A Brief Pause in Reality

I’ve been glued to the Olympics the last few days. After the flaming vagina of China at the opening ceremonies, how could I turn away?

I love watching the games. The swimming, volleyball, synchronized diving- I do wish they’d show the archery and a few other less “popular” sports. It reflects the magnitude of how many athletes are there ready to compete on a world level.

The boys have been watching with me. They are more focused on the USA rather than the sport itself. The whole Michael Phelps drama is a little over done, although I admit, I have watched all his races so far. The kid makes it look easy.

The coverage of the beach volleyball duo- May-Treanor and Walsh- are the poster women for heterosexuality. Over and over again the announcers mention how both are married and “ready to start a family.”

No question those girls like to do the deed with a big strong man!

Personally, I’m more in awe of their play, their ability to cover the court and the speed they can hit the ball into the sand. Their husbands, wedding rings and birthing plans do not interest me.

To be fair, nor does what Michael Phelps has for breakfast. It is part of what has happened to the games, the multimedia-advertising spree. I don’t like that at all but I tend to sit with a crossword puzzle so I can ignore the fluff.

Women’s gymnastics, to me, are a sport that demonstrates what’s wrong with how we treat girls in this world. Yes, it is awesome what they can do with bodies. And I’ll eat my hat if all those competitors are really 16 years old. Too young, too much pressure.

Maybe I’m just jealous because I have never been able to do a handstand unless I was in three feet of water.

The Olympics are a brief escape from the reality of the world today- Georgia being attacked by Russia, the poverty behind the walls China built to hide less than perfection, the ridiculous notion that offshore drilling could do anything to help the current gas prices at the pumps. In a few weeks, school will be starting. The Presidential race will kick into high gear. My heart starts to race just thinking about the growing possibility of a McCain presidency. The conventions will take place, VP’s picked and the discussion will be far from civil.

I’ll be ready when the shit starts to fly. But for now? I'm going to take a brief pause in reality and watch the best athletes in the world compete.

Suffering

Yes, I'm suffering without my kids.

Like dinner tonight.

Lobsters...

Donald cooked lobsters, Hara cooked corn, and Allan made a salad. I think. I dunno, I was on the porch watching the tide.

If you don't eye it carefully, it might go and reverse itself, you know.

It was wonderful. Sue, this is for you.



It's not simply the lobsters. It is the people around the table, the wine, the ocean breeze.

Okay, the lobsters are fairly spectacular, pulled from the ocean that day, cooked to perfection. Someday, I'll learn how to cook them myself but for now, I rely on Donald's expertise.

No more fog rolling in, no more boat to row, or fish to catch. I'm home again.

Back to work.

Finding the Right Voice

Yesterday, we hung out at the beach, played all day. It's a testament to a tremendous effort that the boys not only love going to the beach, but they stay all day without a peep of complaint.



Later, we stopped at a new hot dog shack in Perkins Cove. It was once where you bought tickets for the Ugly Anne tourist fishing boat or a soft serve ice cream cone. Don't ask me how they worked together but it did, and they were there for many years.

But times change, and while you can still get tickets for the Ugly Anne, the tiny store front is now a Hot Dog stand. We saw the Frito's, Chili and Cheese combo and had to try it.



The dogs had a nice snap and were served in a grilled bun. They scored very high, although more Frito's were needed and a little more cheese. Overall, while it's no Flo's, the infamous hot dog shack of Cape Neddick, it isn't bad.

By the end of the day, the boys headed back to Boston with Jeanine. They are off to Cousin's camp in Maryville, Missouri, with cousins coming in from Iowa, Florida, with Aunt Toni in charge.

For a week.

I have a week, alone, in my house in Ogunquit, Maine. Do you have any idea how close to heaven that is? It's not just the CD player blasting Joan Armatrading, or the fact that the house is actually clean, or sitting on the deck with the breeze keeping the bugs away and the temperature oh so slightly chilled.

It's a week to read the stack of Nation magazines I've fallen behind with. To pull out an essay or two from MFK Fisher's The Art of Eating to remind myself how much I love her work. To eat when I feel like it. To walk the beach, endlessly, with no one waiting for my return. To wander down for the best mussels on this coast at 98 Provence. To pull up a seat at the upstairs bar at MC Perkins Cove to have their amazing Caesar salad with white anchovies- anchovies so good even my kids eat them. And the sesame crusted deep fried rainbow trout with Chinese fermented black beans will make you rethink fresh water fish forever more.

No, I have no problem eating alone in a restaurant. Bar seats are always fun and everyone around, especially in a resort town, are happy to strike up a conversation. Sometimes, I prefer a table, alone, tucked away, where I can listen to different people talking, create characters and life stories from what I see in a moment.

I love my family more than life itself. I was keenly aware of the fact that Jeanine had all three boys on a plane today. They landed safely and the Joan Armatrading came out. I started to relax. A little.

It's hard for me to let go. I wondered if Jake ever packed his toothbrush like I asked. I hope Zachary actually changes his clothes, at least once. I know Ben will be struggling without his cell phone- lost in a cab in NYC, the replacement has not come in yet.

I promised myself this time to write- to work on longer pieces, to work on the essays for my book.

If I don't post this week, it's because I'm working hard on getting back to the roots of my writing. I'm tempted to repost some of the pieces I wrote when I first started this blog- when no one was reading it. They came from my core. Often, I would take a photo and then write the piece.

I haven't done that in a long time. I miss it.

Sometimes, you have to go away to come back fuller, deeper, richer. I hope to do that. I've struggled lately with what is the role I want to take in the blogsphere. I feel the need to reinvent myself, in someway.

Or not.

But, no matter what, to find the right voice for me. Not the perfect voice, not the most beautiful but the right one.

For today.

Some Favorite Vacation Week Lines

It's Friday and I'm still alive. I have a great network of neighbors and friends. Kids have been passed back and forth, to and fro.

Jake and his friend Logan have to be the cutest, sweetest pair of boys ever in the world. They fancy themselves twins and while they are only six months apart, they could not look more different physically.

The other morning, Logan called me "Mama Sara" which is what Jake usually calls me. That's it. Starting the college fund now, he's officially mine.

Some of my favorite lines from the kids this week...

I was getting Jake some lunch. He wanted to open the can of tuna and immediately started whining to do it, instead of asking.

Since when has whining worked for you? I asked.

Since I was a baby, he answered confidently.


Ben, oh, my son Ben... He and I were having a conversation about lying. He had been caught, again. As I sat across from him, I leaned in and asked, Why are you lying?

Because Jake started talking.

What?

Since he started talking I started lying.

Said with a head flip and complete attitude. No, I did not laugh but I wanted to.


We did not make it out to Mass MoCa as hoped- the museum was closed the day I wanted to be there and with all the kid swapping plans, it didn't make sense to go. Jake, Zachary and I went to the new ICA on the Boston waterfront.

It is an amazing museum, filled with great contemporary art. I'm not sure about taking a toddler there- when the 'piece' is clothes on the floor with a brief case and cell phone, it's hard to keep them off of it. My boys, however, are fairly well trained. They look at the padded benches lining the hall and ask if they can sit on them or if they are art.

After we went through the museum, we stopped at the cafe for a snack. I asked them what they thought?

Really cool, Jake said.

I liked it a lot, Zachary nodded. Especially the view of the harbor. And the pin box.

Yeah, I liked the pin box, too, said Jake, referring to an enormous 4x4 cube made entirely of stick pins.

I liked the spider, I said. What if they had that in MoCa?

Oh, yeah, Zachary eagerly agreed, if it was in the big space? and was that big? so cool.

Which museum do you like better? I asked.

Both, Zachary said confidently, I like them both for different reasons.

Jake nodded in agreement.

I could have cried. I can't tell you how important art is to me. It was to my mother. To have my boys excited about a contemporary art museum, where they have to be careful not to step on the artwork?

All I can say is that was the best line of the week for me.

Vacation Week

Three boys. One Mom.

One week of vacation.

It all starts today.

Don’t cry for me, it was my choice. I could have gone to Florida to visit Jeanine’s family. I wanted to stay home with the kids.

And then I found out Jeanine was leaving for a game development conference for the WEEK in San Francisco. Walter and Allan are going to NYC for the ballet, tickets purchased long ago. Four parents and I’m here on my own.

It’ll be fun.

Last night, pizza, sodas and some video games. I watched the boys race Lamborghinis.

Ben taunted Zachary, Look, I’ll beat you to the mall...

Zachary simply kept to smashing into anything he could, as fast as he could.

Finally, we settled down to a movie.

Why is it my friend can get her 12 year old to watch "Planet of the Apes," a campy, somewhat culturally relevant movie and I’m stuck watching “Game Plan” with the Rock?

I played approximately 950 games of Russian Solitaire. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I did get teary when the little girl left her dad.

Today, I made them clean their rooms. I’m evil. No question about it.

I did threaten to take them out to North Adams for a night, to go to Mass MoCa. I love that museum.

They all howled, Noooooooooo.

Like I’m going to listen.

Ben asked to go to NYC instead. I said, I’d still take you to an art museum.

That’s okay.

I was puzzled till Walter explained, There is a three story Abercrombie and Fitch nearby.

Ah. I see.

Mass MoCa is a much better choice. Besides, they actually do like the place, even though they will never admit it. They love the permanent exhibit of the iron turds on the floor. Poop is a big hit. Second floor, all the way to the end, they know exactly where it is.

For the rest of today, though, we’re just going to chill.

I’m not that evil.

Costa Rica

Still too much to sit and write in a single day.

But some pictures are ready...

We stayed at the Yellow Coco Lodge.



It was beautiful. Small, the twenty of us took it over and another bungalow next door, too.



The Main house is like a tree fort- the bedrooms are at the bottom but the kitchen and living area are on top, overlooking the trees, and the ocean. The kitchen was fabulous, designed to be able to cook in it, and the space comfortable for us all to gather in.



And gather we did. Often.



We ate in. We ate out. We drank margaritas, mango daiquiris, Imperial Cerveza (the beer of Costa Rica), gin and tonics and some not so good wine. Not so bad, but not so good.



I really wish I liked tequila or rum but I don't. My friend Libby can explain why I don't like tequila anymore- college memory still strong- and rum is just too sweet. But they were enjoyed and it didn't matter much because there was the food...



We had lunch at The Palms, in Puerta Jimenez, one day. The flautas, above, were exceptional. Crispy, great guacamole, and salsa. But the Tortilla Soup was above and beyond one of the best I've ever had.



Served with chunks of avocado on top, the soup had to have been made at least the day before, the spices, heat, and earthy cilantro all gathered together in amazing harmony. It was about 100 degrees that day and we had just stepped off a boat, scorched by the sun. The heat of the soup made me feel cool inside.

I loved the Corona served with a lime in it and rolled in salt around the mouth of the bottle. This is why you sleep after lunch, I believe. You cannot have just one...



The town is small and the roads are all dirt. Trucks, motorcycles and cars barely ever get out of second gear. The fastest mode of transportation is irrelevent. No one goes anywhere fast.

Ever.



But no one wants to, either. The national slogan is Pura Vida- Good Life. It means to be relaxed and enjoy. No hurry. No worry.



With the heat, humidity and the idea of air conditioning a silly joke, you do slow down.

And it feels so good.

Yes, there's more, much more...

Packing and Posting List

Let's see... deet, 4 tubes. 6 bottles of sunscreen, extra large lotion. eye cream, various hauschka products, celexa, claritin, probiotics, Imodium, Dramamine, Advil, neosporin, band aids, various tampon sizes but enough just in case...

WHERES THE VALIUM??

and about thirty hair ties. I can never be without a hair tie.

WHAT HAVE I MISSED???

I let the boys pick out their clothes. I have to be honest- I really want to go and make sure everything matches. I don't know why... they get dressed every day and I never say a word. why do I care if they have on a bright orange shirt and olive colored shorts?

Breathing...

I'm not allowed to put clothes into suitcases. I'm not a very good spacial relations person. Jeanine does that. But if we get there and are missing something important, like... bras, it's my fault. Or underwear. Or bathing suits.

I'm going to be fine. As soon as I hit the airport tomorrow morning? I'll be fine.

I had to shovel today. Run the snow blower. It better stop by 3AM tomorrow.

Upcoming schedule of posts...

Dec. 22- Toni's - my sister in law- piece
Dec. 23- my piece, part one. oh yes, it is depressing.
Dec. 24- Louise Kennedy's piece- I HOPE.
Dec. 25 my piece part two- please remember I'm in the warm sun.
Dec. 26- My sister's piece 1
Dec. 27- Donald's piece 1
Dec. 28- My sister, who has a name, Cathy- piece 2
Dec. 29- Kristen's piece
Dec. 30- Donald's piece 2
Dec. 31- Susan's piece

And then I'll be home.

PASSPORTS. Where the hell are the passports???

and that means I'm posting tomorrow. Catch me at 3am, live and ready to roll...

Bikini Free Zone

It’s been quite a day, full of packing, sorting, laundry and digestive remedies.

Two of my friends, lesbians of course, going on the trip suggested taking a “probiotic” to avoid the most uncomfortable effects of travelers diarrhea. I’m game because I have no idea what a probiotic is and they give me a name of one so I’m all set.

I check with the pediatrician, of course, not because I doubt their wisdom but because I was there for Zachary’s 10th check up, a mere four months late.

Clearly, I’m not a panicked sort.

Excellent idea, he says, but he also adds, there are worse things and it usually runs its course in a day or so. Don’t worry too much.

Along with buying my non-Costco sized shampoo and a just in case extra large box of tampons, I browse CVS for this probiotic.

Nothing.

So I ask the pharmacist who directs me to the Imodium, which I do get some of, but I really want the probiotic so off to Whole Foods because it’s clear to me this is up there with fish oil, flax, and red raspberry tea. Therapeutic but … odd.

I proceed to have a very long, very descriptive conversation with a lovely young man who tends to the herbal remedy aisle. I learn what a probiotic really is.

Bacteria.

A lot of it.

That you take on purpose!

Good to start it before you leave, he says.

Yeah, I think so.

Now I’m wishing that I stopped and picked up some of those preparation H travel wipes, too.

But I took my pills and I gave Ben his, that he eyed carefully.

Do I chew it?

No. At least he didn’t ask to take it with peanut butter like he did yesterday with the Advil I gave him for tooth pain.

And as if this wasn’t enough, I had a friend tell me this morning to drop the bikini idea.

Have you worn one before? She asked.

No, well, not since I was 8. And then I wore it topless because… well… I was 8 and desperately wanted to be a boy. A boy with pink flowered bikini bottom on but it was the seventies…

Don’t’ do it.

Why?

Think of the boys.

What about the boys?

Then she told me a story about a progressive camp she took her kids to- in the same freaky seventies- and how the parents were encouraged to go swimming with the kid’s au natural.

You did?

She nodded. My boys are 42 and 45? They still tell me, we REALLY didn’t need to see that.

So, the bikini is on hold. I might save it for when they all go to the chocolate factory tour. I think I look fine in my bikini- it’s not some little thong, it’s really a sports bra top, and board shorts because at heart, I’m still that little girl wanting to at least look like a boy- but I will stick to my one-piece Speedo.

I’ll wear the board shorts with it.

And hopefully will not need to run to the bathroom twenty times because I’m on my nifty probiotic.

Friday morning cannot come soon enough…