Stopping by the 'rents

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"I might be going crazy."

"We've known that since you were five and changed into a new dress before and after every meal."

"Dad, that's not crazy. That's knowing how to make an entrance." I toss my hair over my shoulder and then laugh at myself for doing it.

"Ok, ok," he says shaking his head at me. "So, what is it this time?"

"I can't find my hammer anywhere at my house."

His eyebrows rise. "Did you check your toolbox?"

"First place I looked. See? That fancy private university degree you paid for comes in handy sometimes."

"Hey, since you brought it up, when am I getting reimbursed for that?"

"Dad," I sigh. "There are more important things at hand than the tens of thousands of dollars you spent on my education. I really need to find my hammer. Did you use it last time you were at my house?"

"Nope." He answers without looking up from his book.

"Are you sure? Focus. Pleeeeease. Hammer?"

Looking up over his glasses he squints. "Oh! I think it's in the garage. I told you that last weekend."

"No, no, no! You told me you left the pliers in the garage."

"Right. Same thing."

I snatch the book out of his hands. "Who are you? My real father would never say a hammer and pliers are the same thing because my REAL father spent hours with me in the garage going over the importance of knowing the name and use of every tool ever made. I want my REAL dad back."

"Sweetheart, about that. Maybe it's time we have a little talk..."

Cutting him off I say, "Not funny. I'm leaving."

Between guffaws he tells me he lovees me and before I have a chance to get out the door he shouts over his shoulder for me to wait. "Heeeeeeey, did I tell you I left your hammer in the garage last weekend?"

"Love you too, Dad," and I slam the door.

Grandma Lebowski

Sunday I called Grandma to wish her a happy grandparents' day (I know, I'm pretty sweet) and asked her about her weekend. Usually she tells me about her progress on the latest knitting project, playing with her great-grand nieces or having dinner at the Pierpont Racquet Club with her friends. This time she said, "Last night I netflixed The Big Lebowski. And I LOVED it! Those dudes were funny. I mean, they used the f-bomb a little too much for my liking and the whole thing was a little raunchy but it fit with the characters so I didn't mind too much."
"I errrr you ummm, really? The Big Lebowski?" I sputtered, trying not to laugh.
"Yes, I know. I figured you'd all be embarrassed by your grandmother but I wanted to see it so I did."
"Grandma, I'm not embarrassed. I'm proud!"
"Good. Now let's talk about that USC Ohio State game..."

In which my dad shoots down my tequila drinking ability.

An email exchange that took place one afternoon between Cousin Kev, Little Brother, Dear Sweet Daddy and ME. In which my dad shot down my tequila drinking ability.

FROM: Little Brother
TO: Kev, Dad, and ME
I need talk to Kev and Caley about the massive party at your house when you go out of town since he will be house sitting while you're gone

FROM: Kev
TO: Little Brother, Dad, and ME
Glad you brought that up… I have 2 kegs to pick up and 3 on reserve. If anyone other than the 3 of us are invited to the shin-dig, we’ll need more beer. Thank God for Southview Liquor!

FROM: Me
TO: Kev, Dad and Little Brother
I'll bring tequila and limes. No need for a blender or ice--we're not making margaritas. Shots straight up, kids!

FROM: Kev
TO: Everyone else
I’m there with you shot for shot!
Do you have the party website set up yet? Maybe www.partyatyourparents.com

FROM: Dad
TO: Everyone else
Better get a chalk board and to keep track of shots....and when Caley gets sick!
And do what we used to do...fill the back of a pick up truck with blocks of ice to chill it all down......

FROM: Me
TO: Everyone else
PSHA i am a tequila champ. i would not waste such a precious liquid by getting sick.

p.s. i cannot believe my dad just burned me about not being able to hold my tequila...ouch.

Sister Superhero

Katie:
I told Joe I'm going to work for the government
I'd have to have a special outfit of course
and it couldn't be black b/c it gets HOT in L.A. here where i'd be doing chases
and then i'd have to go under cover and my food would be paid for by the gov't because of course it would be required by my job
just like my outfit
and killer sunglasses
with a prescription in them
I'd get my old Chanel style that got lost (even though they don't make them anymore)



me: holy crap dude
i left for two minutes
and you've suddenly become some kind of bounty hunter wearing a suit and chanel glasses
you're my hero.



(She could totally pull it off.)

Hair binder bracelets

Last night when Mom asked me if I keep a hair binder on my wrist at work I thought she was going to have a stroke because I said, "Yes. Of course." I got a lecture about professionalism and how wearing hair binders on ones wrist marks a woman as being of a certain generation and that other generations do not see it as acceptable.
Really, Mom? Really?
It's not like I'm wearing Rainbow Brite colors or anything.
And I'm pretty sure a hair binder (or two) on my wrist is more professional than surreptitiously trying to rig up a pony tail with this stuff. Especially during a meeting.
Who wants to bet I get skin colored hair ties from Santa this year?

$10 Mil comin my way

Little brother bought a lotto ticket last night for the $130 million lottery and he said he got the winning one. He also told me I get $10 mil of it. I just want to record that here before he actually finds out he won so it doesn't look like I'm a money grubbing liar. We shook on it but the only witness was his girlfriend. He promised her $10 mil too which I think is kind of a crock. I mean come on, I'm family! Here are a few of the things I plan to do when he ponies up my share:

-quit my job and start my own foundation to run
-redo the kitchen (including a dishwasher)
-buy an aston martin
-travel lots and lots
-get massages and have my hair done once a week
-hire a town car to drive me around (not because I'm a snot; because I just don't like driving)
-put a Taco Bell within walking distance of my house
-get a dog. or 10.
-buy a pair of Louboutins and some Chanel
-throw a massive family party on a yacht
-import ridiculously high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets
-hire someone to do my laundry

I'm sure I'm missing some really critical things on this list but I think this is a decent start. If I won the full $130 million myself I'd be doing things like buying Sister a house but that'll be Little Brother's responsibility this time. Oh and I'd also fly y'all in for a big Sidenote: bash. Maybe I should have gotten my own lotto ticket...

Funeral at last

This picture was taken from the balcony of the house Grandpa John had built and lived in for over 50 years.Today my family and I are finally putting him to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. Just reading the description of the military ceremony got me choked up so I can only imagine what the actual experience will be like. Closure and peace; it's going to be good.

REQUIEM
by: Robert Louis Stevenson

UNDER the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

Girl with the pearl earings...

Grams and I have the same birth month which means all of her amazing antique garnets have my name on them. Whenever I visit Sister, Mom and I all get to dig threw Grams' jewels trying on pieces as we go. She has some stunners including a pendant made of old Jerusalem church glass, a giant aquamarine cocktail ring that is so sparkly it almost looks fake, and all of the great grandparents inscribed wedding bands. When I turned 18 I got a package in the mail, postmarked from Ventura. In it was a Waterford crystal martini glass holding Grandma's string of Japanese pearls. I adore that necklace and make a point to wear it on my first day of every new job; they make me feel grown-up, glamorous and unstoppable.
Over Thanksgiving break while I played cards with her, the ocean over our shoulders, she told me she had won a gift certificate to her favorite jewelers and that my birthday would be coming early this year. The next day we walked Main Street and window shopped, finally stopping at the jewelers. Together we oooohed and aaaahed over the beautiful necklaces, bracelets and rings until we stopped at the pearl earrings. We picked out the perfect pair and put them on hold. Grandma worked out the details and a few days after getting home from my trip to California I found a little package waiting for me. Inside were my pearl earrings. My set is complete and every time I see them I will think of Grandma, crystal martini glasses and Main Street strolls.
Happy (very) early birthday to me!

The prettiest mom

Flashback...circa 1995...blue dodge caravan...driving home from 5th grade...

"Mom there is a new girl at school and she is in my class and she is so pretty but I haven't talked to her yet and she has long hair and she has highlights in it and she was wearing really cute shoes and her name is Andrea and she is from Mexico and we met her mom and oh my gosh her mom is the prettiest mom I have ever seen." I paused to take a breath.
"The prettiest mom, huh?"
Without hesitating I said, "Yes. The prettiest ever."
"Prettier than me?" The van filled with silence as I thought.
"Well, she is the prettiest mom but you are the funniest."
"That's ok, she can be the prettiest." Mom said without skipping a beat, "I'll be funny for much longer than she will be pretty."

G-chat giggles

Grandma Doris recently entered the world of technology. Over the past few months she has been recieving gmail tutorials from Katie, who drives up the coast every few weeks to visit Grandma in Ventura. While she has gotten quite good at sending and reading emails she hadn't quite figured out how to respond in a chat box. Us grandkids decided it was too confusing to explain on the phone so I promised to teach her when I visit over Thanksgiving. In the meantime, I said, she could just enjoy our little messages when they popped up and know we were online thinking of her at that very moment.
The other day I sent her a quick g-chat message when I saw her onling, just saying hi. All of a sudden I got a response! I was shocked! Aunt Dorene was over for dinner and figure it out. She passed the lesson along and now, Grandma knows how to g-chat. "Miracle of miracles," she said. "Can you just believe this?"
Then, today, she popped online during my lunch hour and I told her Paul and Katie were around too! Paul was napping in the library in London and Katie was eating her mid-morning snack at work in LA. We all said hi to her and I think it made her week. "Caley I am giggling too hard to type!" To Paul she said, "Katie came on too and now I am laughing out loud for real!" Jumping from box to box she occasionally 'lost' one of us but as a whole she did a great job for her first time talking to more than one person at once.
After about ten minutes of chatting we must have worn her out because mid conversation she said "BYE." I told her, "Shhh, Grandma, capital letters mean you're yelling!" She said she just about fell out of her chair laughing at the thought of someone yelling on the computer.
I have a feeling she can't wait to tell everyone at her bridge game about her morning of g-chat giggles.

Family Musings, Part IV

For as long as I can remember my mom has worn the perfume Opium by Yves Saint Laurent. It a dark amber color and sits on the glass top of her dresser in the deep red bottle with gold leaves swirling around the label. She never leaves the house without a spritz and although it is never overpowering, everything she touches seems to keep a little of the scent for itself. When she visits my house and cuddles the cat I can smell her on Ebbie's fur even after she is gone.
During my time studying in Madrid I traveled every few weeks and always found time to stop at the duty free shops at the airport. Walking through the aisles of perfumes at Madrid Barajas Airport I stopped when I saw the YSL display. Opening the dark red bottle with the gold cap I breathed in deeply and almost started to cry. It smelled so familiar I expected Mom to come around the stack of boxes at any second. It smelled like hugs, Mom's warm car, a cool hand on a hot cheek, and borrowed scarves. Fumbling with my bag I pulled out my travel pillow and spritzed some of the perfume on it. For a few days, I felt a little less homesick falling asleep with that familiar scent.
A few weeks ago, for Katie's 30th birthday, Mom flew out and surprised her in California. My brother-in-law Joey was in on the secret and brought Katie to "run an errand" at the grocery store, where Mom was waiting in the wine aisle. Joe said that when Kate saw Mom she stopped walking so quickly it looked like she had run into an invisible wall. Slowly she crept closer to see if it was actually Mom. She sniffed the air, recognized the YSL perfume and knew for certain Mom was really standing there.
I've always wanted to find signature scent, one that makes people think of me automatically. Hopefully I'll discover it before I have kids so that when they are far from home they can feel me by their side, too.

Family Musings, Part III

Dear Sissypants,
Every time I start writing about you I get stuck because there is so much I want to say. So, I decided it would be easier if I just wrote it like a letter addressed to you.
When I was little, my hero worship went beyond just wanting to be like you; I wanted to actually be you. You know how I used to say your hair looked like spun gold? I was right. I'm still jealous of it.

In kindergarten you were the 6th grade bus patrol which automatically made me one of the coolest girls during the walk from the classroom to the front of the school every day. You beat up the neighborhood bully to protect me and sometimes you even let me go with you on bike rides to the playground. Getting to sleep in the second bed of your beautiful white bedroom furniture set made me feel like I had gotten a key to a princess tower. When you trusted me enough to let me in on your plots to sneak boys in while Mom and Dad were gone and to sneak yourself out when they were home I guarded your secrets like I was Fort Knox.

Of course, things weren't always great between us. Remember the time you left me in the parking lot at Cub Foods because you didn't wanted to take me with you in the first place but Mom made you? Or how when I tattled on you, you would make me put my hands on the ceiling in the car until all the blood had drained out of them? I understand now how much I must have bugged you then. What 16 year old girl with a brand new license wants to have a 10 year old tagging along?
When high school came along you let me use your old prom dresses and once again, just by association with you, I felt like royalty. When someone asked where I had gotten it I puffed up like a robin and said, "It was my sisters." I even got to wear your old uniform sweater, the one with your name on it. Do you have any idea how cool that made me feel?

This summer when Grandpa died, my most precious moments were with you; when we got to stay overnight together with him at the hospital; when I got sick from hearing the news and you laid on the bathroom floor with me to make sure I was ok; when we escaped from the chaos and hid under a blanket in the middle of the living room laughing because there was nothing else we could do. That week made me realize that I wouldn't know how to navigate life without you.

I can't remember the last time a day went by when we didn't talk. While I have gotten over my desire to dye my hair blond and get blue contacts just to be more like you, I still have the remnants of a little hero worship. The way you carry yourself, always trying to make people happy and finding humor in the littlest things is something to be admired. Just the fact that you manage to cook delicious homemade meals almost every night has me completely in awe. What happened to the days of microwave popcorn and cream soda for dinner?
While I miss you, it feels like we are closer than ever even with half of the USA between us. I can't wait until the next time I visit so we can pop some popcorn, trade cream soda for wine, and stay up talking until we fall asleep like we used to in your princess tower of a room. I'm honored to still be your Fort Knox.

I love you,beautiful Sister! You are my bestest friend in the whole wide world.
xo
Sissifer

Sibling moment

"Snipe!" I called as I slid into the booth.
"You would take the seat with the better view."
"Better view of what?" I asked, looking around the bar.
"What do you mean 'of what'?" He shot at me, "TV. Olympics?"
Squinting at the screen I said, "TV? I just wanted to face the door but now that you mention it maybe we should change to--" Our waitress stepped in front of my view as she slid the menus in front of us.
"I think we might be switching tables," Paul told her, pointing to a table with a better view while throwing a nod of blame my way.
I tried to offer up an explanation. "I can't see from here" but I was shut out by, "She's old."
"Hey!" my squint turning to a glare in his direction, "I'm not old, I just forgot my glasses."
Menus in hand we wove through tables on the busy floor.
As we settled into our new spot I caught him mumble, "Yes you are," into the laminated fold.
"Whatever, I am not but now I still can't see because of the pole."
"No, you can't see because you're old."
My glare returned but just as I opened my mouth to snap back, the server returned. "All ready to order?"
"No, we're-" he absorbed the look on my face, "-struggling tonight." Laughter jumped out from both sides of the table.
"OK, I'll come back then?" She shrugged and left us. We just kept laughing.

Family musings: Part II

Grandpa John knew every good jazz bar in Ventura County. He also had just about every radio station in town on speed dial because when they used to do trivia contests, he would be the first to call in with the answer and win radios, concert tickets, flashlights, or whatever other treasure they were giving away. Before the internet, Grandpa was my Google.
It always seemed to me that he had been pretty much everywhere during his travels, especially when he came to my gradeschool show and tell with a map and pointed out the stops on his latest around the world tour. That day he made me the coolest kid in class.
In the top drawer under the kitchen TV he kept a book with movie reviews in it so he could decide which ones to tape on one of his 8 VCRs. I think I inherited my feeling of always missing something important on another channel while watching one show from him.
Driving with Grandpa John was always nerve wracking because he refused to use his blinkers in order to avoid burning out the light bulbs. It made rides to and from LAX quite the adventures.

Cleaning out the basement after he passed away, we found things that just made us smile and shake our head, so typical Grandpa: an entire closet full of boxes with reciepts taped to each one, just in case something ever needed to be returned; plastic bottles of "Military Special Vodka" from the army base stashed in bookshelves so Gma wouldn't tsk tsk him; a false book with a compartment inside to keep secret things, like coins and hair combs.

About five years ago Grandpa wrote an autobiography titled, "Call me Lucky." In it he talks about how he accomplished everything he wanted to during his lifetime. Not everyone can say that. By no means was he perfect, but I think we were the lucky ones to have him around as long as we did.

We miss you, Gramps. Bon voyage.

John McClair Cowart
Dec. 3, 1922-July 15, 2008

Sometimes you've gotta laugh...

Paul has been keeping the whole family laughing this weekend which has been greatly appreciated by all. Kate has had a few good ones too...

"Katie, do you have a hard time with math? Like, when it is a negative number do you round up or down?" -FPCIII (aka lil bro)

"Check out that door. 'AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. (Soiled linens).' Good thing they have a keypad lock, too. The sign might not be enough." -FPCIII

Mom: That wheelchair guy was all the way up on the third floor when we left the hospital 4 hours ago. And he just made it down to the parkinglot.
Katie: He must have taken the stairs.

Grandma at dinner: I don't get it, what character are you quoting now?
Katie: No, Grams, thats just us. You have funny grandchildren.
...agreed.

Family musings: Part I

In a "sometimes-you-embarrass-me-so-much-I-don't-want-to-be-seen-in-public-with-you-but-I'll-still-always-say-I-love-you-back-even-in-front-of-a-crowd-of-strangers" kind of way, my family is crazy and wonderful at the same time.
First, I'm going to tell about my daddy (and yes, I am ok with being an independent, 23 year old woman who still calls her father Daddy.)

Saturdays Dad always scooped me away in his little, red, collectors car to give Mom time off. Those days used to be filled with special rides to visit uncles, buy fresh squeezed orange juice, and check in with the Como Zoo polar bears. Back then I was so little that I thought he was larger than life, especially when I got to watch him shave from the bathroom counter top before anyone else woke up. Now, I'm big enough to know for a fact that he really is larger than life, especially when I watch him try to unclog the icky floor drain in my basement in his polo and boat shoes.
No one forgives fast than my father. When we used to get in fights, circa braces and side ponytails, I could barely slam the door to my bedroom before hearing a quiet knock accompanied by him saying, "Cal? I'm sorry. Lets talk."

I could keep going about sweet, goofy Frank...how he always calls ducks "duckies" while somehow maintaining his Italian dignity; the baby pictures of all three of us kids perpetually wedged in his wallet, ready to be shown to strangers at a moments notice; the fresh squeezed orange juice he still shows up with on Saturday mornings in the little red car...but I think this old picture says more than I ever could.


Thanks for indulging my moment of sentimentality.

60 days and counting

Recently I sat down with Boss for my 60-day review. I rocked it. Actually, I rocked the first 60 days which is why the review went so well. He said I am fearless, which is a way no one has ever described me before. When I told Mom she thought it was super cool, but at first not because it was a compliment to be called fearless. No, she thought it was cool because there used to be a pheasant that lived in our backyard that my sister fed with corn and named Fearless. Awesome. Thanks for that, Mom.

Anyway, thats not the exciting part. Here is the exciting part. On my way downstairs to meet Boss at the D'Amico Cafe for my review, I stopped in the 5th floor bathroom so I wouldn't have to go halfway through the review, to make sure there i didn't have anything in my teeth and that my hair wasn't completely ruined by the humidity. Turning on the faucet I reached for the soap dispenser pump, pressed down, and squirted soap into my hand. I froze and stared at the pink circle of soap spreading into a puddle in my palm. "No freakin way," I thought, "No freakin way." See, since the day I started, there had not been soap in the far right dispenser at the sink closest to the door. My whole first week I kept trying to use it. By the end of my first month I was shocked no one had refilled it. At my last job, things like that got taken care of over night, like magic. (Actually it wasn't magic, the cleaning staff had a checklist on the back of the door and someone had to sign it after every shift to verify everything had been done, including refilling the soap). It got to be habit that I would always try that empty dispenser, just to see if someone had filled it. By the time my 60-day rolled around I had all but given up and so when the moment came that the dispenser actually worked I stared so long I was almost late for my review.

I think its a sign. Of what? I do not know. But it is definitely a sign.