Hey Y’all!
To ready myself for writing this year’s Official Holiday Letter, I read last year’s. And the year before. Yes, and the one before that. What a smarmy bunch of crap: “Ivy…the most devastating love we’ve ever experienced.” Blargh! Honestly, how did you stand it? And the worse thing is that no one said anything…I thought you people were my friends! You’re all out of the will.
I hope all of you are doing well. We’re doing fine…Aaron is crazy-busy and stressed out, I’m still up in arms over Ivy’s change of schedule, and - of course - the big news of the year is that Ivy started Kindergarten. *balloons & confetti* She attends a fantastic school in El Cerrito (why yes, we DO still live in Berkeley…funny how that all turned out), and just loves it. Her favorite subject is art (shocking!), and her favorite after-school class is Ceramics (again, a shocker). I suspect she also has a crush on an after-school teacher, and whole kindergarten class seems very interested in “boyfriends” and “girlfriends”. Yes, we KNOW she’s only 5.5…trust me, it drives Aaron nuts, and I’m sure it will only get to be MORE of an issue, but how do you handle at this age? (No, that really wasn’t rhetorical.)
So, let’s see…the year in review:
In May, my (paid for) car got totaled in front of our house, while we all slept. Isn’t that special? I’m now driving a CRV, which is a great car, but it’s a 4-cylinder, and I’ve come to the realization that I absolutely despise 4-cylinders. I think I got passed by a Prius the other day. I mean…really! Am I still bitter about it? You betcha!
Aaron also started a new social media marketing company in the same month, and it’s really taking off. His largest client is Visa (yes, that one), and it’s rapidly taken over everything. I joke with him about being Visa’s little bitch, but they call him for every single thing. Okay, that’s a blatant exaggeration, but it’s a lot.
I’m still at Tastebook, while also handling all the accounting & HR concerns at Aaron’s new company and volunteering at Ivy’s new school. It keeps me (psychotic and grumpy) very busy. In January, I start a consulting gig at UCSF Medical Center (thank you Jen, for hooking that up!)…the (grumpiness) craziness promises to continue at a spectacular level.
For those of you following the drama of our pre-lit Wal-Mart Christmas tree, well…it lit again this year, but the very top section is missing the white lights. This may be its final year with us (halle-freaking-lujah). And since I decided to prop it up on two cinderblocks, the angel no longer fits. I spent 3 weeks looking for a beaten tin star for the top, but finally gave up. We now have one of Ivy’s hand puppets sitting on top of the tree. Unfortunately, the only one we could find was a three-headed dragon, but at least it’s red. Whatever…don’t judge until you have kids.
All the cats are still alive, and disgustingly healthy. Due to last year’s unfortunate incident with the curling ribbon, none of the presents have ribbons or bows. No tinsel allowed in the house either. *sigh* I know these updates make your year.
Enough jibber-jabber…just know that all of you have been on my mind, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza/Festivus. Oh, hey…maybe we can get a Festivus pole for next year! The red dragon will look fantastic on top.
by Julz on Friday December 25, 2009
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by Julz on Friday September 04, 2009
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Just outside of Cave Junction is a large cat refuge (I guess this is what you'd call it). They have about 15 different types of wild cats, and most of them you are allowed to get within 3 feet of. This is The Child standing in front of Voltar the black leopard, easily the most foul-tempered cat they have at the park. Also, hands-down, my favorite...The guide ran through an easy going patter about natural habitat, eating habits, blah, blah, blah, all while Voltar just sat and glared at all of us. She then turned halfway toward him, and flexed her right arm Popeye-style. I swear to god, that cat flung himself at the fence (and her head) with a scream that turned my blood to ice-water. Every single one of the patrons jumped straight back at least 5 feet, and quasi-screamed. I pulled Ivy behind me before I realized that it was all part of the act, but it still took a good 20 minutes for my heart to stop racing.
I also wouldn't recommend this for anyone in the midst of potty-training. Voltar set me back forty-some-odd years...I can't imagine what he'd do to a 2-year-old.
I think this was either an ocelot or a clouded leopard (shut up...I was still too busy checking my drawers from Voltar). All I remember is that I wanted to cuddle the shit out of this little girl. What a vicious little sweetheart!
Okay, *this* was the ocelot! (I'm totally cheating - I can see the name on the little sign right there) This one had amazing range and dexterity in her wrists. She's just hangin' out, upside down, eatin' raw meat like it ain't no thang. Look at her claws...these are what some (idiot) people actually have has house pets. Not that they aren't gorgeous and wonderful, but with my (nonexistent) trust level, there is just no damn way I would fall asleep with one of these bastardos in the room.
I believe this was a caracal...foul-tempered, absolutely, but my man Voltar would wipe his ass with this one.
This was where my heart broke. I've spent time in South Africa, watching lions in Kruger National Park. To see one cooped up in this teeny, tiny enclosure just ripped my heart out.I 'm not sure if this enclosure only seemed tiny because the lion was so huge, but I do know that this space was absolutely inadequate for him. Boo!
This was the little missus...I think she was stalking Ivy. Hee.
A female fishing cat...very cute. The guide said she would do belly flops into the water, but we didn't see any of that. She mostly just fished her meat out of the water with her claws and hoarded it for later.A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I used to own a Bengal housecat who loved the water. She'd prowl around the bathtub when I was in in, and sometimes would go in. She'd also *hunt* me while I was fixing dinner (freak), and didn't really have the ability to meow. She'd kind of chuff. Unfortunately, this was in Southern California, and she escaped one night and tangled wth the coyotes. No more designer cats for me.
Just your average, run of the mill leopard. He knew that when he struck this particular pose, he would get a nibble of meat. It was kind of hilarious how often he did it. It had to be about 13 times in 10 minutes.
After all the amazing cats, the tiger really didn't do anything to distinguish himself. You know...except maybe weigh almost 500 pounds and tower over all of us when he stretched up on the fence. Standing in front of Tony, I really felt myself sliding backwards on the food chain.
The white tiger was so achingly beautiful to watch. He was so regal, but so playful. And also 500 pounds.
The American Cougar...this one got under my skin just as much as Voltar. When he wasn't watching the guide with her bits of raw meat, he was watching Ivy. We backed away from this enclosure nice and slow, and I kept my eyes on him.
This is the owner loving up on a snow leopard. They adore him! And, to be honest, he adores them too.
A lynx and she was a total bitchface. She yowled and complained at the guide the whole time we were standing there. Nag.
Other than the tourists collectively crapping themselves because of Voltar, this was the funniest thing at the park. They have this tubby little housecat that just showed up one day, and has the run of the free park. I'm sure all the big cats are like "WTF! Come here, you little shit!" But he's a total lovebag.All in all, it was a good experience. I did struggle with seeing all these gorgeous cats cooped up in the small enclosures, but it's not like I could run around, flng their cages open and shoo them off to freedom. They'd probably turn around and eat me in gratitude.
by Julz on Friday August 28, 2009
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Thursday started out innocently enough…Ivy and Uncle Paul made ice cream in an old-fashioned ice cream maker. Uncle Paul said it was his *new* one (only 28 years old). We didn’t actually get to eat any – other than licking the beaters – until 9pm, but it was fun.
We then loaded up the womenfolk in the CRV and high-tailed it to Grants Pass to ride the Hellgate boats – jet boats that go screaming fast down the Rogue River. Oddly enough, if the boats stop abruptly, a huge quantity of water is flipped over the bow right into the boat and onto the 60 passengers. I had no small qualms about sitting Ivy down in a jet boat, with no seat belt, tether or even a lifesaver, but that didn’t stop me from trying for the front seat (we weren’t allowed). The river is wide enough, and drivers skilled enough, that they can do donuts with the boats…frequently a second boat is following fairly close to drive through the wakes (yes, that’s plural!), and thoroughly soak those passengers. The drivers, of course, are safe and dry behind a huge screen.
Another photo...BEFORE we boarded the boats...
If you’re lucky enough to be on board with a loud-mouth – and ours had two – the driver can be goaded into loading up a homemade PVC supersoaker and drenching that someone who just hasn’t gotten wet enough. This is normally on the return trip from the all-you-can-eat and all-you-can-drink dinner, when the loud-mouth is showing his (or her) ass. Unfortunately, I was right in the middle of the loud-mouths…a local sitting behind me and my mother sitting next to me. YES THAT’S RIGHT, I SAID MY MOTHER! She actually told this guy and his friends that we (she!) could outdrink them. OMG. This was apparently a very stupid challenge, as he turned out to be the grandson of a local vineyard owner, and he totally dusted her.She never learns.
by Julz on Thursday August 27, 2009
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by Julz on Thursday August 27, 2009
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It’s that time again…August. A time when a psycho-mom’s thoughts turn to the new school year, Halloween costumes and wringing the final cheap thrills out of the summer break (I’m telling you, it all boils down to working mom’s guilt). Last year, Ivy and I went on a Thelma & Mini-Louise trip through Oregon, visiting relatives and stopping off at any cheesy roadside attraction we could find. This year, in an effort to recreate that fun (and not spend a bloody fortune on hotel/admission/food), we’re doing it again, but with the added facet of dragging my mom along. I begged her to fly out from Las Vegas and drive up to Cave Junction, OR with us, there to spend 5 or 6 days with my aunt and uncle. She actually tried to resist for a bit, but I enlisted Aunt Barb and Uncle Paul to work on her, too. Need I really say who won?Mwahahahahaha…
The first stop on our hit parade was the Jelly Belly Factory in Fairfield, CA. Unfortunately, they do not allow cameras inside the factory – to preserve the privacy of the workers, not for trade secrets – so I can’t show you the 1-ton bags of cornstarch, the massive containers of sugar-glorious-sugar, or the rainbow of 93 million Jelly Bellies just waiting to be packed up and sent to a retailer near you (!). I can tell you that if you’re in this area, and you have kids, this is a must-do. First of all, it’s free. You get a free sample bag of their top 39 flavors. #40 is jalapeño, so be glad they stopped at 39, because *that* is an ugly little surprise my friend. It’s informative and colorful, meaning kids were actually entranced with the factory floor, the spinning vats of larvae (which is what they call the innards of a Jelly Belly (“I know it’s a gross name…move on, Child!”), and the huge robots used in the processing. The robot used in the QA station started stacking the empty boxes just a wee bit crooked. Since they move so fast, this rapidly devolved into A Situation, and I made Mom lag behind the tour to watch the eventual demise of the 10-foot stack. Yes, we all made a collective “Oh!” It was amazing…the robot wasn’t anywhere near the pile of boxes, but he put his little mechanical head down on the floor and waited for a human to come and clear the boxes away. How? How??? The tour eventually dumps you into a Disney-esque retail store, which also conveniently has a fast food joint attached. Shockingly, the food didn’t suck, and everything was all shaped like a Jelly Belly. And did I mention that the tour was free?
At this point, we needed to get some miles under our belts, so other than a stop for gas in Weed, CA - yes, I’m juvenile - we only stopped to see the big metal dragon just outside of Yreka. You can actually see Mt. Shasta in the background. There was also a big metal cow on the other side of Yreka, but we couldn’t stop in time. Mostly the conversation went like this:“Hey Ivy, I see more cows.” (this was said pretty much every 10 minutes on the drive, and she was OVER IT)
“Wait…what’s that?” (All we could see was a silhouette of this thing, and it looked like a wooly mammoth)
“OMG, what the hell is that thing?”
“I don’t know; it’s HUGE!”
“Oh Jesus, it’s a metal cow!” (said from the fast lane as we sped on by)
“Stop! Stop!”
“I can’t! Aaaaarrrrrgggghhhh!!! Okay…we cannot miss the metal dragon! Be on the lookout.” (Do you ever regret saying something as soon as it passes your lips? This was where Ivy started asking us every 15 seconds if we were at the metal dragon yet)
By this time, Ivy was bored out of her gourd by cows and their ilk, and was rooting around in the back seat for something with which to hit Mimi in the back of the head. Good times!
Eventually, we made it to the ranchette, Ivy was with the cows and Patch the dog, and all was right with her world. She fed apples to the cows - mostly by throwing them through the fence ("Mommy, you can also throw them AT the cows" "NO!!!!!"), and then we all had dinner.Aunt Barb made us a King Ranch Chicken Casserole, which I haven't had since Ilived in Texas, and which also has about a gazillion calories. Lard, have mercy. I need to figure out something to do work off these Jelly Bellies and casserole.
Oh yeah...when someone calls you a cow, it means you're dumb as a rock and don't know when to quit eating.
They. Never. Stop.
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