A few months ago, we got a new client. Work for them has steadily increased, to the point that I’m working toward having 4 writers do the work. Four! That’s the most I’ve ever had.

And I took a very big step recently. I’ve handed over the complete administration to one of my writers. It’s a huge step in trust, to know that she can handle the client and won’t make my company look bad. It’s a huge step for a control freak to remove myself from the equation completely.

I feel amazing.

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted, and I feel like this is a good step toward more growth. Once I see that I’m not needed in every project we take on, we can do a lot more.

It frees me up to work on the projects I love doing, and it gives my writers more responsibility (and money).

Life is good.

Photo: Flickr user RambergMediaImages. Creative Commons 2.0.

He’s a rule follower. So am I. The few times in my youth that I rebelled (I mean, um, that one time that I got caught, Mom), I was so overwhelmed with guilt. He’s so afraid of doing anything that goes against the norm. Still, I’m pretty liberal these days, so that drives me crazy.

He likes a street fair as much as me. The hub would rather poke his eyes with a branding iron than walk down a street filled with thousands of sweaty people, hucksters selling solar paneling and water purifiers, the waft of waffle cones, street tacos and polish sausage dogs filling the air. We two? We like spinning the wheels and winning prizes. Eating our way down the street. Coming home with bellyaches.

He’s a worrywart like me, and I fear that he picked that up from watching me. He constantly worries that we’ll be late, probably because for years I urged him to move in the morning, or else “we’ll be late!” Now he checks his watch every two minutes. Drives me crazy #2.

We both would rather curl up with a good book or draw than be active. Though he’s great at soccer, and I only more recently discovered my inner athlete.

So when I see something I recognize in myself, I marvel at it. But I also marvel at the ways he’s made these characteristics, for better or worse, his own.

He had a perplexed look, and I assumed I’d hurt his feelings by claiming that his digits were less than perfect.

“They’re obese fingers, Mama.”

That’s my boy.

We rode the train up for fun. Mom hadn’t been on one in years, and trains always make me nostalgic for Europe. The train dropped us off in downtown San Juan Capistrano, a teeny town with a few touristy shops worth a browse. We ate some fantastic Mexican food before heading to the mission.

I took some pretty fantastic photos, if I do say so. The cathedral was half destroyed in an earthquake, but I love the graceful ruins as much as I would the whole thing. I am drawn to churches and love photographing them, though I long ago shed my connection to Catholicism.

In the photos you’ll see a saint showing a little leg (with a wound). I was curious myself. It’s Saint Peregrine, who was something of a hood as a kid. He came around to the church eventually. Then he found out he had cancer of the leg (is that a thing??) and prayed his ass off. The wound healed and he lived happily ever after.

It was a fantastic day. Well worth the next 6 days I spent in bed with an infection. (And don’t worry Jen, I’ll take you too).

I ate a lot of cheese. Because that’s what you do in Wisconsin. Max hates cheese:

Next, on to BlogHer. It’s a great conference, and I love seeing people I connect with online. I think it’ll be my last year, though. As The Hub points out, I identify less as a blogger, simply because I blog professionally through Egg. The conference is heavily centered around mom bloggers, and while, yes, I blog here about being a mom, I don’t identify as a mom blogger. I’m primarily a business blogger, and those were hard to find at the conference.

Still, I scored some serious schwag at the show:

Then Mom came. We had the best time. Went to Temecula wine country. Drank wine. Went to a food tour of Coronado. Drank wine. Ate out. Shopped at my fave middle eastern grocery store. Drank-okay, you get my point.

And The Hub’s business partner/friend came and I made awesome gumbo.

Then Max had his party. We had it in our cul-de-sac so that lots of people could come and grownups could enjoy-you guessed it-wine. Yea. The camera battery died and we have virtually no photos of our own kid. My fault. Blame the wine.

Then I got sick. Yaaay. A cold turned into a weeklong sinus infection that I’m cautiously saying I think I’m getting over. It’s been a hell of a way to end such an awesome summer.

Feels like the summer has gone by too quickly.

So far we’ve just focused on driving. I find it so satisfying to hit the ball far. It’s the same feeling I get when I kick the karate bag hard. (Oh, we got our yellow belts, by the way)

The instructor says I’m strong with my swing. That makes me happy! I told The Hub I realize: I’m good at sports!  I know, I know. I shouldn’t be surprised. But I am. It makes it easier to stay fit when I pick things like golf and karate up easily.

Plus, who can hate a sport that you drive a golf cart around in and drink alcohol??

This year was different.

He’s been practicing every day, and I can see the enthusiasm in his movements. The dance is more complicated. He’s been excited.

Then the day came, and my little boy brought me to tears, once again.

And one major landmark was that this kid, who has been averse to face painting his whole life allowed the sweet teacher who trained them on the dance to paint African designs on his arms. He didn’t want to take the paint off that night.

I’m so proud of him, and watching him grow up is a joy.

When I visit my regular masseuse, we hug and chat about kids. I can’t help it; I’m a talker. She explains what’s going on with my body and asks if anything is bothering me. She’s firm but not rough. I come out feeling relaxed and at peace.

I thought it was a stereotype, but Chinese massage is quite different. First of all, due to the language barrier, there’s not much talking. More hand motions and saying words slowly. That’s fine. I need to shut up anyway.

And it hurts so good! Rather than firmly working out kinks, my massage masochist beats them out. She elbows my butt (ohhhh yeaaaa!) and then climbs on the table and kneads my buttocks like bread dough. And I like it.

I might as well not wear underwear, because she pulls them down to get at the meat. There is pulling of limbs, poking of ears, and scratching of scalps. I come out like a wet, limp noodle, unsure of where I left my car keys or even which car is mine.

If you plan to visit a Chinese massage studio, be forewarned. You may be surprised at the violence that ensues. But you’ll feel like a million bucks the next day.

Photo by USACE Europe District. Creative Commons 2.0.

I liked the idea of finding a woman entrepreneur in a poor country and helping her create something that could sustain her and her family. This is the woman I helped.

Her name is Celsa Gregoria Quiñonez Cuero, and she runs a food stand in Ecuador. She needed money to buy more supplies to sell. I donated $50 (and was one of several people helping her reach her goal of $1,000). She’ll repay me and the other lenders over a year.

I love that I can see her photo and hear her story. It feels really good. So go join Kiva and loan someone money to realize their dreams! You can loan as little as $25, and you’ll get it back.

Then one day, I found a part of an egg shell on the ground. I looked up, but didn’t see a nest anywhere. As I was watering the plants, a very surprised Mama Dove sputtered out of her nest built in one of our higher planters. I was as surprised as she was.

After a few days, I realized I hadn’t seen the Daddy in a while. I wondered if a coyote had gotten him. I wondered if she’d be sad. I felt like she would.

So I looked up doves online. They mate for life, which I love. They also take turns sitting on the nest, about half a day each. Again, awesome. They lay 2 eggs, so I think she may be down to one, judging on the evidence on the cracked egg and no baby peeps.

Still, I wondered where Mr. Dove was.

Then today, I found him:

What could be cuter? They’re being all lovey-dovey (so THAT’S where that expression comes from!) together in their nest.

Can’t wait to see the babies!