Category: My Life

Google Bought Measure Map!

It’s been a rough period around the Mason household. When Bryan gets stressed out, he loses things. Expensive things. I can figure out how distracted he is by how much equipment disappears.

In the last few months, we’ve replaced phone, a digital camera, and an Apple laptop (as you may remember). Bryan also spent a few hours crawling around in the grass, searching for the only set of car keys we have.

This, my friends, is why my poor husband has been so stressed out. As you may or may not know, Bryan is the COO of Adaptive Path, which is the company that created Measure Map. That means he has spent a lot of time on the phone lately.

Congratulations, Mr. Mason! Screw the roses, this is the best Valentine’s Day gift a girl could ask for. I’m so, so proud of you.

Any day now, I’ll let you start carrying the car keys again.

This Morning

It’s 7:30 a.m. This young man is wearing a black jean jacket and walking along with his hands in his pockets. When he spots us, he bends at the waist and runs across our path with his head lowered. His hair bounces across his eyes as he jogs. Bryan and I exchange a glance just as the man begins making startled-crow sounds, “CAW! CAW! CAW!”

Once he’s passed, he straightens again and resumes his natural gait.

Rub Some Dirt in it

We hear a radio story about how injuries are way up among kids because the push to excel at competitive team sports is growing.

Me: Screw that. Whatever happened to just going out in the yard and playing? I guess if they really, really want to be on a soccer team or something, but it would suck to shuttle them from event to event so you can feel like they “excel.” They should just be kids; play however they want to play.

Bryan: As long as they win.

Me: Exactly.

Girls Girls Girls

Heather, Eden, and Melissa just left town, and I miss them.

Eden’s face, always seems more familiar than it should for the few times we’ve met. She looks and acts quite a bit like Ms. Champ. They both share that walking-painting quality. But today I came across pictures of Eden as a young ‘un and realized that she also looks related to me.

Heather had 24 hours here, so we stayed up until 4 a.m. pinky swearing, talking about boys, discussing new hairstyles, and getting drunk. Actually, only I got drunk, Heather just smirked at me. This is because Heather, who weighs fifteen pounds, could drink a team of seasoned Teamsters under the table and still remember to keep her knees together because she’s wearing a skirt.

Melissa is similarly evolved. She and I had a semi-serious conversation about whether it’s appropriate to teach your children how to moderate a buzz to spare them years of experimental suffering at the hands of bourbon. We decided no.

Four Things (For Heather)

As you may know, I rarely do this stuff. For some reason, it makes me feel cagey. But Heather so rarely asks for anything. When she does, you kind of have to do what she says. So, this is for you, sweets.

Four jobs I’ve had:

Bead store clerk

Silkscreen shop owner

Dance instructor

Volunteer coordinator, Kerry Campaign, DNC

Four Movies I can watch over and over:

Amelie

Godfather II

Gilda

Say Anything

Four Places I’ve Lived:

California my whole life, except for a month each in:

Costa Rica

London

Boston

Four TV shows I love:

Veronica Mars

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I Shouldn’t Be Alive

Myth Busters

Four places I’ve vacationed:

Jamaica

Malaysia

The Phillipines

Australia

Four of my favorite dishes:

Steak

Lemon blueberry pancakes

Fried potatoes with bacon and wilted spinach

Creme Brulee

Four sites I visit daily:

Defective Yeti

Dooce

Finslippy

CNN

Four places I would rather be right now:

On the Giant Dipper at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk

In a dark room with a Christmas tree that has white, blinking lights.

Tucking in to breakfast at Zazie.

Swimming.

Four bloggers I’m tagging/slightly alienating:

Bryan who has to love me by law.

Sarah deserves a healthy prompting.

Andrea who is good at introspection.

Lori who is always game.

San Francisco

-Open containers aren’t a big deal, smoking pot isn’t really a problem, no one gets upset about prostituion. Is anything actually illegal here?

-Violence.

-Parking.

Donuts Aren’t the Same Here

Lessons learned on Impromptu Los Angeles Roadtrip, 2006:

– You’re not as cute in L.A.

– Some people buy matching white sweat suits, with their names in bedazzled scroll script down the sleeves, and wear them to brunch.

– Once seated at a restaurant, everyone should overtly check surrounding tables for possible celebrities.

– Possible celebrities include people like Mickey Rooney’s son.

– Once you see Mickey Rooney’s son, you are required to mention having seen him in approximately 50 percent of your conversations from that moment forward.

I also learned that you should not eat the questionably cooked eggs before a seven-hour road trip in a two-seater, 1974 Volkswagon. Seriously, that’s one to grow on.

Don’t

To the woman in the locker room who is standing in front of the mirror, completely nude, slowly rubbing gym-supplied hand cream on her breasts:

Weird. Would you stop that? It couldn’t be more disturbing if you were taking fistfuls of the hand cream and shoving them in your mouth. The rest of us are unsure of your objective. Is this sexual? Ritualistic? An excessive devotion to silky-soft skin?

Even the women who are into other women are freaked out. We think it’s the way your eyes look a little dead, though we can’t be sure, because none of us can bring ourselves to look directly at you. All of us are looking near you, above you, next to you, trying to ascertain if you are, in fact, doing what we think you’re doing.

Yes. It seems that you are.

Hm… Well… Are you still doing it?

Yep.

Kay. That’s weird… What about now…?

Yes. Even now, you are still doing it.

We are all pretty sure that this if it’s something you enjoy is something that you should enjoy in the comfort of your own home. Please go there so the rest of us can blow dry our hair. Thank you.