I was bitten by an alligator

lizard.

Yup, an alligator lizard. So adorable. So harmless looking, right?

alligatorlizard

A few teenagers were sitting in a local park above our beautiful Agua Hedionda Lagoon, attempting to humanely herd this creature off the grass and back into his native habitat of sagebrush and coyote bush, when I waltzed by and thought I’d be the conquering heroine and offer my assistance.

They were afraid to pick him up, but I said, “no problem, guys, here’s how it’s done.” I then proceeded to pick him up, totally forgetting the proper way to handle a scared reptile and he immediately latched onto my finger with his razor sharp teeth and WOULD NOT LET GO.

So much for my heroics; I started screaming and shook off the poor little fella, sending him sailing off into the bushes. No worries, though. He was FINE, scurrying away with all of his limbs intact and whole, probably searched for his family to tell them about the lunatic human he encountered, while I was nursing several bleeding puncture wounds…amid teenaged laughter. To be fair, they DID ask me if I was OK, but I think they actually recorded the whole incident, so if you see it on YouTube, yes, that was ME.

I dropped my phone whilst repelling the attack of the ‘gator, and this pic was accidentally taken…

alligatorlizard2

It was all good, though. Just a day in the life of Princess Rosebud.

Confession: I LOVE Comic Sans

I was shocked, I tell you, simply SHOCKED when I Googled “Comic Sans font” and this post entitled Why You Hate Comic Sans appeared from http://designforhackers.com

Here’s a little snippet…

Everyone loves to hate Comic Sans. The child-like handwriting font is so infamous, there is a movement to try to ban it. Mention its name to the common layman (aside from a preschool teacher), and you will likely get a chuckle, mention it to a trained designer, and you’ll get a look of disgust. Why hate on this easy breezy happy font?

The truth of the matter is that I love love LOVE Comic Sans. Not for every type of writing, of course–I mean it wouldn’t be appropriate for an obituary, you know what I mean? But for emails, it lends a certain joie de vivre that no other font can match.

My very special blogging friend at Misifusa’s Blog-The Presents of Presence also loves this font, so all is good! P.S. Check her out; she’s amazing.

Who designed this joyful font?
Comic Sans MS, commonly referred to as Comic Sans, is a sans-serif casual script typeface designed by Vincent Connare and released in 1994 by Microsoft Corporation. It is a casual, non-connecting script inspired by comic book lettering, intended for use in informal documents and educational materials. [From Wikipedia]

Life has forced me to learn to extract happiness from the tiniest and most innocuous of things- from gratitude to the daily rising of the sun and the moon, my flowering garden, the song of the coyote, bunnies cavorting at sunrise, to a font that brings a smile to my face–no matter who doesn’t like it!
Take a look at this sampling of Comic Sans memes.
hipster-ariel-meme-generator-dont-call-me-ariel-my-name-is-comic-sans-ms-3e4925e43ee6ad44414f53c9816d82fa2b8a70ce92d8d989c323fbfb12e9b47e4c1a6613268421766450711fde3_COMIC-SANS
One word.
WhatEVER.

Burying the Lede. Again.

Picture this: last evening at 5pm…I’m still sick with the flu (but recovering) on the sofa in my flannel jammies, the ones with happy little owls sprinkled all over a turquoise background, drinking ginger tea (I’m always drinking ginger tea lol) and hub calls.

He casually chitchats for a few minutes about how I’m feeling and about the rain we had and then asks me if I’ve checked his email today (I check his email when he’s gone cos he doesn’t have access to it AND because we have no secrets) and I said no, but hold on, I’ll look right now.

I tell him there’s nothing there and he said, oh, I guess they didn’t cc me.

I said, WHO didn’t cc you WHAT?

No response.

Silence.

I start feeling a little apprehensive.

Not for any other reason than after twenty-two years, I think I’ve finally figured out that hub’s silences speak volumes.

Tugboat man-a man of few words-enjoys observing my mind make quantum leaps.

Oh, don’t even tell me, I said. SILENCE. Absolute silence.

AREYOUFLYINGHOMETOMORROWANDYOU’RETELLINGMENOWWW?

His response? Laughing. That’s it. He laughs.

So…boys and girls, after waiting and waiting and waiting, and thinking for sure he’s coming home on Tuesday,  it’s official.

Tugboat man will be home TODAY.

I’ve never met anybody in my entire life that could bury the lede like he does.

Now is the season for miracles and it’s gonna take a miracle to get me ready and to get some food and freshly baked goodies in this house.

Wish me luck, ‘cos I’m gonna need it.


 

BURYLEAD

FYI, if you’re a writer, you know this is how things are supposed to go!

Read about another time he buried the lede (or lead)

 

 

 

Featured image via Google Images by https://talesfromtaughlumny.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/pbear-coming-home1.jpg

It Hit Me Like a Wrecking Ball

Yesterday I was on the beach at our Agua Hedionda Lagoon with a friend, taking photos just before sunset when the light was perfectperfectperfect.

It took me about ten minutes to walk home.

Without warning, I was shaking with chills, a headache, and a 101.5 temp.

Just like that.

It hit me like a wrecking ball.

I couldn’t get warm. I took a hot shower, drank scalding tea, and made miso soup.

Finally, five hours later, my teeth stopped chattering and I started burning up.

You want to know when I really miss my tugboat man?

It’s times like this, when I wish he were here to bring me Tylenol and a cold compress; toast and tea.

It’s these little things; the “in sickness and in health” kinds of things-that weave the fibers of a marriage.

Yup, I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself right about now.

Anyone want to bring me a cuppa?

 

 

 

 

Don’t Be Sarah This Thanksgiving…

Saw this last night on Funny or Die and had to share.

thanksgivingfunny.png

I’ve been so busy working on the campaign to #savecarlsbad #nolagoonmall #notincarlsbad that I haven’t been paying enough attention to blogging. All the info is at http://www.citizensfornorthcounty.org if you’re interested in how a group of concerned neighbors are fighting to save our lagoon from bad city leaders and their outside billionaire developer friend.

Angel Boy and preggy DIL are here and I prepared a delicious Vegan Veggie Pot Pie for dinner last night; took pics and was gonna share the recipe, but it’ll have to wait until there’s a lull in the action around here.

A quote about the real meaning of Thanksgiving from my secret crush…Jon Stewart

“I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.”

Now I have to go, cos my famous Kugel noodle/fruit dish has been requested and it’s time to roll my sleeves up and get to work.
Not Kegel, But a KUGEL-icuos  Recipe for Thanksgiving
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

This is the life of a tugboat captain’s wife…

My tugboat man departed mid-September for what was supposed to be a six-week assignment.

In the world of the merchant mariner, that’s easy; a piece of cake.

He’s still not home and what’s today’s date?

November 22.

Will he be home for Thanksgiving?

Nope.

Will he be home the week after?

Hopefully, but no guarantees.

Am I complaining?

Only kinda, sorta, cos I’m pretty much used to this by now.

During the first fifteen years or so of our marriage, he worked in our local harbor as a tug captain and also as port captain of a tug company, and then with the downturn in the economy in 2008, he was offered an opportunity to return to his roots of long distance towing.

Not only is he a maritime academy (won’t tell which one) graduate and a high ticket tug captain, he’s a tow master.

Being a Master Towboatman is highly specialized and a difficult and often dangerous job.

Which is why if I don’t hear from him every day, I get a little (OK, a LOT) crazy.

Even though we do have limited satellite email, I haven’t actually SPOKEN to him in a few weeks, but tomorrow he’s going to bring one 800-foot-long barge into a port and exchange it for another one to take offshore and do whatever it is that he does (can’t tell you) and the highlight of my day is a PHONE CALL.

A TELEPHONE CALL.

Which makes me very, very happy!

So, in spite of my bestie not being here on this Sunday where Princess Rosebud (me) can make him his fave buckwheat pancakes, I am very thankful that I’ll be able to hear his voice tomorrow.

Gratitude…Take it wherEVER you can find it.

gratitudetexlagoon

 

WTF WordPress. Not AGAIN…

Have you noticed that I’ve been absent from the blogosphere for a few days?

2015-11-19 02.01.38-1

Were you wondering what’s happened to Princess Rosebud?

Did I go on a shopping spree that spiraled out of control?

Nope, no out-of-control purchases, although I did attend a Chanel trunk show and walked away empty handed, but only because the earrings I desired were clip on and not meant for my pierced ears.

Oh well.

The truth is that I was/am joining forces with other like minded community activists to FIGHT a mega mall development that would, if allowed, forever destroy our precious sensitive wetlands.

And more.

With help, I rescued a cat from a boarded up, condemned home.

I wanted to write a post about all of this, but when I opened WordPress, I was greeted with YET ANOTHER CHANGE TO WRITING, EDITING, PUBLISHING TOOLS.

WordPress, I simply cannot take these changes right now.

It’s not necessary to tweak the format.

HONEST.

And where’s the button to SAVE my work?  That teensy little word with the blue line under it isn’t USER FRIENDLY.

The whole format is NOT user friendly.

WTF, WordPress?____________________________________________________

P.S. To add insult to injury, tugboat man is again delayed; won’t be home until AFTER Thanksgiving. UGH.

 

I Met Vice President Al Gore at the Apple Store

This is a repost from a while ago because I felt the need to produce factual documentation to prove to a few people in my little town that I did indeed meet Al Gore and I told the truth! Plus, this is one of tugboat man’s favorite posts.


 

Hey, that rhymes, doesn’t it? Al Gore at the Apple Store

Of all the days to run out of the house dressed in ratty Lululemons — constructed from the WORST fabric in the entire world. They’re a powerful magnet for all the lint and dust in Southern California and seem to attract more grime than my vacuum.

I stopped wearing them as workout garments ‘cos they’re not very comfortable and they have a nasty X-rated propensity to outline my reproductive parts for everyone at the gym. NOT a flattering look. At least they weren’t the see-though kind. Click here to read my post about THAT.

Now that you know more TMI that you probably needed to  —  picture me in those Lululemons and an oversized “I Hiked Angel’s Landing at Zion National Park” t-shirt with a black hoodie wrapped around my waist. Oh, and my hair was tied up in a scrunchie — yes, you heard me.  A SCRUNCHIE. Shhh. Don’t. Don’t say anything. I’ve heard it all before, “Ring, ring…1983 is calling.” Heard it a zillion times. In my defense, I have longish, very curly hair and a scrunchie is the best method to tie up my hair, OK?

I had MacAirApplea 1:00 p.m. appointment at the Genius Bar of my local Apple Store in La Costa at the Forum because my MacAir was on life support with the dreaded black screen of death —  basically flatlining —  and it needed a major resuscitation. And in case you’re wondering (and marveling) at my handiwork, I most certainly lovingly applied each and every sparkle to the darling apple with my own little fingers.

Keep reading; this story really is going somewhere, albeit in a meandering kind of way. Stick with me, OK?

Did I mention that I didn’t have on any makeup? I was in a rush to get there because how can you live without a computer — a rhetorical question, ‘cos of course it’s impossible.

I checked in with one of the many blue-shirted Apple employees and was directed to take a seat at the Genius Bar to await my personal technician. There were several available stools and I chose the second one from the end. THIS WILL BE VERY IMPORTANT SOON.

apple-genius-bar-nyc

Note how close together the stools are.

Hello Kitty computer caseI settled in and took my Mac out of its totes adorbs Hello Kitty case (I hear you snickering and I don’t care. I’m proudly 13 going on 60).

My tech, Clinton, came out for a moment to discuss my issues — well, not MY issues exactly, I mean, my MacAir haha —  and whisked my laptop off to the mysterious Back Room with the invisible silver doors.

Leaning against the sharp-edged corner of the Genius Bar with the ubiquitous badge around her neck defining her status as “Manager”, I overheard her whisper to another employee, “I’m saving this seat”.

She placed her iPad down on the round stool to emphasize her statement.

“Saving it for whom?” I thought to myself. Is this like junior high where we saved seats for our BFFs? Was that the best seat? Should I have demanded to sit there? Is there anyone more important than Princess Rosebud? All these questions were swirling around in my brain.

A couple of other employees gathered around the manager and exuded nervous anticipation. “He’ll be here soon”.

My radar began to pick up on the buzz. Hmm. Who were they saving a seat for? A celebrity? An Apple bigwig? A VERY IMPORTANT PERSON?

I sniffed the air. I smelled a story. One of my former incarnations was as an investigative reporter wannabe and my curiosity was aroused.

Something was going on.

A man and a woman were ceremoniously escorted to THE SAVED SEAT.

The man sat down next to me.

His stool was so close to my stool that I could feel body heat emanating from his softly worn jeans-clad thigh.

The woman stood next to him at the end of the Genius Bar. They were both casually dressed, nothing too remarkable about jewelry — no huge diamonds or Rolex watches — just a couple of regular people.

They both shook hands with the manager. She thanked them for coming into the store. WTF was THAT all about? This was certainly different than my experience. Not that I wasn’t treated courteously, but this was a bit overly polite and way more attentive.

Now there were three employees plus the hovering manager. The woman took her iPhone out of her handbag and handed it to the manager. I noted (with my laser focused investigative powers) that her phone was encased in a J.Crew leopard print cell phone cover. Nice, but not Chanel or anything. I could see that because another employee appeared from the mysterious back room and snapped off the case, enabling me to sneak a peek of “J.Crew” printed on the inside.

Too much detail? I’m building up to the good part. Don’t leave me now!

The man was doing a lot of talking and I was only half paying attention to WHAT he was saying because I was trying to place the voice. It was a very distinctive voice, something that I KNOW I’ve heard before — a bit of an elegant and classy Southern kind of drawl, a deeply resonant sound that I found to be VERY SEXY.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who it was. I ran through all the names and faces of celebrities  in my head – nope, nope, nope.

At this point, I was openly staring at him. He has beautiful eyes. I think they were blue, but I’m not sure even though, I swear, I was inches away. Poor guy, he prolly thought he had a stalker next to him. He could prolly smell my bad breath as I thought to myself, did I even brush my teeth that day? and surreptitiously opened my handbag and slipped a cinnamon Altoids between my lips.

I totally blanked (senior moment, perhaps?) and decided it must be someone who worked at Apple, maybe someone from San Francisco or something. Whatev. No biggie. I looked around. No one else seemed to be staring in our direction, no one was taking pics or coming up for an autograph.

Except for the voice. I KNEW that voice. Was it driving me crazy? You bet it was. I told you how close we were. I could have reached out and caressed his unshaven cheek and stroked his dark blonde/silvery hair. Nice hair.

Do you wonder who it was? Can you guess?

Finally, my tech came back with the good news/bad news that my laptop needed to be purged and the OS reinstalled and all would be better, but it would take a few days. Best news of all, the repair was free.

Mostly though, I wasn’t paying attention to anything he said ‘cos I was going nuts trying to figure out who was practically sitting in my lap, but I gathered up my stuff and prepared to walk away, still puzzled.

I hopped off the stool, turned, and walked a few steps away. I really did.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Another Apple employee walked up to me, laughing. She said I should see the look on my face. Huh? Oh, I guess I looked perplexed.

She said, “Don’t you know who that is?”

I replied, “I know the voice, but my brain won’t come up with the name to match it.”

She whispered, “Al Gore.”

Damn. OF COURSE. Stupid me.

AL GORE. Vice President and almost President but for a few hanging chads; Nobel Prize winner, author, and filmmaker.

What would you have done? Kept walking out the door? Missed an opportunity?

Not THIS girl. No way.

I turned and walked  back to the stool where AL GORE and his girlfriend were still chatting with the manager.

I interrupted their conversation as I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him I couldn’t believe I was sitting there all that time and I hadn’t said anything and it must have been because I didn’t think I was seeing correctly and that he was who he was (brilliant conversationalist, right?) because I just had laser surgery to repair a torn retina and he was like (I said “like” a LOT). Don’t you like like how speedily I turned the conversation to my favorite subject, ALL ABOUT ME?)

His GF was really nice and asked me all sorts of questions about the surgery and seemed to know quite a bit about it, and then we were talking about how I had to go through that pain all by myself ‘cos my tugboat captain husband who was a PROUD AMERICAN MERCHANT MARINER was out to sea. Finally, we talked about my broken computer, and Al (see how I call him Al now that we’re besties?) asked me if I was being treated right at the Apple Store and duh of course I said yes, but secretly I was thinking to myself, “not half as good as you were treated”, and there wasn’t much else to say after that, so we shook hands again. My parting words were something stupid like, “I hope you’re enjoying my little town of Carlsbad”.

So lame.

And so lame that I didn’t snap an Al Gore-Princess Rosebud selfie, but I thought it wasn’t appropriate — so alas, no photo.

But I swear it’s true.

He’s lost a lot of weight and I think that’s why I had a hard time identifying his voice.

Wow. Now I’m thinking if I had actually touched him, the Secret Service would have had me down on the floor and I’d be writing this from a federal prison OR you’d never hear from me again.

Did I ask him about climate change? Nope. Did I thank him for inventing the internet? Nope. Did I mention that my Yale professor son would really like a tenure-track position at Stanford and could he help make that happen? Nope. Did I mention that I voted for him (which I had)? Nope. I talked about ME. ME. ME. ME.

Me in my ratty camel-toed Lululemons with zero makeup and my hair in a curly scrunchie ponytail. Good one, Princess. Good one.

Yes, I met Al Gore, also famous or infamous for that kiss to his then wife, Tipper, at the 2000 Democratic Convention.

Whatever anyone might think of his politics and/or personal life, I can verify that he is VERY SEXY up close and that’s really all I cared about at that moment. And he smells good, too! Yum.

His girlfriend is Liz Keadle and in an interesting it’s-a-small-world-six-degrees kind of thing, Liz Keadle was formerly married to Lyle Turner, founder of Invitrogen, a huge biotech company in Carlsbad, famous for their vertical integration. My son used to intern at Invitrogen (when he went to UCSD and initially majored in Molecular Biology) and met Lyle Turner on several occasions.

Crazy random connection right?

P.S. I learned my lesson. When I went back to pick up my now functioning MacAir, I wore white skinny jeans and a tunic top with just a hint of cleavage and four-inch wedges. Makeup perfect, hair blown straight. Didn’t see anyone at all. I was in and out of the Apple Store in less than five minutes. A total waste of time.

*Sighs*

Let me introduce my new best friends, Liz Keadle and Al Gore.

al-gore-laurie-david-affair

 

#AppleStore #AlGore #Famouspeople

 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Am I suffering from grandma-itis?

Sorry once again for posting the same thing on both blogs, but until I find a way to marry the two, I might be doing it a few more times!

1328928449733_1980393I was NEVER one of those moms or mothers-in-law that nagged at the kids to have a baby. You never heard these words spill from my lips,

“I need a grandchild.”

“When are you going to give me a grandchild?”

I’m not getting any younger, aren’t you EVER going to have children?”

I figured after ten years of being married that they had decided (privately) that it wasn’t part of their five-year plan (obviously) or even their ten-year-plan and it was their business and I might be obnoxious about MANY MANY things (I admit it) but I wasn’t the stereotypical Jewish mom in THAT way.

I was 100% totally OK with it, too.

So it came as a shock to no one more than myself how excited I was when my son and DIL told me they were expecting a child, and in our lovely TMI way—providing me with all the who-what-where-when details of the actual conception (my son is SO proud of himself; my son the overachiever lol.)

First, I screamed.

Then I said, “It’s about time!!”

And then because that’s the way I roll, I make everything all about ME.

Since that day, I’ve become OBSESSED with all things baby—I swear, hand to heart, it’s as if I’m the one who’s carrying this boychild and I know that sounds weird , REALLY weird if you think about it, geez, that’s my SON, but that’s how invested I am.

If everyone thought I was a helicopter mom before, all I can say is LOOK OUT.

I actually tell people I’m having a baby.

I mean I’ve told absolute strangers that I’m having a baby, and when they look at me skeptically—medical miracle and all that, plus my belly with no discernible bump- (well, there are definitely lumps but no bumps) I clarify that it’s my son and his wife who are having a baby, and they inevitably say,

“Ohhh, so you’re a first-time grandma, now I get it. Been there, done that. Best time in your entire life. Congratulations!

I’m a shopper.

I’m a shopaholic.

I’m obsessed with retail therapy.

I love shopping for myself.

I really, really do.

But there’s something wrong with me!

I drive to all my favorite stores and run my fingers through silk blouses and sparkly jewelry and high-heeled winter boots; and NOTHING.

I buy NOTHING. Not a thing. Nothing sparks my desire.

However, I find myself magnetically drawn to the baby department where I analyze and scrutinize newborn onesies, the softest little socks, nursery bedding, high chairs, and strollers.

Apparently the only stroller worth having in 2015 is a Bugaboo, which costs as much as a used car.bugaboo-buffalo-stroller-BK2015-BA-RBB-0

When my son was born, we had this pram, similar in design to this Milson used by the royal family, with big wheels and shock absorbers guaranteed to provide Angel Boy with a smooth ride. We found it at an antique store and I’m pretty sure no one else in San Diego County pushed their child in this kind of luxury.231265080

I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.

In the past, I’d be happy because the office is near Anthropologie, J Crew, and Bloomies.

But now? 

I’m excited as can be because I can stop at Buy Buy BABY.

What the heck is wrong with me?

Have I been infected with that grandmother-itis I’ve been hearing about?

The high chair is used but very clean and only needs a new insert.highchair

Who could resist this sailboat onesie with matching hat?
highchair2

Yes, there’s most definitely something wrong with me.

And the winner is…XX or XY?

I’m bursting to tell, but first…

(I seem to repeat myself on both blogs and a big sorry to those who follow both cos you’re reading things twice, so I need to sit myself down and figure out how I can have both topics in one location cos this is driving me crazy. Well, crazier than I was, and now that the mothership (me) is obsessing about this baby, well, I’m at a whole new level of cray.)

And now we return to today’s post…

how-to-have-a-baby-girl

Don’t hate but here’s a truth; when my son was in elementary school, I’d pick him up every day after school and we’d walk home while he chattered away about what what happened during the day, what he learned, and sometimes this:

“Mom, Mom, guess what? I have EXTRA CREDIT!”

Yes, my Angel Boy looked at additional schoolwork as a gift —and why would anyone want to rain on his bliss?

Always the overachiever, it’s not surprising that he performed over and above in this category too, because he and DIL are having a…

wait for it

wait for it

oh, I can’t wait.

IT’S A …

BOYseashells

*Squeeeee!!*

Can you hear me screaming for joy?

DIL’s already referring to him as Angel Boy 2.0…here’s a pic.

He looks exactly like the Original Angel Boy with that big head!

AB2.0 BLOGpic

The first thing this yummy grandmummy did was to rush out and SHOP!

babygifts1

Next on the list is painting the nursery a lovely vintage yellow. I’ll decorate with an animal/nautical theme.

Lots of animals.

Nautical + animals but NOT a Noah’s Ark vibe.

Of course lots of love.

Cos that’s really all you need.

All you need is love. heartconstellation