TheMommyBlog

Monday, March 15, 2010 Family, Travel

For eight or nine years, my family had a gathering place in Lake Tahoe. For all those years, our family would come together from Sacramento, Los Gatos, San Jose, Chicago, and Tokyo to be together for the holidays and for some great skiing in the winter or hiking and biking in the summer. I found out I was pregnant for the first time in that house, and two of my children took their first steps right in the living room. My folks have since traded that place in for another on the beach—which, don’t get me wrong, is AWESOME—so although we have a very different kind of gathering place for our family now, I miss that place like crazy. It’s so hard to gather a big family when you don’t have room to expand as the family grows. Now we sometimes have to take turns or find additional accommodations.

All of which is to say… I don’t normally do promotions or contests, but this one, sponsored by SuiteTrip.com, was too much fun to pass up. I TOTALLY want to be responsible for someone winning an awesome, free vacation.

1. Each week for four weeks, I will post a trivia question here on The Mommy Blog. The first question will be posted on Wednesday, March 17.
2. Answers will be posted on the SuiteTrip.com web site.You can enter the “Sweet Suite Giveaway” by sending me the answer in an email at (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).
3. Three winners will receive a free two-night stay at any Homewood Suites property in the U.S.

Homewood Suites by Hilton developed SuiteTrip.com specifically for leisure and family travelers to help enhance their vacation experience.  The site serves as the go-to site for family travel planning by tapping the expertise of today’s most trusted names in family and leisure travel who provide trip advice directly from their own vacations and adventures.

Launched in 1989, the Homewood Suites by Hilton brand today has nearly 300 hotels in North America and Mexico and approximately 120 properties in the development pipeline. The brand offers complimentary high-speed internet access, daily hot breakfast, and an evening reception featuring a light meal and beverages, Monday through Thursday.  Beyond its spacious suites and home-like amenities, Homewood Suites guests can find at each hotel an on-site Suite Shop convenience store, exercise facility and guest laundry at most locations. Additional guest services offered at most locations include a complimentary grocery shopping service* and a complete business center. 

Dude, I want to go RIGHT NOW. Actually, I’m a little frosted that I can’t enter. Fortunately, I am being paid for this promotion, so it’s all good (disclosure pursuant to my Blog with Integrity pledge).

I’m not the only fab online personality involved (my fab factor is going up by association). Contributors to SuiteTrip.com include:

• Beth Blair of TheVacationGals.com - freelance writer and travel-planning mastermind
• Catherine Boley of Trekaroo.com - education advocate and destination devotee
• Scott Carmichael of Gadling.com - frequent flyer and leisure trip consultant
• Esther Lee of Trekaroo.com - travel hot spot enthusiast
• Grant Martin of Gadling.com - adventure traveler and sightseeing aficionado
• Lisa McElroy of SuiteLiving.com - hotel and lifestyle expert
• Jennifer Miner of TheVacationGals.com - conservationist and travel-tip whiz
• Jamie Pearson of TravelSavvyMom.com - budget travel genius
• Kara Williams of TheVacationGals.com - backpacker and vacation advice guru

Wednesday, January 06, 2010 Family, Travel

This week the kids and I watched Peter Jackson’s 2005 remake of King Kong. At certain parts of the movie, I began giggling uncontrollably and was totally unable to explain why to my adorable little angels. I’d had a flash of total recall of a night spent alone in a hotel in MacLean, VA, on business, watching the remake with room service and a bottle of wine, reviewing the movie as I watched it from the bed with my laptop.

What I learned watching “King Kong”

• Girl’s hairstyle’s got it going on.
• I mean, Faye Wray? Pffft. Jessica Lange? I scoff. But Naomi Watts? Has hair of steel. Silky-soft, angel-fine, smokin’ hot steel. My hair would have run screaming from my scalp three minutes after landing on that island.
• Speaking of Skull Island, what are we doing here? Let’s move there. Imagine the ecosystem that could support that kind of biodiversity. Sure, it’s a little unbalanced, sure, there are nine meat-eaters for every plant-eater, but maybe a rocky island can only support that blend of speciation.
• The villagers? Could use some sort of Head Start. A meal plan. Manners. At least the T. Rexes and the apes had some respect for one another. And by the way, these people managed to build a hundred-foot wall of stunning architectural durability—the Romans were engineers using tin cans tied together with string in comparison—but still used a spiked pole to lop heads off. What’s up with that? In the end, they built a flimsy door and that’s their bad, but then they did fool Kong into thinking it was impenetrable for a few good years.
• Doesn’t Adrien Brody look good with some meat on his bones?
• Whoever made Naomi’s negligee should be making a fortune in endorsements. That silk held up, people. And each dousing and soiling only added to the natural beauty of the garment. Each piece is unique and slight flaws in the color are natural and add to its overall character.
• There isn’t much that is more entertaining than bowliing for Brontosauruses on a sunny afternoon.
• Only the most co-dependant of low-confidence women would juggle rocks and walk like an Egyptian on the edge of a cliff to try to make a guy smile.
• Or point to herself when they are finally alone and ask, “Beautiful?”
• Did anyone else notice in the beginning that Naomi described that a man’s best strategy for expressing interest is to ignore the girl?
• And that Kong *also* played hard to get? Oh, sure, he beat his chest and dragged her all over town trying to find that last open bar and didn’t listen to a word she said and only got interested when she passed out cold and then he started prodding her like, is she passed out? Will she remember this? Can she pick me out in a lineup? And then she opens one eye, like is he still looking at me? Am I really his surest bet? Good lord, I’ve got get off of this island.
• Isn’t it funny how Jack Black can wield a bottle of Chloroform like a vet with a pocket full of Ketamine? One bottle broken across his snout is enough to put Kong to sleep without burning his eyes right out of their sockets or giving him permanent brain damage. I mean, wild ape? Pain in the ass. Demented wild ape? Horrific.
• Every time that movie executive with the Marlon Brando mustache opened his mouth, I heard, “It ain’t the way I wanted it! I can handle things! I’m smart! Not like everybody says, like dumb! I’m smart and I want respect!’” Oh, Fredo. Who knew you had a twin?
• No guy ever forgets, or forgives, a rival.
• No woman can resist a guy who’s just had his ass shredded fighting for her honor.
• “Are you kidding me? I survived the Holocaust and charmed an SS captain into giving me his winter coat. You don’t scare me.”
• “I am touching the beast. I am actually laying my hand on the twenty-five foot gorilla.” *touch* *gorilla twitches* You just crapped your pants, didn’t you? Heh.
• Oh, look, she’s wearing an evening dress that’s cut just like her old negligee the night he gets loose.
• Oh, he did NOT just take her skating in Central Park.
• Just goes to show that if you can make a guy laugh, you’ve won his heart.
• Damn, her hair looks terrific.

Sunday, December 06, 2009 Me, Me, Me, Travel

Two down, two to go. Am finally acclimated to the time change, but the last 48 hours have not been pretty. Funny, odd, but not pretty. Supporting exhibits on my Facebook album. I really can’t bring myself to report them here. I can’t look at some of them again, most notably the flesh-eating fish and me ducking when firecrackers went off and snorting a Singpore Sling out of my nose in the pool bar. I thankyew.

Bring on the photos!

Friday, December 04, 2009 Me, Me, Me, Travel

It’s four o’clock, 33 hours after we left home, and the sun is rising over the river in Bangkok. It nearly knocked me over when I opened the blackout drapes. Happy birthday to the King of Thailand. Now I am going to close the drapes and go back to sleep.

Thursday, September 10, 2009 Me, Me, Me, Bad Mood Dude, Travel

Hey everyone, it’s time for another installment of “Mindy Gets on a Plane!”

For some reason, air travel is a little more… interesting for me than for most. Take Cincinnati (please). I ran roughly two point four miles to catch a connection ten minutes after landing and learning my second flight had been canceled. I was running with my bags, shoes off, phone to ear, taking notes on my kid’s Nintendo DS pictochat because I didn’t have a pen when the PR person started rattling off new gate information.

I think that was the week after I fell into the rose bush. But I digress.

I was set to fly to Los Angeles this morning to visit Sony Electronics to check out some new cameras and to Sony Pictures for the red carpet premiere of “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.” Yes, me, on a red carpet. Has anyone seen “Miss Congeniality?” That’s about what I’m expecting: a full pratfall followed by a shoulder roll.

Anyway, I checked my itinerary before leaving the house like any good girl, and realized that the hotel and flight reservations were made in the name of Mindy Robertson. Oh, boy. What were the odds I’d get through security? My name is Roberts.

I called the airlines, only half-hopeful that anything could be done and almost a little relieved because I have so much to do in the next few days that would be just so much HARDER to do from the W in Westwood, with Sony Pictures all up in my grill. When I finally got a customer service rep, I asked what the chances were that I’d get to check in with a different name.

“It’s in the name of Robertson, and I’m Roberts. The person who made the reservation is named Peterson, so I can see what happened.”

“Do you have the reservation number?”

“Not on what they sent me.”

“Do you have the last four digits of the card used to make the reservation?”

“It was made by SONY PICTURES, no I don’t have the number.”

“Okay, let me see what we can do. Hang on, is the name on your license Mindy?”

Crap. “No. It’s Melinda. I’m not getting on that plane, am I?”

“Let’s see.”

*hold music, interrupted occasionally by bad airline humor*

“Okay! The name has been changed for you.”

“Really? Just like that? You actually changed it from Mindy Robertson to Melinda Roberts?”

“Yes!”

“I’ve got a few more reservations to check that might be in the wrong name… kidding. But thank you! I’d better scoot!”

Hurdle #1 down.

I had barely enough time to get dressed and scram, racing (at a respectable 65 miles per hour) to the airport in record time.

First mistake, coming right up. I parked at the wrong terminal. I KNOW. SHUT UP.

I actually crossed the whole parking lot, walked all the way through the baggage claim, past security, and to the end of the counters before getting that sinking feeling in my gut.

And then I walked aaallllll the way back to my car and braved the exit attendant. “I, um, parked in the wrong lot.”

“Don’t do that! We were all worried! Wondered where you were!” Funny guy. “That will be one dollar.”

“Stupidity tax.”

“Yep.”

“See ya.”

So the other terminal is in the next county, and everyone has a different accent there. Seriously, by the time I parked again, walked to check in, lumbered through security (almost walked through the detector with my back pack on. I took off my shoes, but not my luggage.) and jogged seventeen miles to the gate, I was tired, hungry, irritated, and breaking a major sweat. So, not all that different from how I am normally.

Wanna guess how much time I had before boarding? Like TWENTY MINUTES. I HATE AIRPORTS.

Oh, and isn’t Southwest the most persnickety airline you ever did see? They have you line up under signs with numbered groups on them, and ask that you have your boarding pass out, preferably printed side up, and that you arrange yourself in line roughly according to the order assigned on your ticket. I was Group B, Number 34. I felt like an idiot trying to find my place. Am I cutting? Does it matter? The guy behind me was all agitated because his number was lower than mine and I was all, “Don’t even ask me to switch, buddy, because we’re getting on that plane ten seconds apart in the end.”

Just before the doors closed, one other guy and I were waiting under the Group B sign. Just us. I started giggling. The guy turned. I said, “This is just like the scene in ‘Meet the Parents’ where he’s standing all by himself while they wait to board his section.

He laughed. “Sir, please step aside, we are not boarding you yet.”

I snickered. The gate attendant called us. We suppressed more laughter. I thought I should explain. “You see, it’s like that scene in ‘Meet the Parents’? When there’s just one guy left to board?” He held his hand out, waiting patiently for my boarding pass. Apparently, he didn’t understand my accent.

And then I was standing in the aisle, holding my black bag, turning left and right, looking for a place to stash it. I started laughing again. I thought, you’ll have to pry this bag out of my cold dead hands, so step off bitch.

Hey, time to turn off all electronic devices and look for my driver.

*putting on big sunglasses*

Update: He was holding a sign that said, “Mrs. Robertson.”

And I have a studio! SWEEEET.

Sunday, May 03, 2009 Bad Mood Dude, Family, Travel

My friend (from the Madsen bike video below) wrote this morning, and just staring at her questions made me think of enough to fill a book.

Hi Mindy,
How are you ? how was your trip to Chicago ? Give me some news ... it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages ...
~m

So I filled a novella.

Hee - yes, I’m home, loooong stories that make the week seem like a month. While i was gone - in the first 12 hours, my ex’s uncle died and I might have needed to come home early so he could go to the funeral in another state. So, I went to the first half of the day’s activities (http://loveyourveggies.com/veggies_champs.php) and then took a cab back to the hotel room to wait for news. Here’s the email I sent to mom:

I am in my hotel room, waiting to hear when ex will be going to CO for the funeral for his uncle who died this morning. Having the hardest time getting information as he keeps handing the phone off to the kids and reception is poor. So frustrating. I missed all of this afternoon waiting for news, and now I’m going to dinner. At least I got to rest, it was badly needed.

So I went to dinner that night, and everyone kept sending the waiting circulating with margaritas over to me.

The next day was going to be all day on the far south side of Chicago, not close enough to take a cab back if I needed to, so I stayed behind. All day long my ex debated whether to try to catch a flight for the Friday service in CO, or skip that and go for the weekend, or what. Just as I was meeting everyone in the lobby at 7:45 Wed night, he emailed that he wasn’t going at all. o_o

Fast forward to Thursday, getting on a plane that would land at 8:30 pm, and he emails that his cousin, who works for an airline and is the daughter of the uncle who died, said she’d get him a buddy fare for eighty bucks. But I didn’t need to do anything.

By the time I landed, he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going at all, so I just said, please meet me at the house with the kids so they can stay with me and you can do whatever you need to do. He said he was too busy, would I mind picking them up?

About two minutes after we hung up I called back and said, yes, I did mind, I just came two thousand miles, could you just come the last mile and drop them at my house? It would take twenty minutes to get out of his house with all the stories everyone would need to tell me.

Oh, and it was almost nine, Logan still had homework to do, and needed to get up on the morning to write a summary of a story he hadn’t read. And Dylan was supposed to do his historical figure project, and was going to be Benjamin Franklin, and his teacher gave him a black blazer to wear. UGH. I told Dylan he had his own clothes, here they are, I’ll lay them out, and why don’t you tell me your speech? This is while I’m tucking him in. He said, “I’m Ben Franklin and I liked playing outdoor sports as a kid and swimming in lakes, and later they elected me President and I’m on the ten dollar bill.”

WTF??

I said, no, honey, no you weren’t. Maybe you swam in lakes, but no to the rest. We’ll talk in the morning.

So Friday morning, Logan is writing his essay, Daphne is asking me to pick out an outfit, and I’m furiously typing bullet points for Dylan. Like, “I was President of Pennsylvania, and am on the one hundred dollar bill. Oh, and I invented bifocals, the lightning rod, and the glass harmonica. My family was poor, I was #15 of 17 children, I only went to two years of school and ran away when I was 17.”

So I got them all dressed and then Logan said, “I don’t have any shoes.” 

“What?” 

“I came here barefoot. All my shoes are at Dad’s.”

So could dad meet us at school? No, too busy. So I said we’re coming, and I’d better not see you or I might kill you. It’s 8:05. Just as we’re rounding the corner on his street, he’s DRIVING AWAY to meet us as school. I stopped, he stopped, traffic backed up behind him, and he passed Logan his shoes through the window. And then we nearly collided when we both did three point turns to go the other direction.

As I’m dropping them off, Dylan said, “Come to my presentation. 9:30-10:30.” So I went to Safeway, got food - fridge totally empty from being away all week, got home, was literally standing naked stepping into the shower when Dylan called at 9. “Mom! Where are you? It started at 8:30!” So I got dressed and made it for the last 25 minutes. Dylan was so happy to have me sitting nearby when he gave his speech over and over to parents who asked him who he was.

And then I went back to bed.

You?

Wednesday, March 04, 2009 Family, Momversation, Travel

You know it’s bad when I’m posting back-to-back Momversation episodes instead of writing my own stuff. I’ve been too busy looking for work, scraping together the mortgage, freaking out over the crisis (I KNEW it wasn’t just me!) and crying into my Bad Mood Dude mug.

As for traveling with kids, I have an entire Travel category devoted to those wonderful yet horrific moments.

Check out our Top 5 Kid-Friendly Destinations for ideas on where to go for your next getaway.

• Family vacation tips
• How do you keep your child busy during school vacations?

Panelists: Heather Armstrong - Dooce Maggie Mason - Mighty Girl

Saturday, August 16, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Our Holiday Curse, Travel

I just turned forty. Actually, I have been forty for fifteen hours already in China, but if I think about that for too long I’ll start dividing by zero and then the world will implode.

We arrived home a little while ago from Beijing after 30 hours of traveling by bus, air, car, and the seat of our pants. Not even the couple that flew with us to within fifty miles of our destination know what a Benny Hill episode it turned out to be. Sure, there were twelve terrific hours in the air in business class from Beijing, but the eighteen that followed courtesy of United Airlines Domestic sucked ass. I won’t go into gory details until later, so here are the highlights before I melt into my pillows:

• First leg: Awesome! Hot nuts, fillet mignon, endless libations, snuggly pillows and warm blankies.
• Cleared customs in San Francisco without a hitch!
• We were FIFTY MILES from home, but had to continue through L.A. to honor the itinerary (please, we looked for every possible loophole) before going home.
• Tried to get on the connecting flight to L.A. with one excruciatingly expensive bottle of duty-free 1995 Bordeaux and were told that it didn’t matter that we were given it to carry on board the flight from China and already checked our bags through to L.A., we were not allowed to carry it through security. It would have to go into our bags, which were already checked. Security invited us to drink the wine there (alors!) or give it up.
• Optionally, Phil could run to the check in area and see if they could box it and check it as baggage. In the end, they made him throw it away, and we had to sprint (separately) to the gate. They only held it for us because we were in first class, and I am not kidding when I say that my hair was nearly caught in the door as it was closing.
• Upon arrival in L.A., I was waved toward baggage claim while others stumbled toward connecting gates, but screeched to a halt before making a wrong turn. Alas, I had already stepped on the RED LINE dividing departure gates from the rest of the functional universe and was not allowed back in. Technically, only one foot violated the RED LINE, but RULES ARE RULES and they insisted that I had to now exit the airport via baggage claim and re-enter via check in and go through security again because I stepped on the RED LINE. I was ready to ride that argument all the way to jail, I swear to puppies, I was. It was like a scene from Silkwood. I was contaminated, and my transgression prohibited me from any contact with the inside of the concourse. Our friends were five feet away from me, trying for an alarmed and disappointed goodbye hug, but they were physically prevented from touching me. And then, as I refused to be separated, they threw Phil out along with me.
• That argument lasted just long enough for us to miss our connecting flight. We were put on standby for the next one in four hours, and then didn’t make that one either. However, our bags did.
• Once we realized that the standby list was just being rolled over and over into later flights and that there was no way out tonight, we rented a car and DROVE the last 350 miles from L.A. and thenpicked up our bags at the San Jose Airport. Did I mention that only three were there because one arrived in L.A. seven hours later than its companions? And didn’t get on the standby? They’ll deliver it tomorrow. We hope.

So now we’re home, and the house is hot as balls from being closed up for a week, I had to take a defibrillator to my computer to get it going after such a long time untouched, and there were one hundred twelve unread messages in my inbox.

I was ridiculously happy to have a shower as soon as we got home, and stepped out at exactly midnight to find Phil waiting with a crystal goblet. “Happy Birthday. Cent’anni!”

Tuesday, August 12, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Travel

I finally figured how to get into my blog (can’t believe I don’t know how to do it when challenged with a non-cached URL), so I’ll just paste the emails I’m sending back here.

Hi Everyone! We’re here, and it feels just like Chicago in July. I’m letting everyone know that we’re here and that business class rocks, we got too drunk on the plane but slept it off, and due to flight delay may have missed out on beach volleyball. We’re now trying to find out how to walk or cab it there after gorging in the J&J hospitality lounge. We had Chinese, go figure.
Love you and miss you already!
We took lots of pictures but can’t send now!
xxx
Mindy& Phil

Gil: Glad to hear you’re safe! I’ll tell the kids!

Well, NOW we’re safe… we could only hang in there for a match and a half of volleyball before our eyes fell out of our heads, and we hadn’t changed dollars for RMB yet, because hey, we’re taking the J&J bus everywhere, so there we were trying to get a cab and mentioning NOTHING about not having local currency, and I was feeling a little guilty about it until we realized the guy was LOST and had no idea where the hotel is, so he pulls off in a shopping district I know we haven’t seen before and tries to ask another cabbie for directions. Then, I gave him the hotel’s card and he starts CALLING AROUND for help, so by the time we get to the hotel the meter is twice what it should be. By this time I’m praying he’ll just take dollars, but no, and we shouldn’t have been so optimistic because this guy was the most non-aggressive driver we’d ever seen. Not timid, not afraid, just a total lack of self-preservation and purpose. Finally at the hotel Phil had to go in and exchange some money so we could pay twice the going rate (still only $4) and in the five minutes he was gone the bellhops made us move like six times in the hotel turnaround - first here, then there, no no back up, no go forward you idiot and I was willing Phil to get back here and pay this clown so we could get to a freaking bathroom. We’ve been up over 24 hours and are getting up early to see the Great Wall. Hopefully then we can send photos!
Kiss everyone!

Gil: Don’t fall off the Great Wall as I am sure it would be a great fall.

Morning!
Just had breakfast! Chinese again, go figure.
Up for day two, though we’re already enjoying Wednesday right now. Just got here and it’s half over already. Below is last night’s tale, and hope there will be more after the Great Wall! We’re rented a taxi for the day ($300! But it’s The! Great! Wall!) so we can hit it early, then scoot over to Tienanmen Square and snag one of those nifty Mao watches one of the girls was wearing yesterday - sort of like a Mickey Mouse watch only the hand is kind of jerky and it looks like he giving the salute every second. We’re taking orders btw if anyone wants one. We leave in thirty so I’ll check back.
Phil brought his book so he can take a pic of it on the Wall. I may push him over. It’s taking up half the backpack.
Btw? When staying here, be sure to locate the master switch for all the lights in your room BEFORE it gets dark. Nothing will turn on without it no matter how loudly you curse. And if you want any power at all, remember to stick your room key in the generator slot. I kid you not.
We’re loving it - had dim sum and scrambled eggs but passed over the spiral-shaped glutinous masses of garnish that may have been harvested from under a rock in the garden before dawn. I don’t know how many port a potties are actually ON the wall.
Oh boy, gotta go - Phil asked someone to write out all the instructions we’ll need to get to the wall and the square without the driver leaving us at any point, and now someone’s walked off with them. Must investigate.
Miss you and love you!
Mindy & Phil

P.S. The hospitality guy just came up to me to say, “I’m supposed to let you know that Phil is in the bathroom. Do you know Phil?”

“Um, yes, thank you.”

“Shall I make a general announcement?”

“Ahahahaha. No.”

Wednesday, July 30, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Travel

Let me just state for the record that there’s nothing quite like being called out as the train wreck in the crowd. I know! So surprising.

One of the introductory talks was at the Pampers Parenting Institute at P&G headquarters, in the archive room. I wanted to stay there the whole day–the place was full of memorabilia from decades of advertisements and collectibles, from Norman Rockwell’s original painting for the “Look, Mom, no cavities!” campaign to a tiny envelope holding a lock of John Wayne’s hair from back when a division of the company (or one of the principals) used to create wigs for Hollywood stars. They also had a lock of Elizabeth Taylor’s hair, but that stayed in the back. We were fascinated by the descriptions of how they would use tracings of hair patterns that were placed on wooden heads so that most of the wig making could take place before the stars came in for fittings to confirm the hairlines and color. We all gasped when the archivist casually opened JW’s envelope and spilled the hair out for us to see. “Nobody sneeze!” was the first thing I thought.

After a tour of the archives, which ended with a peek at the carve-it-yourself kits they used to sell (two bars of Ivory Soap, with carving knives) to kids along with instructions on how to turn that bar of soap into a Schnauzer. I love it. Try selling an awl and a knife today along with a bar of soap and see how long before you’re vacationing at Gitmo.

When Jane Wildman, Global Vice-President, Pampers, introduced herself, she asked, “Who was it that fell in the rose bush?” I held my hand at half-mast. Thank you. But! It did show that they read our blogs before meeting us! At another talk, the first question was, “Who was the one running through the Chicago Airport to get on a last minute plane?” “That would be me.” Gah. Can someone else have a story? I was the Train Wreck du jour. But then there was a much deserved round of applause for the PR wunderkind who managed to get me on another plane in time to join everyone for the tour. We had a lovely dinner across the river in Kentucky (“We’re goin’ to Kentucky; we’re goin’ to the fair!”), after which I checked into my room and passed out from sheer exhaustion.

It was up again at seven to get ready for the first meeting–although I’d been awake since six (three my time) for some cruel reason after only five hours of sleep. I brewed coffee in the room, showered, dressed, packed, and checked out. And left my coffee in the room. In the lobby, I met with another blogger on the way to get coffee in the lobby, and she asked about the mishaps as I put cream and sugar in my cup. “Oh, yes, we have a running joke about a family curse,” I said, “Someone always has a mishap near a holiday and it’s my son’s and brother’s birthday on Friday.”

“But you’re the only one here.”

Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you, we now have the common denominator, I thought, as I picked up my coffee, popping the lid off on one side and scalding my hand. This was a little too much revelation for one morning.

I’m not even sure how to go about describing what we saw and heard today. I wasn’t really sure what it would be – a product pitch, a focus group setting, mommy blogger brain-picking–but it wasn’t any of those things. (Although we DID get to see someone make a diaper from scratch. People, I will never toss one of those little wonders into the bin quite so casually ever again. Those puppies are engineered.) Kailani at An Island Life wrote a wonderful post (and I’m pleased that she got the same vibe as I did) and posted lots of photos. I brought my camera, but alas, the battery was dead. Of course.

They just wanted to show us who they were. And they were, to a person, extremely passionate about their mission their work, and what they could do to help moms and babies. Help a mom, help a child. Make a mom healthy and make a healthy child. An educated mom gives a child a leg up. Every single one of them believed it; each of them was building the cathedral. I was blown away.

For one thing, you have no idea the range of brands collected under the Proctor & Gamble name. When I saw the scatter gram of brands, I identified at least seventeen that were in my house this minute. Wipes, Swiffers, soap, you name it.

And since I haven’t had occasion to buy diapers in a while, I wasn’t aware of something else Pampers was doing: the One Pack = One Vaccine Program. For each marked package of Pampers diapers people purchase, they will buy one tetanus vaccine for a mother or child at extreme risk of developing tetanus during birth or shortly thereafter. Last year, 140,000 babies and 30,000 mothers died of this highly morbid disease, which can be prevented with a five-cent vaccination.

Five cents. Good God.

They are working in partnership with UNICEF USA, and we had the privilege of meeting with the CEO herself, Caryl Stern-La Rosa. After hearing abut their efforts and what people were so passionately trying to accomplish (“I believe in zero” as in, zero deaths from tetanus, someday, hopefully soon) and were well on the right trajectory.

It’s unacceptable that children die of preventable causes. Join UNICEF’s fight for child survival

It didn’t make me want to run out and buy diapers. It made me want to work there, to be a part of it. And you all know what a cynical little snot I am, so that’s really saying something. Caryl’s words and palpable dedication to her work was a staggering close to the event, and we all drifted out of the building and into the waiting cars on a wave of promises to be in touch with ideas for outreach, cards changing hands and suggestions that it not end there.

Oh, and as I was picking up a copy of Caryl’s new book, Hate Hurts, she glanced at my proffered card and said, “I read your book.” Bug Eyes. “You did? How on earth did you stumble on a copy of my book?” “I’m not sure - but I recognize the tagline on your card: Mommy Confidential: Adventures from the Wonderbelly of Motherhood.” I couldn’t believe it. But she read it! I should have asked if she liked it, but I was too stunned to get past the fact that she sat through all five hundred pages.

Thank you, Jane and all your colleagues, for having us.

Anyway, I was looking forward to getting online at the airport and then SLEEPING the entire way home. We were about five hundred yards away from the hotel when WonderGirl called. She misses me! Already! No. “Mindy, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your flight’s been canceled.”

“No.”

“But we got you on another one that leaves in four hours.”

“Fuck me.” Heads turned for a moment in the van. “Thank you so much for getting me on another flight. I can’t believe the hustling you’re doing to make this smooth.”

Know what was REALLY smooth, though? My connecting flight was not in Houston anymore, oh no, it was in CHICAGO, and the connecting gate? Was ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE DAMN AIRPORT again.

At least this time I could walk. And when I got on the plane, I sipped a very nice glass of cabernet while the flight attendant hoped for more paying customers so she could break my twenty. Finally, she tried to give me back the money because she couldn’t get change, and I said, “Oh, hell, just give me a couple more bottles and I’ll take them home.” You would have loved the looks when she handed me three more bottles and whispered, “Now it just looks like you drink too much,” as I tried to stuff them into my bag without them clinking.

Sunday, February 17, 2008 Travel

Photos are up!

We’re watching Terminator 2 in the room, and then we’re heading over to Extraordinary Desserts.

Sunday, February 17, 2008 Travel

We’re determined not to spend any more time in the car than is absolutely necessary today. We’re going to enjoy the weather, the beach, the food. Getting here took a leisurely eleven hours, with a two-hour stop for margaritas and nibbles at Phil’s Brother’s house in LA. I highly recommend it.

We did the whole Old Home Week tour of the coast yesterday, pointing out the many places I lived while in college and then while I took a break from higher learning. While fun, I have (and am actually relieved) to say that I am completely over the need to reminisce about the old days. I lived in some truly run down places, I gotta tell ya, though living so close to the beach that the waves lulled you to sleep each night was more than fair compensation.

Oceanside had gone through an unbelievable transformation. We ended the coastal tour at the pier there, hoping to walk the seventeen miles to the end of the pier to have a beer at the huge restaurant and gaze at the water. We arrived only to discover that they didn’t serve alcohol at all, and that there wasn’t anywhere within walking distance that did. Not to dismiss the value of a fine family burger place at the end of a lovely, historic pier with a fabulous view, but what a colossal waste of potentially lucrative, romantic, hopping dining space with any redeeming social value.

/snotty critic

Actually, no. I have one more bone to pick. We celebrated Phil’s birthday at the Island Prime restaurant on the edge of Harbor Island. The view was stunning, the atmosphere romantic and intimate, the menu full of things you could never decide between, and a wine selection that had me absorbed for twenty minutes.

Which made the following so unbelievable.

We ordered a fabulous and fabulously expensive bottle of Bordeaux with two center-cut filet mignons, with a side of truffled creamed corn. Absolutely divine. Only, the steaks weren’t center cut.

We might not have said anything, but we’d had a long and interesting discussion with our waiter about the cuts on offer. There was another selection that sounded great, but that wasn’t specifically advertised as center cut, because it specifically was not. Ah, we said, very clear, and thank you, we’ll have the center cuts.

So, naturally, when they arrived and were clearly the three-part tail ends of the tenderloin, we pointed it out. The steaks were delicious and we’d happily eat them, but the kitchen should know that they are turning out cuts of meat at premium prices that aren’t as advertised. The waiter and then the manager were completely and appropriately apologetic, and the manager stayed on to chat about cheffing and such, and when he left we were very happy and impressed with his willingness to listen and promise to alert the kitchen and management.

And then the bill came. Pop quiz: when someone drops damn near three hundred dollars on a spectacular dinner complete with cocktails, appetizer, Old World wine, surf and turf entrees, and any kind of side with truffles in it, and then proceeds to tell you that you’re sending out the wrong cuts of meat, what do you do?

You comp something. That is what you do to show appreciation and hope that the customer will come back. There were plenty of candidates on the bill—a martini, the side dish, the flipping sauce for the steaks at a modest $2.95—something.

But the bill came in all its detailed and lengthy splendor. We couldn’t believe it. I signed it and left a generous tip for our very friendly and knowledgeable waiter. After all, he’s not the chef. A few minutes later, the manager returned to ask if I was Melinda Roberts. I was.  Aha, we thought, he’s coming back to amend the bill! He proffered my credit card, which had slipped out of the bill folder between the computer and my table. Yes, thank you, I might need that again. How very helpful.

/snotty, but justified, critic

And now I would like to rave about our hotel. Run, don’t stumble, to The Pearl in Point Loma. They’ve completely redone an old sailor’s dive into a very hip, very funky little gem with a sense of humor. The rooms feature platform beds, fishbowl lighting fixtures with actual fish in them, 36-inch flat panel TV’s on the wall, free-standing showers, and very comfortable and happening furnishings. They also boast a Dive-In Movie, where they show movies on a huge screen on the second floor railing over the pool. There are huge beach balls floating all over the pool and poolside service. Omigod how I wished it were later in the year and the pool was heated. It is heated later in the year, but damn the luck for coming in February. We love this place and will be coming back.

The best part? If you stumble in after midnight, you can get any unsold room for $79. Beat that. Daddy-O.

Photos to follow, once we find the cable.

Friday, January 18, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Travel

So Phil and I have been up in SF for MacWorld (for his professional development; I haven’t gone with him), and staying at our favorite B&B, The Edward II. That’s fun enough as it is. We can walk to fab restaurants, tons of shops, a movie theater, THE WATER. And The Palace of Fine Arts is like, three blocks away.

I should be at the Palace right now, enjoying the outdoors and writing there, but get this: we decided to stay an extra night on our dime and asked if any of the suites were available. Not only was the nicest one available, but the proprietor let us move there for the night with no rate increase! Now I don’t want to leave the Inn! Look at our room! And our bathroom! It’s bigger than my kitchen! I’d say that The Brambles Suite is easily two-thirds the size of my house, and cleaner, too. WITH room service and in-room massages if I so desire. Right now, what I desire is to have a long soak in that jacuzzi tub…

Another exciting day at… The Mommy Blog!

Wednesday, January 16, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Travel

Okay campers, I’m off to San Francisco for three nights - like that would be apparent to anyone online.. but it does mean that I get to have dinner with mom and see her office, and maybe, just MAYBE, actually meet with my boss.

If you’re wondering what a gal like me does in ole San Fran, this will more than cover it!

Gotta run!

Sunday, December 02, 2007 Me, Me, Me, Travel

Just got here - it’s not even 3 pm and it’s totally dark out there. Nice weather.

Think I will take a nap. Already lost my %$&^^* glasses. Think they fell out of my coat pocket. SEE? Change ANYTHING in my routine and I’m toast.

So, I just got back from a looong walk down State street and am chagrined to say that I went SOUTH instead of NORTH. Why is that bad? Because I was raised here, and everyone knows without hesitating that the lake is east and therefore ALWAYS knows which way to turn. Not me. Oh, no. Granted, it’s dark out and I can’t see the lake, but I couldn’t miss the El train and that was a big enough bleeping clue.

Anyway, I knew I was back on track when I saw Marshall Field’s. I lurve Marshall Field’s. It’s where I go to get Frangos, and where I go to stare at the Tiffany ceiling. *sigh* Only it wasn’t Marshall Field’s anymore, it was Macy’s. Sweet baby Jesus in a corn crib with a rattle, what is this world coming to? I worked at that very store, the flagship, historically significant Marshall Field’s while in high school. Yes, that’s right. I was a Jr. Fashion Consultant. Shut up, I got to meet Brooke Shields. Which is what makes it so totally cool that both her blurb and mine were selected for the jacket of Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues. Oh, we go way back.

Anyway, I cheered up and bought some new Benefit makeup, and then had a foundation concealer custom-mixed just for me. They used tiny spatulas and measuring spoons and for a minute I thought I was on the set of American Gangster. Fun. When I remember the name of the cosmetic, I’ll post it - their store in San Francisco opens next month, and they’ve only been open here two weeks. What a lame plug. Thanks, guys, for mixing and stirring and pressing my powder with such care! I can’t even remember the name of your company!

Update: It’s Colors Lab Custom Cosmetics!

Love,

Lameass