“Photography, as a powerful medium of expression and communications, offers an infinite variety of perception, interpretation and execution.” Ansel Adams
Creating an Orange County Daily Photo Blog has been on my mind for a while. I used to post a daily photo right here on Alive in Wonderland, but it became too difficult to keep up with it regularly and I felt it infringed on my writing time. But the desire to share Orange County through photography was still there, so I started this collaborative blog that launches today:
The photographers include Marcy, Jeff S., Chris, Jeff D., Tracey, Susan, and moi. Head over and take a look. We love Orange County and hope to show you why with our photography and stories.
Disneyland invited some Orange County mom bloggers to come to the park to taste the BBQ at the recently opened Big Thunder Ranch, watch the new Celebrate, A Street Party parade, and get a downright fun and entertaining preview of what's new this summer at Disneyland during their Celebrate Summer Briefing.
And here we are: Lisa from Babes in Disneyland, Colleen and Kelly (who is having her baby as I write this) from Just Spotted, Debbie from Peace, Love and Momminess, Dawn from This Life is Worth Living, Caryn from Rockin' Mama, Marcy from The Glamorous Life, Moi from here, and Becky (looking a little too thin) from Happy Hour Mom.
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My family and I have been Disneyland annual pass holders for almost 10 years, but this year we didn't renew our passes. When it came time to cut our expenses, unfortunately (and arguably) Deluxe Disneyland passes, for our family, weren't deemed an "essential." (Remember Marla wrote about the expense here, too.)Disneyland must have heard the moans and sighs of some of us Orange County families who were missing our annual passes, because at their Celebrate Summer Briefing they announced their 3-Day Park Hopper $99 Special:
It's three visits this summer for just $99 for Southern California residents. (The regular is $149 for three visits.) The tickets are available between June 1 and August 23 and are good for up to 45 days after first use. This announcement prompted an audible gasp and spontaneous cheering from the audience. Click here for more details.
Here is a list of just some of the new things at Disneyland this summer, along with my commentary:
☀ Tinker Bell will be added to the Electrical Light Parade along with "richer" music and a few other surprises. I adore the Electrical Light Parade and listened to the album endlessly as a kid. It looks like the changes will keeping with the retro vibe of the parade--YAY!
☀ The new BBQ at Big Thunder Mountain is open now and serving family style country fare: chicken, ribs, corn bread and the best cole slaw I've ever had. There is also a tofu and vegetable kabob option that is available if you ask and it is DELISH! Too spicy for kids, though.
☀ A massive 40-foot, fire-breathing dragon and Ursula's conniving pet eels will be added to Fantasmic. My kids will be hiding under my coat, but I will LOVE it.
☀ Tinker Bell and her gang will be in their new digs at Pixie's Hollow.
☀ This was a BIG one for me, the new fireworks show called Magical, narrated and sung by Eden Espinosa of Wicked fame, will include a little Dumbo flying across the lit-up sky! GEEK ALERT I know I'm geeking out right now, but Dumbo is one of my favorite Disney movies and his flight will be accompanied by Eden signing " Baby of Mine." I can't flippin' wait! The new show starts June 12.
At the Celebrate Summer Briefing, Disneyland's Steve Davison, Director and Vice President, Parades and Spectaculars (only the coolest title ever) gave this enthusiastic description of Magical. (Caught on camera by a giggling Marcy.) His animated description of the new fireworks show is just as good as any Disney production...it's a must see.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zlk_UNoHRMQ[/youtube]
I love watching people do what they are passionate about, don't you? His enthusiasm is contagious.
Going to Disneyland with my family is one of my favorite things to do and I admit, we've missed our passes terribly. The $99, 3-Day Park Hopper might be just what we need to get us through until we can pony up for passes again.
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To further solidify my Disneyland geekiness, watch my Disneyland videos:
I have no gauge for these things anymore. I can't tell if a guy is 18 or 35 years old. When they hover around my own age, I can nail it down a little better, but anyone under, say, 35, I can't tell whether they are going to be late for homeroom or late on their payment to Home Depot for their kitchen remodel.
So, the guy that helped my girlfriends and I pick out the perfect pair of jeans was--total stab in the dark here--22ish. How old is Zac Efron? That age. For sure his wardrobe, but about his age, too.
We had gone to this particular shop at the Spectum because my friend Jill swears by the brand and they have A LOT of choices; low-rise, high-rise, bootcut, boyfriend style. It's all very complicated now, but with that complexity comes the hope that you might find that PERFECT pair of jean. So, hopeful we went.
I never realized how uncomfortable trying on jeans could be for a mom of two with an affinity for keeping her bellybutton covered at all times when in, you know...public. I had never tried on clothes in this way before: co-ed style.
But, there we were. Three OC moms and me, trying on jean after jean given to us by this young kid in a knitted beanie and Rolling Stones t-shirt. Most of the time, this guy was either just a hand coming through the curtain waving the next style or size, or our arbiter of a jeans' worthiness.
Coming out of the dressing room to look at ourselves in the mirror was the most awkward part because when we did, he would, very analytically, look at our...ummm...jeans. "How do they fit?" we'd ask him. He would, as a professional, take his time studying our...ummm....jeans, and giving his seasoned opinion.
"Those are way too loose, Dude," he told me. "Really? Cause I can hardly breathe," I gasped at him. I gathered as we went on that "breathing" was an afterthought, a pesky detail compared to the holy grail of the perfect fitting jeans.
After trying on about 20 pairs I finally did what comes naturally to me and gave up. I blanked and I decided I was fine with that. I put on my old (stupid, too big, incriminating) jeans and followed my girlfriends to the register, leaving a big blue mountain in the middle of the dressing room for some hapless Cal State Fullerton psychology major to clean up later.
Then the young guy came up to me all GoodFellas-like and in a whispered voice said, "Hey, I have some jeans in the back. I don't usually bring them out..." he stopped, briefly looking around and then up and down at me, "But I think you can pull them off."
What? Hmmm, I don't know what that means, but ewww....then I felt all oogie and cougar-ish. I nervously started fumbling with the sale belts and then said something about being all "jeaned-out" (or equally geeky) and headed straight out the front door and directly to the Individualist Department of Nordstrom, where I felt safe and surrounded by my own kind.
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This was written for my blog at The Orange County Register: MomCrush.
If you have one, please hop on over and tell me what it is. I might try it next time I'm there and the line is too ridiculous in front of the Tiki Room.
May 23, 2009
Have a great Memorial Day Weekend.
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Earth, Wind and Fire
"That's the way of the World."
"Don't hesitate, cause the world seems cold.
Stay young at heart ‘cause you’re never, never old at heart"
"A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men."
Gene Wilder
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Are you a blogger? Do you live in Orange County? Has your family banned phrases like "If you read my blog, you wouldn't have asked me that" or "I'm so blogging this" from leaving your lips? Do you take pictures of your dinner? When you start to talk about your blog does your best friend (IRL) start to dig around aimlessly in her purse? Are you up late at night writing your insights on '80s music or the redeeming value of Target?
I've got the group for you.
BlogCrush is a group I created for all OC Bloggers. We meet-up once a month in a safe environment where we can talk freely about page views, Flickr, BlogHer ads, and the wonder of Twitter without the fear of non-bloggers roller their eyes at us or threatening to never comment again.
Last month we got together on a warm weekday night at the Veggie Grill at the Irvine Spectrum. It was great to meet blogger who I have been reading, some of them, for years. I gave each and every one of them a hug and it wasn't weird at all (for me) because I felt like I knew them--they were my friends.
It was a little bit of nonsense on a Wednesday night. It was eating sweet potato fries and drinking fruit tea. It was a bunch of people who had a common passion sharing it with others. It was awesome.
If you are an OC Blogger, please head over to BlogCrush's Facebook page and join us or if you're not on Facebook (gasp!) you can email me at suzbroughton@yahoo.com and I'll keep you in the loop for the next meet-up.
Our hope is that we can grow a strong, loyal, and supportive blogging community in Orange County that's way better than any group in Los Angles that will inspire and enrich our county. Really.
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These are the bloggers that pulled themselves away from their computers long enough to meet-up at The Veggie Grill:
(Here are some of us are now. I swear there are boys in the group.)
I spent the weekend with my girlfriends for our annual Palm Springs weekend. The temperature reached 102 and so this is where you found us almost the entire trip--in the pool.
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We heard some Burt Bacharach while sipping our cocktails under the misters and I think he provides the perfect Palms Springs soundtrack.
Remember in the movie Jerry Maguire when he stays up all night and writes his Mission Statement(not a mission statement, a memo). Then almost immediately regrets distributing 150 copies to his colleagues.
Well, after the Ducks lost game 7 of the playoffs on Thursday night, I wrote mine about hockey. It turned out to be about three pages and then, knowing most of the readers of The Mom Blog at the OC Register (ahem... and here, I suspect ) are largely uninterested in my amateur thoughts on hockey, chipped it down to this short, mostly related to momminess, blog post called, "Why I love Hockey."
One thing I didn't end up including, but I'm going to impress on you now, is this; I love that in hockey, there is no spin. When a losing players is interviewed after a game they will say, "We weren't good tonight" or "They were better then us and that's why they won."
In a world where most everyone is trying to sell you something, trying to tell you they're the best, their product has no equal, or you didn't just see what you know you damn well just saw, hockey is the real thing. The real heartbreaking thing...and that's good.
If you don't want to click over, here it is (But all the comments on The OC Register are worth a read.):
My team lost last night. The Anaheim Ducks are my hockey team.
I became a hockey fan two years ago after attending my first game at The Honda Center. I was hooked almost the instant I stepped foot inside its doors. (Read about it here). I have spent the last two years learning the game and deepening my devotion to hockey, and to the Ducks specifically.
As a mom, the strange thing about hockey is that much of what goes on in the game is the opposite of what I teach my kids. I tell them to be a good sport; just walk away when someone is mean; respect authority; don't hit people in the face with your elbow or a long, heavy stick. That sort of thing. Not exactly a hockey player's marching orders.
But there are other things about hockey that are exactly what I DO want my kids to learn and to replicate in their lives. And, in a surprising way, I think these lessons are even more important. Just as an example, in hockey, you never give up no matter what the score, you always stick up for your teammates and come to their defense, you don't turn your back on your opponent, and you shouldn't spend too much time admiring your pass (looking back).
In the sport of hockey, you take some time to celebrate a victory and then quickly look ahead to the next battle.
Speaking specifically about boys, I know moms who won't let their sons play hockey (or wrestle or play football) because it is "too violent." But, I don't see it that way. Boys need to learn how to push through the hardships and pain that life is sure to hand out. I believe it's good for boys to get a little rough and tumble. And though I don't know if I want to see my son spitting teeth or being checked by an angry Swede (they actually have those in the NHL) as a professional hockey player, we plan on putting my son in a hockey program as soon as he is old enough. I look forward to him learning some of the lessons taught by the game.
The Ducks game last night was a prime example of intestinal fortitude (cough) and perseverance. Sure, we lost. We all lose sometimes. But the Ducks can be proud of the way they fought to the very end, even in the last second of play they were still in the game focusing on the win. I'm proud of each and every one of those guys.
And that, my friends, is why I love hockey.
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A word about being a Ducks fan. I love going to games and sitting around the same people every time. This is my view at all the home games. Nice.
Ducks fans are devoted and love the game.
You can ask them "what just happened?" and they will take the time to shout over the crowd to tell you.
They will let you know if they spill their beer into your purse--not just quickly rescue the remainder of their drink and let you discover the soggy mishap later.
These fans let it loose when we do something awesome. I shot this video at a moment just like that. Don't miss my friend Cathy's face at the end of the video--classic.
I just can't control myself -- helping my second grader with her homework makes me feel like a genius. Well, maybe not a genius, but at bit like Alex Trebek at a Spelling Bee. "I'm sorry [cue pity face], the correct answer is t-r-o-U-b-l-e."
Then I like to show off a little by using it in a sentence, "You're really having TROUBLE with that word, aren't you?"
I realize this feeling will only last as long as her times tables are under "10" and her spelling words are two syllables or less. I'm already struggling with finding the Theme Sentence in a paragraph -- suspect this is a moving target created by spiteful English teacher -- and also the Jurassic period is turning into a buzzkill for me.
Sadly, there were even a couple of times in first grade when she's had to correct me, "Mommy, I don't think that is the right hat for the fireman. I think it's the red pointy one." Just testing her. I knew that. (Yellow hat= constructions worker. Yellow hat= construction worker ...)
So, when I feel I'm losing my intellectual edge, I breakout the "telling time" worksheets and I'm brilliant again: even I know when it's 5:45 p.m. So for right now, I'm taking advantage of the little I.Q. stroke I'm getting by helping my daughter with her homework ... so pathetic, I know.
In an attempt to be perfectly attired for the Ducks game last week I bought a pair of black Converse. My goal is to have a standard Ducks outfit I wear to each game. I also do the same thing for Disneyland (and sadly, no, that's not my confession).
I settled on an orange shirt, black cardigan sweater, jeans, and black Converse--it's a kind of retro/Ducks/Clash inspired look. The only problem was, the Converse looked too new: screaming white laces and perfectly clean heels are a dead giveaway I just bought the shoes. Can't have that.
So, to "dirty them up" a bit I took an old black mascara wand and dotted it all over the shoes then rubbed it in. Then I took some brown eye shadow and smeared it here and there for a "these shoes have been through it all" kind of effect.
When I got to the game I was telling Sara about what I did and it occurred to me that I did all those shenanigans so my new shoes wouldn't make me look like a dork, but, ironically, BECAUSE I did all that shenanigans, I AM precisely that--a dork.
**sigh**
For other confessions, you can go here. There are some pretty good ones in there.
I am not sure why I feel the unrelenting need to reveal embarrassing things about myself on my blog. I suspect it has something to do with my desire to have people still like me, even though they know I'm a veritable dork.
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I love man food; sauerkraut dogs, sliders, hoagies, philly cheese steaks, chili fries, the tasty, yet diabolical list goes on. It is a sheer mix of lucky genes and my apathy toward chocolate that I am not 400 pounds.
Sometimes I get a hankering that's so strong, I will resort to all sorts of crazy measures to get my fix. Like locking my kids in to my scheme by making a trip to PCH Dog seem like a prize for some previously unrewarded milestone or achievement.
"Em, how'd you do on your spelling test?" I'll fish. "I missed two words," she'll say, dejected. "Two is a "B". Let's go to PCH Dog to celebrate!" YAY!
But, the truly distressing thing I do to hide my unnatural love of man food comes--like most unseemly things--when I am all alone. I feel too humiliated to let the people in line or a cashier know that I'm flying solo and going to scarf down a sauerkraut dog ,chili fries, a Diet Coke AND a shake all by myself. So, to hide that my order is all for me, I'll say it like this: Hmmm, let's see...what did he want again? Oh yeah, one sauerkraut dog, one chili fries (insert eye roll here) and I'll just have a Diet Coke...Oh, and a I almost forgot the shake.
Cunning, no?
Like you've never ghost ordered a disgraceful meal before...
The effect of this ordering technique is lost if I go directly to my car and eat every last morsel right in front of the very people I was trying to fool. It also doesn't really work if I only order one drink, but those hurdles aside, I can eat my man food with no one being the wiser. Well, except me...and maybe the guy at the In-N-Out Burger take out window.
Wow. Have I really posted three photos of the Anaheim Ducks in the last two weeks? It must be the playoffs. This is a photo of J.S. Giguere, the goalie for the Ducks. I shouldn't say THE goalie, maybe one of the goalies is more appropriate. Jonas Hiller is their starting goalie now.
Giguere (Jiggy) hasn't had the best year, after his father passed away last December he has been in a sinister slump. If you aren't a hockey fan, you can probably still relate to his mental rut brought on by personal hardship. It has been painful to watch him sit on the bench, game after game, knowing inside is a champion, a fighter, a warrior, who at this time simply can't make things work in the net.
Like a wild lion who is forced to sit on the couch and watch Animal Planet on a giant plazma TV---he's been benched. I know the feeling of having something great inside, sure I have it in me, but for some reason, I'm unable to release it. I feel for Giguere.
I love this photo of him I snapped last Thursday night during warm-ups. His eyes positioned perfectly through the grid of his mask. The colors of his helmet and the battered goal post. The white background of the ice.
I ♥ hockey. I hope even if you don't, you enjoy the photo.
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This is my submission for Best Shot Monday over at Tracey Clark's blog. I can guarantee it will be the only sports shot of the lot. Though I know Tracey is a Ducks fan, too.
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This song came to mind for Giguere.
Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel singing "Don't Give Up."
Finn wrote this song for his friend after his mom had passed away.
Paul McCartney has called Neil Finn the best song writer alive and asked him to sing "She goes on" as tribute to his wife, Linda. If you've never heard it before, take a listen--it's simply beautiful.
Sometimes, as a parent, you can prepare for those big moments in a kid's life. You see them coming like a herd of angry, stampeding elephants. You can brace yourself. You can practice your speech. You can make sure you have your running shoes on.
But, the hard part of parenting comes when those moments quietly sneak up on you.
On our recent trip to a dude ranch in Arizona, my daughter Emily, had --- what I can only guess was --- an experience she'll remember her whole life.
Being on the verge of horse crazy, she couldn't sleep the night before our first big trail ride. She hadn't ever been out on an open trail on a horse, and after a short skill test from our Wrangler, she got the nod and was able to go with us.
It was the perfect day for a ride. Not too hot or windy, Larry (my husband), Emily, our Wrangler, and I headed out to wander the dry riverbed just outside the ranch. The young Wrangler, Rob, turned to us and said, "I'm going to take you on my favorite trail."
Yeehaw!
We all said and Emily laughed, patted her horse's neck, and pointed out the butterflies as we slowly walked our horses toward the mountains.
As we moseyed up a mountain peppered with cactus and wildflowers, it started to occur to me that we were going up pretty high.
Once we reached the top the view was spectacular and, after investigating an abandoned copper mine, we started our descent down to meet other riders for breakfast on the trail.
The only path down was rocky, steep, narrow and unstable, and just became more dubious with every step.
The line of riders went like this: Wrangler, Larry, me and Emily, in the rear. After her horse stumbled slightly she gave out a shriek of fear and hunched down in her saddle, clinging to its horn.
"You're okay, doll," I assured her. "Poquito (her horse) has walked this trail a million times." Larry and Rob were pretty far ahead of us at this stage and didn't notice Emily's little world had gone from Little House on the Prairie to Friday the 13th in a very short time.
"I want to get off!" she howled. Her dad heard that and gave a quick, "No! You're okay." "I want to get off NOW!" she screamed and flipped her heels out of her stirrups. Her face was red and wet with tears and her hands were white from holding on to the saddle so tightly.
Now, I knew she was fine. Larry knew she was fine. Rob the Wrangler knew she was fine. Even Poquito seemed more interested in grabbing a quick snack off the trees than in the shaky path in front of him, but Emily didn't know. She wasn't convinced she wasn't going down, and with every step she got more afraid. "I want to get OFF!!" she demanded.
I turned around and calmly, but firmly told her, "Em, there is NO way we are letting you get off that horse. Take a deep breath, put your feet in the stirrups, lean back and hold on."
I was sure, "You can do this!"
I knew if she got off that horse and walked it down, that would be it. She would probably be afraid of horses her whole life. There was a chance she wouldn't want to go back on a trail ride again, ever. I knew she was going to love being a cowgirl and soon reach full-blown, horse crazy status--but only if she stayed on her horse.
So I was Ice Queen Mom, "Stay on your horse and ride it down."
She cried and pleaded with us to let her get off the whole way down to the vista, her horse stumbling a few more times--and with each misstep another scream. Wrangler Rob would shout a "You're doing great, Darlin'" every now and then and her dad and I comforted her, but stayed firm--getting off wasn't an option.
She ate her breakfast in reproachful silence. I began to doubt our decision a little, what if this backfires? What if we were wrong? But I just felt so sure in my (mean Ice Queen Mom) heart that making her do it was the right decision. But, what if....
When it was time to get back on our horses and ride back to the ranch, Emily walked over to Poquito and gave him a kiss on his soft fuzzy nose. She climbed on and we headed back to the riverbed. "Look at that butterfly, Mom!" She said as a yellow and black beauty fluttered by. "Do you think we can go back to the mine tomorrow to find some bats?" she asked, as we slipped through the gate into the corral.
"Do you want to go back up?" I asked her. "Yeah, I really want to see a bat," she said.
We didn't get back up to the mine, but we did go on an equally treacherous trail ride the next day and she sat high in her saddle with a confidence I hadn't ever seen before in her. She seemed to have gained five years maturity in one day.
It's rare in parenting you see the results of your decisions so quickly. Usually these things take years to pay off and even then, you might not even realize their impact. Your kid at twenty might decide not to cheat on a test, or at thirty, might help a stranger in need because of a lesson you taught them. You might not be there to see it. So, Larry and I basked in the moment of seeing our daughter learn and grow -- just for a moment.
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Today I'm listening to Mat Kearney's "Won't back down."
Remember my friend Carol from this '80s classic photo? She was the one with the Aquanet and the wall plastered with band posters? She and I reconnected on the all mighty Facebook and actually had a face to face at The Sugar Shack in Huntington Beach on Saturday morning.
What's it called when you have two very distinctly opposite feelings at exactly the same time? A paradox of emotions, I guess. That is what it was like. At once I felt very young again, like we were 13-years old and laughing about something Simon Le Bon said, and then also very old, wondering how it was possible that so many years had gone by.
As kids we were bonded together by our love of music and were a good pair because she loved to laugh and I loved to make her laugh. We always had fun together and we were still feeling that, we both wanted some more time to catch up. So after breakfast we wandered around downtown Huntington Beach and then stopped for a coffee at Starbucks to talk a little more.
How can it be that Carol knew what Starbucks was? How could she have on a hoodie? How could she talk about her marriage to some guy named Richie, when she is going to marry Richard Butler from the Psychedelic Furs? Was that a pink cell phone she had? How was this possible when she is just a freshman in high school?
But, one thing was the same. We still laughed--a lot. I told her some stories and she threw her head back and laughed and laughed--right there in Starbucks! Starbucks with Carol! I'm still shaking my head.
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Of course, I'm listening to "Heaven" by The Psychedelic Furs.
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