Samantha

I can't get rid of her. I want to. But something, something I can't put my finger on, is telling me that she needs to stay. I've relegated her, Kit, Marisol and three more of their friends to high shelving in the garage. Where they will live until I have grandchildren most likely.

We've been to two American Girl stores and had lunch at one of them. We went to the doll hair salon at one of them. We've got beds and clothes and hair accessories and videos and books. And matching doll / child outfits. We've got the Bitty Baby twins and a photo of our twins holding their twins. All matchy matchy.

The second time around.

Liberty and I saw Wicked last weekend. It was her Hanukkah present. She enjoyed it. Who wouldn't? I enjoyed it the second time around, too, and noticed far more than I did the first time, with Paris and some friends during its second run here. The costumes were beautiful. The remaining questions I had about the storyline were answered. It didn't seem as long. And of course I now know all the music.

Over the holidays we watched Chicago with the kids. I caught a lot more that time, too, including the fact that 10-year-olds shouldn't watch something so risque. Oops.

It's not often I see or read something twice. I'm glad I revisited Wicked, though, especially since the largest part of my enjoyment this time around was watching Liberty's face as she discovered how the Tin Man became the Tin Man, and was awed by the live orchestra, the mechanical dragon, the hidden ladies room without a line and the ritual of pre-ordered intermission snacks.

 Paris turned 15 this month. We stopped doing parties the year of her BatM but my mother-in-law took her to tea at The Palace. She expressed appropriate admiration of The Garden Court's incredible but not over-the-top opulent beauty, including its stained glass dome. For reference, the Garden Court was the hotel's original carriage entrance in 1875. In 1909, after a three year renovation following The Earthquake, it was turned into a restaurant. It's been many years since I've spent any time there -- I think my last extended visit to the Garden Court was for the 50th birthday party I threw for my mother. (Scary since I'm faaaar closer to 50 than she is now.) This picture freaks me out a bit.  She is so much more poised and worldly than I was at 15. I was pure trouble at that age.

The Special Ski Trip

There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.

I read that on a blog and it's stayed with me. Last Monday was one of those days it rang true. It was a cold, crisp day at Tahoe. Windless but absolutely positively winter. There were few people on our mountain and I skied run after run after run without lift lines or many people in sight. I practiced my carved, parallel turns. I skied down things too steep to do defensively. 

Best of all was the company -- my dad and brother.

My dad's done a great job of recovering from his heart surgery last summer and my brother and I took full advantage of his health to attack the mountain on this weekday. It was one of the best days I'd had on the mountain in a long time.

The picture above is my dad, brother and Tori, who skied with us the day before. I dragged them to the Ritz Carlton at Northstar for lunch after Tori's ski race. Yes, she won. My favorite part of this picture is my dad's smile. It's the "What more could I want?!" smile.

Monterey

The skies were blue. The fog burned off long before we woke up. The temps were in the 70s. It was an uncharacteristically beautiful winter weekend in Monterey.

Liberty and I were in Monterey for a dance convention. It looked like the perfect recipe for a girly, fun, memorable three days.

And then she got sick, really sick, and we spent Friday night in the Emergency Room at CHOMP. The more sleep deprived you are, the funnier the acronym is. CHOMP. Chomp. chomp. Community Hospital Of Monterey Peninsula.

Our murse, John, was a jovial, rotund figure. Skilled too. The MD, a, preppy blonde mother of mother of three sons under the age of six, had no patience for a 10-year-old who'd been up 16 hours by the time we arrived in the ER. Fortunately John did.

Saturday we spent mostly sleeping. And on Sunday Liberty danced a bit and we headed home. With the Monterey sun still shining.

Observations from this Dance Mom

There should have been an Abby Lee lookalike award at Hollywood Connection last weekend. Dead serious.

This was Liberty's first dance competition and convention, and that face-spanning smile at left stayed with her all weekend. She took classes all day Saturday then dolled up and performed. Her team won second place and gold, for those who keep score. We'd planned to watch the older dancers compete after we'd had dinner but she lay down on her bed in the hotel and opened her eyes 11 hours later.

Paris stopped dancing competitively five years ago. Here are my observations after returning to the scene.

1. This year's trend in costumes is derriere adornment.
2. This year's trend in hair is wigs. Piggy tails. Pony tails. Colorful, fun, wild things, too.
3. The level of competition has increased. By an order of magnitude.
4. Cash is king if a dancer eats chicken nuggets and pizza. Finally there is convenient food set out for the dancers that does not involve sitting down, waiting and tipping on bad service. If a dancer does not eat these things then the Dance Mom spends her weekend dashing to and from Panera, Jamba Juice, Chipotle and Subway. 
5. The further away the competing studio is from a major metropolitan area, the greater the chance the Dance Moms are wearing blinged sweats branded with their studio name. Watch out Nicki Minaj.
6. I am far less competitive than other people. I just want Liberty to have a good time.

One convention down, three to go. Plus Disneyland.

Wrapping Up

I begin my new gig in a week. Since deciding to change my work situation I've been frantic tying up loose ends because starting a new project is synonymous with a reduced amount of free time and an increased amount of mental exhaustion.

As everyone knows by now, in the Jacob vs. Edward drama Edward gets the girl. Seeing Breaking Dawn Part 2 was on my list. The movie was fine. I just needed closure on the whole dang thing. It feels like forever ago that I read the Twilight Series.

I baked for our next two NCL commitments. My current favorite cookie recipe is similar to risotto and soup in that you use whatever you have in the house for the top of these three-layer cookies.

The Steve Jobs book by Walter Isakson. Surely I'm the the last person in the Valley to read it. In technology circles its quoted as often as The Minority Report and The Social Network. My first clue was finding eight copies on the shelf in the Mountain View Library. Truth be told, it took me a long time to get through. Isakson is a gifted writer and I wanted to savor the words and also think about it, too. I began my tech career in 1989, toward the beginning of Apple's historic rise, and even worked on the short-lived NeXTWorld Magazine.

Deferred Tech Support. Off to the Apple Store I went with one ancient desktop and two laptops to migrate the data from the old one to the new two. I needed to straighten out Apple IDs and iTunes Libraries. I gave some TLC to my PC, which has seen little use this last year. It needed software upgrades and a good reorganization. A dusting too.

Filing. Recipes and travel articles and health insurance claim forms. Creating new files for 2013.

Framing. The kids' art and new black and white pictures we had taken in Mexico. Hanging all that stuff. Taking old stuff down. Deciding where to put old and new framed art. This takes time!

Alterations! I'll be in an office five days a week so I did a big drop off at the seamstress as well as parked myself in front of Pitch Perfect on demand to do simple fixes myself. You can skip Pitch Perfect.

Shopping. I hit the mall for some work wardrobe basics, essentially winter sweaters in fun colors to go with all those boring pants I just hemmed. Also foundations. Liberty, now 11 and who was with us, found this part as much fun as having a flu shot. Paris enjoyed it more and for the investment I made on her foundations, I should have let her go to Victoria's Secret like she wanted to in the first place.

My list is getting shorter and the daylight hours are getting longer. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Who quits a job they love?!

Me.

I woke up bright and early on January 1 and made Coq au Vin. I'm eating it right now and it's good. So good it was worth all that shopping and chopping and sauteing and braising and reducing. It's gluten-free, too.

Why did I cook instead of sleep in? Because one of my goals for 2013 is to cook more. And to cook more I need to spend more time at home, which is also why I quit a job I loved. It's hard to be a great mom and wife when your mind is constantly spinning technobabble messaging. I'm sure I'll love my new job, too, and I'll especially love that it's 43 miles closer to home and that I'll be able to see The Pinks both morning and evening. We're on the back nine after all.

The hardest part of quitting my job was actually getting the words out of my mouth. I literally had to force them out. And once I did, the recipient of that phrase, "My last day is January 11" sat back in his chair, paused and then said, "Really?!"

I'll be working on a change management project at PG&E come January 14. It's on Ygnacio Valley Road in Walnut Creek.