A Mother's Wish for Her Daughter (by T.Fey)

May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half, and stick with beer.
May she play the drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need not lie with drummers.
May she draw horses and be interested in dolls for much too long.
Give her a rough patch to build character between twelve and seventeen, while I am still there to help her through it.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, give me the strength to yank her directly into the car in front of her friends, for I will not have that!

California Dreamin'

I recently traveled back to California to visit family. I was shocked at how much of an outsider I have become. Everyone was driving too fast and I could not get over how much garbage was strewn all over the roads. Also, the incessant honking. So rude!
My husband and I started complaining about it until we realized we sounded like our annoying Idaho relatives that would visit us when we lived in California. Well, actually, now we ARE the annoying Idaho relatives going on and on about smog and traffic. We have become obnoxious.
Seriously, though, would it kill someone to pull a few weeds on the freeways down there?
That made me think about my place, my home base. If I feel like a visitor in California, do I feel at home in Boise?
Sometimes.
Growing up in California, I became adept at spotting outsiders. I remember as a kid, my uncle taught us a game called “spot the tourist”. We would stand in front of his house in San Francisco and wave to the trolley cars. “Watch”, he would tell us, “whoever waves back is a tourist.”
Ah, good times.
There is a trolley car that gives tours of historic Boise and it goes passed my house twice a week. If I am on the porch, I wave for old times’ sake. Of course, this is Boise so everyone waves back.
It’s not really the same.
Like California, Boise does have a “look”. Everyone dresses very TheNorthFace/Patagonia and looks like they are just about to climb a mountain or jump into a kayak. Probably because they are. People are seriously outdoorsy here and everyone either just came from or is about to work out.  I think I am the only mom at my son's school who drives her kid.  Everyone else shows up with bike trailers and jogging strollers, even in the dead of freakin' winter!
The other night I was walking in Hyde Park near my house and a lady walked towards me with her two kids. She had sparkly flip flops, a pink purse, streaked hair, a fake tan, and one of those bump-it hairdos. Oh my, I thought, someone is visiting from Meridian (Meridian is a suburb of Boise and every woman there looks like she is auditioning for The Real Housewives Of Meridian. Except, they wouldn’t do a Real Housewives of Meridian because Meridian is in Idaho and so fucking boring, no one would watch). The look is akin to that phony Southern California look except cheaper.  It's very "Orange County goes to the trailer park".
The fact that I even noticed she wasn’t from my neighborhood surprised me. Maybe I am starting to feel at home here.
Kind of.
I think of Boise as my home until I am reminded of the cool, breezy allure of California. My sister emailed me the video for Train’s “Save Me, San Francisco”. It made me sad.
It made me long for the beach and the ocean breeze over the Golden Gate, even though I know that image is scrubbed clean and not real. In reality, the beach has filthy seagulls and sometimes smells like a sewer.
I can’t help it, I still miss it and it's still home.