20 YEARS? Seriously?

This weekend is my 20-year class reunion.

I mean, what?

In a way, it seems like it has been every bit of 20 years since I was a student at Nevada High School. My son is about to start his junior year there, for heaven's sake, so mathematically it definitely makes sense.

In other ways, I'm kind of stunned. It doesn't feel like I should be one of the old ones. I still feel relevant, despite repeated assurances from my kids that I'm not. I feel like I'm just now becoming comfortable in my own skin. I wish I'd been that way 20 years ago, but I wasn't, and that's the end of that.

I see my kid now, and he is everything I would have wished for high-school Jen. Except the being a guy part. I was cool with being a girl. But he has this confidence that I never had. He has this natural ability to talk to people, and he is, like, so well-rounded. He understands math and chemistry and stuff.

But I digress. The original point was, I'm 20 years older, and this weekend, a handful of classmates and myself will converge at an agreed-upon meeting place to stare at each other surreptitiously and drink.

Should be interesting. And it's made me come up with a little compilation of my life now that I would love to go back and tell 17-year-old me, just to freak her out.

The list would go something like this.

1) Remember that incredibly hot guy that you almost literally drooled over every single day of your senior year? The guy whose butt you stared at longingly every chance you got? The guy who, when he looked at you, rendered you incapable of speech, thereby preventing you from ever having a conversation with him in high school? Yeah. You're married to him now.

2) You DID get through the math requirement and get your bachelor's degree. And you didn't even have to cheat or bribe anyone.

3) Sit down, honey. Take a deep breath. This is going to be a tough one. You never got out of Nevada.

4) Oh, also you had cancer. You lost your hair, and you have one HELL of a freaky situation going on with that boob, but you got to keep it!

5) You know how you didn't ever really like kids? You had one. And then you got two bonus kids. All boys, thank God, so there's that.

6) You don't lift weights anymore. I know. I know. But there's this great thing called yoga...

7) Since I just hit you with that, I'm going to gut punch you again real quick. You don't play tennis anymore.

8) Ms. Holman came back to Nevada and was the first female principal of NHS, which was AWESOME! Sadly, she just retired and moved to Eureka Springs, but still, that was cool.

9) The one thing you can't live without is a little portable phone that also functions as a computer and a Walkman.

10) You still work at the movie theater. But you actually like it now. And you get to work at a college too, in order to get your intellect on, so it's a good balance.

and FINALLY:

11) You're going to be a (step)grandmother, probably by the end of this sentence. I know. Weird.

I can't imagine Future Me coming to tell Young Me any of that 20 years ago. It's good that I didn't, though. If Future Me told Young Me I would still live in Nevada, Young Me would have done anything to make that not happen, which would have wiped out many of the other things on the list, namely the most important one, which is my current little family.

All in all, it's a kick-ass life, and I feel unbelievably blessed to be living it. I hope my classmates have had their own amazing 20 years of stories.

Oh, and you better believe there will be pictures this weekend. Brace yourselves.

Happy Mother's Day!

Friday night, I got home from work at about eleven. It had been a long day and a long week, and I was tired and ready to crash. We were leaving super early Saturday morning to go visit my sister, and more than anything I just wanted to fall face down on my bed and not move for eight hours.
The first thing I saw when I walked into the kitchen were the dirty dishes. That was normal, and the dishwasher was empty, so I could handle it. As I loaded them, my eyes drifted to the kitchen table, which was covered in newspapers, what looked to be a finger painting, a roll of tape, scissors, a hole punch, a roll of yarn, and markers.

I knew that the perp was my son, because he gets creative often, but his enthusiasm doesn't extend into cleanup. He was asleep in his room, and I didn't want to wake him up to yell at him. I also didn't want to leave the mess for the morning, because I'm anal like that and I like to go to sleep in a clean house.

So I cleaned it all up. It didn't take long, really, and when I finished I surveyed the clean kitchen with satisfaction and turned to go down the hallway.

I saw the boys' bathroom light was on, so I reached in to turn it off and got my next surprise.

Hunter had cut his hair. To his credit, he had cleaned quite a bit of it up, but there was still a fine misting of hair on the counter, in the sink, and all over the rug and tile on the floor.

Another huge sigh as I went to get the broom. Again, the thought of leaving that for the morning just didn't sit well with me.

With the bathroom sparkling, and me grumbling, I went into my bedroom and flipped on the light.

That's when I saw it. A big envelope consisting of several sheets of computer paper taped together. Yarn was threaded through holes punched in each side and "Mom" was printed on the front in red marker.

I opened the envelope to find a seven-page handwritten letter that read as follows:

Mother,
I want to start off this letter by saying that you're dumb and I don't love you. I'm only writing this letter out of sympathy. Everybody knows that Mother's Day is a made-up holiday that was only created by some chick who thought the world owed her something just because she pro-created like she was supposed to [author's note: not true, but bless his heart]. However, whilst I was doing my usual business and ignoring you so I could watch cat videos, an advertisement played before one of them. I had my hands full because I was eating the dinner that you cooked for me (and I probably didn't thank you for, but rather most likely made a snide remark about how bad it was). So I didn't skip the advertisement after 5 seconds like I usually would have. The ad was made by Google, so I wasn't too upset. They typically have good advertisements. If it was the new ad for the upcoming, seven-part series about North America, I would have thrown my plate across the room and stopped it, because the song that plays during that ad fills me with a burning rage that is only comparable to the rage I feel when I see your face. I mean seriously, the budget for that documentary is probably massive, and it sounds like the guy who was in charge of picking the music had a 5 dollar budget, and they told him he had to right (sic) the music himself and play every instrument at once, while singing. Oh, and he was deaf. From birth. It's so bad. Anyway, back to this Google ad. It started out with a nice acoustic guitar, and I could tell it was about to get emotional. The ad consisted of a compilation of videos of pretty awesome moms. There were kids that were talking about how thankful they were for their mothers. How strange, I thought. I was relatively unaffected because I was trying to keep down the dinner you made. But the last clip got me. It was a young woman in an Army uniform, which I presumed meant that she had just come back from a vacation, or something. Anyway, she was heading towards a very young boy, presumably a few years of age or less. The boy looked at the woman for a moment, and then outstretched his arms and cried, "Mommy!" Everyone in the area laughed and cried, and fun was had by all. My heart strings were played as if Jimi Hendrix were playing a harp, but like his expertise of the guitar was transformed into harp-expertise, or "harpertise" as we call it in the business. It was then that I realized, there are a lot of great Moms out there. Millions. Moms that would do anything for their child because they love them so much. But then there is you.
I would not put you in a category with these moms. No no, there is something different about you. You don't treat me like your son. You treat me like a fellow human being and individual consciousness that just so happens to be like yours. You take care of me because you want to help me progress through life, not because you feel responsible. Not many Moms are like you, but the few who are, know how to raise a child. There aren't any Moms on this planet that I would rather call my own.
I got pretty darn lucky, and I know it. I really do. I know I'm not great at showing it all the time, but surely that's just an age thing. But I really do know how lucky I am, and I am very thankful every day. I love you so much, Mom. Oh yeah, and you owe me tree-fiddy.
-Loch Ness Monster [author's note: a joke from AskReddit]

So when I read that letter, all the irritation melted away and I saw the night for what it really was: an opportunity for me to be grateful. Yes, I have this child who makes messes and doesn't pick them up and who drives me crazy, but how lucky am I to have him around for all of the great times? A little mess here and there was a small price to pay for all the joy he has brought into my life.
Then, today on the way home, I stopped to get gas and Zane ran into the gas station. I started to get worried after he was in there for awhile, and wondered if he had picked something out I needed to go pay for. Just as I was about to give up and go check on him, he ran back out holding some candy.
"What'd you get?" I asked, thinking he had bought himself snacks.
He flipped a package of Starbursts at me nonchalantly.

"Happy Mother's Day."

I thought I was going to cry.

I really am the luckiest mom ever.

Maybe Don't Yoga in the Kitchen.

I used to do a lot of yoga. By "a lot" I mean I did "Power Yoga - With Adrienne Reed", a series originally found on PBS that I DVR'd religiously in 2006-2008. Each session was roughly 24 minutes long, but I convinced myself, because, let's face it, if you want to believe something, it's pretty easy to believe it, that I was a true yoga girl.
When I got divorced, all of those DVR'd episodes disappeared, and so did my will to yoga. For the next five years, I halfheartedly tried to stretch about twice a year, but pretty much my desire to exercise, a desire which consumed me from my teenage years to my early thirties, was gone. It was weird.
I spent those five years trying to not gain weight and discovering flavored vodka, in that order. Not like, the whole five years, but when I think back on them, those are the two things that jump out at me.
I blame my sister for what happened next. Shannon got all up in Insanity, and eating nothing but cheese and nuts or something, and as her health reached super-human levels, she began to lightly pester me about getting in shape.
I slapped her away for a few months, but in January, to appease her, I started back with Adrienne. Four days a week at first, then five, then, based on the gentle admonitions of my SparkPeople app, I bumped it to 180 minutes a week.
I'm lazy about location. I'll yoga pretty much in any open space as long as nobody is watching.
I'm also lazy about the actual workout, and that leads us to this week.
I have a large window in my dining room (which is, let's be honest, really just an extension of the kitchen), and the view is great. I decided to do some yoga in front of it, and here is how the following 24 minutes went down.

Hey, it feels easier to stretch in the kitchen. Weird.

I need to open the curtains. I'll just do that real quick while Adrienne announces the next pose.

I hate these curtains.
I mean, they're not bad. But come on.

I wonder if those lace valances Mom gave me would work here.

The sun feels so good. I'm just going to take the curtain rod off and then after yoga I'll try the valances.

DEAR GOD. I have cellulite on my quads? It was one thing to have it on the backs of my legs, at least I couldn't see it then. DAMN YOU SUN. I couldn't see it when the curtains were down.
I'm drinking water and exercising and I still have cellulite? I may as well hustle and get those valances now while she announces the next pose. It's not like I can exercise away this cellulite. That shit's genetic.

I'll go ahead and take the curtains off the other window in here too. Then everything will match.

WHY DOES EVERY CURTAIN ROD IN EVERY HOUSE I LIVE IN HAVE TO HAVE THAT JACKED-UP JAGGED EDGE!?


*quick yoga pose*

*quick yoga pose*

I WILL jerk those valances across this jacked-up metal edge without tearing them. I WILL.
Screw it, I'll rip the lace. I hate these curtain rods and I hate this lace! I HATE IT!

*quick yoga pose*

*quick yoga pose*

Wow that sucked. But it's on! DON'T SLIDE OFF THE OTHER SIDE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP SLIDING OFF JUST LET ME PUT THIS ROD BACK ON THE WINDOW AND THEN I WILL NEVER BOTHER YOU AGAIN. I'M SERIOUS, I WILL MOVE OUT OF THIS HOUSE HAVING NEVER TOUCHED YOU AGAIN. PLEASE JUST DON'T SLIDE OFF...thank you.

I'll just finish yoga and then do the other window.

*quick yoga pose*

*quick yoga pose*

I can't wait, I'll just do it now. I really just need my legs for this pose, anyway.
Wow. This curtain rod doesn't have a jagged edge?! I should write that down in a journal or something, commemorate that somewhere. Let me just pop this one back on the window while she's announcing the next pose...

DAMN, THAT LOOKS GOOD! The kitchen looks so much bigger! Wow. Take a picture and send it to Mom and thank her.

*quick yoga pose*

*quick yoga pose*

Damn it, this carpet needs vacuumed. I can't believe how bad this looks. The light really isn't doing my lack of vacuuming any favors.

*vacuum*

*vacuum*

Corpse pose already!? Yoga goes so much faster in here! I love it!

Gender Equality at Last: Thank You, Bic.

Let’s face it, girls: women and men are not treated equally. Whether you want to admit it or not, it’s true. Women tend to receive less pay, fewer opportunities, and just aren’t as strong as men. Men, on the other hand, dominate nearly every category, save for sandwich-making and cleaning the house. So it has been since the beginning of time, when cavemen outclubbed their female counterparts in the very first documented Battle of the Sexes.

Ladies, we can’t change any of that, and frankly, we shouldn’t be busying our minds with something so confusing. Rather, let us focus on the best thing to happen to women since Roe v. Wade: the Bic Cristal for Her Ball Pen. Not only did the geniuses at Bic (undoubtedly men) design this pen to be smaller so that it would “fit her hand”, they also made it a more “elegant design” with pretty, pastel colors just for her!

Now, women, you’re probably thinking, “I have a lot to do around the house! This dinner isn’t going to make itself, and I have to go to the store first. There’s simply no time for something so frivolous!” But consider this: you have to make that list with some type of writing utensil, right? With the Bic for Her, it will be easier to write, as the pen doesn’t weigh as much, and you won’t be unintentionally muscling up your hand by using a man’s pen. We aren’t equal, why should our pens be?

For those of you who aren’t already blessed with such a gift to the writing world, you’re probably thinking “There is NO way my husband is going to approve this on my allowance!” Don’t overtax those pretty little skulls. When he comes home from work, go ahead and be waiting with his pipe, newspaper, drink (make it a double tonight!), and slippers, as always, but this time, maybe give him a little shoulder massage too. Then, when he’s good and relaxed, slip it in casually. Maybe something like, “Honey, I’ve been working so hard on our family calendar and grocery lists that we’re out of ink again. May I buy a new pen?” He won’t even know what hit him! Remember: women can be cunning when they need to be, and as long as you’re using said cunning to do things that make his life easier, there won’t be any problems!

Women who have been lucky enough to own these pens claim that the sleek design makes everyday tasks, like horseback riding and swimming, even easier. It’s so discreet that nobody will even notice you’re doing work! You’re sure to get lots of compliments from other women on your new accessory, and anything that makes you a desirable object to others is sure to make your husband realize he was even smarter than he thought to have put a ring on it! Tee hee.

Now go ahead and pop those cookies in the oven so that the house smells fragrant and welcoming when he comes home, slip the kids a Benadryl so they’re docile when he walks through the door, slap a fresh coat of paint on your nails, and get ready for your brand new life!

Bic for Her: Putting Women Back in Their Place.

Robinson's Character the True Star of '42'

It is a good movie indeed that can turn all of your preconceived notions upside down and make you wonder if everything you ever believed was a lie.

In the movie 42, Brian Helgegard did just that, taking an era that people often refer to as “the good ol’ days” and bringing the camera lens right up to the ugliness that Jackie Robinson had to face as the first black man to play in major league baseball.

Misconceptions about the innocence of baseball were also dashed, as the movie focused on the motivation behind getting Robinson into the game: greed. The bottom dollar, at least as far back as the forties, was money, just as it is in today’s game.

Star Chadwick Boseman played Robinson as a man facing challenges every day that many of us couldn’t dream of with a stoic inner strength that played out beautifully on screen. The movie focuses on Robinson’s first two seasons after being called up, but largely glosses over his first season, with the Montreal Royals, before honing in on the meat of the story, Robinson’s first year with the Brooklyn Dodgers.

His life as a husband and as a father were passed by entirely, but this wasn’t a movie called “Jackie Robinson: a Husband and Father.” It is a movie about baseball, and boy, was it ever. The supporting cast was fantastic, with Nicole Beharie turning in an excellent performance as Jackie’s wife, Rachel, and Christopher Meloni, as suspended Dodgers manager Leo Durocher, bringing the character’s tough choices to life in a subtle but powerful turn.

Aside from Boseman, however, the true star of the show was the actor who played Branch Rickey. It was at least half an hour into the movie before I realized it was Harrison Ford. Ford made Rickey equal parts growling and sympathetic, with his motives behind bringing Robinson up very clearly in favor of the moneymaking aspect of the decision. Still, it was hard not to like the character, and any true story-style movie that makes me research the historical figure after watching it is a well-crafted flick, indeed.

Despite the unflinching look at racism that this story portrayed, the PG-13 rating is apt, and this would be a kid-appropriate movie. Film distributor Warner Brothers focused on the story in all the right ways, and the more people who can see their portrayal of Robinson’s struggles, the better. It’s important for as many people as possible to understand how far things have come, both in baseball and in our history as a country.

It’s true that baseball ain’t like it used to be, but maybe that’s a good thing.

Get Outta My Dreams and Get Into This Movie!

So, I had to do a short film review for my Editorial Writing class. I've seen a lot of good movies. Hell, I manage a movie theater, and my dad has owned it since 1982. Having so much material to pull from, it was clear to me what I had to do. Corey Haim may never be my third husband, but I can still pay homage to him every chance I get.
Without further ado, here it is.

Bogey and Bacall. Hepburn and Tracy. Astaire and Rogers. These are just a few of the legendary pairings who look like amateurs compared to the king of all acting duos: Haim and Feldman. If you haven’t had the absolute pleasure of watching “License to Drive”, their 1988 silver screen masterpiece, then stop what you’re doing, no matter what it is, and watch it, no matter how difficult it might seem.

What doesn’t this movie have? Protagonist who talks to the camera: check. A young Heather Graham: check. Scenes in the DMV: check. Twin sister character: check. Carol Kane: check. The list goes on and on. Are you looking for Corey Haim to grin adorably? You won’t be disappointed. Are you looking for Corey Feldman to be the slightly darker character of the two Coreys? It’s your lucky day! Are you hoping for never-ending hijinks to ensue? Oh, boy, are you going to be excited!
You might be wondering about the plot. Don’t. There is no need for a well-developed plot with this depth of cast. Richard Masur’s moustache did not get its own billing, but it should have. Likewise with the family car.

Director Greg Beeman was truly blessed with this manna from cinematic heaven. He had to do very little to ensure that teenage girls would flock to theaters to watch, and that’s exactly what he did. Close-ups of Heather Graham’s blue eyes and helpless expression (that expression may have been real) abounded. The script may as well have read as follows: For 88 minutes, let Carol Kane be frazzled and zany. Let Haim grin and let Feldman furrow his eyebrows. Throw in a conspiratorial father-son moment (or two)! Destroy stuff. Make the girl cute and show her legs off accordingly. Make the twin sister a bookish contrast to Haim’s Haim-like mirth. And for God’s sake, keep it PG-13 appropriate! Think of our demographic here!

If you were thinking that the soundtrack had no legendary title track, you would be wrong yet again, and at this point, maybe consider walking away from the cinematic guessing game. BILLY OCEAN. That’s right, “Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Car” provided not only a movie-appropriate title track, but come on! Have you HEARD the song?
All in all, this movie was a recipe for late-80’s success. It achieved exactly what I imagine it set out to do: draw in teenage girls, and accordingly, their teenage dates who would see anything if it meant potentially holding hands and maybe even making out with them while said girls pretended they were with (either) Corey instead.

Things That Make Me SO HAPPY

My sister Shannon, who knows quite a bit about me and has stood by my side through the last two-plus tumultuous months (as well as the years before it), sends me articles that she feels are relevant to my life and/or good mood-boosters.
The one last night was entitled "25 Things That Make Me Want to Pee Myself with Happiness" and, I have to say, it was highly effective in reminding me to put things in perspective and not dwell on shit that I can't fix or in any other way change. In fact, it made me want to make my own list, based on the first things that popped into my mind. I'm not going to urge you to do the same, because I'm not your micro-manager and you have to get there yourself anyway, but here are mine. I'm not setting a number, because I'm not even sure what they are yet, but my one disclaimer is that things like "my family" and "my health" won't be on the list, though I am very grateful to have both. So, without further adieu, because there has been plenty already:

1. Really delicious food that's so delicious I do my little happy food dance when I'm eating, even if I'm alone.
2. The first Cadbury egg of the season.
3. All of the Cadbury eggs after that.
4. MUSIC. Specifically mine (really into Ghosts on the Boardwalk by Dave Hause right now; also, guiltily, Thrift Shop by Macklemore).
5. Walking around the land outside my house pretending to be a farmer (not actually farming. Aside from putting up the chickens and gathering their eggs, I mean. Whatever).
6. My car continuing to get me to all the places I need to go, because that's a pretty demanding job.
7. Being in the writing zone.
8. Staying up late and knowing I don't have to wake up early in the morning.
9. My couple of really great friends, because I generally don't let people in so these people had something special.
10. Alien Blue, particularly AskReddit.
11. Other people at work besides me being able to do the deposit.
12. The air in springtime. It just smells cleaner.
13. Being outside in the sun, picking up branches or sweeping off steps or just anything.
14. New Girl/Cougar Town/HIMYM
15. BASEBALL SEASON and the fact that at least one game's tickets are already purchased.
16. My trip this weekend to California!
17. Finding this amazing Sparkling Ice water to try to curb my diet pop addiction.
18. This pair of yoga pants I'm wearing right now that I actually do yoga in.
19. Freakin' funny pictures randomly sent to me by my meme-genius former co-worker.

I mean, that's 19 things right there, with almost no thought involved (something else I love! Not THINKING so much!),so, oh, man, there could be way more. The things that have been so difficult lately seem further away when I think instead about cool stuff.
Remember, I'm not saying you should try it.
I just liked the hell out of remembering how many things make me smile until my face hurts. But I'm weird that way.