On March 23, 2013, Jack graduated from UCSD with a masters degree in theater arts...sound familiar?

Well, if you read act one, it should - I lead in with the same damn sentence! And that's probably all that will be similar about act two because I don't have a witty (yes, I'm always witty) story to tell about the actual graduation ceremony.

I will reiterate that it wasn't the expected pomp and circumstance of your typical graduation ceremony. Nope, it wasn't. I don't have any photos but before the handing out of diplomas, we were all encouraged to mill around the auditorium and admire the portfolios from graduates in costume design, direction, sound, and choreography. It was all very inspiring and creative and fascinating. Who knew that you could get an advanced degree in creating believable wind noises? Seriously, I feel cheated. I can blow across the top of an empty beer bottle like nobody's business!

Anyway, let me set the scene:

A handsome young man with a strong, chiseled jaw and a contagious smile paces through the university auditorium in a sleek suit finished with a skinny tie. His family - grandparents, parents, sister and her (amazingly awesome) family chat amongst themselves and with the families of other prospective graduates. Everyone waits for the ceremony to commence. The thick auditorium air pluses with excitement. The handsome young man has waited three years for this moment. Plus, the pressure is on - each graduate is given the opportunity to express their gratitude for not only for their learning experience but also for the people who supported them along their journey.

That's right Jack, we've been cooking you dinners for years, buying all the booze, and we drove 15 hours to get here so you'd better have something nice to say about us!

And he did! Jack had lovely things to say about all of us - grandparents, parents, sister, brother-in-law, and of course, the brother who couldn't be there - we all got a shout out. Apparently Jack loves us and has nice things to say about us - at least when it's expected and other people are listening.

Anyway, here are a lot of pictures of handsome Jack and a few of the rest of us.



This is probably an overshare, but here's what I like best about my littlest brother:

Whenever I let myself wallow in the fact that I grew up to be a state employee rather than an artist, I turn to Jack. And instead of telling me to pull myself together, he reminds me that deep down he can see the free spirit I long to be. That I write and photograph in a way that is unique to me and entertaining to other people. That we (the collective we) create in many ways that should not be defined. And then I feel better. And then I go to work and make Idaho a better place to be, 'cause that's important too. And then I come home and take pictures of my babies - equally as important, especially to me.

Also, the second thing I like best about Jack is that he played dress up well into his tweens whereas Dylan pretty much shut me down when he reached 3rd grade.

Jack.

On March 23, 2013, Jack graduated from UCSD with a masters degree in theater arts. I think. If that's not his exact title, it's something very close to that. His graduation just happened to coincide with spring break - kinda. In order to actually get there for the ceremony, we had to leave two whole days before spring break actually started because let me tell you, driving from Boise to San Diego is no quick trip!

Nope, it's a real long trip. Real long. Let me set the scene for you:

An attractive and moderately well-groomed family of four is traveling across the Nevada dessert in a 2010 Subaru Forester. It's late afternoon. The parents have minimal snacks for the children, no plan for dinner, and no hotel reservation, although at some point they will have to stop for the evening. They eat a shitty dinner from subway while driving into the setting sun. The father continues to ask the mother to drive but she pretends to have temporarily lost her hearing. They eventually agree to spend the night in Las Vegas thinking they will be able to find a room at the Flamingo for about $75 using the same Players Card that allowed them to stay at Harrah's in Reno for just $30. They were wrong.

Cue the first of many fights between the parents for the next 16 hours.

The mother calls the Flamingo only to be told that the cheapest room available is $275. The parents then remember that they are not the only people traveling during spring break. After a few phone calls to low budget and completely booked hotels, a bit of driving aimlessly away from The Strip, and a bit of shouting followed by the silent treatment from both parents, the attractive and now irritable family of four find themselves at the Gold Strike Hotel in Jean, Nevada where the rooms are just $40 a night and the hot tub is open until 11 pm giving them one hour to soak away their sorrows.



And that's how we started our spring break trip two days early. The next day I drove from Jean to San Diego and I was not very happy about it. I don't care for driving and I especially don't care for driving in California where everyone with a car is an asshole with a capital A! I stopped talking to Stephen somewhere near Barstow and Henry and Wyatt were not allowed to speak louder than a whisper for an entire five hours lest my concentration be disrupted. By the time we made it to the rental house my clothes were drenched in sweat and my shoulders were knotted beyond repair. And Stephen - the man who should have been driving because that's what men do - was not my favorite person until I'd had dinner and wine much later in day.

But really, the whole point of this story is to tell you about Jack's graduation, which was not your typical cap and gown BS. Quite the contrary. The weekend started with a dance performance followed by a dry run of something called The Showcase. So around 4 or 5 pm on Friday afternoon we headed over to the theater department (or some artsy building on campus) and watched Jack dance with his seven fellow graduates.



He's pretty good. I got a little teary eyed watching him because A number 1) I was just so proud of him and B number 2) I totally regret giving up dancing and it makes me a little sad to think about that ridiculous decision.

Anyway, after the performance, family members were invited to join the dancing.  Jack danced with my mom and grandmother. I danced with Henry but he wasn't what I would call a willing participant.



There was about an hour break between the dance performance and The Showcase so we all bumbled around the campus waiting for the second part of the evening to begin. There wasn't much to do but sit in this extra large and extra red but very artistic chair. And make sour faces at everyone, including the camera.



Finally it was time for The Showcase! Jack had warned me beforehand that almost all 14 performances offered a healthy dose profanity, vulgarity, or sexuality in some way. He, in particular, was in one of the most provocative pieces and would be demonstrating his range of profanity, vulgarity, and sexuality for the audience. There was definitely going to be some adult material. I told him that it was cool and plopped my two seven-year old children in the front row between myself and Dana.

And it was cool. But afterward I still felt compelled to explain my belief that it is necessary for me to expose my children to the arts in all forms. My mom told me she completely agreed and indicated (in a nonverbal way) that I didn't need to worry about what other people thought about my parenting decisions. Or maybe she just wanted me to stop talking. Either way, Jack gave two very moving performances and am I glad we were able to participate in the Friday evening activities.



Presumably there are two more acts just waiting the wings...but you all see how frequently I post these days. Plus, Jack graduated in March, I started writing this post in June, and it's now mid-August. Add up all those factors and it may be another six months before I post Act Two. Point being, that as much as I look forward to sharing these stories, I just want to make sure that your expectations are appropriately low!

Over the Christmas break Henry and Wyatt attended theater camp for a second time - thanks Grandpa and Grandma! Theater camp is in Ketchum and starts the day after Christmas. So as I mentioned at my Christmas recap post, we took off for Ketchum on the 25th.

Last year Stephen and I joined the boys in Ketchum just in time for the recital and then we stayed through the new year. But this year, we all went up and spent a relaxing week in the condo. Anyway, back to theater camp!

I don't actually have much to say about theater camp other than I like sending my kids. It's good for them to get up on stage and interact with new kids. In the photos Henry looks less than thrilled to be there but he was sick all week and we still made him go to camp everyday. Of course he looks a little apathetic - we're so cruel.

The other thing I have to say about theater camp is that it brings me to tears. Happy tears, of course. I cried during the entire performance, regardless of whether my own children were on stage. Something about children singing and dancing and enjoying the simplicity of their youth hits me every time I attend any sort of childrens' activity. I'm weird like that.

Stephen is not weird like that but his head is big and mine is not.



Someone needs to teach those boys to dance! As a former dancer I seem to have failed them as a mother. You have to look closely for Wyatt in the first video. For whatever reason he was positioned in the back of the group, next to the Time Machine sign. But you can definitely see him in the second video, and after watching Henry dance in the first video and Wyatt in the second, you might agree with me that an immediate dance lesson intervention is absolutely necessary!



Aren't they just so cute! Wyatt had a speaking part and I just about missed taking a photo of his big debut. He had two lines:

                                 Has anyone seen Miss Franklin? She was just here.
                                 Aretha's on next? What will we do!

Oh! You might benefit from knowing the plot of the production. A bunch of children stop by a weird old professor's home and travel back in time to the 60s where they receive a lesson in music history. Good stuff.



I have one more thing to say about theater camp. It's organized and ran by good people. People we like and trust. People who know our mothers. People who've acted with Jack. I feel good about sending my babies there for the day. I guess I just add that because I like reminding myself of good things and good people. I like goodness. And now I'll stop because I am nearing the overly sentimental and positive outlook crap that drives me crazy in other blogs I sometimes (okay, all the time!) frequent.

And just because I can't help myself, here is one more video of my kids that you probably don't want to bother watching! But if you do, enjoy.

 

I don't know why I feel the need to explain myself - but I do. Although you probably don't care, I am way behind in my storytelling. Which is actually kinda funny because I had decided to stop blogging all together while I was traveling through France and Italy earlier this year. And speaking of the that European vacation, I still have every intention to finish recounting each day of my trip. It's just gonna take a while, especially because other vacations have come and gone since my return and apparently there are some folks who are also waiting for a post or two about our most recent family trip.

So here goes.

In October, over the long Columbus Day weekend, we drove to Fairfield, California to visit Stephen's grandmother. She lives in a posh retirement community for elite military families, although on this trip we learned that the community must accept civilians in order to maintain its non-profit status - but that's neither here nor there.

Boise to Fairfield is a long drive so we left on Thursday evening and stopped over in Reno.



This might sound silly to some of you, but checking into a hotel with my children made me feel like an adult. I could be wrong but I think this was only the sixth time that Henry and Wyatt had stayed in a hotel. And I think they were about 15 months old the last time they experienced the luxury of hotel sleeping.

So it seemed like a big deal to check into a hotel with children old enough to remember the experience and recognize that we were on a family vacation in a different state - which, by the way, was totally confusing to Henry. He kept asking if people in California (he meant Nevada) spoke English because we weren't in the states anymore. At one point, even Wyatt tried to explain that we hadn't left the country.




We rolled into Reno just in time for dinner and the lovely woman at the Harrah's desk gave us two different food coupons: $10 off a $25 breakfast total at some fancy diner and a two for one adult dinner at the buffet. Although I tried to convince Stephen that we needed to eat dinner at the buffet in order to make the most of our money, he is a major snob when it comes to many many things, buffets being one of those things. So per Stephen's stubborn insistence, we ate mediocre burgers in the fancy diner and paid about three times what we would have paid for the buffet.

Not one to let a sleeping dog lie, I again tried to prove my point about the cheaper meal as we walked past the buffet entrance on our way back to the room. Once in the room, Stephen checked the buffet menu assuming it was crappy and he would be able to quite me. Unfortunately for him, the buffet offered fresh rolled sushi, stone oven pizza, and some other tasty item that escapes me. He was instantly regretful and disappointed, which is the point of this silly story. I won. Again.

Since we hadn't made use of the buffet coupon the night before there was no sense in using the breakfast coupon and we ate breakfast at IHOP the next morning. You might be surprised to learn this, but IHOP does not serve quality food. However, they do have four different varieties of sticky syrup to chose from.



After a quick stop at an outlet mall and a quick argument about the worthlessness of outlet malls and shopping in general, we arrived at Grandma Pat's house around 2 in the afternoon. That evening we dined in the upscale community dinning hall. The dinning hall has a strict dress code and Stephen caused a bit of a ruckus when he showed up in jeans. It was cool, though. Grandma Pat pulls some weight and Stephen likes causing a bit of ruckus now and then.



Stephen also lifted some raspberries from the dinning hall. Waste not want not, you know.



We spent the next day in San Francisco with Stephen's good friend Scrappy and his daughter. It was an exciting day with lots of adventures and deserves its own post - sorry to keep you waiting, Scrappy. You'll have to check back in a day or two.

After returning from San Fran, we lounged around the house for a day and relaxed. Stephen prepared a gourmet dinner, even better than the food serve in the upscale dinning hall. The boys eventually went to bed and we talked with Grandma Pat way into the night. She told stories about the late Grandpa Kenny and gifted to us a few prized possessions.



We left early the next day and drove through four states in one day making it back home to Boise in ten hours. It had been close to four years since I had last seen Grandma Pat or made a trip to Fairfield. Hopefully not as much times between our next visit.