Fuck you Fire.  What about MY Summer Vacation? 

This is a play by play of our experience with the Mountain Fire

My kid got a scholarship to Band Camp for TWO weeks.  (Allelujah. Allelujah.)

I was going to have a GREAT time!!!  (Allelujah. Allelujah.)

Martini’s, napping, spa days, did I mention martini’s?

And not hearing: “MOM!!!”

So we drop our kid at band camp in the mountains.

There is a lot of weeping. 

She wept a lot too.  Then she decided that this scholarship, for which she had to audition, was maybe not such a good idea.

She offered to do all the chores in the world without ever complaining again if we would just take her home.

She begged, pleaded and wept.

She was very clear that she had CHANGED HER MIND about Band Camp.

Sorry Charlie.  We are outa here!

“I love you.  You will be fine!”

However, we drove off with a pit in our stomachs.

But once we got home we figured: She’ll work it out.  She’ll be playing music.  She will be fine.

And then? I started to relax.

Got my younger daughter in a day camp program.  (Allelujah. Allelujah.)

Thought about getting a pedicure in between work and appointments.  Ahhh…(Allelujah. Allelujah.)

Monday afternoon Palm Springs becomes oddly dark, smokey and ashy. 

Hmmm.

There must a fire somewhere…you know, somewhere up over the mountain there.

Uh, the Mountain there?

My kid is on the other side of the mountain.

Nah…It must be coming from somewhere else.

My husband calls.

I blow him off.  Chill Dad – she’s fine.  The fire is over by Hemet.  Why Hemet must be zillions of miles away from Idyllwild? Right? RIGHT?

Someone else calls me and asks what I think about the fire over by Idyllwild.

Uh…over by IDYLLWILD? WTF???

And so it begins.

Instead of putting my aching feet up and having a cocktail while toasting my kid for getting a scholarship to a TWO WEEK music camp…I become ONLINE SUPER VIGILANTE FIRE MONITOR MOM.

And I no longer sleep.  I do get in bed.  With all my devices.  They are all on chargers.  I’m wearing my yoga clothes with my tennis shoes by the bed.  I am ready to go!!!

Cuz that fire went for a few acres Monday afternoon to thousands of acres the next morning.

I keep checking with the camp.

Cuz …in Palm Springs? It is dark like night in the middle of the day.  Ashes are raining down everywhere (or do I have very severe dandruff?).  People are wearing masks on the streets of Palm Canyon. Sort of Avian Flu like.

My dogs vomit when they go outside cuz of the dense smoke. (But really? Better they vomit outside than in. I’m a glass half-full person after all.)

However, at the camp, the staff are VERY calm. (Too calm? I ask myself.  Remember – I have stopped sleeping. I’m old, I’m tired, I’m menopausal. I NEED my sleep! I can tend to overreact.)

I keep logging into the Idyllwild Town Crier, which btw, has a motto of “Almost All of the News – Part of the Time”.  I personally apologize to them for logging in 97 times every hour for 72 hours.  You Go Idyllwild Town Crier!!!

So I try sending my daughter comforting texts which of course she doesn’t respond to.  Phone dead? Highly likely.  Bad cell service?  Of course.  Cell Towers on fire? Shit.

Is any of that information calming? NO.

I send incoherent, late night emails to friends with better technical skills than I have (virtually all my friends, I believe) asking them how to help me get more info.

By Wednesday I have figured out how to watch the Fire on a Google Earth app. Now THAT does not reassure me at all. 

I’m ready for the Evac Order.

We cancel our dinner plans. I put on fresh yoga clothes and pack a couple of bottles of water.  I double check the charge on all my devices.

I do NOT have the martini I so long for.

The Evacuation Order is issued to the camp.  They are given a route and an Evacuation Center to head to. 

We get in the car.  My Brazilian blowout has somehow become a complete afro.

Finally my daughter calls me.  She is so upset.  She had to leave her beloved teddy bear, her beautiful-amazing new guitar (8^th grade graduation present) and all of her clothes, etc behind.  She has her saxophone and her iPhone.

Now, there is this:  When I dropped her at camp I had threatened her: Don’t you lose that guitar.  If you don’t take care of it and it gets stolen, no one is buying you a new guitar!  Do you understand me???

So she thinks I am going to be mad as they descend the mountain, 56 kids per bus, 10 buses, traversing smokey, dark, winding roads.

Oh Baby (I say through shitty cell service – hence I use a very loud, borderline hysterical voice) I’ll get you a new guitar.  Don’t worry about it.  You are safe.  You are a good girl.  I love you.

We will meet you at the evacuation center. Keep your phone on so I can track you. Don’t worry about anything.  I love you!!!

And I log into Find Friends and I watch that purple dot come down the mountain. 

Technology is now my best friend.

And texting.  I now fully embrace texting:

Mom - Hi Baby.  I love you !  Thank you for telling me you are evacuating.  We will be there at the High School Evacuation Center in a couple of hours!  I love you.

Mom - You guys are not at the high school.  I can see your purple dot.  You are parked at an elementary school.  Are you still on bus?  I love you.

Blondie – Yeah I’m on the bus still.  We are waiting for an entirely different camp to unload.

MOM – Unload at the elementary school?  Do you know where you are?

Blondie – Not any idea.  I’m on a bus.

MOM – I see buses.  We are following a bus!

Blondie – Ok. It looks like we are going into a big parking lot

MOM – We are behind the row of buses.  Maybe this is you. I love you.  Good girl!

Blondie - Kisses

MOM – I’m here. Outside the buses on sidewalk!! Where are you?

Blondie – Ok, I have to go to the gym.  If there are other kids with music cases, follow them.

MOM – Are you still on the bus?  Look for me!!

At this point I am waving my arms constantly like I have some sort of Windmill Arm Disorder.

Blondie – I’m not OFF the bus.  I’m near the exit of the parking lot.

MOM- Is there a Cute super blonde girl at front of YOUR bus?

Blondie – With sunglasses on her head?

MOM – No big black glasses.

MOM - Look for me on sidewalk! 

MOM – Are there buses in front of you? 

MOM – Are there buses in back of you? 

MOM – Look around!

MOM – I’m looking for you Honey.

MOM – Are you on the right or left side of bus?

Blondie – No response.

Blondie - I see you.  Ok. 

Blondie – Oh. There you went.  You passed me!

Blondie -  Go back to where you were. By the front.

MOM – Now?  Can you see me now? (Windmill Arm Syndrome really flares up here.)

Blondie – You are on the correct side.

MOM – Which bus? There are 10 buses! (More Arm Whipping.  And Jumping.  I do NOT jump.  I’ve had many spinal surgeries.  Jumping is NO GOOD.  But I’m jumping.)

How do I end up finding my Blondie?

I knock on the window of each and every bus describing her: Tall, blonde, short hair, sax player?

And then I see her little head.

MOM –  I see you. Come down to me now.  NOOOOWWWW!!!

And what happens in the car on the way home from the evacuation center? First she asks for McDonalds. Then she asks how soon she can go back.  Cuz she is just LOVING this amazing band camp!

Honey, we will wait and see.  30,000 acres and counting.

But the second they get the all clear order? We will be the first people up the hill. Hey, getting a two week break? Not happening.

But I’ll take whatever I can get…even two days!

Out Damned Fire! Out!

I’m not gonna miss this shit!!!

Another School Fundraiser! Yay! (Shit)

Is there a school in America that doesn't have their students sell stuff to make money?

You know a little extra pocket change for things like BOOKS and an AV projector?  (OK – in our school it is called an Elmo System, but I don’t think it has anything to do with Sesame Street.)

Because if such a school exists? I’m sending my kids there.

Not that I don’t enjoy buying some more really ugly wrapping paper or having more scented candles which activate my husband’s allergies?  Cuz I totally enjoy that, being that I aspire to be on the A&E Hoarders show at least once in my life.

But seriously? This stuff is killing me.

Let’s see:  there is peanut brittle (cuz I need me a little more candy in my house), See’s Candy (cuz that’s how you promote healthy eating in the schools), wrapping paper, tchotke stuff, cookie dough (well, let’s not jump to eliminate ALL of these things right off the bat).

Now we don’t have any relatives.  Seriously.  My husband and I are only children and my parents are gone (I love you Mama and Daddy!).

So what is left? 

My kids walking up and down the street trying to sell this shit to the neighbors, or a quick trip to the Mommy Bank.

Well, that’s a viable skill to have, right?  Cold calling, learning how to make a quick pitch, facing rejection early on in life.

Yeah.  None of that is going to happen.

For one thing, I like my neighbors. (OK, most of my neighbors.)

Thing two? I’m not going with them and they aren’t going alone.

Thing three? There is no thing 3 – it just isn't gonna happen.

So here’s what I learned. 

If I buy this crap, not only do I have more stuff to go in my Goodwill bin, but the school only gets 50 cents of the dollar.

So I have solved the problem.

I write a check.

Every time.

Each kid.

Every fundraiser.

I write about 15 checks a year.

I will happily pay cold hard cash to NOT have my children develop their sales skills.  Really?  I’m supposed to prepare them for a future as the Fuller Brush Man or the Avon Lady?

Not happening.

And if they kept track of this stuff at the schools?

I’d be in the platinum cash club.

But they don’t.

All my kids know is that they don’t win the iPad or the Pizza party for having the most sales.

Cuz you know, they are deprived.

I tell them to just cry into the piano, saxophone case, bicycle basket or better yet, the MacBook.

Deprived of some things. But a less crazy Mom?

Uh kids? THAT is a gift!

Check me out on the Today show yesterday... http://www.today.com/id/49063771/#52094078

Rocking the EvaVarro dress on the Today show. God Bless you for dressing big and small! 

15 minutes of fame? Hells Bells, I had 8 nanoseconds yesterday. 

Check me out at http://tinyurl.com/mwhpfyg

Deluge in NYC. Room service tonight.

I don't want to ruin my blowout.

New York Museum Day

Wait one hot minute! My wet vac could be art?

I'm pretty sure I need one of these

Where's the W? 

Talk about a room with a view.....

Watch out NYC here comes Dee Dee

(Trying not to think of being on 40th floor. Earthquake phobia, you know)

Traveling comes so easily to me…aka I’m a liar.

Traveling.  That’s like driving to LA from Palm Springs right?

Top the gas tank, charge the devices, and put some extra ativan in the purse.

We have these friends.  I won’t name them. (Bitter-Warning inserted here.)

But they know who they are, they and their two kids.

They are world-wide travelers. (Eye-roll inserted here.)

·         Europe! Almost every year!

·         Paris,Tuscany

·         Manhattan, Washington DC.

·         The Grand Canyon

You get the picture.

And then there’s us.

Here’s our travel itinerary for the past 8 years:

·         The local mountains.

We stay in a trailer.  There is no Chanel atelier.  We BBQ.

There is beer.

And floatie rafts on the lake.  With a special hole in them to carefully place said beer.

And when we are feeling fancy?

There’s wine.  With a screw top.

So let’s discuss packing now that we are on route for our big New York trip!!! 

Packing. It is hard for me to type that word and not have a little bit of pee leak out.

So my plan?

I order a rolling, sturdy, stainless steel clothing rack from Amazon.  And yes, I pay the $15 upgrade for next day shipping.

And then I put everything in my closet on the rack.  To pack.  You know?

I mean there was editing.  I left off the flapper dress and disco queen dress (yes, in Queen size) and a fuchsia boa from Halloweens past.

I mean, I’m a classy person and I’m going to Manhattan for Christ’s Sake.

So I’m pretty sure my entire wardrobe of Resort Bold Floral Print Casual will totally fit in Midtown, right?

And? Cuz I’m so organized? I roll that puppy from room to room collecting everything from my daughters’ closets.

Oddly enough, the children are cowering in the corner of the living room, because the frightening vibration of the overloaded clothing rack has made them think we are sustaining a 6.1 earthquake. 

“Kids”, I say in a high pitched tone, “everything is fine.  FINE!!!  Mommy is just having a hot flash!”

And a flipping panic attack.

“Mommy is PACKING!!!”

Oh wait, maybe I could roll this right onto the plane. 

“I’ll be passing on check-in luggage today, thank you so kindly.”

Cuz really…don’t you know who I am? (Swinging boa around neck haughtily.  Ok, I lied.  I did bring it.)

I’m The Dee View, from Palm Springs – the queen of all things Plus-Size fashion.  (Bigger clothes…bigger suitcases Baby!)

You know…me and Michael Kors. (Another Queen of Plus-Size fashion.)

And the real question is…how will I pack my floatie thing…and my six-pack of beer?

Cuz I may need them in Manhattan.  Right?

Holly Shit Batman - We're going to NYC!!!!!

A little something to take the edge off.....

Uh...my family is going to New York. Next weekend.

I don't do anything at the last minute.  Nothing. Ever.

I’m supposed to be on the Today Show. It’s the “supposed to” that is killing me. 

That whole TV Morning News Shows production thing is all about “flexibility”. And it turns out? They don’t care about my “rigidity issues”.

I like to think I'm structured and yes, the word "controlling" has been used in reference to me.

Something about the way I have white boards and flip charts mapping out our families daily, weekly and monthly schedule.

Hey, I’ve even been known to chisel things in stone. Then I like to carry the big stone tablets around with me. (Moses-complex anyone?)

But I’m not all THAT rigid.  I do use a variety of colored markers…flexible, right?

OK, so by now you may have figured out that “maybe” doesn’t really fit with my world view!

So this trip is completely out of my comfort zone.  But OMG – I may get a chance to be on national TV. For 8 nanoseconds.

Those 8 nanoseconds?

I am nothing if not a person who makes a Big Flipping Production (known as BFP syndrome) out of everything!

So we are turning this into an Epic Adventure, BFP Style.

My daily life idea of adventure is … dining in Rancho Mirage, 20 minutes from downtown Palm Springs. 

Here’s my Rancho Mirage travel check list:

·         I pack trail mix and an extra bottle of water to get there.

·         And I charge all my devices to 100%.

·         And I check the emergency supplies in the back of the Van.

But enough about Rancho Mirage.  Back to NYC!

We decide to take the kids out of school for three days.  (Hey, I figure three days right before school lets out? They'll live.)

We cash out every mile we have ever earned on a credit card we’ve had for 15 years.   That was a lot of house payments, dog food and botox Baby! 

We book a hotel room.  (Jesus - that's a ton of dough for a tiny, little space. I’d prefer a suite with two bathrooms, but then I’d have to sell my house.  Then where would I live when the four nights in NYC were over?)

And we leveraged the girls’ college funds to get four tickets to a Broadway matinee.  (Sorry Girls.  Let’s talk about honing your bartending skills. I’m all about raising independent self-reliant young women. Now seems as a good a time as any to begin.)

Now this seems like a lot of work for a few days.

But you know what?  That’s what we do in our Big Flipping Production family.

And besides? Manhattan and Broadway and the Statue of Liberty (I do love a plus-size statue!)? – all on our family bucket list. 

So bring it on.

We'll see a show.  Dine somewhere. See a sight.

Fight over the bathroom.

We’ll watch the Today show IN PERSON. Maybe I’ll even get in FRONT of the damned camera. (Not the iPhone camera. That’s a given. The big one with the red light.) 

Maybe there's a museum in there. And clearly, some orthopedic shoes will be necessitated.

But we are having an adventure.

For now? I'm making a check list. 

On a flip chart.

And sniffing the markers to get me through.

Ahhhhh.

PS:  Just got the call! Tuesday morning on the TODAY show!!! Trying to book a quick face-lift for this Friday…

I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up. No. Really.

It’s crush time in our family. Recitals, concerts, ballet performances and award ceremonies.

And I still need to fit in “martini” time.

So off we go on Sunday to the Piano Recital.

You know Sunday. THE DAY OF REST FOR EVERYONE WHO DOESN’T HAVE CHILDREN!

My daughters are amazing. But our video camera didn’t work. So I made my husband tape them with the iPad. Cuz that was far too humiliating for me. (It’s all nifty and sleek. But not when you are using it in front of 100 people at a piano recital.)

Clap, clap, clap. Yes, everyone was fabulous. Yes, you can have one cookie. ONE COOKIE.

Why?

Clenched teeth response: Because Mommy wants to GET HOME and put my feet up and watch TV! So how about no cookies? Cuz that’s an option also if you want to argue with me in public.

As we are walking out the driveway of the Rancho Mirage Country Club, I’m singing my daughter’s song and doing a little dance when POW!

I fall off my platform shoe.

The pain shoots up my leg like a gun shot. (No, I don’t know what an actual gun shot feels like, but I do watch a lot of crime dramas on TV.)

My first thought is: Oh fuck. I’ve broken my stupid foot again.

My second thought is: Oh fuck. I have to lie down immediately.

My third thought is: Hmmm, these rocks pressed into my cheek feel nice and warm. Uh, really warm actually. (It is Palm Springs after all.)

My fourth thought is: I feel my ass out on the street and my skirt is hiked up.

Fifth thought? Don’t really care about my exposed ass. Cuz I am never lifting my face off these rocks ever again.

And I can hear voices going in and out. “Ambulance,” “clammy,” "not conscious." (Hello. I’m conscious. I just can’t move or speak. Cuz maybe I’m being raptured a little bit after the others.)

Someone comments about how the pavement is melting under their shoes.

Me? The rocks are starting to feel really hot.
My husband? My hero? My knight on a white horse?

He just wants to load me in the car before we have to deal with the hassle of an ambulance.

Sweetly, “Come on Honey.” Clenched teeth, “Get in the car!"

I do notice from my special vista point down on the ground, that there is a small crowd gathering. And not everyone had a fresh pedicure. Just sayin’.

Wet compresses are brought. Fanning commences.

And there is a lot of talking about me in the third person. Like I can’t hear them with my face planted in the rocks. Did I mention the rocks are getting really warm by now?

So it turns out I could get up. Eventually.

Turns out it wasn’t broken.

However, emblazed in the memory of 45 piano moms is the indelible picture of my yummy ass. And by “yummy," I mean big, white, flat.

And you know what they were all thinking? Geez, it’s a good thing that lady down on the ground over there is not wearing a g-string.

And great. Another piece of the Mommy Mosaic.

Shit.