Random Monday - dreams and parties

A dream remembered

Last night I had a very vivid dream. Back when I was pregnant I had all sorts of crazy dreams that I would wake up and retell but I so very rarely remember them these days that I just had to post this one.

So, I was a rookie lawyer, in Manhattan. I assume it was Manhattan of the somewhat-future because my office was on the {gulp} 680th floor. (Clearly 9/11 was far back in the rear view mirror.) I had replaced another female lawyer at this hip law firm, who had been found to be sleeping with the boss. (Tsk, tsk!) 


Immediately upon my arrival, I began being hit on by co-workers and - get this - good looking judges, the latter of which I made a date with - something that got me a pat on the back from my firm's owner. 

In the middle of one of my key meetings and presentations, I felt something stinging my left elbow. When I looked down I had some hideous ladybug/leech thing stuck to me and I had to pry it off. I asked everyone in the room if this was some kind of initiation or hazing and they just laughed. Later, when I went to my car, parked in the garage for my seedy apartment building, I found the ladybug-leeches crawling all over my seats. Ewww!

Fortunately, I remembered, I didn't need a car to get to a date with my hot judge. {score!} This was NYC after all... I could hail a taxi or even walk. All of which pleased me because this meant I could drink without having to worry about driving. To top it all off, I bumped into the law firm owner on my way out and he gave me five black, carbon crayons. Apparently, in the NYC of the future, these were the exclusive currency of the rich - worth more than money itself - and this meant I could buy my hot judge lots of cocktails. Woot!

And then my alarm woke me up. Dammit!

A party!


Yesterday, Mum, Daisy, and I went to a good friend's son's birthday party. Hudson West Prior (great name, right?) turned four and it just so happens that his mother is an amazing cook and her boyfriend is a professional DJ. Which meant it was a not-to-be-missed opportunity to dress Daisy in a party dress and paty shoes.. Plus, of course, I just love that kid and his cheeky face.

The birthday boy on his bounce house




Brian, DJ extraordinaire - complete with flashing lights and atmospheric smoke!


Ms. Daisy, out on the floor all on her own, getting down to Black Eyed Peas - boom boom pow!


The birthday boy and his mama blowing out candles.


For more photos, click here.

Daisy had a fab time, despite the party being smack-dab in the middle of her nap time. (Nap schmap!) She danced almost the whole time, in the middle of the floor, on her own, with an audience (I LOVE HER!) Then she made a real fuss when we left and then proceeded to beg for cake the whole way home (which she promptly received upon arrival - toddler heaven!)

Sacraghetto

It's no secret that, while I love my life here in Northern California, I am not especially in love with Sacramento specifically.

The issue of whether the local basketball team, the Kings, will stay or go has sort of underscored my frustrations with the region lately and this morning I heard this commentary on NPR that said it well.

You can listen to the podcast here

The Kings Question
(Sacramento, CA)
Monday, March 14, 2011

By Bruce Maiman

Why do I get the feeling that all this Rock the Casbah consternation over the Kings is really more about Sacramento than the Kings?  Does anyone in Sacramento really know what Sacramento wants to be? It's a cow town, a government town, a town full of people who move here from somewhere and who don't even live in town but in some kind of randomly planned suburb built in the middle of nowhere --maybe in a flood plain-- where, when people talk about going to the city, they mean San Francisco, not Sacramento.

Sorry, but Sacramento is not a World Class City, nor is it likely to become one. We're just a place on the way to or back from Lake Tahoe. For that matter, so is Vacaville, but at least they have the outlets. We're a capital building surrounded by people raising families. We're a shopping plaza at every major intersection, a nail salon in every shopping plaza, and a chain restaurant on every corner, and sometimes on all four corners. Do people actually eat out that much?

Today, Sacramento is less about a city and more about a vast suburban empire, a sometimes happy, humming confusion of freeways, malls and cul-de-sacs with pretentious street names and overachieving school districts and oversized, overpriced houses constructed to one of four designs.  By all the standards of contemporary American developer-driven sprawl, it is a great success story. It's just not a place people think to visit when they think of California, unless they're a lobbyist looking for favors.

That's not to say we don't have nice restaurants, a quirk or two, a museum or three and a few hidden gems, but those things aren't changing whether the Kings stay or go. But if a city with an identity crisis thinks the therapeutic answer to their woes is to latch on to some sports franchise whose mercurial owners have to be bribed with your firstborn to stay here, I've got some waterfront property in Elko, NV, the mayor might be interested in. 

Maybe the cowbells will just have to go back to the cows.

Bruce Maiman is a former radio host who lives in Rocklin.

My birthday weekend

That's right. A whole weekend. My self-absorption knows no bounds.

As you know, I threw myself a party on Saturday, with 15 of my favorite ladies.

I have built an amazing and diverse group of friends in the past few years. It was wonderful to have them all (with a couple of notable exceptions) in the room at one time, no kids, no husbands and MIMOSAS! (Of course, mimosas.)







See more pics here

There was also A LOT of food. Since it was a pot-luck brunch, I got to sample all kinds of yummy foods from bacon scones to egg bakes to baked brie and coffee cakes - two different kinds. Yes, the top button on my jeans was threatening to pop open by the time we were done.



On Monday, which also happened to be a day-off for me (score!) Mum, Dad, Daisy and I headed up to Nevada City, a little old town in the foothills. It just so happened that the weather was doing a thing called "inversion" (all weather-girl job offers welcomed) and so it was foggy and dreary in Sacramento but warm and sunshiney 2,500 feet up in Nevada City. (Double-score!)

I had fun taking pictures.















Daisy had fun running around with Nan and hamming it up.







And we had ice-cream. In January. In short-sleeves. I. KID. YOU. NOT.






You can see more pics from Nevada City here.

On Tuesday, my actual birthday, I had to go into the office for a meeting. Boo Hiss! But in the evening we all went out for dinner at Paragary's in mid-town Sac and tempted fate with a two year old in a fancy restaurant. She did ok, by the way, although making it so is getting to be harder and harder work these days.

And thus ended my first day one year younger.

I'm doing it

I'm going backwards.

No, I don't mean like walking backwards (I'd probably fall down and break my hip.)

Nor backwards mentally (although that's a matter for discussion. See here.)

I mean backwards in age. As of this year, I'm heading back to zero. Which means that, by the time I'm 70, I"ll be ready to be born again. (Literally, not spiritually.)

And in true Ranty Pants style, I will commemorate this momentous decision by throwing myself my first reverse birthday party. Two Saturdays from now, fifteen friends and I will eat deliciously fattening brunch-type items and toast the wondrousness of me with sparkling mimosas.

No husbands. No kids. What!? I know. I am sooooo kewl.

Of course, there are a few small details that I conveniently chose to overlook (or more honestly, block out) about hosting my own party:

1. I'll have to clean my house...
2. ... and decorate it myself.
3. I don't have a dining table.

So, I'm thinking my Happy Birthday gift to me will be a cleaner and my dad will need to bring furniture.