Scenes from a Summer

So, in between bitching about being tired and watching my new deck being built, it turns out that we did actually have a wonderful summer.

I found a little time to garden:







And Garrick and I spent a wonderful day in Manhattan feeding pigeons and visiting the Bodyworlds exhibit:



We drove up to the Finger Lake region to visit family, and Quin & Garrick met some second cousins they didn't even know they had:





Garrick got a short lesson in boat driving from Uncle Ernie:




While up north, we took a side trip to Niagara Falls. That's a whole lotta water.



While there, we visited the aviary down at the end of the strip and Quinlan made a friend:



We saw a wonderful production of "Cherry Orchard" at the Shaw Festival while we were up there, and afterward, on the sidewalk, Garrick got the thrill of his life upon encountering the actress playing the young ingenue.

We also made our annual pilgrimage to the Jersey shore:





Due to crazy, rainy weather, we grabbed our beach time when we could. Those are my kids in the moonlight.



And I celebrated my mid-life crisis by cutting off all my hair.



All in all, an eventful summer!

Musing

So it turns out that between us, Michael and I have over 100,000 US Air miles.

The possibilities are dizzying.

And as much as I'd love to go to Alaska, I'm not sure I'm up for a 13+ hour flight any time soon.

Maybe San Diego?

Maybe Spain?

Where would YOU go?.....

Shrapnel

I don't know whether I'm coming or going these days. Maybe both at the same time? A lot's been going on.


LIFE, THE UNIVERSE, AND EVERYTHING

I turned 42 a few weeks back. I was really feeling very low-key about the whole thing, but Michael and the boys sneaked around behind my back and bought me lots of cool gifts, like a bottle of tequila and a Zen Stone. Mine is just like this, but bright red. (Michael obviously knew better than to buy me a pink one.) Isn't it the cutest? And he pre-loaded it with some great tunes.








I also received a big package of Shamwows, proving definitively that I married the right man.


THE LAST WORD ABOUT MY HEALTH

I'm so frocking tired of thinking about my health. Part of the reason I haven't been posting is that anytime I open my brain all that comes out is "Ifeellikecrap mykidneysarefailing I'mtiredasshit mykidneyshurt wahwahwahwahwah." SO, I hereby declare a moratorium on posts about my health, unless there's something really new to report.

(The current bullet is: my kidney function is at 32%; I have no anemia or thyroid issues that would otherwise explain my pervasive fatigue and lack of stamina; I feel some degree of pain most days; my nephrologist thinks we'll start talking transplant in 1-2 years or when function is at around 25%; I am extremely lucky in that I have family members who are willing and able to donate a kidney to me. If you have questions I'll be happy to answer them in comments or by email, but I'm DONE posting about my frocking kidneys. For now.)


BUT WE CAN STILL TALK ABOUT PKD -- MY BLOG, MY RULES!

I finally mustered the energy to put up a fundraising page for the October 2009 PKD walk. I'm expecting it to be a really tough year for fundraising, so support at any level would be most appreciated. Clicky here or at the top of the right-hand sidebar if you feel so inclined. We will also be having a silent auction/cabaret fundraising event on October 2, so mark them calendars...


WHAT HAPPENS IN FELLS POINT STAYS IN FELLS POINT I SHALL NOW BLAB TO THE INTERNET

My glorious friend Maureen and I finally got our collective crap together after 5 months' stalling planning and ran away for the weekend to Baltimore. We stayed right on the water, across from the building where they filmed "Homicide: Life on the Street". See?




































Cool, right? We shopped, spa'd, drank beer and ate crabs. And we spent an hilarious evening at the Cat's Eye Pub making fun of with the whitest man in America.
























I am protecting his identity for his own good -- he had less rhythm than an elephant on crack and was under the delusion that he looks like Mike Schmidt. (In his dreams!) But he did endear himself to me by asking Maureen whether she and I were "together." Bless her quick-witted Irish heart, she answered "Well, we're together this evening!" I love messing with clueless, rhythm-less drunks.

The Cat's Eye Pub is fun not only for its excellent bartender and its ridiculously rhythm-less white guys, it's also a great place to pick up a Fells Point Boyfriend. Meet Omar.



















I was drunk by then struck dumb by the size of his biceps. And look how talented he is!




































A man of many parts, is Omar. Call me, doll-face.

The closest I got to baking all weekend was the Domino Sugar sign.




































Thanks for running away with me, Maureen. I needed that.

Unplugging

The kitchen is clean, the sheets are washed, the boobies are ultrasounded (benign cysts, no worries), and Michael and I are heading off to an Undisclosed Location for the weekend, leaving the kids with my in-laws and the animals with house-sitting friends.

I have packed my literary boyfriend's new book and I have packed my new boyfriend, and may have even packed lingerie. (Shhhh.) We are going to sleep and eat room service and sleep and visit the hotel spa and sleep and watch movies and then nap. Happy weekend, everyone!

Paris, Day One

Once we finally got access to it, our apartment was quite charming:



Two bedrooms, kitchenette, living room, and balcony overlooking the courtyard. Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures of it until the end of the trip, and my memory cards were all full. But at least you can see the exposed beams of the living room ceiling...

Our little neighborhood was terrific, also. We stayed just around the corner from Place de la Sorbonne:



We spent a fair bit of time in one or the other of those little restaurants.

*****

We had planned to visit the Louvre on our first evening in town, and after naps, that's just what we did.



For reasons unfathomable Garrick was very keen to see the Mona Lisa, but it was the Greek and Roman statuary that really engaged the kids. Partly due to their knowledge of mythology, partly due to partial nudity, I'm sure.



After trying and failing to get a decent photo of La Joconde, we meandered through the galleries, letting the kids' interests guide us. We spent a fair bit of time in front of this monstrous canvas.



The museum was un-crowded enough that we didn't have to hover over the kids, which was nice. Travelling with two Asberger boys can be challenging, in that they have a hard time adjusting to unfamiliar surroundings and to using appropriate behavior for said surroundings. Add jet lag and a foreign language (and at three other control-tendencied adults) into the mix, and I ended up doing a lot of situational managing. It's a very fine balance between making sure the kids are a) safe, b) behaving appropriately, and c) not being micro-managed. I'm not sure I was able to achieve that balance as much as I would have liked, but after a few hiccups, we didn't do too badly.

My kid brother and his girlfriend (who live in Singapore) had been traveling in the south of France, and were driving up to Paris that first evening. Thanks to international cell phones, we were able to all find one another in time for a late supper:



It's a crummy picture, but a true reflection of how strung out and faded we were all feeling. Poor Garrick actually fell asleep while waiting for his dinner:



Next up: Le Jardin des Plantes and La Tour Eiffel.

Paris: Getting There Is Half the Fun

Did you know that it's virtually impossible to adhere to a mostly fruit-and-veg diet in Paris? Well, it is. Their idea of a salad is a few artfully arranged leaves of lettuce over which are draped luscious slices of country ham, thick wedges of pate, and beautiful, seductive cheese. What's a kidney patient to do? I started off the week tentatively nibbling on bread and modest charcuterie plates to keep body and soul together; by the end of our visit, I was mainlining foie gras and impeccably roasted duck breast -- though, unlike Garrick, I did draw the line at escargots and sweetbreads. Ah, Paree!

Our travelling day was not without hiccups. The flight itself was smooth enough, though none of us got sufficient sleep on the plane. Arriving at Charles de Gaulle airport, the wait for the checked luggage was interminable. We finally managed to load our two trolleys sky-high with bags and made our way out to the cab stand, where we hoped to find a vehicle large enough for six passengers plus baggage. The dispatcher kindly radioed for a mini-van for us, which entailed more waiting. When it finally arrived and we loaded it up, Michael realized that his computer bag with laptop and lots of irreplaceable -- um, stuff -- had been left behind at the baggage carousel half an hour earlier. Leaving the kids and my parents with the mini-van, he and I made a mad dash back to the carousel with fingers crossed (airport security loooooved that little maneuver). Luckily, it was still there, and we finally all bundled into the cab and started off for the city.

I didn't remember (or realize) how far from the city Charles de Gaulle actually is -- in light traffic, it's easily 45 minutes or more, and we were in the thick of morning rush-hour. The kids nodded off and I tried to locate the part of brain that used to be fluent in French while my dad and the cabby chatted for the hour-plus drive.

Rather than pay a small fortune for hotel rooms, we had decided to rent furnished apartments (one for me, Michael and the kids, one for my parents) in a building just around the corner from the Sorbonne. En principe, this was a great idea -- we had kitchens, comfortable living space, and we spent about 25% less than we would have at a hotel. In practice, however, there were no full-time staff on hand to assist us with check-in. We phoned Stephane, the building manager, as we left the airport, and phoned him again when we got to the hotel. We then stood, exhausted and drooping, in the building's (benchless) courtyard with our mound of baggage for 45 minutes for him to show up and give us keys to the apartments.

(My father, in a stroke of brilliance, took the kids around the corner for a chocolat chaud and pain au chocolat at the nearest cafe. As painful as the wait was without them underfoot, with them on hand it would have been nigh unbearable.)

While the kids got hopped up on chocolate, Stephane finally arrived with keys to my parents' apartment and the news that the second apartment would not be vacated and cleaned until around 3 PM -- a good 5 hours hence. We hauled the bags up 4 flights (the elevator was en panne), dumped them in my parents' apartment, tucked the kids into the (only) queen-sized bed, and then I blew my top. Unfortunately, Stephane had left to attend to something else, so my top-blowing was largely without effect. He eventually reappeared with the "good" news that the previous renters would in fact be checking out sooner than anticipated, and that we would be able to get into the other apartment at 1 PM. He left the keys with us, and we started organizing the bags -- which is when my dad realized that his carry-on napsack (the one with 1,000 euros in it) was not amongst the heap. Quickly realizing he'd left it at the cafe, he scooted back down (four flights of) stairs and found it safe and sound. Phew.

You would think that the drama would have ended there, but no. 1 PM finally rolled around, and we wearily staggered to the second apartment. Lo and behold, neither of the keys Stephane left us worked in the lock, necessitating yet more phone calls, more waiting, and more delays. We finally got into the apartment around 1:30 and promptly fell down for naps.

Karma?

I dare to take a vacation, and ...

.... the U.S. banking industry collapses;

.... there is a major terrorist attack in Pakistan; and

.... the buckle on my cool new purse breaks.



What do you think the universe trying to tell me?



(We had a great time, have lots of pix, and have no time to post them right now. More to come!)

To My Flight-Mates

I apologize.

For the sneezing. The weeping tear ducts. The cough. The constant nose-blowing.

If it's any consolation, I'm on Day 3, so am probably no longer contagious. But I'll try to not sneeze directly on you, nonetheless.

You're welcome.

Friday Flashback: June 1985

After graduating from high school, I hopped on a plane with my dad, my always-adventurous grandmother, and my older brother for a month-long sojourn through France. We started in Paris, where my father had an experiment running with colleagues there. My eighteenth birthday befell while we were in Paris, so we went to a swanky dinner at Au Petit Marguery, where I enjoyed my first kir royale. My dad wanted to check on his data after dinner, so I spent the wee hours of my birthday evening collating data onto graph paper while he tinkered.

It was a marvellous trip. We motored somewhat aimlessly throughout the countryside, got derailed by the Tour de France, and ended up discovering marvellous, Michelin-starred country restaurants that we'd never have come across under ordinary circumstances. We made it as far north as the Belgian border, and I spent a pleasant break from motoring riding a quarter horse in Belgium. Porquoi pas?

My grandmother was a terrific shopper, and her prize purchase on this trip was a large, gorgeous stained glass hanging in the shape of an exotic bird, with an oval mirror in the center. She was terrified that it would break in transit, and had the shop wrap it with utmost care. The mirror spent the entire flight home clutched tightly but gently on my grandmother's lap, swaddled in yards of bubble wrap.

The mirror arrived unscathed, and occupied pride of place in my grandmother's living room for over 20 years. When she died last September and attention turned to dispersing her vast collection of trinkets, objets, and miscellany amongst my mother and aunts, the stained glass mirror was the once piece I felt strongly about. It now hangs in our foyer, where it catches the morning light through the large dining room window.

*****

On Tuesday evening, Michael, the kids, my parents, and I are flying to Paris for eight days, and my younger brother and his girlfriend are meeting us there. Au Petit Marguery is still open, and we will certainly take time out from museum-crawling and patisserie-scrounging to enjoy a meal and a kir royale there. It would please my grandmother to no end to know that her modest inheritance is financing this trip for us -- I only wish she could be there to see her great-grandsons' eyes light up when they see the Eiffel Tower at night, or bite into a fresh pain au chocolat for the first time. How she would have loved it.

As if there were not already sufficient emotional undertones to this trip, my father received his biopsy results yesterday. All negative. Clean bill of health. We take off next week unfettered and free as birds.

A List of My Lists

• Things to pack for the beach
• Errands for Michael to take care of while the kids and I are at the beach
• Items already donated for the October 10 fundraising auction
• People to harass follow up with for more donations for the fundraising auction
• Desserts, ingredients to purchase, and baking schedule for the fundraising auction
  
• Miscellaneous details to complete for the September 6 fundraising cabaret
• Performers and helpers to buy thank you gifts for helping with the cabaret
  
• Dates by which promotional emails and press releases for the fundraising events need to be sent
• School supplies to buy
• Details to attend to in preparation for our Paris trip
  
• Household errands to run
• Stuff to buy at BJ's
• Various drugs and alcohol to get me through it all
  

More Things I Love About NYC

• The impressionist collection at the Met

• The Darger exhibit at the American Folk Art Museum

• Vosges chocolates on Madison near the Met

• Zabar's on 79th and Broadway

• The tomato festival currently underway at Cafe D'Alsace on 2nd and 89th

My Ten Favorite Things about New York City

10. My sister-in-law's loft on the upper East side
9. La Maison du Chocolat
8. Walking everywhere
7. Manhattan Theater Club
6. Seven floors of women's clothing at Macy's midtown
5. Bouchon Bakery
4. Losing 82 lbs of water weight*
3. Corner bodegas that are open all night
2. Chelsea Market

And my most favorite thing about New York City:

1. Going braless in a tank top with no shred of self-consciousness!


* This figure is an estimate

Shards

I have a feeling that the person who Googled "my husband is hard to live with" was not expecting the second link to be this.

Sorry, dude. Unless your husband is hard to live with because he's so damn funny or because he keeps putting the number 5 plastics in the recycle bin no matter how many times I tell him we can only recycle 1s and 2s, I can't help you.

You may want to get together with the person who searched for "marriage after 18 years," though, and trade notes.

***********

I'm turning older this weekend, so I'm going to New York. Alone, with no kids or hubbies. I'll be hooking up one day with a couple of college buds (including my maid of honor), but am otherwise footloose and fancy-free. I'm either going to buy a lot of shoes, drink a lot of mojitos, or sleep 23 hours a day. Y'all get one guess.

***********

Tomorrow is my last day of physical therapy, and I'm slightly panic-stricken. I've been very good at keeping my twice-weekly appointments, but I'm worried about keeping up with the program when left to my own devises. I've been battling deep fatigue (again, still) for the last few weeks, and when I get home, I pretty much just want to take off my bra and lie down until bedtime (you're welcome). We have all the bands and balls and mats and ankle weights, so there's really no reason for me not to continue the program at home -- I even have some old, trashy TV on DVD from Netflix to play in the background. If only I weren't so frocking tired.

***********

So, naturally, I'm taking on projects and planning our PKD fundraising juggernaut and thinking about having dinner parties. (What?) I've got some really nifty ideas about fundraising this year, and I'll post about them all soon. Soon-ish. Eventually. Just after I get a nap or six.

My Kind of Town, Chicago Is

Did we have a time! The kids were completely jazzed as we hunkered down in the airport for a quick dinner before our 8pm flight last Thursday.

Yes, they were just that excited. But because I'm losing what pass for my brain cells, I only had the camera with me half of the time. The other half of the time, the camera was locked in the rented apartment. (D'oh!) So I'm afraid you're going to just have to Make Do.

(A digression regarding the apartment. We stayed in a very interesting concrete building in the South Loop area called River City Lofts, and on the interwebz, it looked like a slam dunk. However! When we stumbled in at 11pm on Thursday night, the first thing I noticed was that the (humongous) lobby was scabrous and in need of paint and new flooring. The second thing I noticed was that the common area hallways had not been recarpeted since the Reagan era. The third thing I noticed was that our rental unit was severely underfurnished and under-refurbished. Cosmetic coats of paint had been [sloppily] applied in the living room and bedroom, but inexplicably, not in the bathroom, which was flaking and rusting and just gross. And the ventilation ducts were be-furred with an accumulation of dust and grime that was truly revolting.

The only furniture in the whole farking place consisted of two small, rickety stools at the kitchen bar, a black "leather" queen-sized Jennifer Convertibles sofa that was older than I am, a TV table mit TV, a queen-sized bed (no headboard, of course), one small, open two-shelf.... ummm..... unit? and ONE night stand (duh?). That's it. No dresser. No chairs (easy or otherwise). No coffee- or end-tables. And no area rugs to soften the unrelieved banality of a poorly-installed Pergo floor that was starting to peel up at the seams.)

But was I going to let a crummy apartment ruin our family vacation? No, siree! We did so much in four days that I can't fathom writing actual paragraphs. On with the bullet points.

DAY ONE (no camera)

• Millennium Park: We had a fine time bouncing around the Park and admiring this incredible sculpture.
  
• Sears Tower: Incredible view and fun exhibits of the history of Chicago.
• Pizzeria Due: Because the line at Pizzeria Uno was huge. Loved the texture of the deep-dish pizza crust for a novelty, but won't be giving up my Manhattan-style thin-crust any time soon.
• Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: Fun, but not as good as #1 or #3. Great action scenes; a little sloppy in the plot department. The kids loved it.

DAY TWO (camera, but no good pictures)

• The Science and Industry Museum: Despite the completely incomprehensible floor plan, we spent several incredible hours exploring a miniature circus, an interactive exhibit on the internet, a farming exhibit, and more. This is a not-to-miss if you're travelling to Chicago with kids.
  
• India House: Wonderful Indian food, and plenty of it. We could watch the kitchen from our table, and the kids were very impressed with the size of the shish-kebab skewers. (Aside -- for a cuisine that is so vegetarian-friendly, you'd think there would be more actual VEGETABLES in the food, wouldn't you? Bueller? I ate lots of rice and samosa dough.)
  
• Chicago Shakespeare Company: The boys' first Shakespeare! We saw a schizophrenic production of "Comedy of Errors" which included a misbegotten framing devise written with great self-consciousness for the production. But the scenes from Shakespeare (all 6 or 7 of them) were brilliant. Magnificent acting.
  

DAY THREE (with camera!)

• Chinatown: We walked about an hour from our apartment to the Phoenix restaurant for dum sim and chrysanthemum tea (name that Sondheim show). While waiting, we explored the plaza and found our Chinese zodiac animals.

After eating our weight in dumplings, we saw some Buddhist monks. That they were walking just behind a group of sailors (in whites) created a fun image, but I couldn't draw my camera quite fast enough. You'll have to take my word for it.

• The Navy Pier: Holy moly. The first thing you encounter -- before the entrance to the actual Pier -- is a fountain.

And it was windy, which blew the water from the top jets over onto passers-by in a most appealing way (if you're a boy between the ages of 10 and 12). And, oh look! There are water jets coming out of the floor at random intervals!



If you think that's not irresistible, you've never had a 10 or 12 year old boy in your care.



At some point, you just have to embrace the experience.



Michael and I spent about an hour blessedly resting our tootsies on a bench while the boys got soaked -- and I mean, soaked. Then, onto the Pier itself, with a speed boat ride, ride on the Ferris wheel, and ride on the swing-wave thingy. (I know it has a name, I just can't remember it). It was all fun, but boy, that Ferris wheel is HIGH.

• John Hancock Tower: A late dinner at the lounge atop the Tower. Fabulous view, but the menu has gone seriously downhill since my trip here last fall. The bar food was all pre-made Sysco crap (heat and serve) and the mojito didn't even give me a teeny buzz -- one well-made cocktail is enough to make me right tipsy. And when did it get to hard to order a vegetable that isn't breaded and deep fried?!

DAY FOUR (without camera, which was inexcusable)

• The Shedd Aquarium: Dolphins and otters and whales, oh my! I had woken up with another UTI (grrrrrrrr), so we took it slow but still managed to see everything. I think. There were baby Beluga whales that were criminally cute. I could have lived without the tarantulas.
  
• Evanston: Michael has a frat sister who lives in Evanston with her hubby and two delicious bookworm children, and they insisted on having us out for a home-cooked meal, which was really delightful of them. We had a lovely, restful evening chatting and drinking wine while Garrick and their 10-year-old tried to kill one another with plastic light sabers. And we ate a wonderful meal WITH VEGETABLES! Bless them.
  

All in all, it was a wonderful trip with maybe a little too much walking and too many late bedtimes (and too many UTIs and not enough vegetables or area rugs), but we somehow seemed to get muddle through anyway. The kids swung wildly between having the best time of their lives and being too overwhelmed and crabby to enjoy any of it. (Note to self -- NEVER let Garrick miss a feeding meal when on vacation!) But now that we're home, all would agree that we had a most fabulous trip and we can't wait to back and see everything that we missed.

The extra snuggle-time while waiting for buses and the like was just a bonus.

Checking Out......

We're off to the airport. Have a wonderful Memorial Day, all you lovely internetz, and see you on the other side.

Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich!

I want to participate in Simply Nutmeg's Filch It Friday carnival, but I have an overwhelming urge to filch from myself. Is this legal? Or will it cause a time/space fissure resulting in something along the lines of the brilliant scene in "Being John Malkovich" where Malkovich forces John Cusak to let him through the portal to his own brain, and everyone in the restaurant around him is him, causing a melting down of consciousness and linear reality that only Charlie Kaufman could have pulled off?!



(Digression: during my soujourn in New York as a waiter actor, Malkovich was starring on Broadway with Joan Allen in Lanford Wilson's stunning play "Burn This". This was before either of them was much of a name in the biz, and you could still get half-price Broadway tickets without wincing. I must have seen that production 7 times, many viewings from the second or third row of the theatre. Malkovich was brilliant [and very sweaty]. Joan was gorgeously heartbreaking. The play still hits me like a body blow. End of digression.)

(Oops, spoke too soon. On the topic of Charlie Kaufman, have you seen "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"? You should. It makes me cry [in a good way].)

On to the self-filch (which isn't anywhere near as dirty as it sounds):

THE GOOD

We have finally managed to make arrangements for our long-awaited family trip to Paris! We're going in September, along with my parents, and my kid brother, who lives in Singapore, will meet us there with his girlfriend. It's going to be a once-in-a-lifetime event. I cannot wait.


THE BAD

It turns out that the annual PKD Foundation fundraising walk falls smack-dab in the middle of our Paris trip.


THE UGLY

Can I in good conscience solicit donations in support of an event that I won't be able to attend? I don't think I can top last year's fundraising results, but I want to at least try. Maybe we can do an adjunct walk around the Jardin des Plantes on the same day, recording it all for posterity and posting it to the blog afterward as proof? What do you all think?

*****

I'll be posting the winning not-quite-a-business-name later today -- someone's getting some cookies!