Rox and Roll

Time-out

Rox and Roll has paused her blog for an important back-to-school, back-to-health time-out.  Regular posting will resume in mid-September.  Thanks for sticking with me through these crazy times; I'll be back before you know it.  Peace out - Rox

The Kids and the Hair Bands

Last weekend, the Guv and I went to an 80s-themed 40th birthday party.  Gearing up for the day, we were listening to some 80s while driving around with the kids.  They found the music "funny."

Fast forward to today, when it was unnaturally quiet in the house.  I heard the two of them in the office.  Just as I was about to get up and spy on them, they both came out, giggling. 

"What are you guys doing?" I asked.

"Listening to hair bands on YouTube," Petunia replied.

"Yeah, hair bands!" Dash echoed, LHAO.

"Hear anything you like?" I queried.

"Mom... they were hair bands," Petunia answered.

"And?" I waited...

"And they're really, really funny," Petunia continued, "and bad, really, really bad."

Sigh.  Kids these days...

Introducing Lola

After BlogHer, I vowed that I would put up at least three posts per week.  And then this happened:

Her name is Lola.  Her name will actually be Lola Something-or-other... right now, it's Lola Blue Airplanie, but I'm thinking that might change.  She is four months old and is a purebred Havanese, born of two showdogs; she will be our pet alone, though, not a pageant pooch.  Havanese are the only breed native to Cuba, which is why she has a Cuban name -- a name that she also shares with her Mom.

She is little and furry and cute and sweet and actually not much trouble, which I find a bit surprising.  She is already crate-trained to sleep through the night (her prior human mom's doing), but we are working on the potty-on-the-grass thing since she was piddle-pad trained (ewww).  So far, though, so good!  Havanese are thought to be very smart (like poodles), so perhaps her training will actually be this simple.  I'm just hoping she continues to please The Guv by not chewing on his leather furniture. 

Petunia is over the moon about finally having her own dog, and Dash has professed his love for her several times.  He usually shies away from dogs, but yesterday, when he got hurt, he told us that a kiss from Lola would make him better.  I think she's going to fit into our family just fine.

A Diner in Vermont, a Turkish Waitress, and a Mexican Family

Do I even need to write more than that title?

Last week week, I took my kids to our favorite diner in Vermont for dinner.  We're about to return to the West Coast, and I needed to pack in as much diner grub as I can since that's the one dining experience I can't replicate out West.  We ordered our usual: one plate-sized King Arthur flour-based, Grade B maple syrup-topped pancake for Dash; a ham-and-Jack-cheese omelet for Petunia; and two eggs, over medium, with home fried potatoes and maple-syrup topped pork sausage for me.  In other words, we had the combo: diabetes and heart attacks for three.

As we waited for our food, a Mexican family joined us in the dining car -- a Grandma, a Mom, and two kids (Girl, about 16; Boy, about 10).  I found myself smiling -- it was as if a reminder that I was almost back in California sat down at the next table with a ticking clock.  As the family bantered, the Turkish waitress sauntered over.  Uh-oh, I thought.  We had this same waitress on her Day One, and it was a rough experience.  A couple of months had passed, and I was hopeful.  But as her conversation with the table started, it became apparent that they'd need a translator.  I almost volunteered, but I don't know Turkish -- plus, the train wreck evolving was kind of funny to watch.  A snippet:

Waitress: "Would you like something to drink?"

Grandma: "Quiero una limonada."

Waitress: "What was that?"

Mom: "She wants a, uh, what is the thing with the water and the lemon?"

Waitress: "A lemonade?"

Mom looks at kids, who nod.

Mom: "Yes.  But she no likes azucar."

Waitress: "What was that?"

Girl: "Sugar.  No sugar."

Waitress: "Tell her the lemonade, it comes from the fountain like soda, we don't make it here.  It has sugar."

Girl explained to grandma then says, with a snicker: "She say take out sugar."

Waitress: "I can't take out the sugar, it's made in a machine.  Like soda."

Grandma was not happy.  She exchanged some dialogue with the kids, then the Mom intervened: "Bring her the cold tea.  She will like the cold tea." 

Waitress: "Iced tea?"

Mom: "Yes, iced tea."

Waitress: "Unsweetened or raspberry?"

Mom: "What is raspberry?"

Waitress: "It's fruit."

Mom and Grandma had a chat.  Grandma seemed quite puzzled at the concept of fruit tea.

Mom: "Does the fruit tea have azucar?"

Waitress: "Yes."

Grandma prayed to God.  Grandma ordered plain iced tea.

AND THAT WAS JUST THE BEGINNING.

The Girl tried to order some kind of meat with rice and beans.  The waitress didn't undertand the request, then eventually just gave up and said no.  "Some rice?"  "No."  "Some beans?"  "No."  I wanted to tell them that the kids' menu had nachos, but something told me that Tostitos with Cabot cheddar and salsa from a jar wasn't what they wanted.

Finally, the females ordered eggs in various forms.  I timed it: it took seventeen minutes for this family to order their food.  SEVENTEEN MINUTES.  There were discussions of how egss were cooked, what kind of meat on the side, and the toast -- the toast! -- oy, there are seven kinds.  

I found myself wanting to go over to the table and say to the waitress: Get someone who speaks English as a native language to save half of the frustration of this experience.  I wanted to say to the family: You are at a diner in rural Vermont.  Why the hell are you trying to order Mexican food in a location that is, on multiple levels, as far away from Mexico as you can get?  The whole situation was uncomfortable for everyone in the diner, except perhaps for my clueless offspring, who were shoveling their everything-wrong-with-the-American-diet morsels into their mouths at alarming rates of speed.

But I didn't say or do anything... I sat there, somewhat entertained, at points even agog.

And then the Boy got up to hit the head.  Passing our table, he paused, rolled his eyes at me, and said: "I can't stand going out to dinner with these people," IN PERFECT ENGLISH.  He had not said a word up to that point except to order his own hot dog and fries.  There was a translator sitting there the entire time, too busy in his pre-adolescent angst to help a meal go smoothly.

I wanted to chase the boy and smack him upside the head.  My husband is a first-generation American, reared until about that boy's age by a grandmother who spoke only Polish.  And I didn't know my husband then, but I do know this: he would've helped his grandmother where words failed her.  He wouldn't have sat there while three non-English speakers tried to conceptualize raspberry iced tea for three minutes. 

At the end of the day, I don't know if that debacle is one family's problem or a "kids these days" moment; I hope that it's the former but fear it's the latter.  At least I saw their food delivered as we paid our check, and I noticed that especially Grandma was happy with her heaping plate of cardiac plaque.  At least gastronomic pleasure transcends language barriers, in Mexico, Vermont and everywhere in between.

Thoughts on BlogHer, Day Two

This BlogHer post is going to be much shorter because I confess: I skipped most of the daytime action on Day Two.  More on how I spent most of my morning in a moment; first, I have to gush about the day two kick-off keynote, "Traditional Media Chops Meet a New Media Calling" featuring Tina Brown (now of The Daily Beast, formerly of The New Yorker), Donna Byrd (publisher of The Root), and Ilene Chaiken (creator of "The L Word").  These amazing women sat down together and had a conversation about media (mostly social media), including things like access to it, its reach, and its impact.  My jaw hit the floor when I heard Tina Brown declare that she will never go back to print media.  I wasn't sure how to reconcile that with Katie Orenstein inspiring me to write op-eds; but then, maybe I'll just hit Tina up for a job on her site.  It was fascinating to hear Donna Byrd try to address the Skip Gates situation (he founded The Root).  As for Ilene Chaiken, hearing her talk about how sponsors wouldn't go near her show at first, missing the opportunity to market to lesbians -- the most loyal marketing demographic -- was a real eye-opener.  But my biggest take-away for the day was: Tina Brown thinks print media is dead.  Now, my husband would tell you that she ruined Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, so her opinion doesn't hold much sway for him; but I say she once was those publications... and if she has rounded on them and those of their ilk, who else might?

The rest of the "talk-at" sessions didn't call to me the same as they did on Day One; so I decided that if I'm going to be in Chicago, I owed it to my uncle to take a stroll around town.

You see, my Uncle Steve lived in Chicago for most of his adult life.  He died in January 2004 at the age of 60 after a host of health issues.  He was a prolific scientist and more or less a hermit.  One of my very few regrets in life is that, knowing that he would probably never make the trip, I never took my daughter Petunia to see him.  There was always a reason, usually money, as we went from one grad school tuition to another; plus, we'd always have time, right?  When my dad went to visit his brother Steve, he always mentioned that Petunia's recent pictures were on display in the house (I tried to mail some monthly).  I will be shocked if Petunia does not become a scientist, a physicist specifically, as that's been in her blood since birth.  Maybe that's karma placing a little bit of what we lost into her, who knows.  In any event, for Uncle Steve, I decided to check out his town, five years too late.

Truth be told, I didn't see nearly enough of the Windy City.  I walked by the water some, especially along the river.  I walked up and down Michigan Avenue and a wee bit of side streets around there.  I was struck by several things: When I was last in Chicago, I was 11.  I don't remember much of it except that I thought it to be like Philly -- sprawling and dirty (no offense to my sisters in the City of Brotherly Love, but you know that grime is baked-in).  How much difference a couple of decades (and, perhaps, being in "the right part of town") can make!  I was struck by the public art on display , placed in flowerbeds, juxtaposed against skyscrapers.  And the cleanliness -- wow!  Even the local mall had tablecloths on its food court tables.  (Yes, I went into a mall, just to check out my first-ever Lego store.)  This town has class.  It was sparkly, shiny, like a new penny.  I really loved Chicago in the summertime, most especially the light breeze that tousled my hair just perfectly.  (You can't pay me enough to go back in winter, though; I've heard those stories of brrrrr!)  What a gorgeous town filled with smiley people!  I am happy that my uncle was surrounded by that beauty during his too-short life.

Reality beckoned me back to BlogHer after too short of a morning off, and, just as I was trying to figure out which post-lunch session I would pop into, I bumped into Carmen, who is simultaneously the most lovely and the most bad-ass mom-of-six I'll ever meet.  (She's a martial artist.  I am in awe of her.)  We sat down for coffee and chai, and it was a welcome interlude to talk one-on-one with a new friend in the midst of a manic conference.  (Mental note: repeat the same at all future conferences in the middle of day two!) 

By the time I got back to session-land, I hopped around a few times... the BlogHer session on the advertising network didn't speak to me, as my blog is "pure" (no advertisements; in other words, I write this for free, so you should send me surprise presents if you like it).  The comedy panel (including Wendi and Jessica, among others) was delightful, but the room was about a hundred degrees and overflowing; shame on BlogHer for not giving humor any space on its site and then shorting these gals in real-life, too. 

The community keynote wrapping up blogger about "the future" was, well, yawn.  I find BlogHer and its founders rather inspirational, but do they really need to wrap up tooting their (and a little bit of our) horns? 

Off to another fried-food happy-hour... off to the concierge level to eat first, since I did actually learn my lesson last time.  And then... off to BowlHer at Lucky Strikes Lanes!  Talk about "wow" -- these ladies know how to throw a party!  Good food and Bud Light bottles in the shape of bowling pins were everywhere.  Former American Idol contestant Brooke White performed in the little (and quiet -- no bowling sounds infiltrated!) lounge behind one of the bars.  And, best of all, get this: their swag (mostly cosmetics) was given out late in the game via an orderly line, so there was no early-on push-and-shove-then-leave business.  There was also other swag scattered around the room (scarves, Goldfish, cupcakes, more cosmetics).  Now that's the way to throw a successful party involving swag -- reward the ones who stay, and the ones who don't are mollified by a bag of Goldfish.  (heh, heh)

After a brief stop at the obligatory cheeseburger party (does anyone actually want to smell McDonald's food that late at night?), I headed back to my room to pack.  And pack.  And pack.

And the next day, I was home, absolutely exhausted.  My kids had a great weekend with their Babcia and their dad, and I had been alone.  I didn't get the rest that I'd hoped for, but I came away with something better -- a lot of new friends, and a better sense for this "voodoo that I do" as the Guv would say.  Now, I'm eager to get home to California and get the kids back in school so that I can write -- really write -- and see where that takes me.  I'll try my hand at authoring some evidence-based arguments from my own soapbox that will hopefully capture some of this fervor for companies and social media and educated women who have something to say to interact.  Because even if I write somewhat anonymously, I don't want companies' attention regarding their free stuff; I want their attention because I've said something worthy of a reaction.  Maybe my first op-ed will be on the unenvironmentalism of all of this swag in all of its packing... now there's an idea...

More on BlogHer next August from NYC!