Some of you might enjoy the Superbowl. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the company, food, commercials, and maybe I do get into the game a little bit, but this year was different. This year no wives were invited. No wives other than me, that is.
As a Long Beach tradition started several years ago, hundreds, and what has now become over eight thousand (we even made the Guinness Book of World Records last year), people tromp down to the ocean, strip down to their bathing suits, and run straight into the ocean. The purpose of the Long Beach Polar Bears is to raise money for the Make A Wish foundation, through sign ups and t-shirt/sweatshirt sales, yet more people show up not knowing what the plunge actually means and do it for guts, glamour and glory. And for all, I'm there, standing in the sand, my two children on each hip, cheering them on, wearing gloves, a hat, a scarf and my boots. I might be nuts enough to push a triple stroller to the library and back, but I have enough mental stability to know how bad that cold air will whip against my body the second I emerge out of the ocean..no thank you. But congratulations to those who did.
Regardless of my opinions of jumping in the ocean, I still love the scene and look forward to walking down with the chanting crowd and watching everyone else take the plunge. And being a Long Beach resident means one thing, we're the host of the Polar Bear/Superbowl party. Though this year there were no women. I was 'cool' enough to be allowed to stay, aka I cooked, cleaned and carried towels down to the beach for everyone. So by 7 o'clock, when the kids were finally tucked in bed, I grabbed my keys and coat and ran out the front door, thrilled that my girl party was there to save me from this house of men, who were now outside grilling in the freezing cold.
Feeling privileged as I drove down west and stopped traffic as my friend pulled her car up for that special spot she saved me, the guy behind us swore and sped his tires as he spent another hour or so still searching the area for his spot, I walked into girl wonder. Girl wonder is something that I like to refer to when a girl has a pretty house, no children's toys or crushed raisins embedded in the carpet, no one screaming and the ultimate freedom to decorate or dress like you would if someone was going to climb all over and destroy it.
Choosing a cozy chair and a fuzzy blanket, I curled up with a glass of milk and two homemade Tate's cookies, thanks to my ever loving Girl Wonder, and watched Julie & Julia, a movie that's been on my list since everyone and their mother told me I HAD to see it (aka if a movie has to do with writing or a struggling writer I'm associated in their mind and I HAVE to see it).
Long story short, I liked it. I thought the premise was cute. I loved Meryl Strep as Julia Child. And most important, Girl Wonder and I loved Julia Child's attitude.
"I should start being like Julia," Girl Wonder said through her cocooned blanket wrap.
It was funny. I was thinking the exact same thing. To be that care free, loving, and unaware or uncaring of what people think....how great that must be!
As for Julie, I liked her story. I can say I did relate to one point, I've never finished anything I've started either. And that got me thinking. If writing during the kids nap time never happens because I'm so tired, get engrossed in adult tv, and end up answering everyones phone calls (they know it's the only time they can get me without three screaming children in the back) and writing when the kids go to bed doesn't happen because I'm so tired, I get engrossed in adult tv and my reading, and my husband wants to talk to me without three screaming children in the background, maybe I need to find something else..like writing at 6:30.
Sounds crazy, but if you really want something, and you know you can do it, why not make accommodations and do it? Right?
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