Monthly Archives: June 2013

The Big Chill revisited

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It began as a funeral, a likely scenario for a reunion with The Stones playing “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”, and culminated into a bittersweet weekend of soul searching.  I watched The Big Chill recently after not having seen it for many years and I quickly moved in with these ex-college friends again as if it was yesterday and I was tagging along for the ride.

chillin' with friends

chillin’ with friends

It’s been thirty, yes THIRTY, years since it was released.  I was in high school when it came out listening to Duran Duran and the Culture Club, and had not gone through any of the life experiences in the film, yet was so taken by the intensity of the relationships, the emotional situations, the diversity of characters, and of course, the music!  1983. The year when Michael Jackson’s almighty Thriller album dominated. National Lampoon’s  “Vacation” , and Tom Cruise in “Risky Business” dancin’ in his underwear were flying up the charts.  Bjorn Borg (hottie) retired from tennis, Swatches came out, Microsoft Word was introduced and M*A*S*H ended its phenomenal run. But it was The Big Chill that introduced me to “When a Man Loves a Woman” by Percy Sledge and I fell in love with the songs in the 60’s! I imagined how awesome it would be ‘when I was WAY older’ to have a motley crew of friends stay together in a big house on the waterway, drink, smoke, have sex, partake in deep conversations and all things cool. Seemed like the quintessential life moment. (ended up having a few of them in college minus the intellectual conversations….)

Now fast-forward thirty years. You’ll see it through new eyes. We’ve been married, divorced, had children, dealt with infidelity, know friends trying desperately to conceive, and unfortunately have known friends to take their own lives.  We’re reliving our past; uncertain of our future and trying our best to live in the moment. We are all living the Big Chill! We’re microcosms of unique circumstances, all cooking up something together and bringing it to the giant oak table, metaphorically speaking. (cue “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”, by The Temptations).

At the end of the movie, are they any clearer of their future? They’ve looked back on the 60’s to understand the 80’s looking for second chances and fresh starts. I like the fact that there is no ending. Nothing is really resolved. I would say that’s the message.

Tammy

Some great quotes from the movie:

Sam Weber: Nothing’s more important than sex!

Michael: Oh yeah, have you ever gone a week without a rationalization?

Michael: Harold, don’t you have any other music , you know, from this century?

Harold: There is no other music, not in my house.

Michael: There’s been a lot of terrific music in the last ten years.

Harold: Like what?

Chloe: I haven’t met that many happy people in my life. How do they act?

Michael: Everyone does everything just to get laid.

Karen: Who said that? Freud?

Michael: No, I did.

[about getting pregnant]

Sarah: It doesn’t always happen the first time.

Meg: That’s not what they told us in high school.

Michael: Amazing tradition. They throw a great party for you on the one day they know you can’t come.

Why an Eight Year Old Needs a Cell Phone

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When my 8 year old asked me when she could get a cell phone and I was about to say “two weeks from your sixteenth birthday”, I stared at her.  The eagerness in her big blue eyes to be in touch with all the other eight year olds and their social agendas was cute and pathetic.  She’s convinced she NEEDS it.  And my 10 year old has made me feel its just pure neglect that she doesn’t possess an iPhone, only a measly iTouch that she “doesn’t even like”.  I’m such a mean mommy. I’m fairly certain it qualifies as child abuse in the state of California. “But EVERYONE else has one!”  “But punkin’, they are going to be socially stunted as adults.”  “Whaaaaaaa?” I wanted to tell her to Google it, but I stopped myself.

Remember when a keyboard was only on a piano and a virus was the flu?  Only spiders lived in a web? Yes, it is hard to comprehend our lives before we had cell phones and the Internet.  Our Universe shrunk down to the size of a pea and answers to everything were two clicks away.  Our friends could be phoned almost anywhere (for 40 cents per minute) at any time and it was AWESOME! The new technology was exhilarating!  I remember my dad carrying around a cell phone the size of a briefcase, He loaded it in his car to with the same finesse that we load a carryon on a plane, except his bag phone was probably bigger. People would stop and stare.

Our lives before this social media onslaught seem to be pre Civil War (ie Gold Rush or insert event from the 1800s).  We thumbed through the Encyclopedia Britannica and marveled over its slick glossy pages and colorful photos. The library was our only source for term papers.  We utilized mountains of books.  For hours.  I had a row of dictionaries in my room in high school that graduated in line due to their thickness. My big blue one I ultimately filled with my friends’ high school photos and two ‘mums’ from a couple of promsJ (I found it a few years ago when cleaning out a bunch of old boxes. It was bent from the memories and a big ol’ rubber band held it all in place.).  We had a rotary phone mounted to the wall in the kitchen.

images-3

An Apple a day…..

Recently, when I had my third iPhone replaced (sigh), there were a mere couple of hours that I wasn’t ‘connected’ with the world.  You heard right.  Hours. Diagnostics were done.  The Apple Doctors were baffled. Replace the organ! (I mean phone).  Transfer everything AGAIN?!   I admit, I panicked.  My umbilical cord was severed. Waiting a nanosecond for a text response has on occasion put me near Stress Con 5.  I looked at The Genius Bar in Apple and imagined that it served martinis.  Apple martinis! A mirage.

Remember when we used to pass notes in class and it worked! My girlfriend got asked to the prom via a neatly folded note in the middle of Advanced Biology during a lecture on porifera reproduction (you may need to Google that). It was the preferred, well only, method of immediately sending and receiving information on fashion, dates, weekend plans, MTV, feathered bangs, and football games, and “like, how boring this stupid class is and like will this teacher ever like shut up!” But you had to make sure that you had allies beside you, otherwise the covert operation would be thwarted (ie. the future hackers). There was always somebody in the group waiting to grab your notes.  And if you got busted or it got in the wrong hands, the best-case scenario was the note got ripped up and valuable information ‘deleted’. The worst was the teacher read it to the whole class and your crush was revealed and his girlfriend happened to be sitting beside you. And there’s still 45 minutes left.

Google has done for our brains what karaoke has done for our voices.  We are all fucking geniuses holding mini PhDs in everything and we are all one beer away from being ‘discovered’.  If it all boosts our self-esteem in this sea of crazy uncertainty that we all live in, then why not?  Google away! As far as Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and all the others go?  Stick needles in my eyes. Facebook has exhausted me but I caved in. Though, the conversations, the photos, the comments, thumbs up and thumbs down, it’s a lot to keep up and raise kids too. I have to put my virtual foot down and say “No more social media!” (at least for another week or so…….)

So, when I hear, “Mommy, you don’t understand!”  I actually really truly do.  But the answer is still “No.”

Tammy

“When I delete someone from the contacts in my phone, it feels like I’m deleting that person from existence. “
” I answer unknown calls on my cell phone because I’m a fearless person. “

 

Change that Station Now!

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I equate life sometimes with listening to a really bad song on the radio.  You’re agitated from the noise, the intensity, the monotonous head- banging clatter. Then something prompts you to change it.  And it’s at that moment you realize just how bad that song was.  You now have peace.  Your body relaxes. What made you listen to it in the first place?  And for so long?

I love analogies.  They have the ability to clarify and simplify the most complicated situations.  Have you stood up close to a Georges Seurat painting?  His beautiful technique of pointillism uses millions of little dots of color to create a masterpiece.  Up close, his Grande Jatte and Circus is just that: millions of tiny dots.  When we stand back, the painting takes shape; becomes real.  We see the big picture, literally! When we stand back from our life, that too takes shape and we notice all nuances, both good and bad.

Seurat's Grande Jatte and Circus

Seurat’s Grande Jatte and Circus

For me, I stood back a few months ago and wow did my eyes open!  I couldn’t believe what I saw before me.  I had answers, clarity.  How had I missed all of this? I had been so close to the situation at hand, I was clouded by what was going on.  All I could see were those little dots.

Next time if you play your music loud, make sure it’s your station.  If you want peace, turn it off.  Marvel at your decision.  And stand back.  Clarity will bring strength.

Tammy

“Darling, when things go wrong in life, you lift your chin, put on a ravishing smile, mix yourself a little cocktail…”― Sophie Kinsella

“There is a secret in our culture, And it’s not that childbirth is painful, It’s that women are strong.”― Laurie Stavoe Harm

folie a' deux

   Wine Pick of the Week:

Folie a’ Deux

2010 Cabernet

Sonoma County

Elegant with layers of fruit and spice

$24

Personal Space and Daggers in the Back at Starbucks

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I was in line at Starbucks the other morning (weren’t we all?) and there was a man in front of me and in front of him, about six feet of space between him and the cash register.  Behind me was a line out the door of about twenty bleary eyed, stone-faced customers jonesing for a gigantic cup of java hoping to turn them into instant humans. Now we all need our personal space.  That’s a given.  But, due to the extraordinary importance of getting our coffee within the confines of a crowded shop causes us to tolerate this sardine-like existence for just a few more minutes.  So, why does this man think he is entitled to take over prime real estate when the rest of us are abiding by the rules? I promptly asked, “Uhm, excuse me. Are you in line?”  I receive the ‘well duh’ look followed by “uh yeah.”  Ok, then move your ass up to the register so that we can bring in seven more people from the street. I impatiently stand to his side in hopes that he would get a hint.  Nope.  Some people miss all social cues.  Finally “Next!” was called and he moves forward.

Then, Clueless breaks the other cardinal rule: He asks questions.  Many questions.  “What exactly is an Americano?  How many pumps of caramel are in the Grande Caramel Macchiato?  Can I get two pumps of vanilla in an Americano?  Which has more caffeine; a double espresso or a Grande drip?  Oh, and can I add whipped cream to a latte? Hmmm, Wait.  Maybe I should get a Frappuccino.” Dear God. I’m overhearing this senseless regurgitation. The line is restless, angered, and throwing visual daggers through his back.  I want to be the hero and slug him. They would no doubt cheer.

photo

give us this day our daily brew

I quickly order my nonfat latte fully aware of my not-yet-caffeinated brethren.  I move to the waiting area.  Clueless is there waiting for his ‘extra hot, Grande double pump something with extra whip and who-knows-what-else. ‘

The following day I go to the other Starbucks across the street just in case.  Instincts proved correct.

Cheers to Starbucks and those with common sense when ordering.

Tammy

“Coffee keeps me busy until it’s acceptable to drink wine.”                                         Anonymous

Sipping Wine through a Straw

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The question begs to be asked: Is it bad when your eight year old daughter brings you, not just your wine without you asking her (which admittedly goes against the grain of some parenting, unclear why), but shows up proudly with a straw in it? Clearly she sees the value of a glass of vino for mommy and the ease at which it needs to be consumed. I say increase her allowance!

Then something miraculous happened.  Unsolicited.  My little angels cleaned out my car.  Together. They pulled out water bottles, dirty shoes, a science project that had been growing in the third row, about three loads of dirty clothes, six hairbrushes, and a Justin Bieber folder.  They removed mats, washed them, vacuumed the car.  I was speechless. My photogirls working in tandem in any other arena other than fighting, is, well, not all that common.  Then it occurred to me:  They had been abducted by aliens and little carbon copies were left.  They got along and did something that can only happen when the mother ship beams down: they shared! I sipped my cab through my straw, ate my grapes in awe of these specimens, too afraid to move from my fold-out camp chair only feet away. The rest of the night continued without stress and love flowed like water.  They hugged each other goodnight; even shared  “I love yous”. I got cavities (and whiplash) witnessing this.

You’ll be happy and (oddly) relieved as I was to know that they woke up fighting over the same pair of pink and black socks, who got to use the toilet first, and my favorite: “Mommy, I wish I had a different sister!” They’re back.

Tammy

“Either give me more wine, or leave me alone.”                                                                        Rumi, circa 1200’s

Book Tip:  Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls  David Sedaris                                     Wickedly, laugh out loud funny!

Look Mama! It’s Cheese in a Can!

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Recently, I was perusing the aisles in Ralph’s, as I do on average twice a day, with my two little angels trying to ignore their feuds over who gets to stand on the end of the shopping cart while I push (neither, as I can hardly steer it but I was too damn tired to yell).  All I could focus on was getting my last five items, which were neatly written in my head, three of which were already forgotten.

Then, my ten-year old exclaims “Mama!  Look!  It’s cheese in a can!”   Sure enough, on the top shelf (In NC it would be placed at eye level, the optimal spot) were three neat rows of aerosol cheese.  How had this been an oversight all these years?  “What is that?  Can we get it?”, she asked in pure wonderment. Then my eight-year old said, “I don’t understand. How do you get it out?”  Bless their little hearts. I forget sometimes that my children haven’t had the same wonderful childhood culinary experiences as I did where viscous cheese products such as Velveeta, Cheez Whiz, and Easy Cheese were a staple atop saltine

Golden Goodness

photo: courtesy Lisa Hall

crackers.  Those were the days when no one read ingredients, and that more was better.  I remember my dad opening a can of Vienna sausages (he pronounced them vi-EENA with his thick Southern accent), and stabbing them with a toothpick and handing me one. They were snug in their short little container surrounded by a light brown flavor-packed gelatinous substance.  Their tender smoked taste and mushiness was delectable. It was hot dog pate’ and I loved it! Though oddly enough I don’t care for any form of pate’ today. Go figure.

I let them each hold a golden can and marvel at the sheer oddity of it.  I looked around for a second, I admit, to see if any mom from the junk food protection program witnessed this.  After a few “pretty pleases” coupled with the excitement of holding a new puppy, I tossed a can under the toilet tissue and organic apples.

When we got home, they fought (of course) over who could find the golden can first, similar to the Golden Ticket in Willie Wonka, (pause….Johnny Depp flashback….deep breath…). After I pried it from their little fingers, I pulled out a box of brown rice crackers.  Alas! A healthy snack! After a quick tutorial as to the right angle at which to ‘spray”, they were on their way! Quick learners, my children.  They were amazed at the electric orange color and the crinkled pattern as it left the can. Even I couldn’t wait to bite into that little mountain of velvet tanginess, trying to remember the last time I did.  My ten year old loved it.  Her eyes opened wide and she eagerly grabbed the can to spray her second one.  My eight year old? Not so much.  “This isn’t cheese mommy.  What is it?’, she said with a deadpan voice and languid expression.  “Why honey it’s a cheese product!”  I sounded like Joan Cleaver.

The remainder is in my refrigerator right now aging to perfection in its metal cylinder.

I’ll wait a while before I introduce them to SPAM, (and I don’t mean the unsolicited electronic bulk messages).

Tammy

“Life is great, Cheese makes it better,”                                                                                           Avery Aames

A Simple Act of Kindness

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About six months ago, I walked into a small wine shop in Malibu to grab what else? Wine.  I remember how I felt that day, but not why.  Just one of those days the wind was out of my sails and my feet were full of lead.  I wandered down the short aisles aimlessly staring at labels, nothing registering.  A man appeared in front of me and asked if I needed any help.  He may as well have played a Hallmark commercial for me as my eyes welled up and I thought for a moment I was going to break down right there in front of the Bordeaux. It must have appeared that the complexity of choosing a bottle of wine could actually bring a woman to tears.

As I quickly tried to gain my composure, he goes, “Wait.  You like chocolate?” That did it. The puddles of salt water overflowed.  “I-is that a ‘yes’?”  I couldn’t even nod.  In an instant he handed me a giant bar of Godiva and said, “Take this. It’s on the house.” He smiled and I handed him my credit card to pay for a mystery bottle of red that I managed to grab (my priorities were still in tact even if my emotions weren’t). I choked back more tears and whispered, “Thank you.”

I felt lighter when I left. It wasn’t the wine. It wasn’t the chocolate.  It was the fact that a stranger went out of their way to be nice.  And I’ve thought of it ever since.

I’ve gone back in the wine shop a few times since but never saw him again.

Tammy

“A bottle of good wine, like a good act, shines ever in the retrospect.”                           Robert Louis Stevenson

Educated Guess wne 

Wine tip of the week:                                                                                     Educated Guess Cabernet                                                                   Napa Valley 2011  $22                                                                             Rich and complex for the money                                      

Jordache jeans, Roll-on Lip-Gloss, and el Caminos

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I went to high school in a ‘dry’ county, meaning no alcohol was sold EVER due to religious reasons.  The Bible Belt was so tight on the waist of the South, any notion of pleasure was looked at as the Devil’s work.  Apparently drinking alcohol in Scotland County NC would send you straight to the front gate of Hell.  Fortunately, the South Carolina state line was about 4 miles away and behind that line was a liquor store more than willing to sell to us sinners and minors.

When the weather was warm, we’d grab a few six packs of little Mickeys and baby Malt Ducks and head to a cornfield and rock out on AC/DC, Van Halen, and Journey.  There were few options in this tiny town.  We had already gone through the drive-through at McDonald’s.  Twice.

All of us girls were clad in our Jordache jeans and Farrah hair, reapplying our Love Potion bubble gum roll-on lip-gloss every few minutes because we couldn’t stop licking it off. The guys wore tight Wranglers and Levis and the smell of their Chaps Musk wafted through the damp air. The Malt Ducks were sweet and welcoming. We swooned when Steve Perry’s voice resonated through giant speakers in the Camaro Z28s and el Caminos. And had no concerns in the world other than making it home by our curfew. We made out under the stars.

journey escapeMy palette has matured from Malt Ducks and little Mickeys and there aren’t too many Camaros dotting the freeways around here.  But, given any opportunity, I’ll roll down my windows and blast Journey and I want nothing but an icy cold beer. Here’s to the 1980s, Steve Perry, and riding with boys in pick-ups and hot rods.

Tammy

~ Believe in love. Believe in magic. Hell, believe in Santa Claus. Believe in others. Believe in yourself. Believe in your dreams. If you don’t, who will? ~

Jon Bon Jovi

Old Friends, New Life, Good Cab

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Hey Ya’ll!  Welcome to my blog.  As I pondered names for this blog, I had a few in mind:  Fucked Up and Starting Over, Suddenly Single and Done with Men, Cracked Wide Open and Searching for Me…. to name but a few.  Hear any anger?  Maybe a teeny bit. Bitterness!  Uh huh.  Resentment?  You bet.  But at the end of the day, all I’ve done is create maybe another (tiny) wrinkle and added to my brewing ulcer.  Not attractive girls, I’m here to tell you.  No one is worth ruining your mascara or your good soul. At the end of my day, all I really want is to unwind…unWINEd and pour a good Cabernet. Hence the birth of this blog.

As a newly single mom in my 40s opening not just a new chapter, but a brand spankin’ new book of my life, I’m trying to maneuver through unfamiliar, sometimes scary pathways.  And oh, I’m making mistakes along the way! But, the best part is, I’m figuring it out too. And it’s good stuff!  To coin the most cliché phrase ever, “it takes a village”. I certainly haven’t done this alone.  I have a group of the most clever, beautiful, intelligent, strong, insightful, dedicated girlfriends on the planet who have picked me up, fed me, ‘wined’ me, scolded me, dusted me off, loved me, and helped me regain me in this utterly difficult time.  I like to refer to them as my “emotional stylists”.  Talk about before and after photos! These girls are geniuses and I love them to pieces.

When I started going through this breakup almost a year ago of my nearly two decades long marriage, I was in shock girls!  I came completely unhinged! I thought I was alone, that no one could possibly feel the pain I was experiencing.  Boy, was I wrong!  It was just like buying a new car and thinking you are the only one who has it, then you hit the freeway and they’re everywhere!  Maybe a few different colors, but the same damn car.

I want to invite you to go through my new journey with me and I will share in yours. Everyday is a new day, not necessarily a better one, but it has potential. And there is something good in every single day.  You may need to look a little harder, but it’s there. Can’t wait to get to know you and bring you along for the ride!

Tammy

“Drink freely the wine life offers you and don’t worry how much you spill.”

Marty Rubin