Go West

We are preparing to head out to Milton-Freewater in a couple of days. I wish I could say this trip was going to be fun. Rather, I suspect there will be extreme drama. Let me rephrase that: DRAMA, involving Mr. Brewguy's sibling, the disposition of my MIL's house, possessions, and inheritance. In brief:

• Brewguy's sibling (whom we shall name CAguy), lives with his lovely bride in an apartment in the Los Angeles basin.


• CAguy spends his time attempting to be a freelance writer. This gig pays poorly.


• MIL sends CAguy money each month to help with rent.


• MIL and Brewguy see an opportunity for CAguy and bride to live in house in M-F rent-free, thus nullifying the need to be sent money each month.


• CAguy believes he is being babied by MIL and attempt to get them to move into her house is just another way to keep him dependent on her. Resents monthly rent checks.


• Brewgal's reaction: Uh, dude? Simple solution- STOP TAKING THE MONEY.


• All parties are coming together next week in small Oregon town.

It's shaping up to be a fun-filled week of tension and packing! Wheee!

To tide you all over, some photos from my trip to NYC last month.

This is the view from my hotel room at the Marriot Marquis.

This is a slightly different view. Note the glass office building at right. Brewgal thinks to self: "Who can possibly see me up here on the 12th floor? All those people on the street can't....oh. Hi, office guy." I am sure I flashed the office workers at least twice during my stay.

Look at the wattage on that Nasdaq sign. Aiee! I'm blind!

These are the Oscars. More accurately, these are the Oscar butts. They are hanging out in the ABC studios prior to being shipped to LA for the Oscar ceremony.

Something pink this way comes...

Twins!

Twins! Not for me, of course. That would be frightening. When I got married, I discovered there were eight sets of twins in my family history. I have twin aunts. Since twins tend to skip generations, I figured there was a pretty good chance each peanut would be peanut(s). Imagine going from 2 to 4 kids in the blink of an eye. Three bedrooms, four children, zone defense. Thankfully, I had two healthy children, one at a time.

One of my co-workers has discovered she is having twin boys. She'll now have three boys and a husband. I've christened her new life "The Locker Room." When she told us her good news, she had a smile and a slightly crazed look in her eyes that said, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

What indeed.

I, on the other hand, was so excited I ran home right after work and made these.

She is not due until August. I am having a very hard time waiting that long. I want to give her the hats now NOW NOW!!

I'm trying out a new template. What do y'all think?

It's springtime in Maryland! Three days ago the weather was warm enough for me to break out the short sleeved shirts. Little Brewer #2 wore shorts. And then...



I heard birds singing this morning. It is hard to tell if they were singing for joy or out of desperation. Birds are inscrutable.

I feel better able to put this cold snap into perspective because Friday night we viewed The Day After Tomorrow. Billed as "a wake up call for us all," it is a cautionary tale depicting climate change resulting from overuse of fossil fuels, arrogant politicians, and blatant disregard for traffic laws.

I may have made that last one up.

*spoilers, for those who have not yet seen it*

It was great up until minute #2. Scene: the Antarctic ice shelf (where it is very, very cold). The new guy is drilling for core samples. Suddenly, cracks start to appear along the ground and ominous rumbling occurs. As the experienced scientists emerge from the tent, the new guy squeals, "I didn't do anything!" Ah, the mantra of our generation- It's not my fault! It soon becomes clear IT IS ALL OUR FAULT! MUHUAHAHAHA!

Sorry, channeled my inner mad scientist there for a second.

As the cracks progress, the entire Antarctic ice shelf breaks off, causing a giant crevasse to appear. Dennis Quaid, climatologist extraordinaire and olympic long-jumper, leaps across the widening crevasse to save the core samples. And then he leaps back.

I'm no climate scientist, but the antarctic ice shelf breaking off seems slightly more important than those core samples. That, and living to tell other people about the event.

As the climate change hits (with unbelievable speed), Quaid sets off to New York City to rescue his son, Jake "Resourceful Boy!" Gyllenhaal. He and a few others are holed up in the New York Public Library awaiting rescue, because we all know the best way to wait out a climactic event changing the course of civilization is to burn the written records of that civilization.

The next hour+ is a whirlwind tour of wooden acting, bad politics, unrequited love, snow, supercooled air from the Troposphere, wolves, snow, more wooden acting, and Mexico.

Moral of the story: keep a few land-line phones around.

Age is catching up with my MIL. She's a springy 88 years old and has worked out a compensatory mechanism for everything. Stiff joints? Walks two miles a day. Memory problems? Writes notes to herself and leaves them around the house. She lived in California for 30+ years, decided the price of living was too high, bought a house (herself) in her old home town of Milton-Freewater, OR, sold the one in Newbury Park, CA (herself) and moved. Herself.

Well, she didn't lift the furniture but she packed everything.

Herself is a strange word when you type is over and over. Herselfherselfherself

MIL is very pleasant and personable but when she sets her mind to something, watch out. You are a dinghy and she is a battleship - hard to stop and difficult to turn. Better to just get out of the way.

A month ago she had a nosebleed incident in the middle of the night that sent her to the hospital. It was a 5-hour ordeal, as most ER visits are, and she realized that although she was quite capable, she would be on her own if there was an immediate emergency. And so she has decided to move again, this time to an adult retirement community.

She is already packing.

I'm too lazy to post any content this week so you'll just have to be entertained by cute photos from the Little Brewer Archives.

First short sleeved sweater I ever knit.

Hat knit by the mother-in-law of one of my work colleagues.

For the past week, Brewguy has been in Milton-Freewater Oregon visiting his mother. This means Brewgal has been single mom. After 5 days I am proud to say:

1. The little brewers (2) are both still healthy and moderately clean.
2. The fish (2) are still alive.
3. The mail has been picked up.
4. The dishes are (mostly) washed.
5. No laundry has been harmed.

Yesterday Brewguy called me on his cell and said, "Check out the street camera in Walla Walla." I pulled up the webpage and waited as the camera swung back and forth across the street, focusing first on the Starbucks, then up Main Street, then on Title Plaza.

"Do you see me waving?" There he was, on camera, waving.

"Yes, I see you! Hi!" I replied. For just the briefest instant, I forgot that Brewguy was on the other side of the country waving at a light pole and I returned the gesture. I waved back. I waved AT MY COMPUTER.

Then my synapses had the following exchange:

Synapse 1: "You're waving at your computer."

Synapse 2 (freezes hand in embarassment): "Oops!" it giggled. "That was silly. I hope he didn't see that!"

Synapse 1 (rolls virtual eyes): "He can't see you. He's in Walla Walla."

Synapse 2: "Oh, yeah."

Synapse 3: "What's for dinner?"

Synapse 1: "Do you mind? We're talking here!"

Synapse 4: "I have to pee."

It's busy in Brewgal's head. Brewguy is coming home tonight. I hope he's bringing wine.