The Man, The Myth, The Father

I would be remiss, as I often am about so many things, if I didn't give a shout out to the other J. Khooler in the wake of his special role-appreciating day. He is a really good dad. He cooks delicious dinners. He puts pony tails in Naomi's hair in the morning. He reads stories to Muriel. He lets Naomi play CDs in his stereo. He attempts to explain scientific stuff to them. He queues up the Chicken Dance on his ipod. He plays the piano with them. He digs in the garden with them. Geez, what exactly have I been doing all this time?

For Father's Day, the girls and I attempted to use a fun garden stone kit to make Dad a special fun garden stone, only we (I) failed miserably and ended up with something that looked like a giant unbaked cookie with glass gems and letters white-glued to it. It is crumbly as hell and if we move it off the kitchen counter, it is likely to completely implode. Oh well. Naomi did a good job keeping the whole thing a secret, until I asked Dad where the big jug of bubble solution was, and he said it was in the shed, and she said, urgently and loudly, "Don't let him go in the shed, Mom!" Ha.

We celebrated, also, by going to the aquarium. Although Seattle seems like a candidate for a truly spectacular aquarium, the one they have is just OK. It's been improved by a giant wall of tank when you first come in, where you get to watch a chipper woman (on the outside) exchange banter with a scuba diver (on the inside) who is quite obviously freezing her flippers off. For me, the best part of the whole place is the octopus. It is a good-sized creature, and seems oh so very sentient, and (therefore?) really pretty menacing, in a way. Magnificent.

I also appreciate the mammals (seals and otters!) and the shore birds, including curlews and plovers and fancy puffins. All of which are fun to say. Also it was senior citizen day, so there were more than four occasions where I was compelled to scoot my kids out the way of an oncoming walker. Which I was happy to do. And of course because it is Seattle, there are many, many salmon.


Hi, fry!

I am not a great photographer, so Jim tries to position me before I take a shot (subtly, but I know what he's doing), so as to fill the frame optimally. But I still move in or out as my misconceived whim directs me. Oh well. Here's Dad on his day with his daughters, and the artificial orca tail.


Ah, and Saturday on Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me, in a story about the world's most unhygienic tourist sites (culminated of course by the Blarney Stone), what else got a shout out but Seattle's spectacular Wall of Gum? Yea!


And finally, a couple of girls who really, really love their Dad.

Expand My Brain, Please

Here's a lofty request- I am looking for some great thinkers. It has come to my attention recently that I have a deficit in the great thoughts department. A friend and I were talking recently about the wisdom you get from your parents, specifically aphorisms that stay with you through adulthood. The ones I remember are so situationally specific (and sometimes kooky) that I cannot even count them in this survey. This is not a slam on my parents- I have already discussed the pragmatism that runs in my bloodline. It's good to have a little advice on hand about specific situations in life.

But lately, also, I've been kind of hooked on the Happiness Project blog on Slate.com. This woman has got the sayings in spades- all kinds of meaningful thoughts on happiness and what is important in life. I know she probably has access to helpful quote anthologies and the like (a good shortcut for me? hmmm), but still, it strikes me as so desirable to be able to turn back to some book I got a lot from once in my life, and revisit the ideas, and see what they can do for me again. But wait, you say, didn't J. actually study these thinkers? In KOLLEDGE? Doesn't she already have a stable full to ride around when she wishes? Sort of, is the answer. But there are a lot of writers I never read, or barely did, the non-fiction writers in particular. I have some ideas of where to start, holes I already know about, like Emerson and Thoreau. But what else is out there for me? What, people?

It doesn't have to be the classics, also. If you think Stephen Covey is a genius, for example, I'm interested in hearing that. If you like some ancient mystic or other, again, interested! Frankly, whatever you have liked lately, or whatever you have come back to, I am interested. Show me what you got. I'd also love to hear just the quote or just the line that you return to.

And for inspiration, I dedicate this post to Baby H-C. She was a long time coming for her new parents, and she is going to change their lives like no great thinker ever did. Best wishes to the H-Cs- wish I could be there for some overnight baby holding!

Special Guest Star!

If I have not rhapsodized previously (though I believe I have) about how much I love to have visitors, allow me to do so now. Or again. Whichever. This weekend I was treated to a visit by my old friend L, who lives in New York City and spends her professional time enlightening humanity on the classics.

How do I know L, you ask? I used to live with her when I first moved to the Twin Cities. She and her mom were looking for a housemate, I was looking for a dog-tolerant home for myself and my Luna, and the prairie stars aligned. At first L and I were just friendly housemates, coming and going and not having too much to do with one another, but then came the fateful day when I dearly wanted to see Chumbawumba (you're reading that right) at First Ave., and this dear, sweet (party-ready) recent college grad was willing to tag along. We had a lot more fun after that (including my first martini), though we were roommates for only about six months, and when she moved to Oxford to pursue her dream of sifting through the loose pocket change of people who have been dead for thousands of years, I visited her there on a few occasions for some of the best times I've ever had. And I don't just mean the cucumber sandwiches at the tea joint.

One of the most interesting things (for me) that came up in our conversation this weekend was the realization that she and I are photo negatives of each other in the career arena. L is a person who knew exactly what she wanted to study, exactly what she wanted to end up with, exactly what she had to accomplish to get there, exactly how to work to accomplish those things. Girl had goals! Lofty ones! And met them! Whereas I have had the goal of being employed, figured out something I could be employed at, the rest is kind of snoozy history. Interestingly, although she feels like her work has resulted in a job she truly likes for a number of reasons, her satisfaction is not necessarily tied to the achievement of all these goals. Should I feel a bit better about that? Doesn't matter- since I knew her before her her career kicked off, even I get a measure of satisfaction from the way she accomplishes her goals. This woman kicks ancient historical ass, and looks good doing it.


Right?


Of course we went for breakfast at the market. That is where we go when you come to visit! You can go too! Come and visit us!


The girls enjoyed terrorizing the tourists with their calla lily magic wands. Thanks, Auntie L!


Guess who we ran into at the comic shop?


We thought this was tea for White People. Oh, White Peony, OK.

If I have any regrets about the weekend, it may be that I was a little too relaxed with L's visit. I had a few plans, a few meals lined up, but other than that the poor dear had to spend a fair amount of time floating around in the pool of our family life, which does not always have the strongest current. And she was completely victimized by my tots, who made her read something like one hundred and fifty books to them.


As a bonus aside, L brought along sweet little water bottles as gifts for the girls. Muriel's had a stopper in place of the screw top, and Naomi's came with a carabiner for attaching it to a bag or a coat or whatever. Which she persisted in calling a "hooker" the whole weekend. Funny!

So. Rad.

You guys! You guys! My 20th high school reunion weekend was Tewtally Awesome! I would further describe it as bitchin'! This is a seriously long post so please skip it if you're in an impatient mood.

I flew to Arizona on Friday morning, but early. Lucked into breakfast with an old friend from college days, who is making the world safer from terrorists the old fashioned way- building legal cases against them. However impressively grown-up he is now, and even after not seeing him in at least a dozen years, it only took about a minute to feel like I was talking to the college era version of him. Funny (good funny) how that works.

Back to the airport to pick up my home girl E., then off to Tempe for a family lunch. It was so good to see them- I always have a dual experience with my family, the moment of yes, they are me, I am them, this is where I come from, of course, and then the Wow do I not so much fit in here. Stupid adulthood with all its complicated ideas and whatnot.

We had a room at the hotel hosting the reunion events, so back up to Paradise Valley for some relaxation (ahem, cheap Riesling) in the room in advance of the Friday night cocktail party. I had a rule for myself on this reunion, based on my behavior at the ten year, and it went a little like this: Drink less. I still drank, though, I'm just saying.

The Friday event was, in a word, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Good turnout, lame appetizers, cash bar. I spent some time talking to a teacher I never had (who tried to convince me I was in one of his business classes?), and kept polling people on who would be coming the following night, so I could sign their Saturday dance card and move on. There were a few people I wasn't sure I would see that did show up- yea! I am not sure whether it was just the delight of being at a party I hadn't organized (sad, J.), or the whiskey and ginger ales, but I had a really fantastic time.

Saturday morning we managed to get all sunscreened up and head out to a local mountain trail for a hike. I had read that the summit trail on this mountain (we used to hike it a lot when I was first in AZ as a teenager) is the most heavily hiked in the nation or something, and I can attest that we were getting out of someone's way about once every two minutes. Rarely was it the other way around, I'm afraid. It's a steep hike. But the top affords quite a nice view of the valley, and some refreshing gusty winds. We also saw some badass lizards, who seemed not the least bit intimidated by the Manhattan sidewalk crowds of hikers.



If I felt my age a bit on the hike, I felt it in a different way at the place we picked for breakfast, cleverly named The Breakfast Club (and where you can get smart-alecky black t-shirts with quotes from the movie emblazoned on them). The food was fine (though seriously, who offers you eggs with toast on a menu and then only gives you ONE piece of toast?), but I kept thinking grouchily that the music could really go down a notch. Oops! Fogey alert!

In the afternoon we headed to a spa near the hotel. It was a swanky place, but so kitschily decorated that it was hard not to smile the whole time. Also, in addition to the big "relaxation space" with comfy chairs and high end chewy granola bar snacks and a wacky Van Goghish sky-painted glass ceiling, there was a little pool and hot tub in the side yard, that we were welcome to use (though we did not). Between that pool and the matching tan seersucker robes, it was a little like a kind of groovy cult we had temporarily joined.


Anyway, massage (ahhhh), facial (ooooh), manicure (enh), and after a quick but meaningful junket to Jack in the Box, back to the hotel to tart up for the big dance.

(In case you were wondering, yes, we were completely overdressed. And we didn't really care.)

In short, the dinner was not bad, actually, the group photo was silly, but kind of funny, I guess, the DJ had his year-range about right, we got a few dances in (why do people always bring up Elaine from Seinfeld when I dance?!), and the conversations were fun, fun, fun. When the event ended, we went to the lobby bar, when that place closed down we went to the hot tub (feet only, yo). I had a genuinely hard time heading back to my room at 2:30 or whenever it was.

I am giving this whole play by play in place of what was the heart, the essence of this weekend and why it meant so much to me. What a nice example of my writerly shortcoming (in turn maybe an example of my life-living shortcoming)- it's easy to write in the breezy voice about the things that go on, but one of the points of writing is to help you think about things, to help you figure them out. I know it would take me too long to get a post up on this weekend if I took the time to really write out what was so striking and emotional and wonderful about it (and maybe that thoughtful, reflective person could resist the urge to insert that perhaps I was so struck and emotional because I was drunk and sleep deprived!).

But for fun I'll take a breezy crack at it and say that first, when you (I) go through life wondering how much of yourself to show to the people you meet, and then come back into a group where the people more or less already know that you, from way before, wow! It's so easy! Second, you get a chance to ponder the threads you dropped, directions your life could have taken, and to appreciate in turn the ones you held on to. Third, you get the people, the nice, funny, interesting people who surprise you, or turn out to be wonderfully, exactly as you remember them.

I don't know if this assessment can explain the happy, emotionally split-open feeling I'm having even a few days later, and I'm guessing not everyone has the same experience at their high school reunion. I haven't even mentioned the wonder of spending the weekend with someone who knew me since I was thirteen (and has liked me all that time), sitting on a beautiful resort room patio for great long stretches, reading magazines and lounging in a chair, and participating in no childcare whatsoever (thanks, Dad!). Reunion weekend, I have a big crush on you. Call me!