True Confessions: I have B.O.

I can remember having an issue with B.O. since I was about age 9.  Right around the time my dear mother made a comment about my odor - in public, in front of me and my new track team - after we had just won our first relay race, and I was the anchor leg who had brought it home strong.

"Wow!" my mother exclaimed, with pride beaming all over her face.  "I think this is the first time I have ever smelled you, Mo!"

As you can imagine,  I was mortified.  There, out in public, in front of god and everybody, she outed me. 

Since then, I have suffered much and gone to great lengths to hide my B.O. problem from others, including wearing a down parka nearly every day of middle school (including the 80 degree spring days) to hide my underarm stains.  Of course, by the time I got home, the stain was three times as large as it would have been had  I NOT worn the down parka in 80 degree weather.  Not to mention, I had successfully managed to stifle my body's natural detoxification process for the last 8 hours, but no one was the wiser, and that was what was important.

Now, as an adult, I am slowly starting to surrender the idea that I need to hide my B.O.  Surrender: its a funny thing.  It really is a LOT like "giving up" something you have absolutely NO control over to whomever/whatever does have control.  I have very little control of how much I sweat and how it smells, and it has taken me damn near 37 years to start letting go if the idea that I do.  And flop sweat is the absolute worst!  The more nervous I get, the more it smells, and the more it smells, the more nervous I get.  One of the endless negative feedback loops that demands your surrender if you want to see results. 

Today is a new day.  I am here, at 9:16 in the a.m. in my robe.  I smell myself.  Its OK.  And I will go about my day, and at some point, I will indeed get ripe.  And it will be up to me whether I choose to let that bother me, or I choose to let it go and risk offending someone with my natural smells. It could go either way, really, but since I plan on doing some serious dancing tonight,  I would like to be granted an extra dose of grace on the dance floor so that I may express my self in all my odiferous splendour. Ja - I will let you know how it goes.

Happy Saturday Friends, Family and Strangers!  Make it a good one!

EXCLUSIVE! The Ritz Report's: First short video - "Street Fighter - Hanger Edition"

This here video is my contribution towards the efforts i have seen circulating on the FB that we need to give our children a '70's summer!  You can't get any more 70's than making a game out of a pillow and a plastic coat hanger...

"In my mind"

Nooz Flash.  I have a real bizzy mind.  A real bizzy-bizzy-bee-kinda-mind.  Sometimes all this activity creates a "build-up" of sorts, a kind of a mental "log-jam," and so what is produced by mind in that particular state is subject to immediate search and seizure without question!  It's been a lot like that lately...truly...I feel as if my brain needs a wheelchair!  Something to hold it for a spell, cuz it's tired.

And every once in a while, I have a moment of clarity - the kind that feel as if the universe just opens itself up to me and allows me to catch a glimpse of the magnificent.   The kind that really make me stop and take notice of what is up for me.

Today in yoga class, up popped a mental picture of me in the mid 1970's, living in Boulder, Colorado, swinging on a swing with the Flatirons Mountain Range as the backdrop, it was one of those old-school swings with ropes where the chains are and a thick, flat board of wood for the seat.  And the sensation i got from swinging was close to that of flying, like when i fly in my dreams!  I get a true birds's eye view of everything!  I haven't had a flying dream in a while and I miss them.  I miss the absolute freedom I feel when I am flying.  And then I think, did this actually happen?  Or is this a clip from a dream?  I have a memory of this happening - it would have been close to the time these photos were taken, so perhaps I was just really feeling myself at that time in my life.  It could happen. 

And then my mind shifts to this: why has this particular image come to vision?  I think that it might be the last time I can remember feeling as close to the feeling of true freedom as I have ever felt, back when I was a child, without the grown-up cares of the world, against the backdrop of the collapse of all kinds of systems: economic, social, political, religious to name a few.  And I did feel a sense of freedom in that swing. 

And then my mind shifts again, to - is there another message in here for me? And just like that, my mental chalkboard shifts the letter "S" in SWING to create WINGS.  Product of The Electric Company.  Guilty as charged.   

Wings have been all over my radar for the last week or so.  First, in the form of the ongoing back pain between my shoulder-blades, its source, and why it persists.  I often feel as though my proverbial wings have been clipped.  This limits my ability to move with true ease and grace in this world, and I believe that this is my birthright.

(spoiler alert: Maleficent)

So I go and see "Maleficent" with the Trester last night because I had heard it was a good one.  And Maleficent's wings were cut off by someone she trusted and she had to find a way to be in her world without an essential body part.  She did it, she went through a SERIOUS dark night of the soul, though, and cursed some poor infant, caught in the crossfires of some serious female rage.  Everything turns out OK in the end, and not until the very end of the movie did i become aware that it was a re-telling of Sleeping Beauty.  OMG was I red-faced when the Sun looked at me in my moment of discovery and said "You didn't know that was the retelling of Sleeping Beauty, mom?"

"You know, Tre, the name Maleficent did sound rather familiar, but... "

"Wow Mom. well there goes 2 hours of your life that you'll never get back."

Maleficent: the (self-proclaimed) Mistress of All Evil who curses an infant princess with everlasting sleep, only to be awakened by "true love's kiss" and then the prince swoops in and saves the day.  Not in this version.  In this version, Maleficent cleans up her karma and the princess is saved!  Hurrah and everyone gets to keep their dignity in tact, except the King who had cut Maleficent's wings off...I am afraid he did NOT fair too well...:o(

So perhaps I can imagine those proverbial wings growing back, and how could I speed this little process along just a bit?  Well, for starters, i read this:

"A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.  The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves"
- Frederick William Faber

thank you, bless you, love you...

xo
ritz

...am i a goner?!?

today upon my return from werk, I was met with this in the middle of the hallway on my way to the loo:

so what do you think...am in a goner?!?  :o/

NOOZ FLASH! THIS JUST IN! NOOZ FLASH! THIS JUST IN! NOOZ FLASH! THIS JUST IN! NOOZ FLASH! THIS JUST IN!

Did you know...that Michael Franti is a bi-racial/trans-racial adoptee????

Well, maybe you did, but it came as news to me when Michael announced as much last night at the Spearhead concert inside/outside Berkeley's Greek Theater.  And when I heard him say that, my heart just melted.  I think this is a feeling that is very hard to describe to a non-adoptee.   It's pre-verbal, and perhaps somewhat akin to finding long-lost members of your family?  I dunno, but It feels like home.

When Michael first brought his elderly mother on stage, I needed some details filled in...and STAT!   The fact that she is white came as no surprise, as I have always seen Michael as bi-racial.  The part that was not touching home was that she was SOOOO SHORT!  I mean, Michael hovers right around 6'6" (or so i've googled) and from where I was sitting - up in the nose bleed seats in order to catch maximum rays on the summer solstice - she looked like she capped out at around 5' or perhaps less!  I mean, sure, I guess that could happen, but what are the odds?!?  As I was imagining the odds that my own child might surpass his parents height in the spectacular way that Michael has, the musician took a seat on his chair, picked up his guitar, and plucked out the story of his adoption, or at least, the story he tells his public audience. 

Youngest of 5, last two were adopted boys of color, mother raised them to believe that all of their children were equal (cheers from the crowd), that they were not any different than any of their other children, blah, blah, blah.  And please forgive me for just throwing up all over my blog, but I have some issue with this "love see no color" battle-cry of the masses. We can do better than that for our adopted children, for everyone!  That's like putting blinders on your child and telling him to see his way though the room using his heart.  Aint gonna happen, ppl. I hope that we can all be on the same page about the notion that children are not born into this world as tiny racists!  This is something they learn from their environment - from adults.  And whether we like to think about it our not, everyone is impacted by this and everyone has their shit to sort through about it. 

Anywhoodle, Michael bounced around on stage and into the audience a few times.  Brought the kidlets on stage.  It's wonderful to watch him with kids.  The way he engages with them reminds me of the desire to move through and out of one of our deepest human tragedies - how we are a society that has become blind to the gifts right in front of us, staring us in the face.  Over and over again, we overlook our true riches - our children.  Yep, git out your hankies folks, this is indeed a "Children are our Future Moment" we got us goin' on right chere.  Feel it, embrace it, soak it innnnnnnnnn. 

And this, one of my favorite chants of the evening by the very lovely (OK...downright hawt in the pants!) Michael Franti:  

"Life in your love and love in your life."  
"Life in your love and love in your life."   
"Life in your love and love in your life."  
"Life in your love and love in your life."  
"Life in your love and love in your life."  
"Life in your love and love in your life."  
"Life in your love and love in your life."       

mmmmhhhhhhmmm...thank you for the love, Michael, thank you so very much. 

xo

Disneyland The Experience: What happened to the "Magic?"

Determined to start day #2 off on the "good foot," we got ourselves out of bed and into the park by 8am sharp, just in time to experience "magical morning."  From 8am to 9am, the park is reserved for guests of the three affiliated hotels.  This way, guests can enjoy the most popular rides before all of the crowds come and the lines form.

The first ride on the agenda: Magic Mountain, one of, if not THE most popular thrill ride in the park.  Off we go through Tomorrowland, only to be met with a cast member informing us that this ride is closed until July the 4th.  Crestfallen, we make our way over to Frontierland to ride the "biggest" coaster - behind Magic Mountain in the Park - Big Thunder Mountain.  We were instead met by two cast members, informing us that Frontierland was not open until 9am.

We are met by two cast members at Frontierland: re-enactment above.

Still a bit sleep-deprived from the day before and running on a cup of Starbucks instant coffee for this first leg of the morning, my analytical left brain tries to kick into gear without the proper fuel, and I begin to lecture the cast member.

"But what good is early admission if none of the good rides are open?" i ask, my face contorted in a mixture of exhaustion, frustration and disappointment.  Right.  As if the sheer logic of this statement would somehow magically cause him to change his mind and grant us entrance to whatever rides we wished.

"IT'S MAGICAL MORNING, PPL!" my inner-critic screams in my head, beyond annoyed and wanting heads at this point, "SHOW ME THE MAGIC!!!"

"Ma'am you have Adventureland, Tommorrowland, and Toontown available to you still."

"But thats the point," i insisted on continuing. "The point is to ride the rides that won't be available later, which happen to be not available now either!"

"I'm sorry ma'am."

 It was now 8:45 and with magical morning officially over in 15 minutes, I suggest we go in search of a nice breakfast.  We end up on Main Street at the Carnation Cafe, a place we had been on prior trips and had always enjoyed.  There was outdoor seating, and it was a great place to people watch, as folks were just coming into the Park, some for the first time ever.

"Yes, your here!"  said a mom to her young daughter in a princess outfit and a stroller.  "It's real!"

As Tre and friend ripped open their bags of crayons and began coloring their kids menus, i set about fulfilling my mom duties by directing their attention to the items on the menu.  When that wasn't eliciting any response, I then read aloud to the boys a description of each item.  Tre wanted the "Mickey Special" with eggs, hash browns, and sausage.  Friend ordered the "Mickey Waffles."  I ordered. Food came.  I re-arranged mine onto one plate to make it seem like more food than it actually was.

                                            

Notice how my child doesnt seem very enthusiastic about his breakfast.  That is because he saw Friend's lovely breakfast and decided that he wanted Mickey Waffles instead.


Not wanting to let a teachable moment go by - the teachable moment being "ask and you shall receive," because we all know how well that's works out later - I tried to order a single Mickey waffle to add to his breakfast.  Unfortunately, the restaurant is not equipped to handle variances of that magnitude.  In order to get one Mickey Waffle, you need to order an entire breakfast, which, despite my desire to keep my child happy, I was not prepared to do at $9 a pop.

Tre: But I wanted the Mickey waffle!

Me: Sorry, Tre, thats not what you ordered.

Tre: But why can't I order it now?

Me: Friend...why can't Tre order the Mickey Waffle now?

Freind:  Because there is a time and a place for ordering?

Me: Yes, that's right, Friend.  There is a time and a place for ordering and that time and place has come and gone.

Tre: But you didn't tell me the waffle was shaped like Mickey?!?  (Note to reader: You can imagine where my head goes with this statement, but I am no stranger to the child's "blaming others" ploy often used when he is on the verge of desperation, and I am ready!  I pause, take a breath, and respond):

Me: Tre - do you know how to read?

Silence.  Then Tre stares down at his menu.  Waits a moment.  Then picks it up and starts reading.

Tre: Ooooooooooh!  Mickey Waffle!

Me: Ooooooooooh!

Friend: Oooooooooh!

We finish up our vittles and head to Frontierland to get the coaster in.  For those of you who have not followed is from the beginning, here is the most fun I had at the park: 

TRE's MOM! PUT THE %$@!*&% CAMERA AWAY!!! 

And look!  How serendipitous!  This came in the mail today.  Its a thank-you letter from Friend:

For those of you who dont read 10-year-old too well, the last two sentences read:

"I'm so lucky to have gotten to come with you.  Only if Tre got that mickey waffle."

xo
ritz

Diary entry 6/17/14:

Diary entry 6/17/14:

I am having such hard feelings right now, I just wanted to stop and take a moment to suss them all out. 

We came home from Disneyland tonight at around 9pm and Tre and I HAD IT OUT.  And he went to bed feeling REALLY BAD and crying (and I see why he feels REALLY BAD and perhaps he should have a really good cry about that) and I am in bed feeling a mix of emotions: mother guilt (it’s a special varietal), sadness, anger, frustration, grief, loss.  And I am also very, very tired.  14 hours of driving, very little good sleep on day/night 1 for Tre and me, two theme parks in two days…its just all added up and I had HAD it.  I was at the end.  And tre knew that I was already beyond beyond because of a little incident that happened at the In-n-out Burger in Kettleman, California.  

Getting the proper nourishment to recover from yesterday's activities and the day ahead.

And I will veer a little bit off course here to say this: I had a whole bunch of cray stories about the Sun’s behavior saved up to share, but I am having mixed emotions as to what to share and what NOT to share.  I mean, lets be honest here, should I share certain disturbing stories about what happened during our Epic Journey to Disneyland?  Should I out myself like that?   After all, I am the parent and he is the child and I have been, up to about this moment, one of the most important teachers and role models in his life…what does this behavior reveal about me is what I am really asking here people!!!

For now, I will leave it off the printed page and store it in a less permanent fashion.  Who knows what’s next.  What I do know is that I learned a LOT on this little journey with the Sun and friend.  For instance, I learned that:

·         A tall Starbucks Coffee in Downtown Disney (not officially part of Disney, FYI, that's important in a moment) costs $2.25 as compared to $1.75 in Oakland, AND there is no tip jar.

·         A tall Starbucks Coffee in the cafe in Disneyland (officially part of Disney) will not allow re-useable cups for "sanitary reasons."

·         They are mainly looking for weapons at the front door when they search your bag.   I did not, however, spot any type of body scanner, nor do they pat you down.

·         There is far less "carnival food" i.e. garlic fries, caramel apples, fried dough, than i had remembered.  I could not get a caramel apple in Disneyland to save my life!  The boys took me to a shop in Downtown Disney...mediocre at best.

·         a triplet is going to feel so liberated from his family for a bit (and just as eager to get back to his own brand of crazy!) that it's always an enthusiastic "Yes!" from him. 

·         an only child of divorced parents is gonna have some ish...thank the good lord himself that we have managed to contain it thus far...hawt dog!

and one final note:  clearly, it is no longer about the "magic."  Mr. Walt Disney himself would be rolling over in his grave right now if he knew what his legacy has wrought...or however that sentence gets put together.  Gone are the days when one would look wistfully at sparkling clean gardens - in the middle of a theme park, mind you - and gain comfort in the knowing that the people behind the scenes took a certain amount of pride in their work.  No longer are the cast members there to make sure your experience is worth the obscene ticket price...oh no friends.  These post-modernist cast members aren't nearly paid enough for that kind of job.  I think it would speak volumes about our piss-ant of an economy to see the Boss-to-worker-wage-ratio when Walt himself was command and nowadays.  Nowadays, the CEO of Walt Disney, Inc. is none other than Bob Iger, an unremarkable looking white male, early 50's, possible dye-job who I SWEAR, looks here as if someone has just shoved a broomstick up his arse!  gawd almighty is he stiff!

My point is: unless there is some compelling reason to go, other than your child's American citizenship, which apparently provides for a "Disneyland stipend" or per child quota of some sort, DON'T GO!  Really, don't go.  But then really...WTF...who is my audience here?!?

xo

ritz