Tales from a Couple of Air BnB Travelers

Retirement (It's An) Adventure #1

Great flight--got the emergency exit row with only two seats so Dave could stretch out!

Uber car rolled up within five minutes of us pinging it and brought us, after a Google-induced slight detour, to our Air BnB room. 

Before we had settled in and started noticing our situation, I realized I had left my phone in the Uber car. I'm going to give major props to Uber--there is a very simple procedure to figure out who your driver was and get in touch directly with her. Half an hour later I had my phone back! Thank you, Uber! And thank you driver Heather for being so accommodating. 

So back to our digs. They perhaps exaggerated a bit in the description of it. Here's the shot they included in their Air BnB description:

Keeping in mind this entire room is about 15 feet by 20 feet (and that includes the bathroom), here's the view from our side window (which they mysteriously did not include in the Air BnB description):

And then again, you get what you pay for. We are not paying a lot. 

If you don't hear from us within a day of our expected arrival home, maybe call the police and have them check out our air BnB. It's a bit rough. 

It's in the "arts" neighborhood, which is hipster code for slums. 

A bit dicey. But hey, it's an adventure! 

The two bicycles that the owners (who own a bike shop for god's sake) left for us to use--charming but also a bit dicey. If the front fender on mine makes it the whole three days I'll be shocked. It is a pleasure riding around a city announcing your impending arrival with a clattering ringing banging fender-about-to-fall-off noise. I think people love it. I know I do. 

Other fun details: our front door has two locks, one of which does not work as it appears to have been busted when perhaps someone shouldered through the door in the middle of the night looking for drugs (ok, some of that is how I imagine the lock broke, but still, it is broken in a rather startling manner--see photo). 

Also, no chairs. Well, ok two plastic Adirondack-y chairs outside the unit--because who doesn't enjoy sitting outside enjoying the Phoenix 105 degree days? We brought the plastic chairs in so we could enjoy the air conditioning. 

We met two of the neighbors. Both very nice, welcoming and friendly. The young man next door works at Chase Field and gave us a dining suggestion for the ballpark. Nice kid. Covered in tattoos, but they all kind of are right now. The man two doors down from him told us all about the neighborhood and invited us in to see his art collection (remember--we are staying in an active art gallery). Eclectic stuff. Kinda neat. I think he was perhaps three or four margaritas into his afternoon. 

We took our host's recommendation and went to dinner at a very local joint down the street (we rode our charming bikes there--twice! I put the bike lock key in the bike lock before we journeyed out and it had shaken loose and fallen out by the time we arrived at the diner, so we had to double back and look for the key as we retraced our steps. We found it--literally on our doorstep). Worth both trips, however. The Welcome Diner was great food, friendly people, and a relaxing, fun atmosphere. Had a fried green tomato BLT with chipotle sauce. Fantastic! Dave had a PBB--peanut butter burger. I'm trying not to make a face as I type that. It wasn't as bad as it sounds. Apparently it's very popular. Not my thing, but I did at least take a bite. Cause it's an adventure we're on, people! You have to try new things (without making faces). 

So ended our first day. The bed was fine. The neighborhood was quiet. And nobody busted through our door looking for anything. 

Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should

There's been more violence.
Your mind must be reeling.  The Middle-East? Baltimore? Ferguson? NYC? Nigeria? The Ukraine?
There's a lot of violence going on in the world.
I'm talking about Texas.  More specifically Garland, Texas.
You've never heard of it, have you?
And you likely never would have, except that one woman decided to fan the flames.  No, she did more than fan the flames.  She threw gasoline on the fire and THEN she fanned the flames.

A woman with too much time and money on her hands decided to have a contest.  For cartoonists.  To draw Mohammed.

Seriously.

Yes, yes, I know we live in the United States and we all have First Amendment rights and freedom of speech.  I realize she had the right to hold this contest.  But should she have?

Just because you CAN call people names, should you?
Just because you CAN contribute unlimited amounts of money to political campaigns (yeah, I'm talking to you Roberts Court), should you?
Just because you CAN hold a protest outside of a military funeral, should you?

Life is all about limits.  Part of life is finding out what your limits are and where those limits come from--are they self-imposed? can you overcome them? are they coming from people around you? from institutions around you? These are all important questions to answer in pursuit of figuring out limits.

We are all born with limits.  I, for one, am never going to run a sub-seven(okay, eight, okay, nine, okay in all likelihood ten) minute mile.  It's just not going to happen no matter how hard I train.  But I know this. So while I still run and I still try hard, I am not trying to achieve the unattainable.  I respect the limit.  If I didn't, I would likely end up injured.

Society imposes limits upon us.  We call these laws.  When people break laws, when they ignore the limits, they go to jail.  Or they get hurt.  Or worse yet, other people get hurt.

That's what happens, often times, when people do not respect limits.  Bad things happen.

The difficult part of all this is when we come to moral and ethical limits.  Because clearly everyone's morals and ethics vary to some degree.  But not nearly as much as people think.

For the most part, people know what is good and bad.  What is right and wrong.  What should be done and what should be left undone.

I understand that there are times when boundaries must be pushed, when laws must be broken.  The Civil Rights movement was definitely an example of a time when lines had to be crossed, laws broken, and boundaries pushed so that the boundaries could actually be moved.  There was an end-game to that struggle.  There was a purpose, a noble one that would lift people up and create better lives.

I do not see that end-game with this situation in Texas.  It appears to me that her purpose with this contest was to incite violence so that she could then blame the ENTIRE Muslim community for jihad.

Recently I read about an interview that Fox News' (and I use that term loosely) Sean Hannity did with an imam.  He blamed radical terrorism (pretty much all of it) on Islam the religion, and stated that the situation has to be solved within Islam.  Here is the Imam's response:

“Mr. Hannity, life is sacred in Islam as well as Christianity and Judaism, and it is the collective responsibility of Muslims, Christians and Jews to stand for the sanctity of life regardless of where that life belongs to.”

That's an end-game we should all try to achieve together.

My California Senate Candidacy

Please consider this my formal announcement that I will be running for the Senate seat that is being vacated by Barbara Boxer in 2016.

If you have a campaign slogan suggestion for me, I am open to ideas.  In fact, I am open to everything.  I am open to opinions.  I am open to changing my opinion.  I am open to not even having an opinion.

My game plan for my campaign at this point is to be perfectly honest.  That's it.  So here it is:

I am running for the California Senate seat because if I win, I will have blow-your-mind levels of healthcare for me and my family for the rest of my life.  That's a pretty big perk.  It's worth the hassle of running in my opinion.

Here's how this is going to work, and if I may say so I think it's rather brilliant.  I'm being very candid about my motivation for running.  I want great healthcare.  Congress gets great healthcare.  So I want to be in Congress.  I realize this isn't the most inspirational reason to run for office.  I guess I could say that I'm running to help America move forward.  That sounds so much better.  But that's what everyone who runs says.  And then they get there and they really don't appear to be doing much to help America move forward.  Honestly, there's not even much lateral movement at this point.  It's all going backward.  Or downhill.  Or some direction that is decidedly not forward.  Rather than tell you I'm going to do something and then disappoint you by not doing it, I'm just going to tell you what I know for sure.  I know for sure I want great healthcare.

As far as my stance on important issues, of which there are many, I've decided not to have any.  Stances, that is.  I definitely have issues (but don't we all?).

For instance, ISIS.  They're bad.  I think we can all agree on that.  We should try to defeat them, absolutely.  Should we put troops on the ground?  I'm not really sure.  It might be a good idea.  It might be the only way to get it done.  Or it might be a terrible idea.  We might not have the manpower to directly engage on another front.  I promise to give it serious thought.

Vaccination.  Very relevant issue.  My whole family is vaccinated.  I definitely would vaccinate.  I think it's a great idea.  But if you don't want to vaccinate, tell me why.  I'll listen.  I might even agree with some of your points.  It might not be a good idea to require vaccinating.  Or it might be essential that we require vaccinating.  I'm not quite sure.

Taxes.  We definitely need them to keep the whole government thing going.  Some people pay more because they earn more.  Is that fair?  It might be.  Or it might not be.  Are you conservative? If so, I just want to say that I think it's possibly not right to be taxing rich people more money.  Possibly.  Lower taxes could encourage people to work more and spend more.  Are you liberal?  I just want to add that it seems like the income gap is rising and we might want to look into higher taxes for higher income earners.  Might.  Just an idea.  Not written in stone.

You get the idea.  I'm not taking any definite stands that I might have to uphold (or might choose to reverse) should I be elected.  That just wouldn't be fair to you, the voter. The cardinal sin in politics is breaking your campaign promises.  So I'm not making any.  Except this one: I will only serve one term in government service.  Not because of any stand I am taking on term limits (remember--I'm not taking any stands on anything).  I am only serving one term because that's all that's required to get blow-your-mind levels of healthcare for the rest of my life.  

I think I am in good company with my campaign plan.  I've been watching the current field of Republican candidates jockeying for the 2016 nomination.

If I didn't know better I'd think they broke into my headquarters and stole my game plan.

Thank You Notes and More...

Last night at dinner Steven was telling us about what an amazing time he has had this summer at his internship at the Exporatorium.  He is enjoying not only the work, which is hectic and varied, but also the responsibility that he has been given by the amazing staff at the Teacher Institute.

As I listened to him describe how great the staff has been to him, I interjected with, "You know what you should do?"

And Olivia jumped right in with, "Write a thank-you note?"

Yes!  Yes, that is exactly what he should do!  I was so happy that she knew what I was thinking, and I was pleasantly surprised, I guess, too.  Because  as you parent over the years, you start to wonder if any of what you're sort of throwing out there at your kids is sticking.  And it's hard to tell, sometimes.  A lot of it, I think, gets batted away, or sort of just hangs out there for years until it either settles onto them like a fine layer of dust or it drifts off, never to be thought of again.  It was a really nice feeling to know that not all of it drifts off.

Which got me to thinking.  Now that Steven is about to begin his sophomore year at college and Olivia is a senior in high school, I am fastly running out of time to influence my kids.  I do realize I've had the last eighteen years.  But I'm feeling a bit frenzied right now, and slightly panicked, and more than a little unnerved, at the the idea that my impact regarding daily behavior and  ability to provide necessary guidance will not exist. These kids will be out on their own (mostly), moving forward and making choices based on what they've learned throughout their years growing up.

So in the spirit of being a mom, which means never assuming that your kids know what you're thinking and not just saying it to them once, but repeating it over and over and over, here is a list of what I hope "sticks" to my kids after they leave home:

1. Be grateful.  Be FULL of gratitude for all of the many big and little things in your life.  And share your gratitude.  When someone does something nice for you, say thank-you.  When someone gives you a gift, write a short but sincere thank-you card.  Always.

2. Don't text and drive.  EVER.  Seriously.  EVER.

3. Be helpful.  Look for ways to be helpful.  Ask if you can help.  Hold open a door.  Carry a bag of groceries.  Run an errand for someone.  Make it a habit to offer your help.  It's an easy and great way to not only be of service to someone else but also to make yourself feel good, too.

4. Look people in the eyes when you speak to them.  It's polite.  It shows respect.  It keeps you both engaged in the conversation.

5. When you go out with your friends, or when you're at your grandparents' house, or when you're somewhere fun with fun people, don't just put your phone in your pocket.  Turn it completely off before you put it in your pocket.  Forget about it for a few hours.  Get wrapped up in where you are and who you are with.  Don't worry about where you aren't and who's doing what without you.  You are where you are.  Enjoy it!

6. Clean up after yourself.  It's no one else's job but yours.  Treat it that way.

7.  Be on time.  Just because you have a cell phone and can call when you're running late does not mean you should run late.

8.  Don't talk about people behind their backs.  If someone did you wrong, telling other people about it isn't going to help solve the problem.  Talk to the person.  Explain the situation.  Give them a chance to fix it.  If they're not going to fix it, then find a way to move forward.  But gossip is neither productive nor a solution.

9.  Be sympathetic.  Be kind.  You have no idea what other people are going through.  A kind word or a smile can sometimes mean the world to someone in a way you will never know.

10.  Laugh.  A lot.  Surround yourself with people who can make you laugh out loud at the world, at yourself, at anything and everything.

Now, interestingly, at the end of the conversation at the dinner table that prompted me to write this list, Olivia noted that it's not just she and Steven who will be making transitions in the coming years.  Next fall, Dave and I will be home alone--empty-nesters--for the first time in twenty years .  She started to tell us her thoughts on what she would consider wise counsel.

I believe she started out with, "Be patient with each other."

She's a smart girl.  I'm sure that one will stick!

I'd like to hear the rest of her list :)

On Black Holes and Event Horizons

It's been almost a year since I've written anything here.  Well, I take that back.  It's been almost a year since I actually clicked the "publish" button and sent my thoughts from the draft stage to the public consumption stage.

I don't really know why it's been so long.  I've sat down to write many times.  I've had lots of ideas.  But nothing seems to get finished.  Midway through it feels like I'm distracted, or can't find an ending, or can't quite see the relevance of the topic.  I kind of hit a "What's the point?" moment, and then I end up on Facebook or checking emails.

I couldn't put my finger on why I wasn't, or couldn't, finish any of my thoughts.

It certainly wasn't because I felt like nobody would read them.  Olivia has told me numerous times that she checks my blog regularly to see if there's anything new.  My mom has commented on more than one occasion that it's been a while since I had a blog entry.  Dave has told me that he routinely looks to see if I've added to my posts.

That's almost my entire audience (by my own choice) eagerly anticipating my next move, so no complaints on that end.

So here I am today, April 2, committing myself to push through it.  This blog entry WILL be published today.  I apologize in advance if it seems unfinished, irrelevant, meandering or pointless.  I'm going to press the "publish" button at some point today to see if by doing so I can move forward and start to focus my thoughts again on a regular basis.

Steven's graduation was the topic of my previous post (last May).  That was a long time ago.

Since then, he has gone off to UC Berkeley (Go Bears!) and has had a wildly successful year at school.  The house is different without him.  It's quieter, for the most part due to the lack of the brother/sister wrestling/chasing/screaming events that no longer go on nightly.

Olivia is now a junior with a driver's license.  She has a million places to be and a million friends who want to hang out with her, and now that she's had her license for a year she can shuttle herself and her friends everywhere.  I was the taxi driver for so long that I looked forward to the day when that wouldn't be my primary daily activity.  Careful what you wish for.

Olivia is also starting to think about the college application process (it seems like we literally just did this with Steven…).  We are taking a Spring Break road trip down south to see five schools in the Los Angeles area.  I am excited to see what sparks this journey will ignite for Olivia.  She is a girl who has always worn her heart on her sleeve, and I imagine that actually getting to experience the colleges she has always dreamed of will lead to some exhilarating realizations and enthusiastic conversations that I can't wait to see and be a part of.

I have a Zits cartoon hanging at my desk.  In the first four frames, it shows the parents with their small child, reading to him, making him giggle, tucking him into bed and kissing him goodnight.  In the fifth frame all you can see is the parents surrounded by a swirl of calendar months.  And in the last frame they are looking at their fully grown teenager asleep in bed, and the mom says, "The days are long but the years are short."  The dad replies, "And how."

And how.

So a little over a year away from an empty nest.

I'm not feeling quite as prepared for the changes that are barreling my way at the speed of light.

This is going to seem like a drastic change of topic, but stay with me and I promise there's at least a tangential link.

Yesterday Dave and I were watching this show called "How the Universe Works".  The narrator was describing black holes, and what it would be like if we could actually get to a black hole.  He said that if you were watching something approach a black hole, it would appear to you, the observer, that it would stop on the edge of the black hole (called the Event Horizon).  Even after it had gone in, it would still seem to you, watching from the outside, that it was just on the edge, always in your sight, never moving farther away.  It would seem like time stood still.  And it would stay that way forever to you, the observer.

I'm starting to appreciate black holes.

I realize there is no Event Horizon in life.

I guess really I wouldn't want there to be one, because I can't wait to see those kids keep moving forward, chasing their dreams, failing and succeeding and learning and growing from all that is ahead of them.

I'm sure next year will be a blur.  Senior year for Olivia.  Steven in his first apartment.  Lots to look forward to for these two amazing kids.  They are so eager for what's to come.  They are so unafraid of independence and new adventures and challenges.

I wish I could bottle that enthusiasm and courage.  I would dab a little (maybe a lot) on my wrists every day.

The Circus

So last night we went to our son's graduation ceremony.  And I use the word ceremony somewhat loosely.

I don't want to lessen the impact of what it was for parents and kids--it was the culmination of thirteen years of hard work on the part of the kids, and anywhere between seventeen and eighteen years of even harder work on the part of the parents.

The kids looked magnificent.  The boys were in cardinal red caps and gowns, the girls in white.  They processed in to "Pomp and Circumstance" beautifully.  They sat quietly during speeches.  The cheered enthusiastically but respectfully every time anyone uttered the the words "class of 2013" into the microphone.  They walked the stage and accepted their diplomas graciously and with dignity.  They recessed with giant smiles on their faces.

Their behavior perfectly mirrored the excitement and solemnity of the occasion.

I cannot say the same for the behavior of the audience.

I have never seen anything quite like it.  I was not expecting it, and I was not prepared for it.

It was a circus.  A carnival-like atmosphere up in the stands.

I guess, in retrospect, it should not have been a huge surprise.  To begin with, the ceremony was held in the Sleep Train Arena.  That's a professional basketball arena.  Cause professional basketball venues lend themselves to dignified behavior.

Since the venue was so big, graduates could invite as many friends and relatives as they wished.  Not just parents and siblings, but anyone with any connection to any graduate could pay $7 and attend the event.  I'm proud to say that my own nieces and nephews, ranging in age from first grade through ninth grade, were all exceptionally well-behaved.  My nephew, who is seven years old, sat attentively through a two hour ceremony, during which he knew the name of ONE graduate.  He did not play Nintendo (with the sound ON!), he did not ask for a coke and fries, and he did not converse full-volume with his parents throughout the event.  I cannot say the same for the little girl sitting right behind me, who clearly had no interest at all in being there and was not capable of sitting quietly .  And clearly she was not expected to sit quietly, as not a single person in her family sat quietly during any part of the ceremony except the part where their relative was announced.  For that, they listened to his name, and then proceeded to whoop and holler so loudly and for so long that no one could hear the next three names that were announced.  And I'm not kidding with that reference to playing Nintendo with the sound ON during the ceremony.

I have a few suggestions that might bring the seriousness back to the occasion.

First, don't hold it in a basketball arena.  There is no intimacy.  There is no accountability for bad behavior.

Second, don't open the concession stands during the ceremony.  Nachos, fries,  and popcorn are great for sporting events.  Not so great when people get up in the middle of a Valedictorian's speech to go get a dog and a Coke.  I kid you not.

Third, the person in charge needs to tell the audience at the outset that this is a formal ceremony and it should be accorded the proper respect.  And then when people do not do so, the speakers need to be stopped, and told to wait for quiet, and the emcee needs to repeat the mantra.  Again and again until people stop talking and behaving badly.  I realize this would get uncomfortable when the ceremony is stopped for the fifteenth time, and people begin to get tired of the event getting held up.  But trust me, that's not nearly as uncomfortable as we were, unable to hear awards being announced, names being called.  And being stared down when we politely mention that we cannot hear what's being said.

That all being said, the afternoon was amazing.

Steven walked the stage with his friends, wearing his community service cord, his academic cord, and his IB cord.  He accepted his diploma with a smile.  And he is off to Berkeley in the fall.

We are so proud of him, and the young man he has become.

And no one can take those accomplishments away from him!

Crazy Runners

We runners are crazy.  I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, it should be "us runners".  But you're wrong.  It's we.  Because it's a subject, not an object.  So yeah, my college education was not for nothing!

But back to the topic at hand.  It's true.  We runners are crazy.

Today I finished my eleventh half-marathon.  I have run all eleven of them since I turned forty.  I am currently almost forty-seven.  Again, I know what you're thinking.  And the answer is: I have no idea. I truly have no idea.  It's just something that, inexplicably, seems like a fun thing to contemplate doing, even more fun as you're signing up and reading about the cool t-shirt and medal you'll get at the end, and then you just can't not do it once you've committed to it.  I mean, there's the mental commitment (haha, yes, I get the double meaning there), the physical commitment of training for the event, and there's the monetary commitment, which usually runs around $55-70 depending on where you're running (Disney, no surprise here, is on the upper end of the price spectrum of fees charged to runners; in their defense, however, the coolest medal I have is the Tinkerbell First Annual Half-Marathon Medal--it is a substantial piece of decoration!).

So there's all that commitment.  For something that doesn't really sound all that fun to most normal people.  Running 13.1 miles? That likely doesn't sound all that fun to most any person, regardless of their level of normality.

And the thing is, it's not fun.  At least not conventional fun.  And this is where the crazy comes in.  It's not not fun, either.

It's really hard to explain.

As you're standing at the starting line, there's a nervousness.  I can't explain why, at least for me.  I'm not competing against anyone.  There's not even anyone at these events who would care how quickly or how slowly I completed the course.  Just me.  Apparently I make myself nervous.

Then the gun goes off, the clock starts, you tap your watch to start the timer, and off you go.  And you go.  And you keep going.  Until you get to the end.  You cross the finish line.  You tap your watch to stop the timer.  You get your medal, your bottle of water, a bagel and a banana, and you're done.

That's it.  It's just one giant long-ass run.

But also, you get to see people trying to accomplish something.  You see people working really, really hard.  And you see people who have natural talent, who appear not to have to work at all.  Both are pretty inspiring.

You see people running with shirts telling who they are running for and who they are running in memory of, diseases they are trying to cure, lives they are trying to save.  Also kinda inspiring.

You see friends supporting each other, and you see perfect strangers yelling encouragement to one another.

Spectators will clap for you, cheer for you, whoop and holler for you even thought they have no idea who you are.  They will tell you how great you are looking, which is awesome to hear and completely not true in most cases (today, for instance, I put the wrong sunscreen on my face before the run, and consequently my face was a combination of a ridiculous amount of sweaty sunscreen pouring in ribbons down my cheeks, making me look like I was dying I am sure, combined with a lovely masque of gritty salt all over my forehead and neck--but thank you, kind gentleman at the 7.5 mile marker, for telling me I looked strong; I appreciate you much more than the dude at the 10 mile marker who kept yelling "you're almost there" when, in fact, we still had a quarter of the entire run to go--NOT COOL DUDE!)

Back to the good stuff, though.

Just today I saw runners thanking the volunteers for being there as they grabbed their Gatorade.  I saw one woman stop her run altogether to go check on a man who was sitting on the sidewalk stretching his calves.  She wanted to be sure he was okay and didn't need medical attention (he didn't).  I saw an older couple who, when they would take their walking breaks in between their running, would move over to the right so they could hold hands without getting in the way of those still running.

In between all of these observations I was downing packets of GU (which, incidentally tastes exactly like you would suspect something called GU would taste), regulating my breathing to make a cramp go away, and hoping that the kink in my neck would magically disappear after the run was over (successful on the cramp front; neck kink still here).

I was also checking my watch to see if I was on-pace to finish in under two hours thirty minutes, which I really, really wanted to do.  Which I actually did do.

So there's a lot going on in these long-ass runs.

It doesn't sound fun to run 13.1 miles.  I get that.  And mostly it's not fun.

Except for the parts that are really fun (like taking a weekend trip to Disneyland with your best friend to run a half-marathon through the park, or running 13.1 miles with your brother, who on any given day can run way faster than you but chose to change his pace so you could enjoy the run together).

And those parts are why you end up running eleven half-marathons (and counting) in seven years.