Project chair

I have had this project chair in my garage forever. I forgot I had a before picture.

The woodwork was dusty and gross. The padding was even fouler.

I really wasn't sure if I was going to paint or refinish. I am so glad I did the latter.

I decided to show the new version in its natural habitat: in the glow of cartoons, occupied by a little boy dressed for the AZ heat, surrounded by a plethora of children's toys.

Vegas, baby

You know you're an Arizonan when you plan trips to Vegas in June, July, or August.

You know you are old when you decide to drive up just to see the new Hoover Dam bypass.

We rolled Snowbird style: boys in front, girls in back.

We brought healthy snacks.

And someone brought her homework. Nerd.

The first night we met up with more friends, ate lots of food at Todai (in Planet Hollywood), and saw some of the free attractions.

The aftermath.

We watched this after robbing the hotel.

Tina Turner performing in our hotel casino. Who knew?

On day two my parents joined us. We returned to the scene of the crime at Rio where we dined to celebrate our 30th birthdays. This time we got a front row seat to the crab legs.

My dad threatened me not to put this pic on my blog. We were making fun of how he blended in with the other nerdy Asian men.

Before we ate, we wandered around and got to peek in on the World Series of Poker. It was amazing. I have never been in a room so big, with so many people, and it be so quiet. You could only hear the players messing with their chips.

That night we played some blackjack and got in to general mischief. We didn't sleep much. The view from our room was out of control, but so was the noise.

 Do you like my Vegas shirt? It's supposed to be ironic.

We were right above this open air club.

The next day it was more eating, playing, etc.

Jeff enjoying his Captain Crunch milkshake at KGB Burger. It was as good as it sounds.

By Saturday we were so tired. Thank goodness we flew home. I was jonesing for my babies and my quiet bedroom.

If we're lucky, the bestie and I will be headed back to Vegas in August for Adele! Fingers crossed!

Film Junkie

We ditched our cable. Remarkably no one's head has rolled off and the Earth continues to spin. We do have Netflix and two laptops, so this has eased the transition.

Jeff has received his fill of guy movies: Jackass galore, every crappy action flick, etc. B has satiated his need for a daily cartoon fix, which is basically anything that we had on Noggin. I am a documentary junkie and recently have become completely obsessed with old movies. I started with movies from the 50s, like this one.

Then I moved to the 30s.

I have settled into the 20s quite nicely. I am loving the silent movies. The sets, costumes, make-up, theatricality, and even the acting is astounding.

Could Gloria Swanson be more beautiful? Could Rudolph Valentino be more smoldering?

I don't watch many movies over and over, but I can't wait to see Why Change Your Wife? again.

You know how we all have the decade we feel we were born too late for? I belong in the 20s. However, I would definitely bring along my bra.

No rest for the weary

Kindergarten is komin'

I realized the other day that B would be going in to Kindergarten in the 2012-2013 school year and after I cried, checked the calendar, flipped through some of his baby pictures, cried, wrote a letter to him in his journal, and then double checked the calendar again, I decided I needed to get my butt in gear on researching schools.

I know, you're saying to yourself: "Keiko, the world is going to end in December 2012. Don't get your pants in a wad now."

Or you might also be saying, "Holy shit, he is going to go to Kindergarten? Didn't he just look like this?"

But you're probably saying something along the lines of, "2012? Like in another year?"

Yes, but long story short we are going to do open enrollment which means turning in paperwork in six months. Plus, Kindergarten registration starts in 7 months.

Obsess much? No, I'm just a teacher. Plus, both my parents are former elementary school principals, so no pressure there, huh?

The intense rounds of discussion with my parents and Jeff have begun. I am looking at schools in the district where I work, which happens to be a different district than where we live. While you might think I am forever stunting my child by having him go out of his neighborhood I will let you know that I went to schools thousands of miles away from my home. Though, that might be fodder for your argument for screwing him up.

Another long story short, since I was in elementary school, my district has developed a variety of options for education and there is no longer huge competition for the coveted "boundary exception".

I'll give them until October to get settled in to this school year, but then I am coming after them with my list of questions, request for tours, and my desire to interview everyone down to the lunch lady.

Guys, I am freaking. Not just because my bug is going to the big K, but also because I feel this massive load of responsibility. I mean, if my dad didn't drag me to the different schools I went to then I wouldn't be friends with half of you nor would I be married to Jeff.

Ohhh, the pressure.

Rescheduling Father's Day

I am going to circle a petition to change the date of Father's Day. I have reasons.

First of all, my dad's birthday is June 17th, so the poor guy always gets shorted on presents and recognition. Good thing he is a humble man who only asks for gifts like compost makers, Lady Gaga CDs, and lawn blowers. Isn't he adorable?

Second, it falls during my summer break. I am going to be totally honest with you, part of me secretly hates my husband during the time of the year. Since I go from classroom responsibilities to domestic responsibilities in the blink of an eye, there is a bizarre annual paradigm shift in our home. I become the person who does evraythang.

Last summer, when I was nursing a feisty 4-month old and struggling with the whiny demands of a newly minted 4-year old, my darling spouse came home, looked surreptitiously around our home decorated with dirty dishes, overflowing garbage, balled up dirty diapers, and clothing in different stages of decomposition and said, "So what exactly do you do all day?" To this day he denies he ever said that. Liar.

By the end of June we are more settled and in the habit of things, but not before Father's Day.

Trying to work past my resentments, I did resolve feelings of guilt this year by getting him a set of golf clubs.

Back to my petition. I think I want to reschedule Father's Day for the end of February. After all, it's not long after Valentine's Day and my birthday. That way I can assess the caliber of Father's Day celebration for Jeff and my dad based on their overall performance for the month's festivities.

Beyond any perceived bitchiness in this post, I would like to say thank you to my amazing dad and husband for being such fabulous dads.

This picture is tragically awful, but basically my dad took teenagers to Disneyland by himself. Comment dit-on, hero?

Cash was born this way

My kids looooove Lady Gaga. Bradley asks for her and Cash dances to her.

Eff yeah. Looks like we're all down with Lady Gaga. Jeff is the odd monster out.

Night owl

I fear I am enabling some awful baby behavior. Cash is a summer-time night owl, like me. Now that I am up until 1am or 2am, I don't see a problem getting him up for a half hour or so while he lolls around his crib, then playing to wear him out.

I know, I am justifying my own self-centeredness. What an awful mom. I am just so freaking fun.

Tonight, we played with the video camera on the Macbook. Apparently the self-centeredness is a family flaw.

LA getaway

The bestie and I were supposed to go to LA to see Adele, but then she got laryngitis. Story of my life.

We couldn't pass up the great airfare and the plush (free) accommodations with Erin's family in Redondo Beach, so we were off for a couple days of exploring.

After getting to town, Erin's gracious grandmother and great aunt had a lunch spread waiting for us. Then we headed to the beach for a bit.

Along with a fancy hairstyle,

and new friends,

I stumbled upon a local tradition. Apparently getting tar one one's feet is a thing in Redondo Beach. Good thing we didn't vacation on the Gulf beaches.

For dinner, we played a game called, "How much fried shit can I eat?"

Then we made our way to the local Target for all the necessities to unadorn my foot of black goo. (I didn't get a picture of this, but just think of your Target on Black Friday around 2pm and the slowest checkout lady ever, and there you go.)

The next day we were off for some Southern California thrifting. We killed the iPhone, overworking it with directions all over Palos Verdes, Torrance, and Redondo Beach.

Speaking of killing, Erin found a bunch of amazing stuff. I found a whopping one thing, and secretly lusted over every other piece of furniture that would not fit in my luggage. 

Oh, the things I could do with these.

Then we stopped for lunch. I would like to take a moment to compliment Southern California for their obsession with hamburgers.

Bacon, avocado, Swiss cheese, and all the fixing. Yes, please!

We wandered around to more thrift stores, and then made our way back to Barbara and Winifred's for the traditional roast dinner.

And some of this.

By the end of the trip I was jonesing in a bad way for these faces.

LA is not my favorite place in the world, so it was nice to finally experience a more laid-back, less pretentious side of the city. The next time I go back, however, I expect Adele to serenade me personally.