How an introvert does camp

Like this:

Leave it to Mia to figure out a way to minimize human interaction at church camp. Inside her little cocoon are lots of Nancy Drew mysteries, a big box of goldfish, and a sketch pad. This is her paradise.

Thankfully, she also has wonderful friends who love her despite her hermit tendencies.

And she has a Yaya and DD who send her multiple letters a day that happen to include cold, hard cash.

 She's one happy camper.

Now you see it:

 Now you don't:

I'm not talking about the braces. I'm actually talking about the thousands of dollars for our first set of braces. Here in America, one set just doesn't cut it anymore. More is always, always better.

Her doctor decided to take this set off to "let her mouth rest for a while." Because, you know, we wouldn't want it to work too hard or it might accidentally straighten her teeth.

It looks like the crisis was averted and we are right on track for the "special phase two set of braces."

For now, all we have to worry about is a pre-adolescent, whose brain isn't close to fully developed, keeping up with a ridiculously expensive retainer that can't get too hot or too cold, can't be worn while eating or swimming, yet must, at the same time, be worn every second possible or her teeth will spontaneously morph back into their former unacceptable state.

She's just a ten-year-old livin' the dream.

Reading of late

I've read some fascinating stuff lately. In my mind, where I make notes of things I don't want to forget, I have told myself that I need to blog about the last seven books I've read. Now I can't remember what the last two are. Note to self: Taking notes in my head is not the same as actually taking notes. 

Now I need to actually write that down...

Well, Susan Cain is a genius, that's just all there is to it. If you are an introvert, or if one of your children is an introvert, or if you accidentally married an introvert you should read this book. Finally, someone who gets it (translation: me)! And all these years I just thought I was a snob....

Believing God is the latest Beth Moore that I have completed. I've now officially done all of her studies. I love them because they have daily homework. I'm also a nerd.

Krakauer's latest book in un. Real. Like, you are actually genuinely hoping that it's fiction. But, unfortunately for women, it's not.

Raise your hand if you read Still Alice and loved it. {hand raised}. This is Genova's book about Huntington's Disease. Like Alice, it's sad and eye opening and good.

My friend, Beth, told me to read this book. And lemmetellya, if Beth thinks a book is good, it's really, really good. And this one is. It was one of those that required me to neglect my children for a day or two.

 In other news, the kids loved camp:

B is for Bode and Baseball

Well, it looks like I am officially raising a jock. I do not know how this happened, yet here we are. Bode took to baseball like I took to coffee - fast and furious. 

And, I will admit that I have taken to it too. I never knew how fun it is to sit in the hot sun (AKA pouring rain), covered in dirt (AKA mud), chatting with other baseball moms. I don't even know who I am anymore.

But this kid knows exactly who he is. He's a full on bro. 

Of course he still wants his mommy to tuck him into bed at night and put band-aids on minuscule-sized scratches, but a bro nonetheless.

The time Mia made individual pizzas for her hamsters.

DTLA, hipster paradise

There are hipsters-a-plenty in downtown LA. That place is crawling with slightly dirty, yet still impossibly cool looking people. I was relieved we weren't driving an SUV (or anything) because I'm pretty sure anything other than a Prius is socially unacceptable.

We learned quickly that a restaurant isn't cool unless it has less than 3 tables and/or no seating what-so-ever.

This place was good.

Good grief, look at my giant man-hands! No wonder the hipsters recoiled at the sight of me. I thought it was just because I was old.

We couldn't resist visiting this famous establishment:

Please tell me you recognize the New Girl loft!

 This is how the hipsters spell "more than."

 We stood in line for 45 minutes to eat at this glorious place. If you're going to eat eggs, you may as well have them slutty.

 Of course there was no seating.

This crap was everywhere.

No comment (well, maybe one comment - this bottle of water cost $7):

As over-the-top as DTLA is (see how I'm abbreviating downtown Los Angeles? It's what the cool kids are doing) it was fun and relaxing and I feel I got my yearly requirement of organic foods eaten in one weekend.

In other news, my son made breakfast this morning:

It's safe to assume that nothing on that plate is organic.

When your husband offers to whisk you away to LA to watch a live table read and see the Mad Men finale with the entire cast and crew, you say yes, immediately.

So it turns out that this graduation things has its perks.

You know your husband really loves you when he is willing to take you to an event where John Hamm is present. I was beside myself. 

Mad Men has long since been one of my husband's and my favorite television series ever. The writing is genius, the sets are beautiful (why, yes, I did pay an insane amount of money for my mid-century modern couch that I won't allow my children to sit on for fear they will ruin it's mad-menesque perfection) and the acting is perfect (to look at). Case in point:

That is the cast and the creator/writer on the stage. Right there. In front of me. I died. 

Husbands are pretty great.