Uncle Wiggily

Have you ever heard of Uncle Wiggily? If you're not a member of our family, I'm guessing not. He's a children's literary character created around 1910. My dad has lots of Uncle Wiggily books. And... wait for it... the Uncle Wiggily board game--the same one he played seventy-five years ago as a kid!

A few nights ago a bunch of us were all at my parents' house, and five of the six grandkids, ranging in ages from 6th grade to recent college graduate, were all hanging out in the family room playing board games.

Now that in and of itself should be a blog post all by itself, which I will do when I'm done with this one. THIS one, however, is specifically about kids playing the Uncle Wiggily board game.

Now, just for comparative purposes, here is the Uncle Wiggily game next to the Candy Land game.



You know when you play Candy Land how fun it is to get the cards that sends you to the Lollipop Woods? Or you get to go the Peppermint Forest? Or best of all you end up getting to take the Gumdrop Pass shortcut? The entire game is all pretty delicious sounding and very kid-friendly stuff. What kid wouldn't want to play and win Candy Land and end up being King Candy in the Candy Castle? That's a pretty kid-friendly reason to want to win the game.

The Uncle Wiggily game, on the other hand, has as it's destination for the winning player:
Dr. Possum's office. Why, you ask, is getting to Dr. Possum's office how you win the game? Because, and I don't know how you didn't think of this, the purpose of playing Uncle Wiggily's game is to help Uncle Wiggily get help for his nagging illness of rheumatism. I'm not making this up. That's an actual direct quote from the instructions.

Given that you now know the objective of this game designed for four year olds, ask yourself what might the cards that you would draw to move around the board say? Buckle up. You're gonna love this. For your amusement, here is a sampling of some of the cards:

"For Uncle Wiggily there are two jumps. I hope he hits no jagged stumps." Watch it, guy with rheumatism. That's not all you have to worry about apparently!

"A cabbage lollypop now and then will gain Uncle Wiggily a hop of ten." Yum. Cabbage lollypops.

"Uncle Wiggily sees a cabbage and goes back seven hops to get it for Nurse Jane Fuzzy his Muskrat Lady Housekeeper." I'm not sure there isn't something slightly dirty there, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Oh my! Uncle Wiggily's rheumatism crutch catches in the crack of a log and you lose one turn." For a guy with rheumatism Uncle Wiggily maybe shouldn't be out hiking over logs and jagged stumps.

I can't imagine sitting down with Olivia and Steven when they were little and getting excited about getting to Dr. Possum's office so Uncle Wiggily can get help for his rheumatism, which is already so bad that he's using a crutch. First off I think I would have had to look up rheumatism to explain it to the kids, and I think just the premise might have made Olivia cry.

And also, who makes a kids' game with the objective of getting to the doctor's office?

A different era in games, I guess. It probably didn't phase my dad at all to play the Uncle Wiggily game as a youngster, especially since he had read all of the Uncle Wiggily books. The rheumatism was probably just part of the storyline.

I guess I should just be thankful that the five grandkids weren't all playing a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity.

Things That Make Me Happy

It occurs to me that we (and by "we" I mean generally all of humanity) spend a lot of time thinking about things that bother us. We ruminate extensively on things gone wrong.

For example: that guy who cuts us off in the parking lot... how many different people do we mention that to? And why do we keep talking about it... we can't do anything about it. It's over and done. We should be moving on. But we like to linger on the irritation. Why do we like to do that?

Wouldn't it be great if I had the answer to that question?! I don't, unfortunately. I could probably posit a lot of theories, but I would have absolutely no evidence to back them up. It would just be me pretty much doing a little armchair analyzing of the American psyche. 

So instead of doing that (because there'd really be no point to that), I thought instead I would ruminate extensively on things that make me happy. Which I think we should all do more often. It's way more fun than talking about that guy in the parking lot.

So here we go... things that make me happy!

When my kids call to tell me about some fun thing that happened to them that day. First of all, it just makes me happy that my kids call. And also it makes me delirious how happy they actually are. You know when you are listening to someone and you can tell, even though you can't see them, that they're smiling really big? That's the kind of phone calls I love from my kids.

Watching Dave teach himself a new woodworking skill. The man has more patience than a saint. I'm sure he gets frustrated at times and he probably makes mistakes, but he never seems to get rattled. He just approaches things with such a deliberate expectation that he will eventually succeed that I find it inspiring and that makes me happy.

Random texts from my best friend, Lynda. The texts can say anything. It just puts a smile on my face when I see her name on my phone screen. 

Driving my car. I just got a new Subaru Outback in December, and I absolutely love it. Like no other car I've ever had. I can't explain it. I just thoroughly enjoy driving my car no matter where I'm going. Kind of weird, I know, but true.

San Francisco. Everything about that city makes me happy. I love the weather. I love the Ferry Building. I love the food. I love the bridges. The skyline. The Embarcadero (my favorite place in the world to run). The hotels. Just everything. I could spend months there just hanging out.

Stories about people who do nice things because they are just very nice, decent people. I just read this blurb about a family that was driving home one warm evening, and the dad has the mom pull over and drop him off and he tells her to just head home, he'll walk the rest of the way. The mom didn't know what was going on, but she stops and lets him out and as she's driving away she looks back and the dad has walked back a couple of houses and has taken over mowing the lawn for an elderly gentleman. What a great example for his kids. 

Daisies. I like their simplicity. 

The smell of the ocean.

The feeling of a summer morning when you walk outside really early and it's not yet hot but it's not even close to cold. 

Every. Single. Song. of. "Hamilton".

The late-night sound of Steven and Olivia laughing their heads off together.

Airplane travel. I know, right? Didn't expect that did you? Who loves airplane travel? I do! First of all there's the fun of going somewhere. And then the day you leave it's like you get to go through an entire checklist of things that need to get done, which is always satisfying... security clearance, check your gate number, get a snack, line up for boarding, settle in to your seat... it's all just exciting to me. And also, when you look around at airports, by and large people are pretty happy. Not everyone, of course (there's always that ONE family you hope you don't have to sit next to on the plane). But mostly. Look around the next time you're waiting for a flight. It's usually not random chaos and disconsolate travelers. It's the opposite. People quietly reading, kids looking out giant windows at airplanes, couples having animated conversations. Happiness.

Brandon Crawford. Because that guy is having just pretty much a frustrating year in the batter's box, but his fielding is still so Golden Glove graceful that regardless of how badly the Giants are losing, I still want to watch Craw at shortstop. 

I feel like I could go on and on and on, and what a nice feeling that is. 

We are surrounded by a world with no shortage of events, people, places and tweets that can effect us one way or another. Maybe the next time someone does something that irks you, or you see something that is disappointing, look around and try to find something uplifting that's going on, however small.

I think we tend to find what we are looking for. 

Thanks for Noticing

Author's Note: This was started last year (but finished this week).


Olivia called tonight from college. She didn't call to ask for money. She didn't call to ask for help. She didn't call because she missed us (although I'm sure she does).

She called to ask a question.

The phone rang. I picked it up.

"Hey Bia!"

"Hi, Mom. I just have a question. How can Ted Cruz be elected President if he's not a natural born citizen of the United States?"

Now, the answer to her question doesn't really matter in the context of this story. You can be a Democrat or a Republican or a Democratic Socialist (go Bernie!) or whatever, and I think you can still appreciate this. Here was a nineteen year old, sitting in her dorm room on a Sunday evening of a three-day weekend, calling her parents to inquire about the current state of the presidential election.

So many things to appreciate.

First off, she is aware of the developing issues in this election cycle. She didn't stop with the above question. She went on to detail for me what she had been taught in her political science class regarding qualifications for becoming president, as well as her interpretation of the phrase "natural born citizen". She knew where Ted Cruz had been born. She thought the idea that a person could be a natural born citizen of two countries was ludicrous. And she wondered why in her own lifetime the whole "where were you born" issue seemed to keep coming up with regard to people running for President (John McCain, Barack Obama, Ted Cruz). It does seem odd, now that I think about it.

What made me a tad bit giddy was that I was having this discussion with Olivia at her behest. SHE called US to talk politics.

There are so many ideas and passions and values that I hope we are passing down to our kids. I have come to realize that almost all of those things we pass down by example. You can't just talk a big game with your kids. You have to walk the walk.

I'm glad to know that our kids picked up on some of our better habits. Steven chose to give his grandparents a Heifer International donation in their name for Christmas. Love that. Olivia called her grandparents from college just to chat and check in with them one evening because she hadn't seen them in a while. Nicely done. Both kids write truly thoughtful thank-you notes when they receive gifts (without me telling them to). That makes me so happy.

When I see our kids exhibiting some of our better practices, I'm reminded of a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, which I think sums up the idea of this post:  "What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you are saying."

Thanks for noticing, Steven and Olivia :)

Why It's Fun to Name a Band

Our family likes to name bands. Okay, it's mostly me. I name bands. My family will occasionally jump in. But mostly they mock my band naming tendencies (and the actual band names I throw out there).

To be clear, I haven't actually ever named an actual band of instrument-playing people. I just like to think of names for bands.  And really, I don't even try to think of them.  It's not like I all sit around and try to come up with a great name.  It occurs more as an afterthought during a conversation.  My husband might say something like, "Hey, Steven, are you ready to go?  The Savage taxi is on its way."  (We have friends whose last name is Savage). And then I'll say, "Hey, Savage Taxi would be a great name for a band!" Because it WOULD be a great name for a band. That's how to play this game.

It sort of makes you listen with a different ear. You should try it.

Once you start doing this, a funny thing happens. You start also noticing phrases that would be TERRIBLE band names. And you start throwing those out as well. Those are almost more fun than the good ones. With the good ones, people will sometimes nod their head in agreement and perhaps mutter, "yeah, nice." They don't elicit a huge reaction. But when you casually drop in, "Oh, wow, 'Pop the Zit' would really make a terrible band name, you get people's attention. Then, just to try it out, you have to say, "Now coming to the stage, please welcome Pop the Zit!" in your best announcer voice (say "stage" three times getting softer each time, and do the same with Pop, the, and Zit). I'm grossing myself out here. That really would be a terrible band name!

Now that you know how this game works, you're going to start naming bands. You won't be able to help yourself. Have fun!

I Want to Spy on My Kids (but I won't)

Steven is down in Los Angeles visiting Olivia for the weekend. They both have season passes for Harry Potter World that are going to expire soon, so they wanted to use them one more time. I would absolutely LOVE to follow my kids around Harry Potter World.

I envision them, as they pass various Potter locations, quoting parts of the books, possibly acting them out. Without a care in the world as to whether anyone around them thinks they're dorks. And let's be honest--they're at Harry Potter World. No one there is going to think they are dorks for doing any of that. More likely they'll all be jealous. I think, although I can't say 100%, that Olivia might be able to quote at least one of the Harry Potter movies from beginning to end. I'm not joking.

In all honestly, I'd actually love to follow them around all weekend (in a disguise so as not to change their behavior). I picture them laughing a lot. I mean close to non-stop laughing. Because they're like that together at home, and away from us parents I suspect they laugh even more, and quite possibly they laugh at us (because again, they do this at home).

My guess is they also eat a lot. I envy them that. They're young and in great shape and if someone is offering them a goblet of butter beer, they're not going to pause to count calories or worry if it's nutritionally sound. Also, I ask them to send me pictures when they're together and a lot of the photos I get are of them eating.

I can absolutely guarantee you that Olivia will be singing lines from "Hamilton" the entire weekend. I will be interested to see if she turns Steven into a "Hamilton" fan. If anyone can do it, it's her. She not only knows all the lyrics, she is reading the biography that inspired the show and she's been researching various parts of the American Revolution because she's interested in the details beyond the story created by the musical. She'll have Steven discussing the merits of the National Bank before he knows what hit him.

He'll also be telling Olivia about his new apartment. Steven just moved to San Francisco and has his own apartment, all to himself, for the first time. It's downtown, just off of the Embarcadero, about a ten minute walk to AT&T Park (crucial information). Olivia has never been interested in living in San Francisco. She's always wanted to live in Los Angeles for as long as I can remember. But I think Steven might be the only person who could talk Olivia into moving north. I'm sure he'll be telling her all about his new digs, what's around, and all the cool things he has planned now that he's living in The City. Wouldn't surprise me if Olivia applied for jobs in San Francisco at some point in the future.

They're both also heading up to my brother-in-law's house in Palos Verdes to have dinner on Saturday night with him, his wife and their son, who is right between Olivia and Steven in age. They're going to have so much fun. Steve (my brother-in-law) has maybe the quickest wit of anyone I know, and he's unafraid to unleash it on our kids, which is great because I think he might just have met his match with Steven and Olivia. I would absolutely love to be at that dinner table. I predict someone ends up doing a spit take (Zack!).

I can't, of course, follow my kids around, so I will settle for hearing their stories when they call and when they come home to visit. And of course I will have all of the pictures they send me of them eating together.

The Royal "We"

I swear this blog is not going to be forever about the crap that's going on right now, but since the crap that's going on right now is somewhat inescapable for me, indulge me. Please. Especially this particular post.

Are you familiar with the "royal we"? This is when people of high station (like monarchs) refer to themselves in the plural instead of the singular. "We are not amused," Queen Victoria is supposed to have said to someone about something she didn't like. Since we do not have a monarchy in this country we don't hear this type of speech very often, and consequently when someone does employ it that person is often mocked for it, as if he is aspiring to something beyond his station.

I have been using it rather a lot lately. When someone asks how I am doing, I say something like, "We're doing okay. This is hard, and we didn't see it coming, but we are making our way through it." When anyone queries about chemo protocol, my reply is along the lines of, "We have an infusion on Monday, and then a week later we'll have the second one."

I'm not trying to be someone I'm not. I have no aspirations to royalty. But even though I'm the one with the diagnosis, this is not happening just to me. This is happening to me and Dave. Of course it's also happening to Steven and Olivia and my parents and my brothers and my cousin and my best friend... I could go on. But on a daily basis, from sunrise to sleepless nights and everything in between, it's me and Dave, 24/7.

So when I say "We have chemo tomorrow," I mean Dave and I have chemo tomorrow. It's me who gets the drugs, but it's Dave who gets up in the morning with me and makes sure I take my meds and makes me breakfast and packs a bag of snacks. He drives me there. He sits with me and holds my hand. He refills my drink. He checks if I'm doing ok. He tells me I'm doing great.

And when someone asks me how I'm doing and I say "We're tired but staying positive and we're doing ok," I mean I'm tired from the drugs and Dave is exhausted from doing the shopping, the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking and the constant positive reinforcement it takes to keep me from dissolving into a puddle of tears on a regular basis. We stay positive because Dave is a never-ending font of affirmation and visualization and encouragement.

I don't know how anyone could go through this alone. It's a lot to process physically and mentally.

I can't begin to imagine the state I'd be in if it weren't for Dave, if he weren't so willing but also so insistent upon taking such great care of me. Of us.

So I will continue to employ the "royal we" not out of a desire to be someone I'm not, but out of a deep appreciation and gratitude and love for a man who demonstrates every day with his words and his actions that he is with me every step of the way.

The Lessons of Baldness

I'm bald. Full on, no hair left, shiny head bald.

And as it turns out, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Of course I wish I weren't. Mostly because of why I am. But the actual bald part--reason not withstanding--is kind of an interesting learning experience. It's just hair.

I don't look half bad bald. My head is pretty symmetrical--Dave says I look great with no hair! My forehead, interestingly, looks way smaller now that I'm bald. I always thought I just had this huge forehead, and I would try to hide it with bangs and various haircuts. Not so bad when I have no hair at all.

I look good in scarves. In fact, today I went out and bought myself a few pair of dangly, bohemian-looking earrings (and I have not worn earrings of any kind in years--surprised I still have holes in my lobes), and when paired with a nice flowered black scarf I bought in Paris four years ago--I look downright chic! Seriously--this is a look I would do even if I had hair it's that good!

I have a couple of new little hats that look just adorable. You can totally tell I'm bald even when I have them on, but they still look really cute, and I would definitely leave the house wearing one and not think a thing about it.

I've gotten GREAT at doing my eyebrows. That's important right now, in my estimation, because all the sudden focus is on my face being framed by the hat/scarf, and for karmic reasons beyond my understanding (cause I think I'm actually a pretty good person) about six months before this whole fiasco started my eyebrows started getting all patchy. So patchy eyebrows, no hair... means you learn to make your eyebrows look good. Which I have. Thanks to my lovely daughter, who taught me this handy little trick: When you put your moisturizer on, don't forget to put it on your eyebrow area, and then apply your eyebrow powder to that--your entire eyebrow area is your canvas, the powder sticks great and it stays all day! Thanks Beebs :)

I've learned that I can pull of a hipster beanie. Or at least my family says I can pull off a hipster beanie. I'm inclined to believe them.

I've found that if you're bald and wearing a scarf or a beanie and you get warm, you can simply take off the scarf or the beanie and solve the problem. Not so much the same when you have hair. I'm not saying the former is preferable to the latter. I wish I had hair. But since I don't, it's nice to find some positive in the situation.

So all in all, being bald has so far helped me learn how to do eyebrow makeup, taught me I can accessorize to complement a look, helped me learn that I actually have more than one look, and maybe the most important thing it's taught me--it's just hair.

It's still me. My family looks at me exactly the same as they always have. They don't see bald. They see me. And they think I'm beautiful.