I Took Some Horrible Pictures Of Fun And Then I Was Sad

Three of my Most Best Bestest Besties came to visit this last weekend!!! (Which I celebrated with a dance of glee and happiness. And, yes, my dance of glee and happiness includes one or two Gangnam style moves. I perform them badly.)  The timing of their visit was awesome, because the voices in my head were getting louder, and more insistent to be fed, clothed and kept in a basic state of aliveness. (In hindsight, those voices may actually be my children.) Me and my Most Best Bestest Besties do this every year, and every year we're in a different city, mostly because some of them insist on moving, like, a lot. But this year it was my year! We were going to SEATTLE! So, I did what any normal Seattleite-ish* would do when their out of town Most Best Bestest Besties visit. (That was the last time I'm going to use that phrase. Promise. Spoiler Alert: I'm lying.) I took them to the Space Needle!

Which, when they saw it, they were all, "Wow! This is awesome!" and some other stuff. And I was all, "I know, right?! Elvis!" And they all gave me a strange look that I took to be a collective exhibit of overwhelming pop culture awe, because, you know: ELVIS! And began to point out the important sights from the top of the Needle. Like this one:

Me: (talking really fast and gesturing wildly, because that's what tour guides do) We passed the Space Needle restaurant where Elvis sang "I'm Falling in Love Tonight" on our way up, but since the elevator didn't stop we didn't see it. But! Down there, is the Science Center where Elvis and Sue-Lin were chased under the arches and through the fountains by security guards in the movie!

Most Best Bestest Besties: Um.  What are you talking about, Martha?

Me:  It Happened at the World's Fair.

Most Best Bestest Besties: ------

Me: 1963?

Most Best Bestest Besties: ------

Me: The Elvis Presley movie?

Most Best Bestest Besties: We've never seen an Elvis movie.

Me: (in my sad voice, that I normally use for describing empty coffee cups and dead puppies) Seriously? No Elvis movies? Like...ever?

And that's when I realized I had to throw out my original "Tour of Elvis in Seattle".  And it's all my Most Best Bestest Besties fault.  Because it had the potential to be the most awesome "Most Best Bestest Besties Personal Tour of Elvis in Seattle" EVER! (Which is probably even true because, most likely, it's the only personal tour of Elvis in Seattle in the history of, um... ever.)

Instead, I had to show them the car that drives around with a hay ball on it's roof:

And the dead wolf fish in Pike's Place:

And, obviously, no one gets over this kind of Elvis disappointment without a little liquid fortitude:

Then I took them to the prettiest toilets in Seattle:

And a book store, because the two stops seemed to flow together well:

And, then, over some delicious Turkish food, I may have convinced them that the Seattle Mariners baseball team was recently sold to Texas**. Which, in my defense, is totally plausible considering Seattle sold the SuperSonics basketball team to Tennessee once.

But, I made up for it by taking them to "See A Shoe Actually Worn By World's Tallest Man":

And to see the hula hooping guitar/harmonica playing guy on the street corner:

The Dude has skillz.  Serious skillz.

And, then, the day came, when, one by one, my Most Best Bestest Besties boarded the monorail (where Elvis had sung to a sleeping-oh, never mind...) and were whisked away, each to their own lonely airplanes to their own lonely corners of the United States.  And I was sad.

And then, on the way back to the hotel, all by myself, to pick up my suitcase, I walked by this:

And the sight of the beautiful flowers callously shoved into a trash can at the Seattle Center almost made me cry....

But then I remembered that one scene from It Happened at the World's Fair!

You know, the one with Kurt Russell?

By the trash can?

You do?!

Finally, someone's seen it!***


*Because, I don't actually live in Seattle, or, even on the same land form....

**But only for like five minutes.  Because I couldn't keep from laughing.  Or, maybe, now that I think about it, they may have just given me this one.  You know, because of my huge Elvis tour guide disappointment? Because they're just plain awesome Most Best Bestest Besties like that. (Dude, that was like the most awkward Most Best Bestest Besties sentence ever.)

***Because someone out there has had to have seen this movie!

As Long As She Uses Her Super Powers For Good And Not Evil We Should Be Just Fine

Some people would say completing a triathlon makes you a superhero.  Not everyone, obviously. But, you know, some... people....

OK. Fine. "Some People" is really the same person who looks at this picture on the wall of my favorite restaurant* and exclaims at the top of her voice, "THAT MOMMY!":

Oh, yeah. My two year old thinks I'm a ROCK STAR!

But, whatever, dude.  A compliment is a compliment.   And, as the highlight of my day is chugging down a megalithic cup of coffee each morning at 7am**....

But, as the current reigning Rock Star/Superhero residing in our house, I have begun to realize exactly how lonely it is at the top.  So, I decided to create my own Superhero sidekick. Out of one of my children.  Obviously, I picked Ellie, not just because she thinks I'm a ROCK STAR!, but for practical reasons too. She's smaller than Katie, and therefore her DNA should be easier to mutate.  Also, I saw her licking our travel sized Operation game, and realized she'd already done like half the work for me. Because, as I've recently learned, our DNA can be "remarkably modified through energy centers", and that's basically what a battery is, right? Just little tubes of energy centers. And, since the website I learned all this off of also used words like "starship" and "Galactic Federation" and kept calling everyone on the Internet "dear Hearts" it's probably totally legit.

However, I couldn't leave this experiment at just one DNA changing variable, no matter how heavily researched by Sheldan Nidle and his "space kin". So I didn't.

More Things Ellie has Licked in her Quest to Obtain The Awesome Super Powers:

Her toes (For fleetness!)
Her shoes (For inpenetratable fleetness!)
Library books (For undepthable knowledge!)
A used band-aide (Little know fact: this is also how Wolverine got his super power.)
Her sister (To be able to create strong relational bonds just like Marcus from the Volturi in Twilight!)
Me (For the ability to withstand high levels of caffeine!)

The experiment seems to be going really well so far! I mean, sure, there's the side effect of huge amounts of mucus streaming from her nostrils, but, it's probably just a "scalar wave", which is really just "the result of inter-dimensional electromagnetic wave propagation" which simply "operates in multi-dimensional space/time."  Nothing to worry about.

Which is why I'm moving her into stage two this weekend.  That's right. It's time to visit the petting zoo!


Listen, Sheep. It's for the greater good.



*Not just because it has a disco ball in the restroom, an Elvis wall and a self serve coffee station out of an old VW bus. But, let's face it, it totally helps!

**OK. Fine.  There are other highlights too, but none that come in an awesome 3-D butterfly mug.  Mostly because my kids won't fit.

Please Excuse My Butt. It's Being Rude. Again.

This summer I have done my best to shield you all from the uncouth mutterings from my butt.  No.... No.... (waves hand vaguely, blushes) Don't thank me.... It was nothing.

No.

Really.

It was practically nothing.

(Those last three sentences were in my serious voice.  In case you missed it.)

See, another triathlon season has come and gone.  And, with a stellar lack of motivation shown by myself once again, I signed up for exactly one.  Wait.  Let me say this differently:

1.

Uno.

I.

Ibotuyi.

(Um, I made that last one up. Because Nickelodeon only lets Dora the Explorer talk to me in two languages.) And, because I only signed up for ibotuyi triathlon, I never got serious about my training. And, consequentially, conversations with Mabel began to go something like this:

Mabel: We should ride bikes tomorrow.

Me: (In my whiny voice.) Is it Friday alllrrrreeeaaaddy???

Mabel: Yep.  What route do you want to do?

Me: (In my serious voice. The one that comes with the scary "Don't touch my coffee" stare.) Same.

Mabel: It's a pretty flat route, you know, maybe we should do one wi-

Me: (In my "Did she seriously just touch my coffee" voice, which is kinda loud, and comes with irrational stomping.) SAME!!!!

Mabel: -hills....

Poor Mabel.  She totally deserves a free coffee, a fancy house on the beach in the Cayman Islands and  a donut for putting up with my whiny butt this summer. Or at least two out of the three.

But, no matter how many times I managed to throw a fit sneakily worm my way out of biking that almost flat 8 mile route with Mabel, last Sunday came anyway and bit me on the...

...(wait for it)...

butt.

(That was totally obvious, wasn't it?)

First, I had to battle my way through a half mile of cold lake water. Which included putting some woman in a head lock.  Accidentally. I think.  This makes complete sense, by the way, if you've ever done a triathlon.

Then, there it was.  Swinging, suspended, ever so slightly in the what the meteorologists were calling a "gentle breeze of early Autumn", from the communal bike rack. By its seat.  Accusingly. It may have even smirked.  Or that was my butt.  It's hard to tell sometimes after attempting all those WWE moves in 33 feet of murky lake water. However, not one to be intimidated by extremely tall doors or accusatory smirking bike seats, I grabbed my helmet, and headed out into that"gentle breeze of early Autumn". Which, by mile 0.3 was more like "stupid dumb cyclone of frr-rrr-rr-reeze my butt off dead of winter".  And I began to mutter about "dumb pseudo-scientists with their stupid spinning Dopplers". Which entertained me for about another 0.3 miles, but then reality set in.  I had fifteen more miles to go. Wait.  Let me say that differently:

15. Miles.

Quince. Milla.

XV. Millia.

Fabuto. Buttsquishes!

And most of it was uphill.  Which meant I spent the next fabuto miles buttsquishes pedaling to this cadence: "Mabel was right. Mabel was right. Why am I so stupid? Mabel was right." Dude, let me tell you, if it wasn't for the quacking I did each time I passed Mallard Road, I think I may have gone insane!

But then, came the run, and, you know, after a quick trip to the porta-potty and a mile of shuffling running, it wasn't so bad. I even managed to finish with a smile on my face!

Which, considering I hadn't even gotten to the free beer and massage yet, means it was pretty darn awesome!

Also? My butt is a total liar.

Except about that whole bike thing.

Socializing, But With Better Accessories

August has been awesome.  Really, really, really, awesome! And, by really, I do mean, float on a lake in the sunshine, eat sauerkraut pizza and dream about starting your own Bavarian Folk Dancing and Wine Tasting Ventriloquist School with Belinda, Mabel and Geraldine and their families while on vacation. Also, that third "and" in the previous sentence is totally in the right place. Mostly because even after painting my eyebrows teal that one time my friends still show up in public places with me.

See, it started like this:

First, Belinda brought along this really cool Bavarian folk dancing DVD:

and while we were all grape vine jazz handing along to it, I thought to myself, "Dude! This is totally like all those folk dancing classes I taught at Girl Scout camp, but with less alligator hunting." And, because I noticed how good at it we all were, and because the quaint Bavarian town we were staying near didn't already have a dance troupe...

Then, another day, someone said something like, "Hey! We should dump the guys and kids at the lake for the afternoon while we go to a wine tasting!"

Me:  In, like, a vineyard?

Them:  Yes! It'll be fun!

Me:  What do you wear to a wine tasting? Do I have to get all fancy and stuff?

Them:  Just wear what you want, Martha!

Me:

I'm READY!

Them:  No.

Me:

But it's a TURKEY! hat! And it SPARKLES!

Them:  No.

And then we left. Without the TURKEY! hat.

Because I know which fashion lines not to cross.

Then, we got to the winery and in my head I was all, "Wow! This place is really pretty! That view is just-OH MY GOODNESS! THOSE ARE THE MOST HUMONGOUS DOORS I HAVE EVER SEEN!"

So I took a picture.


To show the huge doors they didn't intimidate me.

Then, we all go in and the place is all fancy and I'm thinking to myself, "Man.  I totally should have worn that TURKEY! hat. It was totally fancy enough for this place with all the sparkles!"  But before I can lament about my lack of TURKEY! hat attire out loud, we're standing in front of a shiny reception desk and The Fancy Lady is handing each of us a list of wines and I'm distracted because I realize that I know nothing about wine, except sometimes it's white and sometimes it's red and sometimes it's pink. Or maybe that's champagne. Or a Michael Jackson song from 1991.  Either way, their are words on this list that I don't even know how to pronounce! Well, crap-a-zoidal.  I mean, if I was wearing the TURKEY! hat I'd be able to pull out my bumbling idiot routine and The Fancy Lady would think nothing of my halting falting pronounceableations, but I'm down a TURKEY! hat people!  So, trying to be all nonchalant and stuff, I shuffle Belinda off to the side and have her give me a crash course in wine speak.  Only, I can't say the words correctly, no matter how many times Belinda whispers them to me, and The Fancy Lady is almost done talking to Geraldine, who is saying all the fancy wine words absolutely perfectly, and soon it will be my turn and it would have all worked out perfectly if only I was wearing something stupid looking so I wouldn't embarrass myself trying to say all these weird words in this fancy place to The Fancy Lady! (insert internal scream of fear and awkwardness here)

So, I do the only thing I can think of. I turn to Belinda and whisper, "Ventriloquist." while doing the whole point to me point to her point to me point to her point to me point to her etc. thing while funneling all my social distress through the pin points of my eyes.  And, because she's brilliant, this is how it went:

The Fancy Lady: (turning to me)  And for you?

Me: -------- (but moving my lips, obviously)

Belinda: (with confidence) Riesling.

The Fancy Lady: (politely quizzically) And?

Me: -------- (still moving my lips)

Belinda: (with the same confidence) Syrah.

The Fancy Lady: Um. Thank... you....

And then The Fancy Lady went back to talking to Geraldine and Mabel, probably because she didn't want to intrude on our high five celebration of our newly formed Bavarian Folk Dancing and Wine Tasting Ventriloquist School.

Best! Idea! Ever! Guys!

Ooo! We should add a Pineapple Cotillion!

Where we all get to dress like pineapples!

Dudes! This is getting better and better!

You're still in right, Mabel?

*awkward silence*

Geraldine?

*more awkward silence*

Um, Belinda?....

But, guys! I already have the glasses:

Dude! Where's My Car? Mommy Style

Me: (while wandering in the parking lot after the county fair) Huh. Were'd we park?

Katie: (looking around) I don't know!

Me: OH MY GOODNESS!! WE CAN'T FIND THE CAR!!! We're looooooooooost! We'll have to stay here forever and ever and ever and-We'll only eat deep fried Twinkies! We'll have to sleep with the goats! THE GOATS! And goats can be sooooo smelly! We're doomed! (add really big hand motions and an anguished doomed face, which, truthfully looks like more like the Macaulay Culkin Home Alone face than real anguish, but, the effect is basically the same)

Katie: (in her serious voice) Stop it, Mom.  You're not funny.

Me: (silently, in my own head) Listen kid.  I jut walked around the fair with you and Ellie for six hours, ate only junk food, drank only three coffees and only fed you both Cheez-Its, mini donuts and sugar water that was supposed to be a snow cone but melted because you decided you didn't like it. Here's. The. Deal: I AM INCREDIBLY HILARIOUS! You don't even know the height of my hilariousness! In fact, I think I'll be even more hilarious. Right. Now.

Me: (out loud, maybe louder) WE ARE NEVER GOING TO FIND THIS CAR! Do you think goats kick in their sleep? Maybe we can find a big goat pen. Because I don't know about you, but I don't want to wake up with a goat hoof print on my forehead! I LOVE MY FOREHEAD! Hey! Maybe we should sleep with the rabbits instead! They'd be so much cozier! Waaaiiiiittttt a minute! Are rabbits nocturnal? Dude! They probably party all night with their friends with their little rabbit mariachi bands..... (ad nauseam*)


*No. Really. With one slice of under cooked cheese pizza, four mini sugar donuts and three large coffee's swishing around in my Tilt-A-Whirled belly, I know what I'm talking about.

I Emulated Forrest Gump And It Was AWESOME!

Remember watching the movie "Forrest Gump" where he ran across America like four times and he was all, "When I was tired I slept.  When I was hungry, I ate. And when I had to, you know, I went." and you thought to yourself, "I'm totally doing that some day because that sounds AWESOME!" so you added it to your bucket list, but you didn't call it a bucket list because you were in high school and, 1, no one uses the term bucket list in high school, and, 2, because when anyone says the word "bucket" your brain immediately starts singing "There's a Hole in the Bucket Dear Liza" and that is an annoyingly looooooooooong song, and since you always try to avoid any usage of the word "bucket" (see: all  47,000 verses that are currently playing in my head because I typed the word bucket more than once) in any situation you just call it Your List, but then find out later that calling something Your List has completely different connotations, and so instead start calling it "Things Need Doing"?* Well, I can totally check that one off! Because, dudes! I ran across America!

Kinda. 

I rode in a car a lot.  

But there were children in the car at the same time so I'm pretty sure those bucket miles are totally legit.**

Washington:

This is where I started.  Or where I ran away from.  You know, whatever.

Idaho:

Oh, Boise, and your crazy rope swing river runs.... You totally know how to have a good time!

I'm mean, obviously Boise rocks, look at me! I'm drenched! (Spoiler: it's really sweat.)

Utah:

I'm counting The Great Salt Lake as a run, because do you  KNOW how far you have to walk before you get to swim in its dead bug infested waters? Far enough to argue with a 9 year old stranger about the need to bring a swim vest for Ellie. So, yeah, annoyingly far.

Early morning run in Zion.

No, seriously, people! ZION!

Arizona:

"GRAAAAANNNND CAAAANNNNNYYYOOOONNNN!!!!"  Grand Canyon...grand canyon...grand canyon... (Oooo! Did you hear that? Whispery echoes....) 

Um, I might have been completely plastered in this picture..... But just on Ponderosa Pine Tree fumes, people.  This is a family trip you know! (they *hic* smell like vanilla *giggle*)

And I finish in Sedona, Arizona!!

Dude! I totally just saw a guy hiking with his feet all naked!  Maybe it would help me commune with natu-AH CACTUS! Never mind.

Now, I know some of you are more geographically astute than me and are wondering, "How did she manage to run from Washington to Idaho without going through Oregon?" And while I'd love to answer your question with the words "running long jump", it's not true.

The real reason I don't have any pictures of me running across Oregon? Two words:

Pancake Machines!!!!

Best invention ever, Oregon. Best. Invention. Ever.***

*Just me, huh?

**Worse automatic brain song mash up ever!

***Except for coffee. Obviously.

This Is What Happens When You Listen To Your Twilight Pandora Station On Continuous Repeat

Scene: Hair Salon. You know, one of those fancy kinds that don't have half a mangled Mr. Potato Head in the corner for your kids to play with. The kind that have artsy prints on the walls and matching decor.  In other words the exact opposite of my house. My goal? To get my  hair cut and to NOT have an awkward conversation.

Me: (Sitting down in the chair while repeating my mantra "Don'tSayAnythingAwkwardDon'tSayAnythingAwkward" over and over in my head. Silently. Because if I said it out loud that would be awkward.  Then mentally award myself 10 points for realizing if I said my mantra out loud it would be awkward. Also? Mental high five. ) Hi!

Hair Stylist: (smiles, begins to brush out my hair) So, what are we doing today?

Me: Well, (nervous laugh) it kinda needs to be fixed. (change silent mantra to "Don'tTellHerIt'sBeenTwoYearsSinceYourLastHairCut") I'm kinda tired of the whole pony tail thing doing this. (Pull hair out of Stylists hands and yank back into an eye changing pony tail. For visual effect.  Loose 5 points for being awkward.)You know? I have two kids so it can't be a lot of work or anything. Something easy.

Hair Stylist: (taking hair back out of my hands) We could do some layers here and....(insert more hair talk here) So, have you been to our salon before?

Me: (still repeating silent mantra of "Don'tTellHerIt'sBeenTwoYearsSinceYourLastHairCut") Nope! Never been here but I've run by a lot. (...silence... Note to self: Stylist does not run. Do not talk about running.  Award myself 5 points for being aware of other people's conversational interests.) I tried to come in two years ago or so, but just walked off the street, but you guys were full. Which was totally fine! I just happened to have a random sitter that day, well, not like off the street random, I mean, I knew her and all, she's my friend, it was a surprise babysitting offer so that's what made it random, anyway, I was just trying to get things done that I hadn't had time to do since my youngest was born, you know, get my hair cut, buy a second pair of pants, go to the optometrist, stuff like that. But, you guys were full. Which I completely understand, busy and all! I just haven't had a chance to come back since.  So, it’s been like two years since I’ve gotten my hair cut. (Crapazoidal. Loose 10 points for blundering my silent mantra. Loose 20 points for making it sound like I blame them, in a passive aggressive way. And? Loose 5 points for telling the stylist the pants story. Vow to stop talking. Also? No mental high five.)

Time passes. The Hair Stylist is now cutting my hair and attempting to engage me in conversation again. Because she’s a brave brave soul. Or bored.

Hair Stylist: So, what do you do?

Me: Oh, I stay home with the kids. My husband works over in Seattle. (Award myself 10 points for short concise non awkward answers. See! This isn’t so hard!)

Hair Stylist: What does he do?

Me:  He programs computers. (Five points!)

Hair Stylist: Cool. How does he like the commute?

Me: It’s long, but we’re excited about the fast ferry running this summer. (Award myself 10 more points because I’M TOTALLY ROCKING THE NON AWKWARD CONVERSATION!! Also? Mental boogie dance. Like they do in football. Because a mental high five just doesn’t seem big enough.)

Hair Stylist: Yeah, I know what you mean. My husband does the commute too.

Me:  What does he do?

Hair Stylist: He works for Pearl Jam.

Me: (Scrambling around in my head. Silently. Because unsilently would be awkward. And I am queen of the unawkward conversation now! Pearl Jam?Pearl Jam?PearlJam?PearlJam???? I know this! Come on.... Pearl...pearl...pearl...OH! Dude! PEARL! Jon told me about that! It’s a computer language! Her husband probably works for some start up in Seattle!) So, he’s a computer programmer too?

Hair Stylist: (...silence...more silence...probably more silence that I didn’t notice because I was too busy mentally awarding myself 50 points and doing that boogie dance thing in my head.) Um....So.... Ah.... How old are your two kids, again?


Then, 30 minutes and half way home later, I realized what I had said and lost every single non awkward conversation point I had earned.  Also? No mental high five. Or mental boogie dance.