I Get By with a Little Help from My Friends

Several weeks ago, my dear friend Katie came to town with her charming kids, a boy W's age and a girl Ada's (works out nicely, no?). She said she wanted me to show her SLC, "Tingey style." It took some thought, but I figured that because of proximity, I ought to show her some of the church sites around here.

Not many people know about the tiny little Brigham Young cemetery park on 1st Avenue. So many people come from all over the country (and the world!) to see Temple Square, but so few know that just a half a block away is the resting place of a beloved prophet (Brigham himself) and a true heroine, Eliza Snow. Several others are buried there as well. W and Winston had heaps of fun exploring, and it turned out to be, um, an excellent opportunity to teach my kids about respecting peoples' (somewhat) eternal resting places. But truly, if you're in the area, this park is definitely worth the small hike up 1st Ave (I say this as if most of the people reading this haven't also lived on 1st Ave... whatever). In addition to the gravestones, there are some beautiful monuments and statues.

We then wandered down to Temple Square. It would have been awesome to show the kids the visitors' centers as well, but we just ended up not having the time, as we also planned on having some lunch. There's a long list of "next times" piling up in my head, Katie, including lunch at the The Garden at the top of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. The Ws will get a kick out of watching Temple Square from the viewing window--and all the trains running up and down South Temple. Also, seeing the Christus. And a few other things. It'll happen someday.

I hadn't seen Katie pretty much since high school. I was a bit nervous as to how this meeting would go. I'm so glad I didn't chicken out. Katie is a lady through and through, and was so gracious to spare time away from visiting her family. I've been so grateful for her friendship and example.

Here's a pic of us trying to corral the kiddies for a shot in front of the temple:

W, Dancing, and Other Thoughts

Also this summer, W took a mini dance class. It came as a big shock to me that he was the only boy there; I had dance classes growing up and occasionally had boys in class. I knew a male ballet dancer while in college. I assumed that with the advent of things like So You Think You Can Dance? more boys would be enrolled in classes. Perhaps that is the case other places, but not at this studio. I could tell some people (some of the other parents of kids in the class) thought it was a bit weird. But I don't want to be the kind of parent who tells their kid they can't enjoy something simply because it isn't the norm. And from the time this kid was 6 months old, he's been dancing to a beat. Any beat. Buddy Holly, the printer, the dishwasher, whatever/wherever there's a rhythm, he's sure to be grooving to it. So, off we went. The last week of the class was "performance" day, and parents got to go watch. It was hilarious. 2 & 3 year-olds jumping around like rabbits, galloping like horses, etc. It was awesome and I think he really had a fun time.

It was also a bit of an eye-opener to me that "girl culture" is alive and thriving in girls as young as this. I really don't think the "who's sexiest?" competition needs to begin this young. Or ever, really. How am I supposed to raise a girl who knows her power is not in her zebra stripes/tutu but in her kindness, that her worth is not in her ability to put down other girls but in her ability to unite and encourage her peers? This is a question that keeps me up at night. If you have the answer (or any other thoughts on the matter), please do share.

Tingey Reunion 2012

So, I had this really vivid, concrete memory of blogging about the Tingey reunion earlier this summer. I went to pull up the post for my mother in law the other day, and it was nowhere to be found. Apparently, I'm (gulp) getting old. I wish I could say this was an isolated event. Moving on...

Chris's brother Nick returned from his mission earlier this year and the entire Tingey clan reunited in Chris's hometown for a mini-vacation to the Redwoods. It was lots of driving, but I'd never been to a Redwood forest before, and I was totally mesmerized by these amazingly huge trees.

We stayed in a cluster of cabins that had a pool and a playground for the littles. No sooner were we out of the car than all the Tingey grandkids were all over that playground.

One of the cabins had a small kitchen, so in the evenings we would gather for dinner and one night a family home evening.

                    (I couldn't decide which of these edits I liked better, so you get both!)

I don't do very well in super large groups. I'm just one of those people who gets overwhelmed by large numbers of people; the chaos and craziness of it all just drain me. Consequently, these family gatherings are a strange mix of anxiety and great fun. The logistics of getting all of us from one place to another stresses me out. On the other hand, I get a lot of opportunity to visit with my mother- and sisters-in law (I really lucked out in these departments), which is what makes the trip worth it for me.

*Have you heard of picMonkey? It's my new favorite spot to edit photos, since picnik closed.

One Week, NYC/Hamptons, conclusion

Our last full day in NYC was the last day of the blog conference. We went to classes that morning and then attended the Katie Couric luncheon that afternoon. Katie was lovely and inspiring. The food was just OK. That afternoon we both blew off classes for some midtown shopping, followed by my favorite meal of the trip at a restaurant in Chelsea called Scarpettas. It will go down in my personal history as one of the best meals of my life--and one of the most memorable.

We were seated next to possibly the loudest woman in the tri-state area, which is really saying something since New Yorkers themselves are a fairly loud bunch. On top of her robust volume, she also has the misfortune to possess a gratingly shrill voice. It was unpleasant. We spent most of the meal trying to communicate through looks and gestures (and text messages) since our voices couldn't carry over hers. Then the real fun started when a new party was seated on the other side of us, comprised of 2 older women. The older woman closest to me looked at me in horror and said, "She is LOUD! Will you get her attention? I must tell her to quiet her voice. I read a piece in the Times that was talking about how people are going deaf because of the noise level in restaurants. Get her attention, please."Awkward. I don't remember how I got out of it. But, thankfully, the loud girl left probably halfway through our entree, so Mom and I could actually converse face-to-face. Unfortunately, another party on the other side of the Times lady was seated--and they were also much to loud for her liking. And since they were within her reach, she wasted no time in  letting them also know that they were much too loud. She was rather polite, but it is a pretty nervy thing to do, and the gentleman did not appreciate her interference and very soon they were yelling at each other--and it finally ended with the older woman's friend telling her, "That is enough!!!" But of course the jerks on the other side of her wouldn't let it drop so easily, and kept saying (more loudly than they had been in the first place), "What? I can't hear you! Speak louder!" It was all very uncomfortable and dramatic. It was a fantastic meal, but in the end we were somewhat relieved to get out of there. We then wandered around Chelsea (where I don't think I've ever wandered before), which was a charming little surprise.

The next morning we caught the jitney out to the Hamptons. While I LOVED our stay in the Hamptons, this is where the more lazy part of the trip began. You'll forgive me if I gloss over it a bit and just hit the highlights?

*The Hamptons are a cluster of quaint townships; each little hub has its own main street/shopping/restaurant district full of posh boutiques, indie restaurants, and traffic cops. While we were there, we visited Southampton, Sag Harbor, Montauk, and East Hampton, where our rental was. We didn't make it to West Hampton or Bridgehampton.

*I'd read a bit about how Montauk was supposed to be the "armpit" of the Hamptons--but let's be honest; it's still the Hamptons, and I was totally charmed by Montauk's unstuffy friendliness. We spent an afternoon checking out the lighthouse (beautiful), and wishing we'd brought some beach gear. Nevertheless, we sat for a while on the beach before we headed to dinner at a restaurant on the harbor and watched a beautiful sunset of purples and peachy tones. (Note: Something about traveling with my mother is magical--poetic things happen left and right. Like the night we were in Bath and wrote in our journals by the light of the moon while listening to the nearby Three Tenors' concert from our window, which also overlooked the magically golden city below. It just works out this way for the two of us, what can I say?)

*We never did run in to the Barefoot Contessa, which is just as well, since I have no idea what I would have done anyway if I had. "Hi! Aren't you just dying to have us over for dinner while Jeffrey is out of town?"

*Best meal in the Hamptons was in East Hampton at Citta Nuova. I really, really, wanted to love 1770 House (as it's one of Ina's favorites), but my steak was overdone. The rest of my meal was phenomenal, though--so that's something!

*The beach in East Hampton is one of the most beautiful I've been to--beach as far as you can see in either direction; super soft sand; long grass; surprisingly uncrowded.

One Week, NYC/Hamptons, Days 1&2

A few months ago, my mama said, "Hey. I'm going to the BlogHer conference in NYC. You should come with me." I hemmed and hesitated and was generally skeptical I'd be able to pull it off. Then life happened, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought, "Wow, I could use a break in a BIG way." And, really, who couldn't? So, finally, I agreed to go. It probably seems pretty funny that it was a dilemma. But I take this wife/mother gig pretty seriously--and with Chris super busy with work/school things this summer, I just didn't know if could happen. Not to mention that I had visions of myself leaving, enjoying an entire week of carefree fun, and returning a completely irresponsible human being (or worse, not coming back and living in some hedonistic colony on the beach. Although, I'm not sure they have those in the Hamptons anyway). I was just worried it would mess up my groove; my groove is very important to me. Routines, plans, things/people I can count on make me tick. It's just the way I operate.

This anxiety lasted until about the cab ride to our hotel--and we passed the Museum of Modern Art. And about a block and a half later, we reached our hotel. I was suddenly desperate to feed that little part of my brain that used to explore and discover new things. And then we checked into our hotel, and my mom told me perhaps the sweetest words I've ever heard: that though I was registered for the conference, she certainly didn't expect me to want to go to the whole thing--and if there were other things I wanted to do, I should just do them.

That night we went to Alex Guarneschelli's restaurant called Butter. As the name suggests, it was heavenly. I was feeling liberated and adventurous and ordered the sea bass, which I'm pretty sure I'll remember until the day I die; it was so great. That night we were both pretty exhausted; so we came back to the hotel where I chatted with my family on the phone; then we watched some TV and went to sleep. Perfect.

In the morning I went to a class at the conference, which was great (and which I will write about later). Then we opted out of attending our luncheon with Martha Stewart in favor of some serious New York pizza. Seriously, John's is where it's at. Then I skipped my afternoon classes and took off for the museum, not knowing exactly what I would find there. But to my great satisfaction, the collection was pretty impressive. Lots of Picasso and Van Gogh (including The Starry Night). And, to my great delight, one beautiful Rothko, which I fell in love with and purchased a small print of. My only regrets were that my cell phone died and my shoes were terribly uncomfortable and I had to cut short my excursion. But I can't even express how great it was to do something so grown-up without worrying about diaper bags or little fingers or diaper changes or nap/meal times--or anything else, really. It was just me and the museum. And before I forget, I'll just mention the piece of art that just about made me sob like a baby. It was just a smallish rectangular mirror with the word "Dieu" written on it. I recognize that there are various interpretations of this that I may not necessarily agree with. But it nevertheless reminded me of something about myself that I hadn't felt in a very long time. Perhaps never.

That night we went to a fantastic dinner on the upper west side (my favorite Manhattan neighborhood) called Sarabeth's (highly, highly recommended), and saw Amy Adams in Into the Woods at Central Park. Brilliant. And as we were leaving, I overheard a fantastic remark from one gay man to another sitting behind me: "I love Vanessa. She's flawless. But she's kind of terrible." It makes me smile every time I think about it.