I won’t miss: The hallway they called a “living room” Sitting in dark silence waiting for the kids to fall asleep Forgetting my key every time I leave the room Lugging our things in from the parking lot The four-foot pool, and fighting with Jafta over why we couldn’t spend all day there Picking out smashed goldfish from the carpet Two active boys bouncing off the walls as I work on my syllabus Trying to shush my loud kids in the hallway Getting the side-eye from the mean blonde lady who . . .
that’s what SHE said: random and potentially offensive to everyone edition
I’m teaching a new class this semester . . . it’s on cultural diversity in psychotherapy practice. I’m really excited about it, but as such, 1) my blogging might be a little light for a while as I prepare, 2) my links about race and ethnicity might amp up a bit, and 3) I will probably be very busy cleaning out the junk drawer, organizing my closet into ROY G. BIV order, and all of the other random, useless things I find to occupy my time when I have a syllabus due. In addition to . . .
the dunes
Yesterday we had our first foray with kayaking as a family of six. You see, Mark and I are in the process of finding new hobbies that we can do as a family. It’s our attempt at trying to feel less trapped limited when we are having family time. . . so that we can try to look forward to our free days with the kids instead of figuring out how to pass the time until they sleep. One thing we've noticed, with all the couples counseling we've been in conducted over the years, . . .
supersize me
I have a confession to make. We've been in the hotel for almost a month now. It is Residence Inn, and they include breakfast and weekday dinners in your stay. The breakfast buffet is a hug spread, with eggs, bacon, sausage, donuts, Belgian waffles, and other assorted excuses for eating cake first thing in the morning. The dinner is like camp food - made for cheap mass consumption and seemingly without a concern in regards to health or "balanced meals". It's . . .
that’s what she said (Blogher edition)
Alright, one last Blogher recap. I know, I know. Last year I remember people talking and talking about the Blogher conference and wishing they would move on already, and here I am blathering on about it for three posts . But I suppose that for many of us, who spend our days in a groundhog's day existence of diapers, swiffering and playdates, that a few days in New York City is a whole lot of excitement and grist for the blogging mill. On Friday, the . . .
homeless: the motel kids of orange county
I'm working on my syllabus this morning for a new class I'm teaching this semester. I've been hunting for an HBO documentary called East of Main: Asians Aloud (which seems to be off the schedule and which I'm desperate to get my hands on, in case anyone happened to record it). Anyways, as I was perusing their documentary listings I came across one film entitled Homeless: Motel Kids of Orange County. As soon as I saw the title, I knew I wanted to see it. I've been . . .
party planes, puke fests, and fondue feuds (blogher days 1 & 2)
In my life, I’ve had a couple variations of recurring stress dreams. One involves me being unable to find something right before a big event (it’s my wedding day and I can’t find a hairdryer, it’s time for prom and I can’t find my dress, etc). Another recurring dream involves me finding out that I am failing a class (in college I took an anthropology class where you could skip the final if you got 100% on the midterm. I did, and then I skipped that the class for the rest of the semester. My . . .
homecoming buzzkill
I came home on a high from my trip to New York, excited to see my kids and longing to be home. When the taxi driver dropped me off at our hotel, I could feel my blood pressure go up. It's not that I forgot that's where I was headed. It just felt like such a downer to have a hotel be the stage for my homecoming. Not five minutes after hugging my kids, I started to feel that familiar grip of anxiety, claustrophia, and displacement that this little suite holds. Soon after, . . .
homeward bound (re-entry from the blogher alternate universe)
I've been on several mission trips in my life, and typically the last day is devotd to a process called "re-entry" - where participants some time debriefing in preparation for acclimation back into real life. On a mission trip, time is usually spent discussing how one might react to the newfound awarenss of the excesses and privilege in their first-world life. One might be warned of the culture shock they may experience, the discomfort they may feel returning their current . . .
the pre-blogher post
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: The first rule about blogging is, you don't blog about blogging. However, it is Blogher season. Have you ever been in a conversation where someone assumes that you are as into something as they are? Perhaps it's Lord of the Rings. You acknowledge having seen the movie and enjoyed it, and suddenly you find yourself in the middle of an awkward, hour-long conversation where that someone goes on and on about details that you could . . .
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