I am now officially the mother of two high-schoolers, as my daughter just finished her junior year and my son just finished jr. high (and will be starting 10th grade in the fall). Where did the time go? I'm taking my daughter to the Pratt Institute in NYC, where I will leave her for a month to attend their summer pre-college program in Fashion Design. I'll miss my baby!
Hey, for those of you who still have small ones at home, I thought I'd show you my friend Deb's blog:
It's
full of travel tips and ideas for folks with small children. From
international travel to just day trips, it's a really good site and
it's gotten quite a lot of publicity. Check it out!
If you suddenly found yourself in the year 1000 (A.D.)? My friend Hillel (who does a wholelotofdiversestuff) wrote a song about it. It's really clever. Check it out.
I deleted two blogs of mine that I had been sorely neglecting, yet didn't have the time or interest to maintain. Joy or Death was my project where I was gonna cook every recipe in the Joy of Cooking, and "Fifty by Fifty" was my "bucket list" of things I wanted to accomplish by the time I was 50 years old.
My business, calm by leslie, and my career (as a relaxation and wellness specialist) is keeping me really really busy. That combined with the usual business of being a mom, wife, and home-owner meant that it was time to pare down. Frankly, I need to pare a lot more down, but those two blogs were easy to cut.
The Joy of Cooking project was a fun idea, and was fun for a while, but it quickly stopped being fun and turned out to feel more like an obligation. Not the cooking part, I love to cook. It was more of the "I have to use THIS book" when there are so many cook cooking books and magazines to choose from.
Reading Eckhart Tolle had a big say in my ending the "Fifty by Fifty" blog. Living in the now is a current goal, and I will do the bucket list things when and if I like, but I don't want to add more obligations. I'm busy enough as it is.
When I was a kid, I used to always make a point to jump on the bed whenever I entered a new hotel room. Not sure how that would fly (literally) now that I'm a big girl. But a mid-air flying-jump photo? Might be worth it.
Please leave me comments! I love 'em. I know people are reading this site...I can see you on my SiteMeter (Shout out to Cork, Ireland ... put the beer down and put some pants on, man!)
Oh, uh, but don't leave me spam comments. I know, I know, beggars/choosers, etc. But I don't need to enlarge anything and I'm not going to help you get your millions out of Nigeria, I don't care how royal you are.
A few months ago, on a coupon and whim, I joined the Zingermans Bacon of the Month Club. Once a month this very large, insulated, express-shipped box arrives on our porch, and once you peel through the massive layers of protective packaging, there sits a humble little pound of gourmet, artisanal bacon. You know what's wrong with that? NOTHING! (And everything, all at the same time.)
Recently a friend of mine announced that he (now she) was transgendered. This came as a pretty big surprise, and has been a tremendously educational experience. Fortunately for all of us, Megan Wallent has been very forthright and open about her transition, and has shared the experience on her web site. I hope you will find what you read there interesting and educational as well. (I hope it goes without saying that this person is a friend of mine, and regardless of your thoughts on the matter you will keep any comments on the site civil and polite.)
It's been interesting for a number of reasons, one of which it's caused me to spend a great deal of time thinking about gender. Not sexuality, but gender (the fact that I've even had cause to separate the two is telling right there). While I care about and respect my friend, and am quite happy that this decision has brought her closer to her true self, I have to admit there's a part of me that simply doesn't understand what it's like to want to be the opposite sex.
I was talking to a friend of mine: "Gay I get," I said. "You're attracted to the opposite sex. Got it. But to want to be the opposite sex?
I've never wanted to be a man."
I've been saying and thinking this statement for the last several months (again, without judgement or anything but love for my transgendered friend. Just trying to wrap my mind around it.)
Then last night, I realized: That last statement is patently incorrect. While a few of my closest friends know what I'm about to say, it's time for ME to "come out" here on The Leslie Show:
Not date. Not marry. BE.
I'm very crush-prone. Always have been. The earliest celebrity crush I can remember is Shaun Cassidy. Shortly after that came Andy Gibb and The Bee Gees. Posters all over my walls. 16 magazine, and Tiger Beat were dietary staples, and I read the idiotic descriptions of how my dream date with these guys would go with ardent pre-teen fervor. Oh yes, it was going to happen. I was totally going to date Andy Gibb. And while I look at these pictures now and laugh at the soft, unthreatening faces of these young pop stars, I still maintain that in the late 1970s Barry Gibb was a hottie. (Then again, he was well into his thirties by then).
Duran Duran followed a few years later. This time the posters BLANKETED my entire room. My friends and I thoughtfully divided up the band so there would be no conflict. Rachel got John, Wendy got Nick. Simon was mine. Oh yes, I was going to marry Simon Le Bon.
But right around the time I was planning to marry Simon Le Bon, there was a band that I found absolutely compelling. The Stray Cats spoke to my gut. Brian Setzer's fingers whizzed along the guitar strings, and the music they made was animal and danceable at the same time. I wanted to be able to do that. I wanted to have my arms covered in tattoos and have a Gretsch guitar be my slave and do whatever I asked of it. I wanted to stand on a drum kit and howl while a crowd screamed. I had my hair permed (it was the '80s after all) and highlighted while showing the stylist a picture of John Taylor from Duran Duran, but when I got home, I combed it into a big pompadour, put on a big-shouldered jacket and rolled up the sleeves, grabbed my Gibson semi-acoustic guitar, and jumped around the room howling. Poodle-skirt my ass, I wanted to be the one up on the stage making the poodle-skirts twirl. I saw the Stray Cats in 1983 at Pine Knob with Dave Edmunds opening for them. Very few people were there, we practically had the place to ourselves. I remember being astonished at Lee Rocker when he would stand on his upright bass while playing it. How cool was that?
In 1999 I won a radio contest and got tickets for two to Woodstock '99. Oy, what a long, strange trip that was: Price gouging, heat waves, and filth, but that's a story for another time. One of the cool highlights was seeing The Brian Setzer Orchestra perform, and the field of college stoners jumping up and swing-dancing on the lawn. HA! Rock!
Finally, in around 2001 or 2002, we went and saw Brian Setzer at a little tiny club in Seattle (the Showbox). It was, of course, amazing, and I realized that I STILL wanted to be him. So talented, so respected, so authentic. It was just amazing.
So, in closing, three things:
1) I HAVE wanted to be a man. One man. Brian Setzer. So never say never.
2) Vote for Brian on Deep Rock Drive:
3) In case you have lived a horribly deprived life, or have simply forgotten, here's a 7.5 minute Stray Cats video to remind you:
Hey, for those of you who still have small ones at home, I thought I'd show you my friend Deb's blog:
