tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-93033602024-03-23T10:46:20.531-07:00VenturaMomI'M A SASSY DORK...
Take a peek inside the life of a mommy, wife and Malibu Rum-drinking California native who thinks Republicans, Dora and pantyhose are evil.VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.comBlogger442125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-49670429951633669342008-08-30T17:46:00.000-07:002008-08-30T19:16:20.597-07:00KINDERGARTEN CIRCA 1971<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOjNfUbUVMifRs7c1aiSnWAzJcbCeJKl-fEP5dIq0uMFzG35zgJoaEPL7k3kb-aZ_ySZItoFTzzlFAXAae6MyUuzwVov_ryR-BtYG_txk1QrH5W6iYK7XUaDmwKy1QbbfJT5W/s1600-h/IMG_0114.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240499360295653730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="172" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOjNfUbUVMifRs7c1aiSnWAzJcbCeJKl-fEP5dIq0uMFzG35zgJoaEPL7k3kb-aZ_ySZItoFTzzlFAXAae6MyUuzwVov_ryR-BtYG_txk1QrH5W6iYK7XUaDmwKy1QbbfJT5W/s200/IMG_0114.jpg" width="128" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I went to public school for Kindergarten in 1971, my only year in public school until college. Damn Catholics had a hold on me for the intervening 12 years. But in 1971, as the Vietnam War was raging on, I parted my hair on the side and fashioned it into pigtails. My siblings range from six- to 13-years older than me, so they were a bunch of hippies when I turned five and headed off to Kindergarten at Nuview Elementary. </span><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I remember my teacher, her red coiffed hair, horn-rimmed glasses and perpetual nasal drip. She stuffed her ever-present tissue under her expandable watch band. Classy. One of my Kindergarten highlights was getting the freshly printed ditto worksheets (dude, if you don't know what ditto paper is, f-you - go to Wikipedia and look up mimeograph). Once in hand, I would flip the paper over (we didn't print two-sided because we were too busy cutting down old-growth forests) and on the great white expanse, I would draw a big circle and fill it with a peace sign. I was five. I liked the peace sign because my sister had a peace sign patch on her purse and my brothers painted one on their doorknob with black-light paint. There were peace signs drawn all over the shoe box that held our crayons on the shelf underneath the encyclopedias at our house. So yes, as a five-year-old I would proudly draw a peace sign, knowing it was cool but not sure what exactly it stood for. I just knew it was good. Peace was good. Fingers held in a V for peace. Peace signs on my ditto paper. I was young and free and happy. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then...The Man reared his ugly head. My teacher (who was a woman, but was my first experience with "The Man") told my I couldn't draw peace signs on my worksheets anymore. She said if I wanted to draw peace signs, I would have to do it at home. So that's what I did. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgWNzd57o37V-B5VWarJNVOw8R3-g5FTD9WpKyOTii7hVhWTQf07Tbd1eRlkiw8jOwLie_E-yLzvcZhreZrH_7P_rkY-LBBi_VD1YFkU2Fxl-EPNg1nZzSJih9Tyh_GNVC3O4/s1600-h/IMG_0116.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240498755188836450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgWNzd57o37V-B5VWarJNVOw8R3-g5FTD9WpKyOTii7hVhWTQf07Tbd1eRlkiw8jOwLie_E-yLzvcZhreZrH_7P_rkY-LBBi_VD1YFkU2Fxl-EPNg1nZzSJih9Tyh_GNVC3O4/s200/IMG_0116.jpg" border="0" /></span></a>Teacher said, I obeyed. Life went on. The war went on.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Flash forward 36 years later: On The Girl's first day of Kindergarten, she was given a paper to draw a picture of herself. And when she printed her name to the bottom, she followed it with a heart...with a peace sign in the middle. And the war went on.</span></div></div>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-35796103549144666222008-08-26T22:47:00.000-07:002008-08-26T23:04:44.768-07:00KINDERGARTEN ALREADY?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29rOGSJlokYhCpgXjVk39DzyUinjDDMyqGFWzYxc40dVdqlc6XFyl_W7bNCbkLxdwylNVfldLyhsLJi7PV2URBy9Aq7rUeK0SnlFg5VaP3t4TyUZa7ZF_x1jPja0hUuqHOzm7/s1600-h/ry%253D322.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239074341505208866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29rOGSJlokYhCpgXjVk39DzyUinjDDMyqGFWzYxc40dVdqlc6XFyl_W7bNCbkLxdwylNVfldLyhsLJi7PV2URBy9Aq7rUeK0SnlFg5VaP3t4TyUZa7ZF_x1jPja0hUuqHOzm7/s200/ry%253D322.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On the first day of Kindergarten I cried a little and so did The Girl. Daddy teared up as well. But the good part is that she loves her new school. I think she was actually bored this summer, despite YMCA camp and the babysitter. She complained that they didn't have enough reading. But what else would you expect from a child of word nerds.</span> <div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We were sitting at the dining room table on Sunday night finishing her homework sheet (printing big B and little b) when she let out a huge sigh and said, "Mom, I <em>really</em> don't like homework." And my response? "You'll just have to suck it up because you have at least 17 more years of it." And then there was a knock at my door and I was handed my Mother of the Year award for the fifth year in a row. I rule.</span></div></div></div>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-66765537120032435872008-06-01T17:38:00.000-07:002008-06-01T17:45:07.736-07:00SO HOW'VE YOU BEEN...?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hi, I'm the owner of this blog. Sort of left it to fend for itself the last several months. Funny thing, though. It won't post by itself, no matter how witty of a blog post I think up in the car on the way home from work. So, here I am thinking...where did I leave off? And who have I talked to in the meantime? Synopsis of the past several months: work, don't clean house, be amazed at The Kid, work, work some more, enjoy my husband, travel to Italy, work, don't clean the house, work, sign The Kid up for kindergarten, work, work, relax for the first weekend in months.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, what have you been up to?</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-38453300167531139892008-02-04T22:22:00.000-08:002008-02-04T23:03:28.000-08:00WHY I AM VOTING FOR HILARY<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am coming out of the blogging closet to share my reasons for voting for Hilary Clinton for President. The day after my 18th Birthday, I moved into the dorms at San Diego State and began my exciting life as a college coed. It was filled with freedom, fears and firsts. But the most memorable day that fall was Oct. 23, 1984. That day solidified my stance as a woman, as a feminist and put me on the road to self-awareness. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Geraldine Ferraro was the Democratic nominee for Vice President, running with Presidential nominee Walter Mondale. Geraldine Ferraro had the chance to change history, to make history, to be THE ONE. The one woman who was allowed in. The one woman who would truly represent me. That day Geraldine Ferraro stepped onto the stage at the Open Air Theatre (aka The OAT) at SDSU to a packed house. I couldn't get a seat, so I listened atop one of the grassy spots just outside. I remember getting goosebumps from the excitement of being a witness to history. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I still have The Daily Aztec from the following day, tucked away with a few pictures from that first year of freedom in the dorms, some old letters and a couple college term papers. And I honestly can't recall a word of Geraldine Ferraro's speech. But I do remember that day was magical.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And despite the fact that Ronald Regan and George H.W. Bush went on to win reelection, I was witness to history. I became a woman that day in the sunshine, listening to the woman who tried to change America. She may not have changed the country, but she did change me. I became a woman. A woman who would stand by my sisters. I became a woman who would try to change my world, even if that only meant changing the topic to politics at the holiday dinnertable with my family. I became a woman who would always quietly whisper in the ear of another woman when her slip was showing, not to point out the miscue, but to ensure others would do the same for me if needed. I became a woman who helped my sisters when I could with a vote or a donation. I became a woman who believes that Hilary Clinton should be the next President of the United States of America.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">So folks, before I go back into blogging hibernation, I just want to say that the reason I'm voting for Hilary Clinton is because I believe she is the best person for the job. And it's just so awesome that I get to take my wildly silly daughter into the voting booth with me when I cast my vote for a woman who is running for President. I hope she'll remember.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-88863144603722007692007-11-10T18:06:00.000-08:002007-11-10T18:28:31.409-08:00SINGING GEORGE MICHAEL<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Hubby is out of town and The Girl has no school on Mon. (holiday) and is off Tue. for parent teacher conferences. Again I must ask, is she eating paste? Can she hop on one foot? Does she pee on the potty? If the answers are no, yes, yes, then we are on track. So we are meeting the in-laws in Santa Barbara tomorrow so they can keep The Girl until Tues. after work. Do you see the beauty of this? Sing it with me George Michael fans:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Freedom<br />Freedom<br />Freedom<br />You've gotta give for what you take</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I get to shop by myself at William-Sonoma <em>and</em> Nordstrom. I get to go into work on Sunday to get a jump on a project and NOT feel guilty. I can eat Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch for dinner. I get to sleep diagonally in my bed and no one will pull the covers off. And that's just Sunday! On Monday night, The Hubby returns. If he plays his cards right, he'll even get a good-night kiss if he gets home before 10 p.m. Wink. And then The Child will be returned to me at 5ish on Tues. when I will be happy, rested and ready to be a mommy again. But believe me, I will be singing George Michael as soon as I make the hand off tomorrow.</span></p><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-63423508600487440832007-11-09T06:35:00.000-08:002007-11-09T06:42:32.168-08:00SHE'S ENGROSSING<span style="font-family:verdana;">Yesterday The Girl was complaining that her dad was not playing the game Trouble fairly. Then she added, "It's so engrossing." WTF? She's four! So I asked, "Do you know what engrossing means." </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Yes, it's like when you are hearing a really scary story and you get scared and think it's real." </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">They must be doing something right at her co-op preschool. She's turned into a word nerd just like us! In grade school, she is going to have classmates that think she's a showoff because of her big vocabulary, just like I did! Oh, I'm so proud.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-10483131106785383042007-10-29T23:07:00.000-07:002007-10-29T23:20:28.373-07:00SHE'S SO AWESOME<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Awesome things The Girl can do:</span><br /><ul style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><li>tells me the number on the receipt while waiting for our food at Hamburger Habit or Snapper Jacks</li><li>tells me numbers on signs as we drive by</li><li>plays the game Trouble EVERY DAY and often kicks her dad's ass. FYI she beat me 2 out of 3 tonight. (V - best gift EVAR)</li><li>Can wiggle her ears, waggle her eyebrows, flare her nostrils, roll her eyes and curl her tongue. She's gonna kill at frat parties. Or in Vaudeville.<br /></li></ul><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Awesome stuff The Girl has said recently:</span><br /><ul style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><li>Daddy is older than you because he is bigger</li><li>When I roll my tongue, it looks like a private bottom vagina.</li><li>Which one of these books is taller Mama? (After I responded correctly...) Good job, Mama! You are getting sooooo smart!</li></ul><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And from the backseat...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >The Girl:</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Mom, why do we have an antenna on the car?</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Me: </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So the songs from the radio station can find their way into our car stereo.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >TG:</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I saved that question for you Mama, because you are much smarter than Daddy even though he is taller.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">FYI she asked her dad the same question the day before, but apparently didn't like his answer.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-42947080713862697212007-10-29T22:45:00.000-07:002007-10-29T23:06:56.522-07:00AND NOW FOR WEEK FOUR, I SHALL JUGGLE CHAINSAWS<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Oh, how I love PR. It allows me to write, be creative, decorate my office with pretty posters and use lovely file folders to hold stuff that isn't so pretty. I get to purchase Sharpies and composition books. Sigh, it's swell. I forgot how much joy I find in my job.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The best part about the job? The Kid is still frickin' awesome. Damn, I must have done something right while in the last 4+ years because she still loves school and thinks her after-school care by the neighbor girls is a triple-scoop of fun. Thank gawd. The Hubby is out of town for a couple days for work so I get to do drop-off this week. The Girl just keeps chanting "We get to have some GIRL time." Unfortunately, tonight's Girl Time was preempted by a car crash and fire on the South 101 that kept me parked on the freeway for 2 hours. My lovely 20 minute commute turned into a nightmare. But, tomorrow is another day and I will get to gaze at the ocean (and the road) as I head back up the coast to work. And while there I will use my Sharpie and possibly open a new pack of turquoise Post-It Notes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I was sick as a dog and so was The Girl. Surprisingly The Hubby stayed germ-free. He would do a little happy dance every morning after I would rattle off all of my aches, pains and complaints. He's usually the sick one. I guess eating a granola bar for lunch the first week didn't really help my immune system. I even woke up with an earache. Grownups don't get earaches! By the next day it was in both ears and I couldn't hear for shit. Even after the antibiotics, everything sounded like I was underwater. It's enough to drive a girl nuts. More nuts. I'm almost back to normal. Whatever shade of normal that may be.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Being the totally-unprepared working mama, I have to go buy candy and face paint during my lunch hour tomorrow. In fact, I better sign off and go rummage through The Girl's drawers to make sure she has a black turtleneck for her cat outfit (ears & tail purchased weeks ago, thankyouverymuch). Gotta love a kid who doesn't want to wear itchy princess costumes. Peace out.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-34076193259734904852007-10-07T15:11:00.000-07:002007-10-07T15:49:51.585-07:00WEEK ONE IS DONE<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My first week as a working mom is done. It went well, if "well" means "holy hell there is no time to clean or do other household chores except before 6:40 a.m. and I fell asleep with The Girl by 9:30 every night."</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I won't be blogging about work but I must say I do like having an office with a door again. It's been a while. Also, I made fast friends with the IT help dude and that right there is half the battle of corporate survival. So enough about my nameless, faceless corporate existence. Poof, it no longer exists in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blogosphere</span>.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Girl did unbelievably well at school last week. After her lunch she heads to the "quiet room" where the kids rest quietly (naps not required) for 30 min before she heads back outside to scream and play until</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> the neighbor girls pick her up. She loves being with them (17 & 20 yrs. old). I told them they could run errands etc. with her if they needed to. The Girl was thrilled when they went to Oxnard to try on soccer cleats. Fun times when you're running errands with the sitter & not your mama.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />The Hubby has been a champ about getting The Kid to school every day. I pack her lunch, set out her clothes and get her breakfast ready. Then he takes over the rest of the morning duty - dressing, feeding, school drop-off. The only hitch has been that he doesn't know how to style her hair. And by "style" I mean part it on the left and brush. I kept telling him to part it on HER left. To him that meant parting on HER right and sweeping the bangs to HER left. After a quick review on Thurs., all is good.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I think I will be most happy about my role as a working mother when I get my first paycheck. We have already been daydreaming about Christmas presents and other more mundane things we haven't been able to afford. The Kid flushed the toilet the other day and it made some freakish growling noise. The Hubby looked at me and said, "At least if the something breaks</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> now, we can afford to get it fixed." It's so sexy when he talks about spending money on plumbing or replacing the eaves that have dry rot. Sexy sexy sexy.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It is officially October in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ventura</span>. We had a couple crisp evenings followed by dry-ass Santa <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Anas</span>. Today <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">it was</span> 79 when I came home from the grocery store. My throat feels chapped and both The Hubby & The Girl have the stuffy nose - is it a cold? is it sinuses? - thing going on. But I'm not complaining - sunny and 70-something with blue skies is a nice way to live.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSfCi1nDkMZGRuw3qB9tJOXYUrxlPfgF-_nGIXvz6rTzTRLRMdoRKklphVYuN08FscrsAstEFNqjIxuJbP_0JSpCMqzsFpQAuvoQ9_dQ0dJo9GaQHwMKKeG6i6r3xt01rqEf3/s1600-h/IMG_1534.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSfCi1nDkMZGRuw3qB9tJOXYUrxlPfgF-_nGIXvz6rTzTRLRMdoRKklphVYuN08FscrsAstEFNqjIxuJbP_0JSpCMqzsFpQAuvoQ9_dQ0dJo9GaQHwMKKeG6i6r3xt01rqEf3/s200/IMG_1534.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118728103843815522" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I popped my sushi cherry last night with the family, V, Jonathan and </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">V's new man-toy </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hayseed. I </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">ate <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pokie</span> (or is it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pokey</span>?), </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">raw</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ahi</span> tuna in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">delish</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> marinade. Also tried a spider roll (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">meh</span>). Next time I order any roll, I'll have to remember to get it made with soy paper because why the fuck would you want to eat seaweed?!?! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Blech</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Anywho</span>, I will leave you with a picture of The Girl, her Auntie V and Hayseed. Good times.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-15522187720168558442007-09-28T09:47:00.000-07:002007-09-28T10:04:22.331-07:00I'M BAAAAAACK<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I took a break from posting because I was so f-ing overwhelmed by the events of the last couple of weeks - crash, death, survival, memorial, scattering ashes, immense love for husband and lastly, new job. Throw in normal mothering duties and I was on overload. But I am back. I'm not sure what I want to write about so I'm going to list a couple things that are on my mind and if the feeling strikes, I will elaborate later.</span><br /><ul style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><li>The time I picked up The Hubby at LAX with Tom's ashes </li><li>The time I transferred Tom's ashes into another container for scattering</li><li>Being on the outer circle of grief/watching the inner circle of friends grieve</li><li>The power of my husband to do what's right - damn, I love this guy</li><li>We must set up a family trust - thoughts on mortality</li><li>The day my husband <span style="font-style: italic;">told me</span> to go shopping and I came home with a new work wardrobe</li><li>The Girl's school and after care arrangements - woo hoo, no more working in the classroom<br /></li><li>My new job starts Monday and so does the mother guilt, but the money might balance it out</li></ul>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-71373474165574576122007-09-15T09:45:00.000-07:002007-09-15T09:48:45.647-07:00HOMECOMING<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The Hubby is coming home today, bringing with him the ashes of his friend and coworker. We will take Tom's ashes to his ex and his sons, then head home. This is the day my husband comes home and I am so glad.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-20552494854544818542007-09-11T18:44:00.000-07:002007-09-11T19:02:04.706-07:00SAD DAY<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">The Hubby has been in Sarasota for the magazine's annual boat tests. Today the helicopter crashed while shooting photos of one of the boats. Both the photographer and videographer were killed and the pilot is in critical condition. I heard from The Hubby just after the crash to let me know he was ok (he stays on the docks, thank God). He's called a couple more times and text messaged, but he is just heartbroken. The photographer was a friend to all, dad of two boys and was great at what he did. And the pilot is a truly good guy. Hope he pulls through. Link to AP story </span><a href="http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5hHSFSELZsHrhlQmdgmDAB47mVH-g"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">here</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">. It's a sad day.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-80737329017463627132007-09-11T00:13:00.001-07:002007-09-11T00:24:54.226-07:00NO NEWS IS ... I DUNNO<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I haven't heard anything official on the job front. My friend on the inside assured me last week that my name was at the top of the list. I am beginning to panic.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We are at the in-laws' for a couple days while The Hubby is testing fast boats in Florida. I love not doing dishes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In other news, I have recently become a freak about stamps. Rubber stamps. I bought some </span><a href="http://www.marthastewartcrafts.com/detail.php?p=19849"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">bird stamps</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> by Martha and have ordered a bunch on eBay. I know, I know. Get a job.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-40947177532755719172007-08-31T14:11:00.000-07:002007-08-31T14:39:40.693-07:00THUD<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7OA8KsBnTYWBF1qLttpL0p28IXdoyEKH9Xo4M9eX5DwC60h1Lw6qq54bqvppRV4RnuiM0aKedVSE3sslzRNHpHQbwzcW8T_7OoOb-H_imw8JH2bNWz3ghyCchbbchkfPdcBF/s1600-h/ManningPeytonFootball+4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7OA8KsBnTYWBF1qLttpL0p28IXdoyEKH9Xo4M9eX5DwC60h1Lw6qq54bqvppRV4RnuiM0aKedVSE3sslzRNHpHQbwzcW8T_7OoOb-H_imw8JH2bNWz3ghyCchbbchkfPdcBF/s200/ManningPeytonFootball+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104978236338894514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Hubby fell out of bed last night (actually early this a.m.). He landed with </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">quite a THUD on</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> the wood floor and I flew out of bed thinking the ceiling just crashed in on us. While I was</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> concerned with his well-being (he bumped his head on his nightstand), I was kind of miffed,</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> too. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The crash woke me from a wonderful dream where Payton Manning </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">& I were just about to get friendly. Sorry, Payton, it'll have to wait 'till next time. Can you tell I'm glad football season has started?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Bad wife, bad, bad wife.<br /><br />PS - I posted an updated pic on my <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990">Blogger bio</a>. The new one is from Lake Tahoe after The Girl & I built a fairy house near a stream.<br /></span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-45703132688736475492007-08-31T14:02:00.000-07:002007-08-31T14:11:43.295-07:00AND I QUOTE...<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://venturamom.blogspot.com/2007/08/george-clooney-kissed-me-full-on-mouth.html">dream boyfriend</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> George Clooney is in the new film "</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/huff-wires/20070831/venice-film-michael-clayton/">Michael Clayton</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">" about a lawyer who cleans up corporate messes at the price of his soul. The director, Tony Gilroy, gave the best quote I've read in ages:</span><br /><blockquote style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"All these corporations that you talk about, they are all inhabited by people. It is not some other occult superpower that is deciding this," said Gilroy, who also wrote the script. "Every day, they go back and make a small paper cut on their morality."</blockquote><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Amazing imagery...paper cut on their morality.</span><br /><br /><br /><blockquote></blockquote>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-9171067232260885252007-08-29T19:47:00.000-07:002007-08-29T22:49:58.500-07:00THE CITY & THE LAKE (Part 1 of at least 2)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Vacation was splendid. We had the BEST weather in San Francisco - clear as a bell and warm.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVadFqitzOJIIIcSPjKCvksQK4PLGeS8arJtkyn7GO2tm8UW1f3iqfHRdMDzsj_baEqD8m2NmDCaayGzMmJD64IeqzF2jUutVQZC4V9Xbjrg4x29A_jpBFGsxmvOE65fQ7Xz6/s1600-h/IMG_1326.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVadFqitzOJIIIcSPjKCvksQK4PLGeS8arJtkyn7GO2tm8UW1f3iqfHRdMDzsj_baEqD8m2NmDCaayGzMmJD64IeqzF2jUutVQZC4V9Xbjrg4x29A_jpBFGsxmvOE65fQ7Xz6/s200/IMG_1326.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104362093215512194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> A rare combo in The City in the summer. My highlight was the newly renovated kids'</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> playground in Golden Gate park. It has this enormous </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">rope climbing structure (which will be</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> the cause of litigation I'm sure)</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, a man-made creek with river rocks, giant swaths of grass and</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> sand, a cool </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">dessert sand area with little tiny</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> caves that</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> only sand-eating tots can fit into, </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrL7-1pZWKAzf58vW1p7ou9IQYEHig810B-CkZxwsa0dGulugVrK6bg-yD3gBsAmcL9SFLoiBoEw-VlQiVfU2z9Ucix6Md08unkW6C_A_WKjliHdSfhr0V4SDfJl1tOgJf8O4/s1600-h/IMG_1324.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrL7-1pZWKAzf58vW1p7ou9IQYEHig810B-CkZxwsa0dGulugVrK6bg-yD3gBsAmcL9SFLoiBoEw-VlQiVfU2z9Ucix6Md08unkW6C_A_WKjliHdSfhr0V4SDfJl1tOgJf8O4/s200/IMG_1324.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104364433972688530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and loads of that neat squishy foam surface that makes you feel like you are on the moon. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There is also an amazing concrete slide (again with the litigation)</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> built into the hillside that has been there</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> for years and years. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The kids go down on cardboard for speed or the seat of their pants if</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> they want the slow version (and the parents don't mind</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> a hole in them). We met up with</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Hubby's college room </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">mate Pete, his wife Kelly and their lovely three-year-old son Theo. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Girl loved Theo because (per</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> usual) she could boss him around. We also went on the carousel</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> that has been at the park since the 30s.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2tC7ONVDNJ4R8mD_149QSM9AqCVIbBdDyPOAeLtN2fIeu0vQibB4V6GgwqCDZqdXuiWatiheHurAfpCaw69BaCYc6T1fRKGiLCP0Gj2BITrESFYnmjezzQphjSAvEImVsS_o9/s1600-h/itsMagic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2tC7ONVDNJ4R8mD_149QSM9AqCVIbBdDyPOAeLtN2fIeu0vQibB4V6GgwqCDZqdXuiWatiheHurAfpCaw69BaCYc6T1fRKGiLCP0Gj2BITrESFYnmjezzQphjSAvEImVsS_o9/s200/itsMagic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104334347726779922" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXlJ_mQf3F7Lg3yhplQ569EMWmJYgLwB5JZpHOIJ5J09i5WGVfQ8oqzPccXxbx0B87NxvG4Jiatz_LTCJRXjHH1IlhpTJ1jSQAQYPzWCVWmh2rK0CoJcHa1fIZWrGxDfhBdH7/s1600-h/GraceHenryAug2007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXlJ_mQf3F7Lg3yhplQ569EMWmJYgLwB5JZpHOIJ5J09i5WGVfQ8oqzPccXxbx0B87NxvG4Jiatz_LTCJRXjHH1IlhpTJ1jSQAQYPzWCVWmh2rK0CoJcHa1fIZWrGxDfhBdH7/s200/GraceHenryAug2007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104333273984955906" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We spent time with Hubby's high school buddy Ian, his wife Andrea and</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">seriously cute son Henry </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(left with The Girl). I</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">think I am <span style="font-style: italic;">in love</span> with Henry. If he were 40 years older and gainfully employed -- lookout. He also posed as </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">a magician with The Girl and I plan to use that photo as blackmail when they are teens.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />We stayed at the Hyatt near Union Square using Hubby's Hyatt points. They upgraded us to the Regency level (breakfast, snacks, sodas, fruit, cheap drinks). Very classy. I highly recommend it... As The Hubby said, "I could get used to being pretend rich." He was</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> mortified that I took two bottles of water with me whenever we left the Regency Club. I told him it's how the rich STAY rich.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpA1GFpwstGZ79PQzijtDYwnbsdBvu_D_IzapSOHGA1IWguR8IJDVkbyfBs2UvdnBJnbqSmkdiKsrqbouQ_kg3UDkNQZtEvcKEpiHRTiPI8lwZGpITHzcg-XfXQGuvpVyVKcnM/s1600-h/The+Girl%27s+new+slippers+from+Chinatown.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpA1GFpwstGZ79PQzijtDYwnbsdBvu_D_IzapSOHGA1IWguR8IJDVkbyfBs2UvdnBJnbqSmkdiKsrqbouQ_kg3UDkNQZtEvcKEpiHRTiPI8lwZGpITHzcg-XfXQGuvpVyVKcnM/s200/The+Girl%27s+new+slippers+from+Chinatown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104365688103138978" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Parting shot...The Girl's new slippers from Chinatown.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-32201603864575935332007-08-29T19:32:00.000-07:002007-08-29T19:40:34.505-07:00FROM THE BACKSEAT<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Conversation with The Girl...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Me: Guess where Auntie V went last weekend?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">TG: Where?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Me: Las Vegas!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">TG: Without you?!?!?</span><br /><a href="javascript:void(0)" onclick="return false;" tabindex="10"><span></span></a>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-61913396634659436002007-08-27T13:33:00.000-07:002007-08-27T13:42:08.847-07:00A BITCH SAID IT BEST...I got a lovely Birthday present today...Alberto Gonzales <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2007/POLITICS/08/27/gonzales/index.html">resigned</a>. As an added bonus, sister girl over at <a href="http://angryblackbitch.blogspot.com/">Angry Black Bitch</a> put the hallelujahs aside and set the mood with a little <a href="http://angryblackbitch.blogspot.com/2007/08/shall-we-sing.html">ode to Alberto</a> (with the help of the lovely Miss Dolly Parton). Heck of a job, Gonzo!VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-60040319902049122302007-08-25T11:25:00.000-07:002007-08-25T11:42:42.713-07:00UMMMM...DID I FORGET TO TELL YOU?<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">We were on vacation. Had a lovely time. I will post pics and a recap shortly, but wanted to give a big SQUEAL out to the interwebs because I had a REAL LIVE JOB INTERVIEW! I guess the planets were in alignment because as we headed for SF, a friend and former co-worker sent an email saying the PR position at her large corporation was open. She wanted to know if I was ready to get back in the game. Dude, I have never been so happy for a laptop and wireless. After scouring my sent email for a copy of my resume, I found it, sent it off and voila! had an interview scheduled for the day after we returned home. I can't explain the confidence boost I got as I reviewed a couple of my past PR plans and put together questions for the interviewers. I put on grown-up clothes and was instantly transformed from VenturaMom to VenturaMom: Awesome PR Professional. I killed in the interview. KILLED! Fingers are crossed & prayers have been murmured. Do your part please and send positive vibes out to the Universe (or whatever it is that you do) on my behalf. Thanks BloggyFriends (like the Super Friends but without the spandex)!</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-82213001849895831782007-08-14T20:31:00.001-07:002007-08-14T21:01:46.563-07:00SMELLS LIKE ORANGE SPRAY MASKING VOMIT!<span style="font-size:100%;">The Hubby spent his birthday barfing. He came home from work at 2 p.m. on Monday hurling. He spent today working from home, napping and complaining. I am completely incapable of sympathy right now because I am a bitch. I'm doing so much mother fucking laundry it's crazy. My Dad picked up his dog this weekend, so I am trying to rid our house of 3 weeks of dog hair. We are leaving Thurs. for our SF & Lake Tahoe vacation-palooza. So far I have packed... The Girl's underwear, socks and swimsuits. FUCK. Need more time. Need a not sick husband. Need to chill out.<br /><br />Our very vague itinerary for the Bay Area part of our vacation-palooza:</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline; font-weight: bold;"><br />Thurs</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. </span></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:100%;">arrive late afternoon, head to Oakland for a visit with The Hubby's funny high school friend and her family (she drinks at playdates at the park!)<br /></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.zacharys.com/index.html">Zachary's</a> Pizzeria for dinner - best pizza ever<br /></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">drive to SF & check into hotel</span></li></ul><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline; font-weight: bold;">Fri.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tjZ3r2qe6pzbLvUrfHIa7ETVs-IAdAKpCXEr9s2NTbA4rlqlPIe6_Srcdx3OS3yBSaOc8__wn2ijV-F1SkM5EftehKDnsVWhMZJY3cCfNZaMwmyDrX_pD9h2Fkc64auxxr9O/s1600-h/Mommy+%26+Grace+%40+Ghirardelli+10-27-03.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tjZ3r2qe6pzbLvUrfHIa7ETVs-IAdAKpCXEr9s2NTbA4rlqlPIe6_Srcdx3OS3yBSaOc8__wn2ijV-F1SkM5EftehKDnsVWhMZJY3cCfNZaMwmyDrX_pD9h2Fkc64auxxr9O/s200/Mommy+%26+Grace+%40+Ghirardelli+10-27-03.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098772021693129618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:100%;">tourist stuff with The Girl and The Hubby's college friend & his family; includes playground at Golden Gate Park and Ghirardelli Square for a picture of The Girl & me by the fountain (to the right she was</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> 3 mo.)</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">dinner & shopping in Chinatown - Kung Fu shoes will be purchased<br /></span></li></ul><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">Sat.</span><br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:100%;">playtime/eating with another of Hubby's friends & his family<br /></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">leave for Tahoe in the afternoon<br /></span></li></ul><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.zeum.org/about/index.html" target="_blank">Zeum</a> looks quite amazing - has anyone been?<br /><br />Then we are off to north Lake Tahoe for some R&R (reading and rum). The Hubby has promised me time alone to gamble, drink, read, shop, or whatever. We are also going to be putting The Girl in the kids camp thing at the hotel at least one afternoon/evening so we can get wild. We will probably end up napping, but at least it will be without The Girl.<br /></span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-27073926538760642312007-08-10T21:55:00.000-07:002007-08-14T20:57:41.201-07:00VISITING HOURS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJ5ASl5H_0EJtYAjD4FNShPcBDWBcixNxocYevO0uUL4o72cFKaQfnB9dDzAfzf_akSGReMu337uyYSXAgW3PIMVAuxSsu4qF3vqZ8vU3g7flyPnGmdAymqy2cvK8yDyZAeBI/s1600-h/IMG_1130.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097304826505077618" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJ5ASl5H_0EJtYAjD4FNShPcBDWBcixNxocYevO0uUL4o72cFKaQfnB9dDzAfzf_akSGReMu337uyYSXAgW3PIMVAuxSsu4qF3vqZ8vU3g7flyPnGmdAymqy2cvK8yDyZAeBI/s320/IMG_1130.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Hubby went to Santa Maria after work tonight to visit his dad in the hospital. This is day four of his stay following heart arrhythmia (crazy heartbeat). Turns out the heart problems were caused by a nasty infection in his knee that had gone completely unnoticed until it swelled to 3x its normal size yesterday. He had surgery on it today and they will start testing his heart tomorrow. My Dad had the same issue - his Dr. thought he was having heart attack, admitted to hospital, eventually found massive infection in toe, surgery and IV antibiotics cleared it up, heart was fine. Hopefully we will follow the same scenario for The Hubby's Dad.</span> <div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So get better, Tom. The Girl needs her Grampy healthy.</span></div><div> </div><div align="right"><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;" >(photo of The Girl & Grampy at the Santa Maria Fair, July 2007)</span></div>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-85867645210169381062007-08-10T01:55:00.000-07:002007-08-10T02:01:54.498-07:00COUNTY FAIR<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFh3mhUmLCF3iZO6ybybf-G9wzOo5UqjdElMhC0H0iUfm6MoFI2blMvmzZ7qnT2_eSUzV9lXV1MCjSqdF1LnfMRflLbBXIa_47x2m0m5Ob8L4LsbuABnIaK8iOYF7lJPAmXvE/s1600-h/Daddy+%26+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096993454261019426" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFh3mhUmLCF3iZO6ybybf-G9wzOo5UqjdElMhC0H0iUfm6MoFI2blMvmzZ7qnT2_eSUzV9lXV1MCjSqdF1LnfMRflLbBXIa_47x2m0m5Ob8L4LsbuABnIaK8iOYF7lJPAmXvE/s200/Daddy+%26+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2004.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-kwuJGeXA64swyjAOR3x7JZFWZxHcpBCf9LGq3Ljpdp_zK107hEV3qtfEKHGSccdUU7f-SQ2TWKxD4NOVMxyXgfUbqjKbzFXMYN5FTJF4V0qYUPqKStqZJHQ-ufaDAXjtJ8c/s1600-h/Daddy+%26+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096993458555986738" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-kwuJGeXA64swyjAOR3x7JZFWZxHcpBCf9LGq3Ljpdp_zK107hEV3qtfEKHGSccdUU7f-SQ2TWKxD4NOVMxyXgfUbqjKbzFXMYN5FTJF4V0qYUPqKStqZJHQ-ufaDAXjtJ8c/s200/Daddy+%26+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2005.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmieHB9Bep__xgAo_YxZqrMYhPpAcxwKqoRudTdRpRqns989wUQ53XghyphenhyphenfFmPBz_oWs0iyj-cpNjzF3gtOB4qmZTtH8OlRVGNKxcmKOq1o_FttJVtpsikCZUZZ219cA_FsjLJD/s1600-h/Daddy+%26+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096993462850954050" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmieHB9Bep__xgAo_YxZqrMYhPpAcxwKqoRudTdRpRqns989wUQ53XghyphenhyphenfFmPBz_oWs0iyj-cpNjzF3gtOB4qmZTtH8OlRVGNKxcmKOq1o_FttJVtpsikCZUZZ219cA_FsjLJD/s200/Daddy+%26+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2006.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7_clXKtqzXMKdKuS9gIgnOlRBV5ausmuyzrBDiHaVlua03TG7v7jGSB5hU3vrIJf_0yJv5_q7oQAnnKSDQpk8oRDN3ixO4BC4kgRRZuuADXxHm3mP0-zZeAiogXJkTmBG-yd/s1600-h/Gregg+and+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096993471440888658" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7_clXKtqzXMKdKuS9gIgnOlRBV5ausmuyzrBDiHaVlua03TG7v7jGSB5hU3vrIJf_0yJv5_q7oQAnnKSDQpk8oRDN3ixO4BC4kgRRZuuADXxHm3mP0-zZeAiogXJkTmBG-yd/s200/Gregg+and+Grace+-+Ventura+County+Fair+2007.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Daddy & The Girl at the Ventura County Fair 2004-2007</span><br /><br /><br /></div>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-7657130790892332312007-08-09T16:18:00.000-07:002007-08-09T16:45:40.857-07:00RIGHT ABOUT NOW<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BflQfWDM0hatR2QyHpHaMosBwN0LXtYmAdKUE5uxPJyj1Wx0mdH4F8npQUcLEITrAjIHommTE47ZxIdaHrMw0y-9LfOkPoQtAxPwbBY2KRcpTPLl8qYuUGSH2-JHMVlbHsRH/s1600-h/dancing+puppets.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096848859892032274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BflQfWDM0hatR2QyHpHaMosBwN0LXtYmAdKUE5uxPJyj1Wx0mdH4F8npQUcLEITrAjIHommTE47ZxIdaHrMw0y-9LfOkPoQtAxPwbBY2KRcpTPLl8qYuUGSH2-JHMVlbHsRH/s200/dancing+puppets.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Right now The Girl is making animal finger puppets dance in the kitchen. They are grooving to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Fatboy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Slim's</span> <a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=hvnHtO6daQM">The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Rockafeller</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Skank</span></a>. I asked her if she wanted me to put on a different song and she said, "No way! This is totally perfect." Totally. And the hippo puppet has mad dance <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">skillz</span>.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-25919528109129779852007-08-07T23:56:00.001-07:002007-08-08T00:27:04.920-07:00GEORGE CLOONEY KISSED ME FULL ON THE MOUTH<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEP_aF3KNT1a6huGf-puaGxmi4KJUB9wFVKDrfVtNNBNjUaCQhpQfcKgpD7rBJDw2vr9Qsn-Z8IQlinipUFtNPqlTFXMmTxWiKhUJWRPR4Nbr97quURHjbo-zVrnWajpUxGbwg/s1600-h/george_clooney1_300_400.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096227116131296002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEP_aF3KNT1a6huGf-puaGxmi4KJUB9wFVKDrfVtNNBNjUaCQhpQfcKgpD7rBJDw2vr9Qsn-Z8IQlinipUFtNPqlTFXMmTxWiKhUJWRPR4Nbr97quURHjbo-zVrnWajpUxGbwg/s200/george_clooney1_300_400.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Apparently in dreamland, George Clooney and I keep running into each other at events and tradeshows (!?). He always greets me by saying, "I was hoping I would run into you here." Then we gaze at each other, chuckle and float off to a lovely piano bar. Finally I decide that even in dreamland, running into each other isn't enough. So I tell George that this whole just-my-luck-running-into-you shtick isn't enough. It is then that he tells me he knew I would be there at every event/tradeshow. He called my office and pretended to be from each event/tradeshow to confirm my attendance. Then he reached his warm hands up to my face, held me and kissed me. Then he said he thought I didn't want a relationship. Oh, my dear sweet George, how wrong you were.</span></div>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9303360.post-42044615531611844162007-08-02T15:38:00.000-07:002007-08-02T15:59:16.769-07:00BETTER THAN A BONUS CHECK? NO, BUT...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Mothering isn't a glamorous job. And it pays for shit. And the self-confidence building? Not so much. But just occasionally, you get a little glimmer of validation. Today I got it in the form of a comment at the park. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Girl and I went to the park where we met an 8-year-old girl. The Girl shared her sand toys with the older girl and they played for a bit. We went for a walk across the park without the other girl, leaving our sand toys behind. When we returned about 20 minutes later, a couple little kids (under 2) were playing with the sand toys. The dad asked The Girl if they could continue playing with them and she answered, "Sure. If you bring a toy to the park, you have to share it with everyone." Suddenly, the 8yo realized her shovel and bag were also being played with by the little ones. She ran over, grabbed them and said they were hers. Then she asked Grace why she shared her toys. Again The Girl answered that it was a rule to share her toys at the park. The older girl just shrugged. And at that moment I felt validated. I have done a good job raising my daughter to share. Next up, world peace.</span>VenturaMom fromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16185118095012133990noreply@blogger.com0