Skip to main content


My husband and I decided that I would go to London with my sister and mom as a reward for graduating.

But, then, tickets were like 1 trillion dollars, give or take.
Plan B: New York City.  I bought tickets for Wicked on Broadway (I know, I was asking for it).  We had a hotel in Manhattan.  We were going to visit some amazing places.
But, then, my sister had to change her plans so she could launch a rocket.

So, off to Florida we went, we three.  (Cha Cha doesn't do press).

In Orlando, we went to visit a magical wizard (twice, but not in a row).  We bought wands and chocolates that melted in the bag before we could get to the parking lot (and yes, we bought them on our way out).  We rode rides that spun us around and upside down.  We ate in the Three Broomsticks and drank Butterbeer (one person was too afraid to try it, but I won't name names Charlotte).  

 We visited a very strange swamp meet/flea market where it was hot and the stalls were all filled with the same bulk Chinese goods.  (We still managed to find something to buy.) Then, we drove down to Port Charlotte and found a certain somebody watching over us via street sign.

It was hot.

And pretty.

We drove through a rainstorm and found Cocoa Beach awash in shells and surf. 

Charlotte went to work while Mom and I played.  A new place, but just as magical and a lot more real.  We saw rockets and turtles and pieces of the moon.  

We were lucky to get an insider's tour the next day, courtesy of my sister's rocket preparing for launch.  We visited the place where heroes died, and just across the way we could see that pesky rocket which had cancelled our plans waiting on the pad.

And we were awed.

And the next day, we went back to watch that pesky rocket lift off into the sky.  

Nature's evening light show was amazing.

But, then the rocket put on a show of it's own.

The ground shook and the sky was bright with fire.

And, then it seemed like stars were falling (but they were really just engines and it's supposed to happen).  

It's hard to top a rocket launch.

We took a nice boat ride and saw my first ever dolphin, a mother matinee and her babe (sort of).  Birds and boats and a beautiful world.

We went back to Orlando and a fancy hotel where you need to use your card to reach our floor.  We vowed to stay in the Presidential Suite someday.
Then, back to California.  We visited the only battleship with a presidential bathtub.  These crazies came too.  

And Charlotte won a big fancy award.  She hexed the picture I tried to take and it didn't come out.  But, I'm very proud of that sister!
But, magic spells only last so long and we came home again, home again, jiggity jig, with memories as sweet and wild as the sea.  And lot's of gratitude from lucky, lucky me.  Thanks, Charlotte and Mom, for going along.  And even for the pesky rocket.


Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…