Desert Magnolia

Daughter is settled. Mama is adjusting to the new reality. Hubby is exhibiting signs of missing the girl, too, which is to be expected. They were joined at the hip from very early on. Share a love for soccer, a similar sense of humor, and pretty much no patience for BS. It's cool, their relationship. A girl with a strong bond with her dad is in a good place, in my mind. I loved my dad fiercely, and there was never any doubt he felt the same about me. It made my decisions early in life easier knowing no matter how badly I botched things, Daddy would be there with a hug, a smile, and some good advice for me while I brushed my skinned knees off. While there, I stayed in a hotel in Sekonk, Mass. Daughter goes to school in Providence. It's really not that far, just about 20 minutes on the freeway, but a state line is crossed. And recrossed, and crossed again on the late night trip back. Daughter has a really sweet roommate, who also plays soccer, and honestly seems to be t

For some reason I've always assumed I have no accent, that I'm a sort of civilian version of the newscasters 'round the country who also lack discernible accents. But I've been recently told that I'm mistaken. And that I talk way too slowly to try to get by in Rhode Island without raising an eyebrow or two as people try to figure out where I'm from. They know for sure I'm not from there because: A. I use more than four words to answer questions most of the time. Locals don't. Ever. B. I fully enunciate words. Locals clip and skip. Always. C. I speak very slowly compared to the locals. Very. Enough so that they look at me like we might be operating on different time planes. Seriously. Nobody actually held their hands out and wiggled their fingers in a 'hurry up already' motion, but they were tempted. I could tell. It's good to know these things about oneself, yes?

It's time for me to fly, literally. To RI. To visit/settle in the Daughter. Time has flown, and I am totally jazzed to be headed her way. Miss her. Want to see for myself that she's well.  All that. I confirmed my hotel reservation  just now and am already impressed. Very nice lady answered with an accent you could cut with a knife..that made me immediately feel like a drawler...:-) This has happened before, when I lived in California, which was most unexpected as I'd always assumed my speech was kind of newscaster neutral, but I was wrong. Kind lady with bracing accent gave me some good practical advice re: which exit NOT to take...apparently many many people get confused when the exit #'s reset going from RI to Mass. I would have done this as well, of this I'm certain. Take care, all, and know I'm thinkin' about ya as I learn about RI and where my girl will be hanging out getting her horizons broadened over the next four years. Stevie

Lunch today was inspired by our garden's bounty. On the menu? Edamame. Greek salad with fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, basil, avocado, red onion, kalamata olives and mozzarella. Dressed with a lemon and olive oil dressing, which, as it turns out, contains a fair amount of garlic. Because early this morning when I was assembling said salad, I must have been in a garlic mood. Take a sip of the lovely, deep Guatemalan blend coffee, add a little garlic. Take another sip of java, add a little more, and so on. I've been known to do this while sipping wine and making dinner, too, so it just must be how I roll when I cook, a.m. or p.m. It's safe to assume that our building is, and will continue for at least the duration of the afternoon to be, vamp free.

Friday was clearly, as I've addressed, a dark day for me. But by late Friday evening, after an evening out on the quad at Hubby's school enjoying Rudy's BBQ at a Welcome Back faculty dinner, things began to lighten and brighten a bit. Thank goodness for this, for with the lightness and brightness came the ability to breathe deeply once more and move forward. By Saturday morning, my energy had risen, and I'd decided the only course of action was action itself. Which I followed, and which resulted in a long, hard run with lots of hill work. In the heat. After lunch and a long shower, I opted to head out to take care of a few errands, to cross some things off my list, and then to return home to nap and nest. I felt the cumulative emotional fatigue coupling with the post-run exhaustion, and knew my nap would be lovely. In a cool house, with the kitty curled up next to me. If I'd stuck to my grass roots plan, the day would have been perfect, really, but I veered

Things that contributed to my mood on Friday? Hair ambiguity. I'm in the process of growing out my layers, and while it still feels short short, it's actually grown a bit, and looks pretty good due to Sweet Melissa's trim and highlight ministrations last week. The crux of my problem stems from the bigger, 'should I really grow it out at my age, or just keep it short?' question. I haven't really worked that out, though am practicing envisioning myself with a slightly longer than chin-length do, very chic, that will, when we finally get there, make me glad I stuck with it. In the meantime, every time I walk by a mirror I go, 'Ugh, how long is it going to take until I actually like my hair again????' My emotions, on Friday, courtesy of www.stuffintheair.com PMS . I'm not going to blame my emotional, mental state, and screwed up cycle on the obvious, but isn't it strange that this summer, one in which Son graduated from college and just depa

I posed this query last year when I began mine. As I look back over the last year and consider why I started to blog, I realize I share the compulsion that many of my favorite bloggers possess. But I am decidedly less interesting in many ways. I have no social anxiety to speak of. Don't hide in bathrooms at conventions, don't shy away from daylight, am not recovering from any controlled (or legal) substance abuse, haven't been molested or assaulted or invaded with cancer or driven to mar my body with tattoos or excessive (read in places you cannot see in public) piercings. I enjoy some stuff that is considered cliche if your daily yardstick of normal includes balancing your meds while wrenching, then sharing, heartbreaking stories of childhood or adult trauma of any nature from your core, or if you cannot decide if you are happy in your own skin and are trying on figurative new facades on a regular basis. My lack of quirks may doom me to blogospheric mediocrity, in

111 degrees outside. Because that's what it is in Abu Dhabi right now. That's hot, no matter how you look at it. But, it's not too hot for mac and cheese. At least not for my son. Who called me from the grocery store just now requesting my guidance as he purchased ingredients for one of our favorite comfort dishes. flour butter milk seasoning noodles cheese Simple list. Simple instructions. But I have to say, of all the advice I've ever given, recipes I've ever shared, this tops 'em. I'm pretty sure the United Arab Emirates have never seen the likes of my boy, and the thought just makes me chuckle.

Coping with life's huge transitions requires, in my book, the following things (in no particular order, BTW): A good sense of humor A sense of perspective (which, ironically, goes MIA when you need it the most...) Hard workouts Great friends Pretty toes Good wine Awesome kids that 'get' that you're going to miss them a ton, but who refuse to let you simmer in your own juices for long. Beach reading (no heavy stuff now, no sirree!) Beach TV, or Beach HBO, aka TrueBlood A little time...not to steep in self pity, but to process, reflect, and  then consider what color to go with the toesies next. JL- I blame you for the TrueBlood addiction. Netflix, HURRY UP! Hubby - Thank you for stocking our wine rack with lovely sippables Friends - You know who you are Kiddos - 'nuff said. You are what makes me who and what I am, and for that, I thank you. Eternally. Billy Blanks - I hate in you an adoring, appreciative way. You know what I m

Grandma G invited me to lunch with 'the girls' the other day. The night before the big lunch, of course, because she has no ridiculously tight work schedule that's pretty much full two weeks out and people looking to her for deliverables on a daily basis. My phone rang at 9:45 pm, I was on the hook by 9:47. That's just how she rolls, and she's good at what she does. 'The girls' are a group of women, none under the age of 85, who meet for lunch once a month, outside of their retirement home. They coerce threaten guilt the retirement home politely arrange for a van to deliver them to their restaurant of choice, where they order and savor foods with flavor, something they enjoy immensely given the general lack of spice in all foods presented them by the 'not chefs' of their home. As we sat enjoying perfect crisp-tender snow peas coupled with sweetly spicy beef and onions over rice, salads with sesame ginger dressings and peanuts, and udon delight

The emotions, to say they're wildly fluctuating would be an exaggeration, but they are certainly not balanced and I am so not centered and I'm finding it really hard to maintain my train of thought and I'm now even more worried about my son moving to Abu Dhabi now that they're further limiting Blackberry communications, and my daughter has a stomach bug. But other than that, everything's cool in my world. Son heads to Abu Dhabi this Saturday, early evening my time. Daughter heads to Providence, RI, this Saturday, before lunch. Hubby just informed me we're committed to a dinner at his department head's house Saturday night for a 'casual evening with the new headmaster and his wife.' Are you kidding me? WTF? Of all the things I want to be doing Saturday night, I'm pretty sure schmoozing with the new guy (hub's boss for hell sake) is NOT on the list. My list looks more like this: Take a nap after first wave of absolute searingly