Life in the Slow Lane

This weekend was opening weekend for the LA County Fair, and we made sure to get there. Not because it was opening weekend but because we could get in for a dollar per adult rather than the $19 per adult on subsequent weekends. I'm fairly certain one of my earliest memories is from a fair where I was hot, tired, and sick from eating too much cotton candy. Today we swapped out the cotton candy for Italian ice (which a cheerleader managed to dump over me and the baby). As CutieLittleBoy missed the syrup shower, hopefully his first memories of going to a fair will be better. We saw pig races. (Although this pig is prize winning for going nowhere fast.) We saw lots of cool animals. We bought yummy flavored honey sticks. We petted stingrays. We saw Chinese acrobats and stood in the hot, hot sun. We saw lots and lots of trains. And we did not buy any Krispy Kreme Sloppy Joes . It was a good time.

My loyal readers may remember that this year, rather than taking an exotic or slightly neurotic vacation, we chose to stay close to home and vacation all year long.  Today's installment? A helicopter tour! As you might suspect when an off-the-wall, out-of-the-ordinary idea makes it to our day planner, this was a deal we simply couldn't pass up. Not only was there a Groupon voucher for a 20 minute helicopter ride, but we had a still-unused Groupon gift card from last Christmas and a use-it-or-lose-it promotion code for Groupon about to expire. When all three aligned-- well, it was meant to be. (Besides, it is my birthday month.) I suppose some might get upset at us for counting a tour of the Channel Islands (off the coast of Ventura) as part of our Los Angeles vacation, but our pilot/tour guide made sure to point out the various mansions and beach houses of the Hollywood stars on our way. The helicopter company also offered us champagne (we chose sparkling cider...

In case anyone is curious, having a baby (or the imminent waiting thereof) is bad for your text message allowance. Where is this magical "reverse" that shows the care instructions for 0-3 months? Many of you may not have realized that we have our very own home theater. These are the Good Ol' Days.

I said goodbye to my best friend on four wheels this week. We had nearly seven and a half years of a beautiful friendship, Burgle and I. She was the first car I paid for with my own money. With her faithful service I met the man I eventually married, left home to seek my fortune, and started my first real job. I married, bought a house, and birthed two children. I wrote a chapter for a book, served as an associate editor on an internationally published textbook and added two stamps to my passport. I answered more than 10,000 letters, translated a phone call for the office of the first lady of a Central American country... and grabbed naps in Burgle's front seat on my lunch breaks. I don't care to try and count how many times Burgle helped me move (not to mention the 5 months I was mostly homeless... or had MANY homes as my mother pointed out). At one point, all of my worldly possessions could be moved with only Burgle's help... even my recliner, dresser, and bookshelf...

This month marks the longest consecutive time I have lived in any one place. -- Can we have a moment of silence to reflect on that please? -- Thank you. Now back to the subject at hand. Four years ago, when escrow finally closed on the only condo we could afford, we laughed off people's doubts about buying such an itsy-bitsy space. Four hundred and seventy-three square feet is plenty for us, we said. It is just us two. And we settled in to our cozy little space and loved every square inch. A few months ago I walked into the hallway of our building to find a neighbor wrestling an enormous piece of exercise equipment down the stairs. We're moving, he said. Same complex, just a bigger unit. You know how it is, there just isn't enough room for the two of us. I nodded as if in sympathy and hurried my hugely pregnant self through my door before snickering quietly. Try adding two babies and a pet snake, I thought. Sometimes in those early morning hours in bet...

I'm one of those women who have relatively easy, uncomplicated pregnancies. My worst complaints are the ones I am too embarrassed to admit in public and only mention in the vaguest of terms to my husband or doctor, and then only when under duress. Uncomplicated, except for the one which involved a middle of the night ambulance ride and an emergency surgery in the wee hours of the morning to save my life. My life was saved, but my baby was already gone. I learned there was no heart beat six days before Thanksgiving, six days before the "magic" week where it is suddenly safe to announce the pregnancy to the world. I had been dreaming of the various cute ways of making my pregnancy known during the family get-togethers at Thanksgiving. Instead, I spent the holidays trying to hide my tears while lying on the couch: too tired, weak, and in pain to participate in any but the barest of family activities. I remember being surprised by the depth of anger I ...

Any of my faithful readers use the traditional or modern suggestions for anniversary gifts? Today SOS and I celebrate four years of marriage. If we want to go the traditional route in our gift exchange, we'll do the fruit and flowers thing. Or we could be modern and exchange appliances. At least, so says About.com . Good thing I married a traditional sort of guy. This, however, isn't why I'm writing. Associating specific kinds of gifts with certain anniversaries has a history far older than I had imagined, which is why I think it is time for an update. Instead of the gifts being symbolic of the depth of the couple's commitment (and whoa is that a scary concept: paper? aluminum? Nothing says "Thanks for sticking it out this year, Honey," like a Dixie cup and Reynolds wrap), I want to propose a much more prosaic purpose: replenishing the worn or broken wedding gifts. For instance, four years ago, SOS and I received glass water goblets, tumblers, and beds...