu order of cheese ravioli (with Alfredo sauce, because we need to fatten him up, which is a horrible hardship, isn't it?), and at least one of Jack's meatballs.  

He was pretty psyched about it.

We may need to find a restaurant with a full bar, no playground, and like, unlimited kids refills on ravioli and meatballs.

Side note:  I am not ever permitted to sit next to a dish of Alfredo sauce again.  Ever, ever, ever.  Because Alfredo sauce is AMAZING.

Hope you get to choose your favorite sauce today.

Talk soon,
Heather


Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Napa, Part One: The Sappy Stuff

I moved from DC to San Francisco in 1998.  It was the high point of the "dot com boom."  

People talked a lot about angel money.  CEOs were like, babies. Corporate Foosball table ownership soared.

I worked for Burson-Marsteller, one of the big PR firm greats.  I did brand marketing.  One of my clients was Evite.  (They had a Foosball table AND a baby CEO.)

I lived in Nob Hill and walked to work in the Financial District because it was downhill the entire way.  I took the cable car home, because it was uphill the entire way and because, CABLE CARS.

I had not been to San Francisco since I left in 2000.  I went back last month.  I hadn't left my heart there, per se.  But a piece of it?  Yes.

Oooh, a plane trip without a baby.  That was nice, dude.

*    *     *     *     * 
We all moved to Lewiston, Maine in 1993.  They lived in Page.  I lived in Parker.  I think we all met at the orientation clambake.

(Yes.  We had an orientation clambake.  Bates is a divinely preppy place.)

None of us had gone to, like, Andover or Choate, so we didn't have automatic groups of pedigreed instafriends.  But, we found one another pretty quickly and have been friends ever since.

We realized that we've been friends now for longer than we haven't been friends.  (I love that.)

We decided to take a trip to Napa for our collective fortieth birthdays, all of which happen in 2015-ish.








I wouldn't say that I left part of my heart in Lewiston, per se.  But I did leave part of my heart wherever these ladies are.

And yes, the next post will have annoyingly gratuitous pictures of wine.  Just had to get the sappy stuff said first.

Hope you annoy someone with your unbridaled sentiment today.

Talk soon,
Heather
 
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