Fun and Fair Times

For Labor Day, Roo and I went to California (of course) to continue our long tradition of seeing John Williams' concert at the Hollywood Bowl. We bribed our friends, Sarah and Drew, into letting us stay at their house and befriending us for the weekend by bringing them to the concert with us.

The Hollywood Bowl:

Roo, Drew, and Sarah at the Bowl. They aren't that blurry in real life--they were just really excited to hear John Williams play all their favorite movie hits.
We had an excellent time!

On Saturday, we talked our friends into visiting Solvang, a small, quaint little village about two hours away from L.A. that is authentically Danish--the buildings, the food, the tourist trinkets...we thought it would be a fun little getaway. However, we failed to take into account L.A. traffic on a holiday weekend. Overall, in the time it took us to get there, we could have driven to actual Denmark! But, it was still pretty, quaint, and fun once we eventually arrived.

On Monday, Roo, Sarah, and I made the pilgramige to the L.A. County Fair.

I didn't take any pictures of the fair, so I have rendered a representative collage of the event:


I think it is quite a good likeness. Not only were the mountains actually on fire, but the day of the fair was at least 118 degrees. My hand-dipped ice cream bar lasted 0.4 seconds before it melted, collapsed, and instantly evaporated off the black asphalt. The heat, combined with the sheer mass of humanity in the park, reminded me of how the Hell County Fair must feel. Except at the Hell County Fair, they only sell cold corn dogs and you have to ride The Zipper for eternity.

We meandered through three or four convention-size arenas full of devices to make your jewelry shinier, your hair bigger, and your steaks more evenly grilled. It was like walking through a giant, crowded, seemingly endless infomercial, minus Billy Mays and Ron Popeil.

We were in awe of the colors and comotion of the fair. The amount of snacks, desserts, and entire meals that could be eaten off a stick was outnumbered only by the vast array of spaghetti straps and uncomely cleavage we were exposed to.

As we weren't in the mood for any STD's, we avoided the carnival rides. So, after the infomercial buildings, we trekked through what was essentially Tijuana (as far as heat, colors, food, and junk goes) to get to the farm animals. Now, I love a good blue ribbon hog as much as the next girl, but my impending heat stroke sort of hampered my interest in the hog and his barnyard friends. So after a valiant effort, we all definitely agreed it was time to go.

I didn't show a picture of our car in my collage because it was at least six miles away. We reminisced about the good times at the fair (and how lucky we were that it was free) on our arduous trek back.

The rest of our time together consisted of: (Card games, I mean--not magic tricks.)

And:

And not just the first movie--we're talking all three in the trilogy, extended editions.

We had such a great time. Thanks to Sarah and Drew for coming with us to the concert, letting us stay at your house, and for putting up with all our ill-conceived plans and making them fun!

Thank You!

Thank you for all the kind words you have given me. I am a big believer in words, so even a few kindly given ones mean so much to me.

I'm doing fine, by the way. There have been some times of inconsolable sobbing, to be sure. Poor Roo stands by, supportive but a little bewildered by my emotions, while I feel like I'm mourning for every sad or disappointing thing that ever happened in my entire life. I blame part of it on the hormonal changes, but I suppose I don't need to rationalize my sadness--after all, I went 10 1/2 weeks anticipating a new life and a new person to love.

But those times are greatly offset by an amazing feeling of peace and comfort, derived largely from your kind words, both spoken and written. So thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

They are saving me.

A Personal Story

I’ve never been one to share many personal details about myself. If we were to sit down and talk, you and I, I would probably ask you about yourself and be content to listen and say little about me. I have a hard time being any other way. But I want to tell you about my weekend. I need to share it with someone.

This weekend, I took my very first trip to the ER.

I got my first hospital wrist band.

They put my very first IV in my arm.

I laid in a hospital bed for the first time.

I had my very first ultrasound.

And I had my second miscarriage.

And while I was sitting there being checked into the ER, I read a painted sign above the nurse’s door that told me, “The times of greatest change present the greatest possibilities.” Though at that moment, I felt like nothing was possible, I decided that life could not just be a series of random events, varying in degrees of the tame and the traumatic, just meaningless and unconnected. I’ve been clinging to that belief for a few days. And so life actually feels meaningful, thanks to the comforting power of a little faith.

I just wanted to share that. It feels good to tell you.