Watching the Grass Grow

Sometimes It's Just a Week

2012-01-29T21:18:00.000-05:00

This has been a week of serious ups and downs. The weather is weird, we've had no snow, and the work weeks just keep coming with no end in sight. No snow days, warm weather, and looking at the calendar and seeing that it's just January is sort of discouraging. I don't know whether to hope for a blizzard that snows school out for a week, or for it to just get warm and stay that way in the hopes that the Powers That Be will give us back our unused built in days once the danger has passed. So, some doldrums have hit, and while they're not big ones, they are the kind that just linger around and pester.

The week started off with a Sunday night bedtime viewing of Steel Magnolias, one of my all-time favorites. Shelby's wedding and veil reminded me of my own big, poufy veil, and a conversation with a family friend inspired me to dig out the wedding album. I don't keep these out in plain sight normally. I, of course, laughed at this, then went to bed bawling my eyes out, because no matter how many times Shelby dies and Jack Jr. smacks Weezer, it gets me every single damn time. Julia Roberts, eat your heart out.

Family stuff is kind of weird, too. I think my dad is seeing someone, but he's being very ~~shady~~ secretive about it. The last experiment in dating (see this post) was so awful, he swore we'd never know about it when he decided to see someone else, and I think that's what he's done. I think I'm okay with it, though...as long as we aren't exposed to her, it doesn't really matter who she is, right? As long as it's not this.

My sister and I, who are normally best friends, aren't getting along very well either. She's getting married this summer, and we're miscommunicating quite a bit over details like dress shopping and bachelorette parties. I'm sure she thinks I'm a huge hosebag and just being difficult for the hell of it, but that's really not it. She gets her feelings hurt and just shuts down, and I'm caught dealing with her well-meaning friends who are trying to intervene and solve the problem. But that's a post for another day. I watched Bridesmaids today, and while it took me a long time to actually decide to keep watching it, my issues are very much at the center of that movie's conflicts...right down to the overblown out-of-town bachelorette party that I can't afford. But oh well.

There's been some cool stuff along the way, though, too. I was honored with the "Brilliant Bulldog" award at school on Friday, and while the prize was just a scratch-off lottery ticket worth nothing, it was nice to be recognized and appreciated. The kids' cheering that was heard all over the school was enough to make me smile for a while. I wore a sequined sweater to work and actually avoided looking like a dork or a hooker. (I think.) And we had another very successful Drama Club meeting before auditions for our production kick off in a couple of weeks.

Andrew earned his 2nd degree yellow belt in his karate class on Wednesday, which was very exciting. I'm really proud that he's stuck with it and wants to continue to progress. We were strongly encouraged to take "The Killer" (his instructor's nickname for him) to the state tournament in March, and while I have visions of Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita, I think we're going to go.

JMU basketball season is in full swing...actually, starting into the end of the season. That's full of ups and downs too, as our team continues to struggle with injuries and a depleted bench. It's heartbreaking to see those kids out there playing their hearts out (sometimes not very well, but that's a different story) and running into brick walls almost consistently. But we still go, and I celebrate the victories and the effort. Plans are in the works to attend the CAA conference again, which coincidentally lines up with the location and weekend of the karate tournament. Sometimes stuff DOES work out.

Sometimes our view isn't very good. :-)

We're into board games as part of our family time lately...well, the boys like to play card games, but I'll stick with the old-fashioned board games that I spent a million hours playing as a kid. My favorite, and recently purchased Sorry! was a hit on Friday night after homemade pizza. While I got my ass kicked for a while...

I finally made it out onto the board. Mr. Crankypants Six Year-Old, though, took his first trip back to his home base kind of rough.

(He's under the table.)

But he finally got over himself, and he proceeded to kick my butt for 2nd place.

We finished up the week with a trip to Charlottesville for a family gathering...Charlottesville being the center point for people traveling from all over the state. It was chaotic, and short, but it was nice to see everyone. We don't see that side of the family enough. You gotta love the Wood Grill Buffet, though, because where else can you create a dessert like this?

No, that's not my concoction. My niece, however, greatly enjoyed it, and when it melted to a thick pile of chocolate goo, she discovered the best way to get the last bits.

Tonight's accomplishments? Saving the badge of Sheriff Woody, sewing patches on the Karate Kid's gi, and creating a yummy, easy dinner that had Andrew almost licking his plate...okay, licking his fingers that he rubbed across the plate, but same thing.Woody's badge, with its one-sided "buttonholes." Impossible to sew back on, because there's no way to get a needle through! Whose bright idea was this?

Not quite good-as-new, but the best I can manage.

Dinner...leftover pizza-dough-turned ham and cheese stromboli, and apple slices with my new favorite thing...peanut butter dip! Like peanut butter pie, only healthier and guilt-free. Well, until I eat a whole container of it, that is.

And now it's Sunday night once again, my least favorite night of the week. Grocery lists, laundry, bathtime, harried blog posts while the kid is in the bathtub, and my overwhelming habit of staying up too late watching bad television and starting the week off exhausted. Oh, and this week? The added attraction of a Monday-afternoon doctor's appointment. Whoopee!

Sunday Night Six-Pack

2012-01-08T21:00:00.001-05:00

Okay, Sunday nights aren't normally for Six-Packs, but after this week in particular, and the fact that I'm woefully out of bloggy routine, what the hell. There's a full moon, too, so why not?

1. I really, really miss blogging on a regular basis. So many of my vents and rants take place here, that when I don't get them off my chest, it comes to meltdown status. Not weepy, sobby meltdowns, but gripey, bitchy radioactive snarkiness that could bubble over at any point. Right now that's directed at family members. We have always been somewhat squabbly and quirky, I'll give you that, but since Edna's death, we put the FUN in dysfunction. Actually, I continually have to remind myself that things aren't worse since her death--the things that are screwed up were that way long before she was even sick...but it's her absence that makes it seem worse. I won't go into details, but there are members of my immediate family that need a swift ~~kick in the ass~~ reminder that family isn't just about traditions and holidays, but also about the nitty gritty and about being there for the not-so-pleasant stuff. And yes, sometimes it involves inconvenience and changing one's plans, but SO WHAT? It's coming from both sides right now, too, which doesn't help.

2. I'm in love with several household appliances...my Scentsy warmer and the Nook. Well, let me clarify...I'm in love with one Scentsy warmer and one Better Homes warmer (read that, cheap Walmart knockoff). My house smells like oatmeal cookies and gingerbread, and it's certainly not because I'm baking. And it smells like that DAILY, not just when company's coming over and I light the candles. It's no small feat in a house like this, either...when you combine 200 year-old house smells with a crotchety old cat who can no longer consistently aim into the litterbox and the fact that I'm a laissez-faire housekeeper, it's a small miracle.

3. The Nook Tablet we got for Christmas is my new favorite thing, but like all things--when I do something, I sort of do it obsessively. So, I've downloaded about 76 books since Christmas Day, and I take personal pride in the fact that I've only paid about ten dollars total for books. I'm on a quest for every free Nook book there is...so I not only check out Cheap e-Reads, NookJr, and NookTeen on Facebook for the new finds, but I personally search daily for the freebies. I already have more books than I can possibly read (and even some that I know I'll never read, but I grabbed them "just in case.") It's a family Nook, but we might have to add a little brother or sister to the family just so we can read the books we have and also play Angry Birds and update Twitter. I'm really just waiting for the implants into our brains/eyes so that we can be connected 24/7. Kidding, I think.

4. College basketball season is in full swing...but unfortunately, our team is not. I need a win soon, because even though I'll keep watching and cheering, my optimism is waning. In the past, I could go to games just to go, and have fun, and be pleasantly surprised when we won...but I got used to winning MOST of the time, and that's not happening now. My Dukes are struggling, and although I'm not calling for the coach's head on a plate like some other "loyal" fans, I really, really want something to turn around. I'm too emotional about it to be a good fan, though, because I worry too much about players' feelings being hurt, or whether they're discouraged by the losses. Okay, maybe I'm too much of a GIRL about it. :-P

5. I have had bronchitis/laryngitis/sinusitis for what seems like forever. It actually dates back to before Thanksgiving when I had strep throat and tonsillitis. I'm sick of being hoarse and coughing, and I should probably go back to the doctor, but there just isn't time. Between basketball games, Andrew's karate classes, afterschool homework club, faculty meetings, sick and post-surgical parents, a house that's too flipping big and doesn't clean itself, and...oh yeah, and SLEEP...I just can't make the time appear. So I suffer, and sound terrible, and uggggh.

6. Andrew spontaneously requested going to his grammy's for a sleepover next weekend, so we're planning a (gasp) night out. We'll start, of course, by watching our team ~~get pummeled~~ win at home, then hopefully we'll head out on the town, if we can manage to stay awake past 10 p.m. It's really sad, and probably a sign of old age, when it sounds like too much effort to go out and I'd just rather come home, snuggle up with the Nook and a snack, and get a solid ~~twelve hours of~~ night's sleep.

'Tis the Season...

2011-11-29T16:10:00.000-05:00

...for me to be bahumbuggy and overly sentimental. 'Tis the season for my seasonal affective disorder to kick in and send me on a quest for sunlight and warm weather. 'Tis the season for me to get over one
illness and start right in on another. 'Tis the SEASON for me to start wondering where Santa Claus is going to find the time and the money to make Christmas happen.. And 'tis the season for the public to start acting in a very un-Christmasy manner. Case in point, the lady who pepper-sprayed her fellow shoppers on Black Friday, the crowds that stampeded for $50 Blu-Ray players, and the shoplifting grandpa who cried foul when he was taken down by police. Add to that list the family of ne'er-do-wells that ruined my annual Christmas parade experience. A family that makes the Herdmans in The Best Christmas Pageant Ever look like angels.

I'm trying, trying, trying to take the high road on this one. It was obvious that the family came from limited means, both financially and...intellectually. But it's hard for me to excuse bad behavior that so blatantly infringes on my enjoyment and well-being. And when the "matriarch" of the family insists on blowing smoke around my head while she cusses about the "damn antique cars that don't belong in the damn parade," I sort of lose my tolerance for any shortcomings they might have to start with. Clearly their kids would have been better off being raised by wolves, because at least a mama wolf will grab her cub by the scruff of the neck and jerk his little tail back into line.

The smallest member of the family, a little boy of about four years old, was trying desperately to see the parade. I can sympathize with that. But, people, we were here two hours ahead of time to set up chairs on the curb so that MY son could have a good view as well. There were plenty of other spots to stand with your brood, and that doesn't include allowing the little guy to squeeze between the armrests of of our bag chairs, when they were overlapping each other. And it doesn't mean your little hooligan can punch the bottom of our coffee cup out of the drinkholder, spilling lukewarm coffee all over the hubby's pants leg.

It also doesn't mean that you allow your ragamuffins to scramble over my head for candy canes and other little goodies being handed out by those in the parade. You would have thought a small bag of local potato chips were made of gold, the way this lady shrieked at her kids to "Put your hand out, grab some!" into my ear.

It certainly doesn't mean that I put my chair there for you to LEAN on during the entire parade. Again, we were there early to avoid that very thing. Plan ahead, come earlier, and get out of MY SPACE!

It definitely doesn't meant that you irritate me to the point where I'm ready to say STRONG words to you, but don't because of worrying about making a scene with the Hoos from Whitetrashville. And "lady," it CERTAINLY doesn't mean that you can push me to the brink of a brawl and make me leave before Santa Claus comes at the end of the parade!

Yes, we took the high road and packed up our chairs, and they had the NERVE to glare at us for getting in their way as we vacated the curb. I might have stood my ground a little bit longer, but it was raining pretty steadily at that point, and it just wasn't worth it to be miserable and risk losing my cool and making the front page of the paper.

So, we might try again Friday night when our "other" local city has their parade, complete with the Marching Royal Dukes of JMU. It can only get better, or so I would hope. And if I make the paper this time, at least I'll be able to say, "I tried."

Goodbye, Summer

2011-10-04T22:18:00.002-04:00

Random snapshots from summer...

Backyard fun with cousin Lilly

Lawn party to benefit the local fire department

True love in line for the ride

Andrew's trying to push me into the river.

A rain shower--lovin' it.

Hydrangeas from the yard

In love with my new dashboard.

A Poem for a Sunday Night

2011-10-02T21:03:00.000-04:00

If you're reading this, you know who you are...for everyone else, I'm just venting. As usual.

I hate your voice, your bleached blonde hair,
your pink sweat pants, the fuzzy slippers you wear.
I hate your laugh, your thoughts, your nose;
you look like a hooker--I hate your clothes!

Your nose is huge, I think you're a man,
with your shaved haircut and obviously fake tan.
Get a real job, quit milking the system,
and get away fast, 'cause it's clear that you use him.

Don't talk to my son, don't come back around,
I'd be perfectly happy if you had to leave town.
You smoke like a chimney, your voice sounds like nails.
My displeasure with anything else now pales.

I really don't care if your feelings are hurt,
I'm not usually mean, but sometimes it's deserved.
I'll ignore you, I'll "dis" you, I'll treat you with dread.
What does he see in you? He's not right in his head.

You con him, you shmooze him, you fake your affection,
when all I can wonder about it is, what's the connection?
Go clean houses and cash your mooched government check,
In your "toilets so clean, you can eat off them,"--not a speck!

I hate you, I loathe you, I'll never get past it.
I'm not even nice enough to try and mask it.
So do me a favor, and do it today.
Do it quickly, with haste--just go away!

Just When You Thought You Were Rid of Me

2011-08-28T20:23:00.000-04:00

What a summer. A summer of smart phones and sunshine, stress and sleepiness, stories that might not get told, and the speedy passing of time. And it's over. Sigh. Not technically, I know...not for another three weeks or so, but school has started, and Sunday evenings have taken on their evil onus again, and I'm forlorn. I feel as though I've been robbed, because much of my summer was not-so-pleasant, and although I started with grand ideas about projects that would be done and structure that would be kept and clever new places that we would go...we did none of it.

This is actually the first time I've touched our computer since my last post two whole months ago. Blame the smart phone, with which I can maintain constant contact with all of my relatives, closest friends, and complete strangers. I'm a little bit addicted, I have to admit. I don't NEED to be on Facebook or Twitter, but if I'm not doing anything else, why not? Uggh, don't get me started. If I could go back, I would, but I don't think there's any turning back.

So, what DID I do this summer? Well, I rode a roller coaster of emotions with the whole dad's girlfriend thing. (I took a few people along with me on a few of those rides. There's a story there, but too much for this post.) I battled a flea infestation and nearly lost my older cat (another story for another day). I started making my bed every day, and insisting that Andrew make his. (Nothing else is clean, but if the bed is made, it LOOKS like it!) And I spent quite a bit of time at the lake, although not as much as I would have liked, due to the two issues I already mentioned. I nursed the hubby through yet another hernia surgery toward the end of the summer, and I bought a new car (new to ME, that is), which I am still very excited about, in spite of the fact that the reason it was for sale is unpleasant (the sudden dementia of my stepfather's mother).

What DIDN'T I do? Maybe I can list them here and have them not plague me and make me even more bitter than I already am. I didn't lose weight. I didn't get pregnant. I didn't go to the beach. I didn't paint anything or remodel anything. I didn't get to ride my riding mower because it stayed broken all summer. I didn't see a single one of my friends (or hear from them, for that matter...another post entirely) for the entire summer. I didn't make Andrew play outside when we were home. We didn't use the blow-up pool, with the exception of one day. I didn't enjoy much of it. And this ISN'T making me feel better. Sigh.

Alas, though, it's Sunday night. Andrew's in the tub making me bubble "smoothies" that he insists are getting warm while I'm typing this. He also tells me he'll sell me the secret recipe for $69.99. And my arms are rubbery and hurting from pruning bushes away from the sidewalk, and yes, it hurts to type. Whine. So, off I go, to scrub the little guy's head and get him tucked in in time to see True Blood, one of my few guilty pleasures and the one hour of the week that is just MINE.

I'll be back. And I'll be less moany and groany, and maybe even have a few pictures from the Summer of Hell to post. Pictures that make it look like I wasn't completely miserable. And hopefully my arms will hurt less by then.

No Words Necessary

2011-06-27T10:33:00.000-04:00

Vodka = Frenemy

2011-06-20T21:53:00.000-04:00

I met my dad's girlfriend Friday night. Read here, here, and here to understand why this was a big deal. As usual, I'm the only one of my siblings subjected to it, because a) youngest sister is off with her head up her butt and has cut the rest of us out of her life while she pretends to be an artist and might possibly be joining a cult b) other sister is on a cruise to the Bahamas with her boyfriend [hello horse, this is the cart in front of you] and hasn't checked in in a week, and c) brother and father are not speaking due to said brother's having lived with /mooched/regressed to a teenager during the past year when he was living with Dad, causing Dad to throw him out on his ear. There, I said it. They can be pissed if they want, but if you can't handle the consequences, don't...make the choices, or whatever. Uggh, this is off to a bad start.

Anyway, we went to the lake, because Dad's dating a "local" there. And try as I might to convince him that we should go OUT into NEUTRAL territory for this first meeting, he insisted that this lady wanted to fix us dinner, and that we could do it at his place at the lake. So...it was either go to complete stranger's house and feel completely uncomfortable, OR let her fix dinner in a kitchen that still feels like it's Edna's and hang out with her in a place that is still so strongly tied to her, regardless of how well we are all managing and getting on with our lives. So, I was nervous going in. So nervous that I practically attacked the lady handing out wine and cheese (cheese? who needs cheese?) samples at our favorite grocery store. So nervous that I downed an extremely dirty martini in about two minutes. See where this is headed? Some friends of ours came down to hang out with us, and I think at this point I had been so worried about being able to carry on a conversation and not come across as a complete anti-social bitch (I have that reputation when meeting strangers), that I just couldn't stop talking. I don't even really know what I said, or a lot of it. I had two more drinks (and not measured out drinks, but POURED drinks), in what must have been a pretty short amount of time...all before eating a single bite. Thank GOODNESS my very smart phone died at around this point, because it probably kept me from humiliating myself in front of all of cyberspace when I couldn't drunk tweet or update my Facebook status. We did eventually eat, but apparently it wasn't enough, and I should have had bread...lots of bread...but it was a pretty carb-free meal, unfortunately.

We eventually moved up the hill to our place, because I at least had sense enough to know that it was past Andrew's bedtime (James was completely sober, before anyone thinks I'm a bad mom), and probably I had some hope that if I said it was time to move, the evening would end. But it didn't, and Dad and the girlfriend came up the hill with us. I had also had sense enough to take car keys away from all involved (and throw them under our bed, for some reason), so at some point, we had to call the girlfriend's son to come get her. Great way to meet my possibly-future stepbrother, huh? I'm sure I made a great impression. Whoa!

After the girlfriend left, Dad and I got into some deep discussion...and how it started, I have no idea. I guess I'll have to ask Dad at some point exactly what kind of gibberish spewed forth. James was there at the beginning of the talk, but went to bed at some point. I remember the conversation started with how weird it was for me that she was working in Edna's kitchen, and I remember crying at that point, already. But I don't know what the trigger was, other than cheap vodka. Blecch. The conversation ended, though, with a long talk (more like a rant) about Dad's smoking, and I do remember sobbing and yelling at him about not wanting Andrew to lose another grandparent, and how Andrew asks me why he smokes if he knows it's bad for him, and just becoming altogether hysterical. Now, I'm not condoning my behavior, but Dad at least took me seriously and didn't become angry or feel like I was scolding him, which happens when the topic comes up under normal circumstances. And Dad promised he would try to quit...promised to fill Chantix prescriptions, and although he was probably worried that I was slipping off the deep end, he listened.

Needless to say, I felt like complete and utter hell on Saturday. I honestly think I was still kind of drunk that morning. All I wanted to do was stay in bed in the dark and not move. By the afternoon, however, I was human enough to go swimming and on a boat ride with Dad (who was NOT smoking) and the girlfriend, and by nighttime, I was actually convinced I might live, although we had a very low-key evening of ordering pizza and watching a movie while my dad and his friend hung out, separate from us, for the most part. (I don't want to go from zero to sixty in five seconds, if that's clear enough. All things in moderation...gee, I should have learned that Friday night.) We did gather together later that evening, along with our other friends, to put off some fireworks and enjoy some of the evening. Andrew and I then proceeded to stay up together and watch The Bride of Frankenstein (I'm really getting Mother of the Year awards here, huh?), which he enjoyed. We did some character analysis on the creature and the people he comes into contact with, then finally made it to bed at about midnight. (Dad had only three cigarettes the whole day!)

Sunday involved breakfast with Dad, more swimming, fishing, and a boat ride with our friends. My dad didn't smoke, the ashtrays have vanished from the house, and he appears to be giving it a good shot. His Father's Day gift to me, I suppose. He seems happy, and excited about the prospects of this relationship, which I hope he doesn't take too fast, because I don't want him to get hurt. My brother texted him good wishes for the day, and we followed up the pleasantries of the weekend with a call from my cruisin' sister, who gave us the good news that she had become engaged on the trip. (I wrote the bit about the cart before the horse before she called me today, and I'm just leaving it in anyway.)

2011-06-14T14:06:00.001-04:00

Musings for a Monday:
Things rarely work the way I think they should.
I am my own worst enemy.
Inaction is my biggest character flaw.
I constantly judge myself by what I perceive in others as ideal.
Andrew starts self defense class tonight, and I am worried he will
chicken out of going and/or participating.
I constantly feel left out of things.
I am incredibly grouchy for such a beautiful day.
This better work, or I may throw my phone out the window.

2011-06-12T11:14:00.001-04:00

This is a test.

Dear Blogosphere

2011-06-02T16:43:00.000-04:00

To all of my bloggy friends out there, I'll be back someday. You see, it's the end of the school year, and it's the beginning of summer, and on most days, I feel like I'm juggling with my hands tied behind my back. I'm wading through paperwork and end-of-year stuff at school, while trying to keep 85 unruly seventh graders motivated and calm for a few more days. I'm jumping from social event to social event as baby showers, secret pal gatherings, and all sorts of other things are happening. I'm living out of suitcase between weekends because I can't find the time to unpack. I'm struggling to do laundry, because we are now running three window a/c units to avoid melting and my ancient P.O.S. house's electrical capacity won't allow both to happen. I'm trying to arrange the delivery of roofing materials to my house so my brother can repair our leaking porch roof on Saturday. I'm also trying to make sure I have the money to buy said materials AND pay my brother for his time. I'm TRYING not to eat carbs, but I'm looking at a half-empty bag of Party Mix. I'm also trying to find a way to break the news to my son that his color-changing Spider Man shirt, which was on backorder and due to be delivered today, is no longer in stock and won't be coming. And I'm trying, trying, trying not to rip the heads off two-faced, back-biting, snarky, egotistical snakes-in-the-grass at work. So...I'm kind of busy right now, but I think by this time next week, I'll be back to normal and able to post about the brighter things in my life, like...drinking wine and having Emilio Estevez follow me on Twitter. (He follows 32,000 people, but I'm easily flattered.) And I'll read YOUR fabulous posts as well, and comment like nobody's business. And I'll do it in my pajamas, because I'll be on summer break.

Wednesday Whatevers

2011-05-25T21:50:00.000-04:00

I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I finally have a (insert heraldry and fanfare here)...smart phone, courtesy of my lovely hubby, who generously bought me one for Mothers' Day. Granted, we had coupons and rebates, enough that my $129 phone ended up costing $19.99 and his upgraded phone was free (yes, he got a new phone for Mothers' Day too, although his is still "dumb.") It's been a real adjustment process--the touch screen still takes some getting used to, especially for typing (I was a texting WHIZ on my old P.O.S. flip phone, but this one slows me down considerably, and I make lots of random, irritating typos), and I very rarely use the home computer anymore, because with my (insert more heraldry and fanfare)...unlimited data plan, all of my tweeting and facebooking and whatnot is all phone-based. I'm NOT about to try to type a blog post with it, though. I shudder at the thought. One of the perks, though, is my ability to send my SUPER-IMPROVED cell phone photos straight to my Picasa album, or Facebook, or wherever my heart desires, whereas I used to have to email myself with the pictures (tedious), log into gmail and download them, THEN upload them to Blogger...only to be blessed with the worst pictures on the planet. No more!

So, here's my proof, just because I can. Let the randomness begin.

Leftovers are a huge waste in my house. I shouldn't even bother. Here's what ends up happening...food spoils, I have to throw it all away, and usually the containers with it, because they're too gross to open.

What kind of mother burns frozen fish sticks? This one! So much for dinner--but at least I didn't mess up the Spongebob macaroni and cheese. Not a nutritionally stellar night for us, obviously.

Watching the Grass Grow is an appropriate title. Between the massive amounts of rain in the last few weeks, a broken lawn mower, and being gone on the weekends, this is my YARD! I'm making hay next week!

We went to the last girls' home soccer game of the season last night to root for our team, the coaches, and the hubby, who is the "Voice of the Lady Indians." Beautiful weather, not so beautiful results of the game.

Andrew is in training in the pressbox.

We often stop at a foot bridge (actually, the Foote bridge) just this side of Big Island, Virginia, on the way home from the lake. Andrew loves to cross the bridge, which spans a portion of the James River. I usually stay in the car while the boys make their hike, but I was in no hurry to come home on Sunday and decided to go with them. Unfortunately, I chose the same day that every scary person within a fifty mile radius decided to show up, so we hightailed it out of there pretty quickly. (No exaggeration--I actually had to have the discussion with Andrew about the first line of self defense being "get the hell out of Dodge" when people are shady looking--and these were definitely SHADY. No offense intended to anyone, but they were meth-head redneck gang members for SURE, and I had no cell signal. I don't spook easily, and I was scared.) But I managed to take some nice pictures while trying to appear nonchalant and preparing to be robbed of my new smart phone.

Wildflowers

More wildflowers

View from under the bridge.

And on a completely unrelated topic, flying a kite from a moving boat is a kickass idea.

Prom Date, Anyone?

2011-05-19T20:32:00.000-04:00

So, it's prom season. And like all things everywhere these days, it's become over-the-top. Back in "my" day, prom was about getting really dressed up, making plans for fancy dinners with a group of friends, then hitting a party afterward, either at someone's house or in a hotel. So I guess not much has changed in that respect. But as I looked through the local high schools' pictures on our small town paper's website the other day, I was floored by the number of kids arriving in limos, the huge crowds of parents and siblings taking pictures paparazzi-style, and just the fact that the PAPER sends a photographer and then splashes them all over the internet.

Styles vary, from "What is holding that dress together?" to "Mrs. Roper wants her muu-muu back," floral style.

I would totally wear this.

Some were appropriate for high school kids, and some were only appropriate for strippers. But I guess that's in style now, huh? Sometimes I feel really old. Here was my idea of the ideal prom dress in 1988-89.

What was I thinking? Maybe I was inspired by the haunting images of Miss Havisham in Great Expectations? Or maybe I was just trying to be this...

or this...

But...I never went to prom. Shocking, I know. But I'm over it. Mostly. It's a long story, but suffice it to say that it would have been a great movie, only not with a happy ending. I was the female Duckie Dale, and the boy I fancied myself in love with (who was also my best guy pal) was asked to prom by one of my "friends," who totally (hey, we're talking about the 80's here) knew I was planning to ask him. She was one of the hot girls, the party girls, so I don't blame him for saying yes. But then she dumped him (what a hosebag), just a few days before the prom. So, I worked up my nerve to call him from the long-corded kitchen phone in my best friend's kitchen (I think I hung up about four times first---I could almost throw up thinking about how nervous I was) and I asked him...only he had already scrambled around to find another last-minute date, and of course it never occurred to him to ask ME. It's tragic, I know. So, I never went to prom. "Stuff" happens.

But then, along came a 2nd Chance Prom, long after I was married, and long after my deeply wounded psyche had recovered. Only THIS prom featured none other than...Rick Springfield. That's right, my first prom was also RICK's first prom. Read about it here, because this was way before we had a digital camera, and I'm too lazy right now to go dig up pictures and scan them. But I will never forget it, because this was the very first time I laid eyes on the man in person...from an atrium balcony where I watched the interview linked above happening. Only to later have my JC Penney formal gown sweat upon as the man himself wandered from the stage through the crowd. (I have never cleaned the dress, which now that I think about it, might be kind of gross by now. I didn't avoid cleaning it to preserve the Rick Sweat, because that would just be...icky...but because I'm bad about things like that. My wedding dress never got cleaned either. Shame on me.)

So, today in class, as the students were taking social studies notes on the Reagan administration and we listed to a Pure 80's CD that is always in my desk, my co-teacher remarked to the kids that he could just see me now, dancing and bopping up and down at my prom to this strange music that more than a few of them knew the words to...and I smiled. Because while Andie got her man in Pretty in Pink, and Kevin Bacon tripped the light fantastic with the preacher's daughter in Footloose, no one who went to my school's prom can say that Rick Springfield was the band.

Meltdowns Among Friends

2011-05-15T21:19:00.000-04:00

So, I'm typically a pretty well-held together person. I manage my life, and I handle my stress and the stress of others around me with aplomb (which is a stupid word, now that I look at it). I don't bother others with my woes, I don't lean on people (even when I should), and I just HANDLE it. Or maybe not.

Apparently there's a breaking point for even the strongest, and I hit mine last night. In an apt (although gross) analogy, I'll compare it to our septic tank, which had hit its limit last week as well. The crap was more than it could handle in its full state, so it found an outlet, resulting in a squishy spot in our yard. Well, my tank was full too, apparently, and mostly with the "poo" of others. And three Stellas and a bottle of Pinot Grigio was more than enough to get the funk flowing.

Unfortunately, that funk flowed freely (how's that for alliteration?) with an audience, and I turned in to a sobbing, hysterical lunatic sitting in the rain on my good friend's back deck while the hubby and a few other good friends maintained their sanity in the sanctity of the house. I don't LIKE to appear vulnerable, and I don't LIKE for others to see my dirty laundry aired. But what's worse is that the things I've been worrying about and letting fester aren't MY issues--they all belong to other people in my life. If they had been my issues, I'd have vented them here a long time ago and been done with it, because that's my outlet.

I'm a fixer, just like my dad. When there are problems, we fix them. We find solutions, we swoop in and rescue, and we take care of business. But how does a fixer handle it when the people they love don't want help or can't admit that they need it? There are a few quotes from one of my favorite movies, A River Runs Through It, that just popped into my mind, and if you've seen the movie, you'll understand why I'm afraid of a story that ends in the same way.

Norman and Paul's minister father delivers a sermon in which he says, "Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding."

Norman's girlfriend Jesse says, "Why is it the people who need the most help...won't take it?"

That's it exactly. Those closest to me are the ones floundering right now, and they don't want help, or can't admit that they need it. Or, for whatever reason, they think there is no help for them. It's so frustrating for me, because I see the problems (or think I do, anyway) clearly and the solutions are even somewhat simple. Except there's PRIDE in the way. Pride that causes one person to be so ashamed of what he's dealing with right now that he is lying to his friends about it and has asked me to lie, too. Pride that causes another person to shut everyone who loves her most totally out of her life so that she doesn't have to admit that she can't manage her life successfully. And pride that causes another to shirk all responsibilities and revert to acting like a teenager who gets mad when asked to clean his room or mow the lawn.

These are all family members, if you haven't guessed that already, and I have only written as much as I have knowing full well that none of them read what I write and that there is very little chance of it getting back to them. To complicate matters, one's issue worsens another's issue, they're all intertwined, and they all end up filtering up to me, in one way or another. And I worry. I worry that it's going to end in tragedy of some sort...maybe not as extreme as that of A River Runs Through It, but one that will certainly have lasting impact on our family in a way that causes such damage to the relationships that it can't be repaired. My sister asked me the other day if I thought that any of these situations would be occurring if Edna were still alive, that it seemed like everything had gone to hell since her death. And I honestly can't answer that. Certainly, if anything, her death left us all wounded and less able to cope with these bumps in the road. Her nature was that of positivity and light, and the fact that's not there anymore is not lost on me, certainly. To a certain extent, I'm filling some of her roles, as well as maintaining my own roles, and it just gets to be too damn much sometimes. I don't begrudge it most of the time, but I do feel a lot of times like there just isn't anywhere for me to dump my baggage.

So, thank goodness for good friends who are there to listen when you need them to be, without judging, without shaming, without fingerpointing and blaming, and without conditions and repercussions. I need more of those in my life, or maybe I just need to spend more time with the few good ones that I already have.

Natural Bridge Tourist Excursion

2011-05-05T22:34:00.001-04:00

You may remember that two weeks ago, to kick off what passes for a spring break in this neck of the woods, we stopped and did some touristy things on the way to the lake. The whole weekend ended up being a mini-vacation, full of things we don't typically do when we're "at home." We filled that Thursday with an all-day excursion at Natural Bridge, Virginia, just a short drive down the road from us.

If you're not familiar with the Natural Bridge area, it's quite an attraction around here. The bridge itself is the neatest part for me. It was formed when a cavern collapsed and left a bit behind. A major thoroughfare crosses the bridge, although you can't really see it from the road; it's been boarded up at the shoulder for safety reasons. I always, no matter how many times I see this, forget how breathtaking it is. It makes you feel tiny. They have an evening performance there, too, with lights and music. James and I did that once way back when we were dating, and it was pretty spectacular.

Andrew's favorite part of the bridge itself was getting dripped on by the water that falls continuously from the bridge. He strategically placed himself right under the drippiest parts.

George Washington carved his initials somewhere up the inside wall of the bridge when he was surveying the land. The initals are still there, which sort of blows my mind.

This little lagoon under the bridge was my favorite part. You can't see it in the picture, but there are some little rapids leading in, and then the water just pools up here. I wanted to swim in it, but I don't think that would have gone over well. I think I liked it because it reminded me of The Blue Lagoon and skinnydipping with Christopher Atkins. Wait, I digress.

The Natural Bridge Caverns is another cool feature. We live in a stretch of Virginia where caverns are plentiful, and there are others that are more impressive than the ones at Natural Bridge, but what I like about the ones at Natural Bridge is that they feel more like what I imagine caving (spelunking?) feels like...because they aren't so grand, and because they point out the entry points that the original discoverers used, it gives it a certain ambiance. It also felt at times like "Holy crap, if there's an earthquake, my ass is toast," but that's just my anxiety in overdrive.

Andrew was a little nervous going in, at first. We had to play the whole "This is going to be just like the Batcave!" card to make him feel better. Actually, he was pretty cautious the whole time, which is a good thing. I like a little healthy fear to exist. These steps made me nervous, because they were sort of wet and slippery, I had sandals on (like a dope), they were steep, and I fall down a lot. I imagined myself having to be hauled out of the depths of hell on a stretcher and dying from humiliation.

Some of the more impressive "straw" stalagtites in the cave. They are hollow tubes.

Andrew wasn't too excited to hear that bats actually live in this cave. He got a little freaked out when the tour guide told him that sometimes there were hundreds hanging out in there. But he was a little nonplussed to see this little rat hanging on the wall. I think he expected fangs and blood dripping from its mouth. It was hibernating, so it wasn't very exciting. (That was fine with me.)

I just happened to read on the website description that the caverns are 34 stories below the ground. If I had known that when I went in, I probably wouldn't have gone at all. Our tour guide for the 45-minute tour was a young guy, probably a high school or college student. He was lucky to make it out alive after turning out the lights on us (yes, he warned us) not once, but twice. There is no dark like the dark of underground, and it was all I could do not to "freak the freak out" as Victoria Justice sings. Yikes.

All in all, a great exploration, lots of exercise and people watching (the place was hopping), and proof that there are things to do around here when we really look for them.

Wednesday Whatevers

2011-05-04T22:52:00.001-04:00

Andrew: "Look, it's the Eiffel Tower!" Yes, he really did say that.

A terribly blurry cell phone picture of my newly-planted peony.

(It was LAST Mothers' Day's present. That's how we roll around here---all things in due time.)

Newly planted whatsmajiggers ripped up hastily from my mom's yard and stuffed into an ancient concrete planter I found lying around outside. What are these things? They smell good and multiply like crazy.

My mother and her pet bear, Rocky.

Random Thoughts for a Rainy Tuesday Evening

2011-05-03T23:03:00.000-04:00

I am grumpy and my head is killing me. I hope the rain washes away the pollen.

I am sick of whiny people at work who have problems doing their jobs. If you don't like it, go do something else.

I feel lonely these days.

I was surprised to see a female coworker almost in tears today over not getting what she wanted. I was appalled when my male coworker said that women tend to do that in times of conflict.

I do not want to see a picture of the deceased Osama bin Laden. I am glad they got him, because the world is a safer place. I'm not out waving a flag and chanting, "USA," though. It's not in me to celebrate someone's death, no matter who that person is. It's not patriotism, it's brutality and bloodlust.

I avoided a close call with a Little Debbie Nutty Buddy tonight. I had a bowl of cereal instead. And then had to use up the milk in the bowl, so I had a little more cereal. Ugggh.

My son narrated an entire movie script to me last night while he was in the bathtub. No kidding--complete with scene numbers. Some random romance thing between a guy named Jack and a girl named Ellie. They meet when Ellie goes into the restaurant where Jack works to rest her tired legs and get something to eat. Romantic comedy ensues. I have no idea where this came from. I recorded it on my phone so we can revise and edit together.

I mowed grass today for the first time this season...and felt like I was making hay, it was so long. And our riding mower needs work, because the blade digs in and scalps the ground when I go over bumps.

Some of my family conflict...well, the stressor behind some of the conflict...is now gone. Now if people were just speaking to each other!

I finally finished The Historian! I think I tweeted that, but I know nobody reads those.

Andrew still has candy from Valentine's Day, Christmas, and Halloween sitting around in a basket. Not to mention Easter. I tried to get rid of it today, but the only things he'd let me part with are the sour things--Nerds, Pez, and Smarties.

I was really looking forward to Rick Springfield's Hawaii Five-O appearance last night. Until I watched his character blown to smithereens a mere two minutes into the show. Only to find out after the show aired that Rick had been arrested the night before for DUI. Rick, sweetie...you are grounded. Now get your ass to Virginia for a show, because Chester, West Virginia is just a little too stinking far for me to drive.

It's bedtime.

Wednesday Whatevers

2011-04-27T23:06:00.001-04:00

I almost didn't get this one in tonight, because I really kind of forgot that it was Wednesday. Having Mondays off will do that to me...today FELT like Tuesday! I'm tired enough, however, for it to be Thursday, so I'm about to set a personal record for speed-posting so I can get my exhausted rear to bed to once again be bored to sleep by The Historian (Just when I thought that book was getting good, and I was actually feeling some suspense, she went and bored me again, and I had to skip about six pages just to keep me from ditching the whole thing.)

In the past week, we have attempted to spend as much money as humanly possible on as few tangible items as we could. I honestly don't know where it's gone, but we have been touristy fools getting suckered into all kinds of admission fees. It's been worth it, though...I think (as I remember the gutter that's hanging off the side of the house waiting to be fixed because we "can't afford it right now"). These posts are coming up soon, I hope, but here's the short list: Natural Bridge (I almost typed Natural Light---where is my brain right now? Mmmmm...a cold one would be nice, but unheard of at 10:30 on a Wednesday night.), caverns, a Monacan Indian village, wax museum, Lynchburg Children's Museum, Easter egg hunt and festivities (including shopping and lunch), Smith Mountain Lake State Park, and the circus! All in a week! No flipping wonder I'm beat!

Andrew and his daddy riding the elephant.

Natural Bridge. Holy wow.

Playing water gun assassin on the beach at the State Park.

Oh yeah, Andrew lost his first tooth. And by that, I mean it came out...and that he swallowed it.

Down into the pits of hell. Yes, the steps are that steep.

Inside a wigwam frame.

Recording his first hit single the Children's Museum.

Met the Easter Bunny at Bridgewater Marina.

I'm pissed (how's that for a segue?)that Barack Obama has given in to the lunatic fringe and agreed to reveal his entire birth certificate. I'm not going to rant too much, but if I have to listen to Donald Trump and the rest of the loonies out there who either really THINK the president was born in a different country or are just huge a-holes slinging racist drivel that they know the rednecks will believe ONE MORE TIME about that damn birth certificate, I will explode. I want all of THEM to produce their birth certificates, too, because there's no way in hell they were born and raised in the same country I was. I WANTED Obama to give them all the double finger with a nice loud command about what they could all do, but nooooo...in the interest of letting the issue die down, he's given in. Maybe he'll say "Suck it!" after he hands it over. How awesome would that be? (That right there is why I will NEVER be a president of anything. I like my temper too much.)

Oh yeah, we saw Rio last weekend too. How could I have forgotten that? Our yearly movie was a good choice...it's really cute, and the artwork is beautiful. I was happy that we saw it on the big screen, because all of the scenes set in Rio were phenomenal and just wouldn't have been as impressive on our television.

Rick Springfield is going to be appearing on Monday night's episode of Hawaii Five-O. I'm excited. I'd be more excited if he were anywhere near the state of Virginia, but that hope is dying.

The family drama continues, unfortunately. I don't know how we (and I use that term loosely, because THIS we has nothing to do with it, other than being stuck in the middle and just having stress dumped on me) got to this point...we aren't the family we used to be, for sure. I know Edna would be crushed by some of the things that are going down, but I also know that if she were around, things would be different. Well, some of them would be...maybe all of them. I am struggling to find a good analogy to describe the effect her absence has had on "us," but I'm drawing a blank. The best I can come up with is that the family is like a fence...when one post falls, the rest of the fence is still there, but it's saggy and weak. The other fence posts try to hold the wires up, but the weaker posts are dragging it down. Sooner or later, something's going to push through the fence to the point where it can't be repaired. If the wires are cut, though, to relieve some of the pressure, the weak posts just fall down immediately. Uggh, I don't know. It sucks.

Okay, I'm going to go read, at least until I'm bored to sleep. It might be a long night anyway, with tornado watches and whatnot...my Weather Channel text alerts will be coming in all night, I'm sure. Here's to not waking up in Oz!

Wednesday Whatevers

2011-04-21T00:07:00.001-04:00

Hooray! I'm finally on Spring Break! Well, technically, tomorrow is a teacher workday, but the powers that be decided last week to let us have an "at home" workday. It's a bone they're throwing us, I guess to make up for the fact that our salaries have been frozen for several years in a row. And hey, I'll take it! They didn't specify which home I had to work from, so I'll be "working" from our place at the lake. And actually, I probably will be working. I have three sections and a final reflection paper to complete for the class I'm taking, and I MUST finish ASAP, or I won't have to worry about pay freezes. Or pay. Period. The laptop I borrowed from school and I will be good friends this weekend; it's too bad there's no internet (or maybe that's a good thing--it will limit my distractions).

I'm reading a book right now called Magic Hour by Kristin Hannah. (No, I haven't finished The Historian, I just interrupted it. Again.) Anyway, I was reading this afternoon and laughed out loud at a comment one character made to another: "Chief? Julia says you're in the car. if you don't answer, I'm going to tell everyone you wrote a letter to Rick Springfield in the eighth grade. Over." And then I thought, "So what? Who could possibly be embarrassed by THAT?" I made up an entire story in 7th grade about how my mother was friends with Rick Springfield (they're the same age, ha) just to make one of my friends jealous. She even bought it for a while. Duh.

It's approaching the time of year when I begin to get annoyed with people for planning things on weekends. May is typically a rough month socially, and while I think I'm pretty social with my inner circle of family and friends, I don't like social obligations. There are already three back-to-back weekends that we have obligations for during May; those shindigs interfere with lake time and my weekends of relaxation, and I just don't like it. If I were a betting woman, my money would be on me not attending all of them.

I was at Andrew's school today for their Spring Spree and Hat Parade. Pictures will have to come later, because HOLY COW, it's already midnight, and I don't feel like messing with them. But anyway, A's teacher announced to the kids during their calendar time that in thirty days, they would be FIRST graders. Ugggh. He's growing up way too fast for me!

Speaking of growing up, Andrew has his first loose tooth, which I think he's determined to keep in his mouth forever. He won't let me wiggle it, he cringes and freaks at the mention of pulling it (he really is going to have to "man up" at some point), and it's just a-danglin' there driving me nuts! I keep saying that I think it would be neat if the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny could come on the same night, and today I added that they could ride together. (I'm sure the gas prices are hurting them, too!) Andrew said, "The Tooth Fairy doesn't even exist!" I expressed my shock and dismay that he would think such a thing, only to be told that they couldn't ride together because the Easter Bunny is real, but the "Tooth Fairy is just a legend!" What kind of logic is that, even for a 5 year-old? I would believe in the chick with the money and forget the rodent with the candy!

I was folding socks and underwear tonight...and then I found five dollars! And as much as that phrase is the corny punchline to a story without a point, tonight it happened for REAL! And in no other place than inside a pair of the hubby's tidy whiteys. Without even questioning why a five dollar bill was in his undies (is he stripping for cash on his lunch hour?), I did what any self-respecting laundress without pockets would do--I stuffed it in my bra and kept it. Laundry has to have SOME perks!

Sunday...Six Pack?

2011-04-17T09:22:00.000-04:00

Saturday's Six-Pack was apparently so great that I passed out on the couch around 10 PM last night, and when I woke up, it was Sunday. Really...I CRASHED on the couch and slept for three good, solid hours before the hubby woke me up to tell me it was time to go to bed. Of course, then I felt like crap, but I was wide awake, so I put myself to bed and tried to read The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. I don't know what it is with that book and me, but we just don't get along. It makes no sense, because it's a vampire/Dracula thing--right up my alley, or so I would assume. But it drags...and drags...and drags...I'm determined to finish it, because I already quit reading it once, but it's not going very well.

Yesterday was a little too exciting for my taste. It was raining, and windy, and there were some wicked thunderstorms supposedly heading our way, but it wasn't bad here. We had some errands to run, so we set out "for town." Halfway there, I got a TORNADO WARNING for your area message sent to my phone from the Weather Channel. Yikes! We turned on the radio, and the guy on the local station was detailing where the tornado was...about 15 miles away from us, and heading in our direction. In an effort to, "seek immediate shelter," we headed for the mall. Several blocks away, though, the torrential downpour became so vicious that we couldn't see to drive, so we ducked into the closest parking lot and rode out the majority of the storm in the local Michaels. There was at least one tornado which tore through an area near the hubby's work. Our basement flooded to about 8 inches deep (thank goodness for sump pumps!), but other than that, we escaped unscathed (well, except for metaphorical crapping of the britches at the news of the tornado).

Being stuck at Michaels turned out to be okay, though, because one thing on my list to accomplish yesterday was decorating a hat for Andrew to wear in the kindergarten's Spring Parade on Wednesday (the last day before break). This is what "we" ended up with (I may have gotten a little carried away.):

Started out as a foam top hat. Ended up looking like Mother Nature puked on it.

In this scene, the little chicks are hatching from plastic Easter eggs glued to the top of the hat.

I'm going to try to go up to Andrew's school on Wednesday morning for the parade--the thought of all the little guys marching around the school in their hats is too cute to resist. After that, they have their Spring Spree--the kindergarteners get paper coins to spend, and the 1st graders are going to "sell" them products like face painting, stickers, and little goodies like that. What a great idea! (Plus it's a neat way to have a celebration without having an Easter "party.") Genius!

After the craft store spree, the weather had calmed enough for us to make it to the mall, where my little boy immediately wanted to know if the arcade was still open. So after a quick trip to Bath and Body Works to pick up mini hand sanitizers for Andrew's backpack and some Wallflowers refills, the kid got what he wanted...

Our younger cat is a nest builder. She wiggles herself into folds in blankets, and then somehow manages to cover herself up. This is typically how and where I find her. Of course, we make it easier for her, since we never make the bed, but this pile is of her own creation.

In other random news, I love these little wild things that grow in our yard. Anyone have an idea of what they are? In this picture, they are intermingled with some tulip stems, but they grow in lots of places in the yard.

Okay, off to grab some coffee and get started cleaning this pigsty. The boys have a "To Do" list as well--head to Batteries Plus to buy a replacement battery for Andrew's Corvette (before he's old enough to drive a real one--the thing has been out of commission for almost a whole year), and to get some additional hardware for the brand-new-to-us-FREE play structure. It's good to see the sun!

Swing Set Dumpster Diving

2011-04-15T22:35:00.000-04:00

We've been busy the last two days. There's a little bit of a backstory here, and I think it's pretty cool (I've already told it to everyone who will listen because I can't get over the coincidences involved.) Last Saturday, we had breakfast with my dad, and I recruited him to build a wooden play structure for Andrew from scratch. The kits from Walmart and Kmart don't look very sturdy, and the kits from Lowes and other home supply stores look great, but cost too much for us poor folk. So, he said yes...

But then on Sunday, at a birthday party Andrew was invited to, I was talking with my longtime friend Sue. I hadn't known she and her son would be at the party, so that's coinkydink #1. Somehow we got on the topics of swing sets and play equipment, and she said they were having new equipment delivered this week. Their old set was still in good shape, but with three boys, she was worried about it lasting. They were going to throw it away, so I offered to buy it from them...figuring, even if it needed some work and some stabilizing, it would still save us a bookoo (how in the HELL do you spell that?) of money.

The play structure, before the move. I took this one basically so that we'd
know how to put it back together once we ripped it apart.

In two big pieces in Dad's trailer.

Trying not to get run over as Dad backed out of the yard.

I thought for sure the truck would end up falling through the garage.
I had been standing in the space between the truck and the wall, and scrambled down the hill to safety.

The only hardware we removed for the move.

It got dark last night before we could finish, but Andrew went immediately to the tower after school today.
I predict many mouthfuls of dirt in his near future.

Dad and James finished up this afternoon while Andrew supervised and ate the spiciest Martin's barbeque chips I've ever had. This is the same kid who won't use mint toothpaste because it burns his mouth.

Swinging, at last. And trying to kick my phone out of my hands.

Teeter-totter.

So, I totally had this post finished, and for the second time this week, Blogger failed to save my work and I had to start again. Boo hiss. I have no idea what I wrote the first time. Bummer. The gist of it was that we finished this project, except for pressure washing it and restaining the wood--after which, it should look like new. That part might not happen, because after all---it works just fine. Unlike the last makeshift swing we tried to cook up for Andrew, which we never added to, and which eventually fell down. This one isn't going anywhere, Andrew is super excited about it, and the best thing of all---it was FREE!

I Heart Spring

2011-04-14T22:03:00.000-04:00

There are a couple of random blooms left on my sickly forsythia bush.

The view on a stormy afternoon.

I Surrender

2011-04-13T22:30:00.000-04:00

I quit. I made it through 16 days, which I think is pretty impressive. It was fun, but to be honest, it's killing me. Thirty days is too much! The pressure of the daily post combined with the fact that it was a rigid topic, on top of a grad. class that's sucking the life out of me, "normal" pressures of work, and the chaos of my family...it's all just too much right now. Soooo...I'm "pausing" the Thirty Day Photo Challenge, to be resumed at a later date. And my COMPROMISE is that I'm going to continue to post daily. They may not be long, they may not be interesting, but they'll be here. And if I only had a SMART PHONE, this would all be a piece of cake. So, sorry folks--I'm a slacker from way back, and old habits die hard. Something in my life had to get the axe, and this is the most likely candidate. I'll try to make it up to you. All two or three of you.

Breaking the Run

2011-04-12T22:03:00.000-04:00

I just can't do it tonight, folks. I hate that I've gotten this far through the month, only to be defeated before finishing. But here's the scoop: I just spent the last hour wrestling, negotiating, calming, and most likely traumatizing Andrew, who had a tick embedded in the skin below his belly button. The damn thing's head was jammed in there, and come to find out, it's been there for three days and Andrew knew it. Ugggh! And then it all comes out---he's been SUDDENLY independent about getting dressed and undressed for the last three days--handling it ALL on his own, without us even in the room. He told me (the little booger) that he just decided that he should be doing it on his own. Well, he was really trying to hide the parasite that had taken up residence. I saw him checking out his belly button a couple of times, but when I asked him what he was doing, he always said, "Nothing," in the sort of way that made me think he REALLY had something to hide, if you get my drift. So, he cried, and screamed, and became completely hysterical about me pulling the tick out. I'd get his arms out of the way, and he'd bend his knees so I couldn't get to it. I'd get his legs pinned down, and he would sprout octopus arms and fight me off. I. am. exhausted. But, I finally got the little bastard (the tick, not Andrew) pulled off and stored in rubbing alcohol (just in case), the child comforted and read to, and now I need a stiff drink. And to make a long story short, I don't feel like playing along with the Thirty Day Challenge. So, I'll do two tomorrow night, and it's not TERRIBLE because I still posted in spite of the trauma I've been through. And I can rationalize anything, including the dessert I'm about to have at 10 p.m.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 16

2011-04-11T22:32:00.000-04:00

Day 16: Post a photo of someone who inspires you.

My mom inspires me. She's a strong, strong woman, although I don't think she always thought she was. She grew up without much in the way of material goods--she was raised on a small farm with a whole bunch of brothers and sisters to hard-working parents. She was one of the few of her siblings to move away, go to college, and become a professional. She married my dad (We all know that didn't work out so well, but I was one of the results of that unholy union, so I guess it was okay.) and then rebounded (slowly) after the marriage broke up. She worked her ass off while I was growing up, and all the while dealing with hassles with my dad over custody and child support. She did all she could to give my brother and me the things we needed and wanted, and at the same time, tried to find a new life of her own. There were lots of ups and downs--quite a few downs, it seemed at the time, some of them so dramatic they could be Lifetime movies , and that even today, amaze me when I think we lived through them. (I don't think I'll ever write about those times, unless it's under a pseudonym. Time will tell.) But we did, and the fact that I wasn't scarred for life (I guess I would know if I were, right?) is only due to the fact that my mom was there for me. She even survived one of the bitchiest teenagers I've ever met--man, that daughter of hers was something else! (Wink, wink!)

On top of all that, this woman has taught elementary school for forty-something years and hasn't skipped a beat. She's energetic, she's dedicated, she's great at what she does, and she never stops going. Where she gets her energy, I don't know. She is constantly on the go, taking care of other people, and not expecting anything in return. She has done very well for herself in this srage of her life, but while others might be tempted to sit back and enjoy, Mom keeps going. Andrew loves her like crazy, and her dedication and attention to him is amazing. She is what I aspire to be in my "middle age." I've learned so much from her about how to be a great mother, an excellent teacher, and a strong, determined woman.

Sadly, her one flaw is that she doesn't read my blog, so I might have to point her in this direction for an early Mothers' Day present. (Maybe that will get me out of buying something.)

WTH?

2011-04-11T20:58:00.000-04:00

There have been a whole slew of things lately that made me say, "What the hell?" (or something like it, wink wink), and for the peace and general sanctity of my life right now, I'll just vent them here.

I just saw a Facebook comment from a friend of my cousin. She was bragging about the appetite her son had this morning, and recounted his breakfast of a smoothie, three egg whites, and two bowls of cereal. She was surprised he was still hungry! First of all, with that many carbs--no wonder he was hungry! And second, he's a preschooler--why the hell isn't he eating the yolk of the egg? That's where the protein/brain food is! He shouldn't be watching his cholesterol...?

Speaking of Facebook--people really need to resist the urge to STOP posting every little lover's spat and "baby mama drama" they have in their personal lives. I'm all for staying in touch with people, but if you've been back and forth between "single" and "in a relationship" more than once in the last two weeks, there's a PROBLEM. I do not understand the need for that kind of constant attention and reaffirmation in my life. And for what it's worth, people with one screw loose who thrive on that kind of dysfunction attract OTHERS who wallow in it too, and...well, I clearly need to start deleting "friends."

Adults acting like teenagers...there's my big one right now. When did it become okay for GROWNUPS to dress like, speak like, drive like, live in pigstys like, be irresponsible like, mooch off parents like, not accept responsibility for their actions like...CHILDREN? Man up, grow up, get your crap together, and by all means, teach your kids what you apparently failed to learn. We are becoming a society of self-indulgent idiots who hide behind the neo-hippie defense of "You don't approve of my lifestyle!" when the only visible lifestyle is lazy, worthless, lack of respect for anyone including themselves. Be a free spirit, be whatever you want to be, just don't make others pay the price for your inability to function in society. I'm done with deadbeats!

Thiry Day Photo Challenge: Day 15

2011-04-10T21:30:00.001-04:00

Day 15: Post of a photo of something you'd like to do before you die.

Before I die (actually, preferably before I'm too old and decrepit to enjoy it), I'd like to visit the birthplace of my grandfather, this lovely little town called Rocca Imperiale, in Italy. Isn't it beautiful? This is not my image, clearly, since I've never been there. If you click the picture, it will take you to an Italian newspaper's website. Lots of cool stuff to look at, but I could only translate every third word or so, so...guess I should learn the language, too, huh?

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In other news, I'm sort of waiting for the you-know-what to hit the fan in our extended family. We have a situation that's been building for a long time (about a year), and it's finally come to its climax. It's been really stressful for me, as I've been caught in the middle---I've moved from defending one side's actions and trying to rationalize the stupidity that has gone on, to having to hear every last little infraction from the other side, and now just waiting for the chips to fall where they may. Today's development promises to either resolve the situation so things can go back to "normal," or damage the situation irreparably so that things will never be right again. Whatever the result, things couldn't get MORE tense than they have been, and the person who acted today has put up with and done everything he could to try to make the situation better and help the other person. Sooooo, I know I couldn't have been any more vague with this little outburst, but I really didn't start this blog to air dirty laundry. Suffice it to say that I love both individuals in this little dysfunction, and that both have added to the pile of muck in front of the fan, so it's been hard...really hard. And I hope it gets better, 'cause it sucks to be stuck in the middle. It's where I usually end up, and I don't like it there.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 14

2011-04-09T21:17:00.001-04:00

Day 14: Post a photo of someone you can not imagine being without.

Blue cotton candy tongue and all.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 13

2011-04-08T22:03:00.000-04:00

Day 13: Post a photo of your favorite band or artist. This one was too easy, but that's okay, because I'm exhausted and just want to go to bed. Good thing I didn't have to think about it! Rick Springfield...

The first time I met Rick. Myrtle Beach House of Blues.

Virginia Beach--outside his hotel room, which JUST HAPPENED to be on the same hall as ours. Best. thing. ever.

Virginia Beach, a little later that same evening. Having beers and TALKING to Rick. Actually SPEAKING, and showing him pictures of Andrew on my cell phone. That would be a night to relive.

Okay, so maybe three pictures was overkill? Naaaah!

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 12

2011-04-07T21:09:00.001-04:00

Day 12: Post a photo of something you love.

Uggh, I should definitely apologize for the photo quality in these pictures. I'm in a hurry because Swamp People is coming on in...yikes, now 7 minutes, and I need a Cajun accent fix to go with the dessert that I shouldn't be eating. So anyway...

here's something I love,

and have too many of,

that I can't bear to part with,

that I treasure quite a bit;

that I should really dust more,

or resell in a thrift store,

with the torn pages,

and from different reading stages,

some with pictures,

some with scriptures,

some without covers,

some about lovers,

from classic literature,

to some with smut, I'm sure,

kids' books, true books,

vampire books, new books,

easy books, hard books,

many books, our books.

From Dr. Seuss and Spider Man,

to Anne Rice and Amy Tan.
All these books, I couldn't do without.
Now to watch Swamp People--I'm out!

Just some of Andrew's books.

Some of the vast collection of the hubby's sports books.

A small sampling of my collection. Taken by flashlight, courtesy of the broken hall light.

PS---this every day posting is kicking my tail!

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 11

2011-04-06T22:41:00.001-04:00

Day 11: Post a photo of something you hate.

As I mulled over possible topics du jour (while watching Criminal Minds, of course), many things that I hate occurred to me--racism, discrimination, littering, smoking, hair in the shower drain, poverty, the distribution of wealth in society, heights, mosquitoes, body odor, nose blowing, and the sounds people make when they're eating--only one thing really stuck out as something that I loathe, despise, and revile. And while I really couldn't post a photo of this thing, because I never get close enough to it to actually TAKE one, I did manage to dig up some cute clip art, which is slightly less revolting for me to look at than pictures of the real thing. That THING, that disgusting creation, is none other than Neopolitan ice cream. Blech.

When it comes to ice cream, I'm all for segregation. Separate boxes are a must. I really dislike chocolate ice cream most of the time, and strawberry ice cream is one of my most detested foods, so there's no way I'd ever buy a box with those flavors in there, much less with them squished up against my precious vanilla. But growing up, because everyone had their own stupid flavor that they liked, this is what my parents bought. Time and time again.

Even still, I probably could have tolerated it IF they had let me be the first one served out of the box, and IF they had let me scoop my own. Because you see, NOBODY was ever careful enough to keep the scoop in one flavor. They'd scoop right down the edge of the vanilla, getting slivers of strawberry in my ice cream. I'd have to spend the next few minutes scraping all of the pink bits off of the plate, and by the time I got around to eating my all-white, pure vanillla ice cream, it was slushy. OR, even worse, some sinister creature wielding an ice cream scoop would scoop LONGWAYS across the box, making sure to get a little of every flavor in each scoop. Barf. And even if I were quick to point out that none of MY ice cream could touch the others in the box, by then some of the colors had started to mix together inside the box, so there was no hope of finding just plain vanilla.

Many birthdays and family celebrations were marred by this horrendous excuse for dessert. Because even if I somehow managed to get just vanilla ice cream on my plate, I became the object of ridicule to the point that my dear family members would INTENTIONALLY let chocolate drop on my plate, ruining my oh-so-carefully arranged ice cream. So, feeling like a circus freak, I'd pick around my plate trying to find edible parts, again, as it melted into soup before my eyes. Traumatic, to say the least. Almost as bad as someone putting the ice cream ON the cake instead of beside it. Who could eat THAT?

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 10

2011-04-05T21:30:00.000-04:00

Day 10: Post a photo of the person you do the most &*#@ed up stuff with. I'm abstaining from posting a photo for this one. I'll cut myself some slack on "failing" the challenge, but only because I'm still posting, and explaining.

Reason #1: Because "the most &*#@ed up stuff" is too ambiguous to nail down. What exactly does that mean? Effed up crazy? Wild? Dangerous? Mean? I don't get it. (And I don't want to, really.)

Reason #2: I don't do "effed up" things. (Sorry about the scandalous language, but I got sick of typing all those symbols and remembering which order they went in.) Maybe once upon a time, in the stupidity (understatement alert) of my youth, I could have answered this. Back in "tha day," (zillions of years ago) that could have meant anything from picking up and making out with strange boys at frat parties, waiting behind shady nightclubs to meet washed-up rockers, to smokin' and drinkin' like there was tomorrow. (Amazingly, there was.) Young ain't all it's cracked up to be. I'm way too old and anxiety-ridden to even think about anything dangerous or risky at this point. Safety (and chickensh*t) is my new middle name. (And Andrew, if you ever read this when you're old enough to understand, I made it ALL up for the sake of entertaining writing.)

Reason #3: There are people I still do crazy things with, but it's all relative and situational. My sister and I, every now and then, take tipsy golf cart rides around the campground at the lake. We even (gasp) turn around in the road sometimes just for the hell of it. Andrew and I get wild and crazy and sing Big Time Rush songs together (we even dance sometimes!). James and I still occasionally spend money we don't have taking road trips and paying for hotel rooms (usually to see Rick Springfield), but even that has gone by the wayside with the advent of the lake house. My definition of "wild & crazy" has definitely changed, from something that could get me killed to something like, "I took a different route on the way to the grocery store," or "I listened to rap music with explicit lyrics." You know, &*#@ed up stuff like that.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 9

2011-04-04T20:14:00.000-04:00

Day 9: Post a photo of the person who has gotten you through the most in your life. That's a convenient coincidence, because today just happens to be my 19th wedding anniversary. The person who has gotten me through the most, who has been there to support me, no matter what kind of huge bitch I was being at the time, is none other than my dear, sweet hubby of nineteen years. I'm sure I don't tell him often enough how much I depend on him, and how much I treasure and respect him. I'm not mushy like that (unless I'm most of the way into a bottle of wine) and tend to keep my emotions pretty close to me (unless it's anger--that I can express like a champ!), so he probably goes under-appreciated quite a bit of the time. But he's my soul mate, Ricky to my Lucy, the yin to my yan, the sail to my ship...you get the idea. Happy Anniversary, Shmoopy!

Yep, he's a gift.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 8

2011-04-03T00:01:00.001-04:00

Day 8: Post a photo that makes you laugh.

This one does, every single damn time. Front deck dance party. Our last family beach week. Way too many drinks, and much hilarity.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 7

2011-04-02T00:01:00.001-04:00

Day 7: Post a photo of your most treasured item. It's not a thing, but it's what I value most. All that other stuff is replaceable, but the people I love are not, and I treasure them more than they will probably ever know.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 5

2011-03-31T20:11:00.000-04:00

Day 5: Post a photo of your favorite memory.
Hands down. No contest. The best moment of my life.

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 4

2011-03-30T20:57:00.001-04:00

Day 4: Post a photo of your night. Impossible for just one photo! From the moment we walked in the door, here is the havoc that has ensued.

Cleaned up a puddle the cranky old cat left on the carpet. She doesn't like it when the litter box is messy, but this is a first, and hopefully a last. Grrrr.

Started Phantom Menace for our little menace/Star Wars addict. Popcorn was necessary.

Fixed dinner. Slaw and spaghetti.

Helped Shmoopy hang the self-portrait that Andrew brought home today.

I love this! Then I did dishes and cleaned the kitchen, but I forgot to take a picture of the mess.

Fed Swimmy and Giggah their evening meal.

Got a hug from my favorite guy on his way to bed.

Still to do...a load of laundry, work on my class a little, watch a little t.v., and be in bed by 10, which is my new resolution. Two of those might actually get accomplished--my money's on t.v. and bedtime!

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 3

2011-03-29T18:52:00.000-04:00

Today's task: Post a photo of the cast of your favorite show. Ummm, okay...give me about five days to think about it, and I might be able to whittle it down to about three shows. I need to clarify the directions, I suppose. Favorite CURRENT show, or favorite show of ALL TIME? Uggh, that's no help at all. Okay, let's give this a shot...in no particular order...

M.A.S.H. used to come on in syndication on weekday evenings. Pre-cable, of course, so my choices were limited to channels 1-12, and one of those was PBS. But, to this day, I can watch M.A.S.H. for hours. I laughed, I cried, and I was probably exposed to things my brain wasn't mature enough to handle, but it was (and is) good stuff. Alan Alda was probably the sexiest man alive at that point (Rick Springfield excluded...although I do see similarities!).

Criminal Minds is my marathon show of choice these days. I can watch Mandy Patinkin OR Joe Mantegna episodes. Granted, there are episodes I wished I hadn't watched (anything involving kids is too tough for me to handle, unless there's a happy ending), but I am always fascinated by the plot twists, the profiling, and diversity of the ~~eye candy~~ talent. I don't know how it's possible that three very different characters can be so appealing to me at the same time, but they are. Derrick Morgan, Dr. Reid, and Hotchner are all such strong characters, and I want to be investigated by all of them. Shame on me.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What can I say? I am a sucker for vampires (no pun intended, truthfully), and this show is in my top ten of all time. I even own the box sets of most of the seasons! It's campy, it's corny, it's funny, Spike is hot, and regardless of the big bad the Scooby Gang was fighting, it was good stuff. I hear rumors of a movie being made, but it will suck (crap, there's that word again) unless the cast is the same and Joss Whedon is involved. And now I even have myself convinced that I'm a dork.

My So-Called Life. Claire Danes has this show to thank for her rise to stardom. Teenage angst, teenage angst, and more teenage angst...in the early 90's, I was close enough to my teens (and still very much in the midst of angst) to "get it." The parents had their own issues too, so there was stuff for everyone. Oh yeah, and Jared Leto--he was a hottie. This show is another guilty pleasure.

True ~~Love~~...I mean Blood. I am anxiously awaiting the new season of this show, another campy vampire show. What can I say? It's funny, it's melodramatic, it's sexy. Oh yeah, there's another tall, extraordinarily HOT guy in this show--his real name escapes me at the moment, but the vampire he plays is Eric Northman. Alexander Skarsgard--that's the real name. This show is based on a series of books by Charlaine Harris, but I've restrained myself and only read as many of the books as there have been seasons. Because I watched the show first, and there are enough similarities that there might be spoilers, I don't want to have any pre-conceived notions. I'll read the books afterwards.

I'm sure I've forgotten some (many) shows. I didn't really start out with a theme in mind, but I can see a few crossovers or overlaps in the shows I chose. The problem is, I LOVE television, and I enjoy just about everything I watch, from our newly-discovered Swamp People on the History Channel to Happy Days re-runs. Choosing a few was just impossible! I give myself an "A" for effort!

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 2

2011-03-28T21:09:00.000-04:00

I had to fire up the scanner for this one, which I hate to do, so I figured while I was scanning, I better make it worth it. So, here you are--Buy 1, Get 5 Free. Today's challenge? Post a picture of the person you have been closest to the longest. And the winner is? My BFF (really), Ang. (Soft "g" on the ending. She's not one of the Siamese twins.)

My partner-in-crime, my compadre, best friend through thick and thin, and through 35 solid years of best-friendery. That's us on my 5th birthday. I think I must have overestimated the number of candles on the cake. I can see my uvula, for God's sake.

Again on my birthday. This time, I was turning 13. Uggh, those glasses. But I did just notice the mother-of-pearl switchplate on the wall behind us. I had forgotten about those. I'll save the house I grew up in for another post, and another walk down memory lane.

High school graduation. I'm starting to see a trend in cheesy poses. I did NOT graduate with honors, unlike my studious BFF. In fact, I barely graduated. Can you say, "slacker"?

Freshman year of college. We were roomies for about five minutes, until I decided I hated living on campus and bailed out on her. She recovered and graduated in a normal amount of time. I didn't. Can you say, "slacker" again? And uggh, the braces.

My wedding day. Complete with early 90's splendiferously poofy veil and undergarments. Geez. Still love the ~~purple~~ amethyst, though. This blessed event took place way before I should have graduated from college. Make sense now?

Last, but not least, the dynamic duo at our 20-year high school reunion. Looking better than ever, if I do say so myself (couldn't have gotten much worse). Here's to 35 more years! (Oh my God, I just realized we'll be 75 in 35 more years...well, she will. I'll still be 74.) Love ya, Ang!

Thirty Day Photo Challenge: Day 1

2011-03-27T21:18:00.005-04:00

Okay, kids, we're going to try something here. It might be an epic success, or it might be a total flop. Knowing me, I probably won't finish it, but here goes. I ran across a "Thirty Day Photo Challenge" on Facebook recently, and in poking around, it seems that there a couple of versions of it. All involve posting a photo per day, and there is a list of certain things you are "required" to post. So, I'm going to try! Not in lieu of my usual posts, but in addition to them--I hope! Play along if you'd like--I'll leave the list of requirements in the first comment to this post.

Day 1: Post a picture of yourself with ten facts.

Facts:

1. I frequently leave things unfinished, so this might be the first and last day of this challenge.

2. I am a cat person. I love other people's dogs, but I don't want one of my own.

3. I would rather read than do just about anything else I can think of. Just about.

4. I have panic attacks and, in those situations, all my brain can think of is the worst possible outcome.

5. I didn't wear silver jewelry until about two years ago.

6. It takes me a while to fall asleep in the bed, but I can fall asleep in two seconds on the couch.

7. I have a port wine birthmark behind my left ear and over a lot of my scalp on that side of my head.

8. I can watch the same movies over and over again, if they are movies I really love.

9. I wish I had known James Dean.

10. I used to read Song of Solomon in church when I was bored by the sermon. So, a lot. :-)

Saturday Six-Pack

2011-03-26T17:16:00.000-04:00

I feel like this Saturday actually deserves a twelve-pack, but I'm not sure I have that much energy. I'm craving a nap desperately, but that's probably not in the cards either.

1. We welcomed spring with a trip to the lake last weekend. It was our first trip down since we closed down the house in December, so we had a bunch of stuff to take down with us, and some cleaning to do. No real damage was sustained this winter, other than the continuously leaky roof staining an interior wall (guess what the first real project will be this spring!), and other than two dead mice in the utility sink, there wasn't even that much cleaning to do. We managed to fit in an impromptu deck party at our place, dinner out at a local sports bar (and some good basketball watching), the first boat ride of the season, and quite a bit of laziness. I have missed it.

The humble, yet lovable, lake abode.

2. Andrew got his cast off on Monday. Did I mention the broken pinky? Well, it's all healed now, and back to business as usual. And by that, I mean that I have to work extra hard with him on his handwriting, because he's used it as an excuse to be messy. We handled the first (hopefully last) broken bone.

3. Andrew is having his first official play date right now. He had kind of rough week at school dealing with a kid pushing him around, so I offered to let his best friend come over. I thought now would be a good time too, because soon we won't be around on the weekends much. He and his buddy have, in the span of three hours, had an outside lightsaber battle, played with super hero action figures, had a snack, played Wii, played firefighter and policeman (complete with costumes), dressed up and saved the world as Spider Man and Super Man, and are now putting on quite a rock concert. I hope they're having fun.

4. Tomorrow we will celebrate my dad's 66th birthday. He and the famn damily are coming over for a traditional family meal of spitzad, which I'm not sure how to spell...hell, I'm not even sure it really exists, other than in my family. The closest thing I can compare it to is a kind of ragout--tomato sauce base, with potatoes, green peppers, and chicken hearts and gizzards. Yes, I said it. Chicken hearts and gizzards. It's really quite delicious. I'll take pictures.

5. I'm not happy about the weather reports for this weekend. It's spring, for crying out loud, and the last I heard, they're calling for several inches of snow. Grrrr. Unless it gets me a snow day on Monday, I want nothing to do with it. And it needs to warm up, dammit. We have about three drops of heating oil left, and I'm freezing! Bring on the WARMTH!

6. I haven't felt great for the last few days. Several years ago, I was diagnosed with PVC's (premature ventricular contractions) after having heart palpitations that got a little scary. Supposedly, there's nothing to worry about--they're anxiety/stress induced, triggered by all kinds of random things like caffeine, low potassium, etc...but since that initial diagnosis, I hadn't had them with any frequency or severity. Until Thursday afternoon, when they just started out of nowhere while I wasn't even doing anything. They are terrible when I'm at rest--right now, they aren't happening, but I guarantee that if I tried to sit down on the couch and read or even lie to take a nap, they'd be kicking my ass. They are interfering with my sleep, and nothing pisses me off more than not being able to sleep. The more they happen, the more I worry, and the more I worry, the more they happen. Ugggh!

The boys have moved on to playing school now. I know someone else who's going to be really tired tonight.

Andrewisms

2011-03-21T12:05:00.001-04:00

Andrew was full of witticisms this weekend. I wish I could remember them all, because he was making me giggle. I did manage to remember two of the winners:

Andrew: "I want to have laser eye surgery."

Me: "Honey, you don't need that. You have perfect vision."

Andrew: "I still want it."

Me: "But honey, that's for people who can't see well, like me. People who need contacts or glasses can have surgery where they use lasers to fix the eye so they work right. You don't need that--yours already do!"

Andrew: "No, Mommy! I want the laser eye surgery where they put LASERS in your EYES!" (And he made his fingers look like lasers shooting from his eyes.)

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Last night at bedtime, while he was bouncing out of the bed because he had taken a two-hour nap in the car on the way home from the lake, Andrew came bouncing down to the office while I was checking in on Facebook.

"Mommy, do we have the materials to make droids?"

"No, we don't. And it's getting late, so get back to bed and go to sleep."

"Well, we need to get some. You know, like some metal and stuff."

I'll get right on that.

Saturday Six-Pack

2011-03-12T08:57:00.000-05:00

I'm doing this FIRST so that I don't get sidetracked and forget about it. I just remembered that that's the way blogging works best for me...so here goes.

1. The play is OVER! I'm not putting pictures up here due to wanting to maintain the privacy of the kids, but it was fantastic. Except for one little glitch with about fifteen minutes left in the play, when the laptop I was using for the soundtrack gave me a warning "BONG" and the message that the computer would shut down in five minutes. Now, normally that would have been okay---we could have carried on without the sound effects, but the big dance number was coming up in about 2 minutes, and I nearly fainted. Literally. Thankfully, I maintained my cool and was able to figure out that the computer was set on "Home/Office," which meant it shut down at 8 p.m. I changed it to "Always On," tried to get my heart to stop breaking through my ribs, and closed my eyes and made a wish. It worked. And the bonus of bonus--no one cussed at me this year! I did get flowers from Shmoopy and Skeeterbug at the end of the play---gotta love my guys!

2. We are off to a birthday party later this morning. Our good friends' son is turning five, and he and Andrew are good buddies. So, it's off to the bowling alley for some hilarity (and cheap beer...hey, it will be five o'clock somewhere, right?).

3. I swear if I see one more Facebook post about 2012 coming, I'm going to scream. Yes, the weather's been weird. Yes, the earthquake and tsunami in Japan are AWFUL. Yes, the entire Middle East region is in chaos. But, no, it doesn't mean the world is coming to an end. Do people not realize that the earth has been doing this for millions of years? Most of the stuff we hear about in the weather wouldn't have made the news ten or fifteen years ago, and it's only because of the intrusion of the media into our every waking second that we even know about this stuff going on. Is it possible it's a prologue to the end of days? No one knows that, not even the ultra-religious and the Bible experts. And what are you going to do about it if it IS?

4. These people caught my eye this morning on CNN. Parents Protest Peanut Policy Yeah, that's CNN's use of alliteration, not mine. But, it's NICE. My thoughts on this, after seeing some of these parents and their protests--typical, TYPICAL of parents these days to get up in arms about something so TRIVIAL as their kids not getting to have a CUPCAKE in their classroom on a holiday. Someone's LIFE is at stake, and efforts have been made to protect this child's life, and they're bitching about cupcakes? The one lady in particular gripes about the time spent washing hands because they're losing instructional time--does she seriously think that ALL activity in a first-grade classroom comes to a screeching halt while the kids wash their hands and rinse their mouths? The self-involved, spoiled attitude of some people kills me. Have some concern for others, learn some empathy, and above all, realize that the world does NOT revolve around you OR your precious little darling. (Stepping down from soapbox now.)

5. I will buy a belt today. I will buy a belt today. I will buy a belt today...what's the big deal over a belt? I have these great jeans that I love---they are actually not "mom jeans"--they're cute, and I love them, except for one thing. They don't fit. Well, they fit everywhere except for around the waist...when I bought them, I meant to return them, but they sat on my dresser for too long, past the return policy date. So I was stuck with them. And I like them, I really do---but the waist is ridiculous. Whoever made these jeans decided that big butt=big waist too, and that's not the case here. I mean, my waist isn't SMALL, but it's not as big as my butt, and I swear I could fit another person in the waist of these jeans. And I don't own a belt! Not one! So, yesterday was casual day, and I wanted to wear my jeans to school, especially since I wasn't coming home until 9. So, I put a rope through the belt loops and TIED my jeans up. I did. I'm not ashamed to say it. But I won't do it again. I WILL buy a belt today.

6. I am smelling bacon and coffee, so I think that's my signal to find my fuzzy slippers and hobble downstairs. I would love to lie around and enjoy our last weekend at home for a few weeks--lake weekends start next weekend! But, alas, there are many, many things to do today. Laziness will have to wait for tomorrow. Enjoy your Saturday!

Wednesday Whatevers

2011-03-09T21:26:00.000-05:00

It is cold and rainy outside, and it's depressing because we had a taste of spring dangled in front of us cruelly, only to be thrown back into this yuck. I wish I had a dollar for every Flood Watch text message I've gotten from the Weather Channel. The basement is probably full of water (I'm not looking, because then I need to care about it), the yard is a swamp, and it's still supposed to rain like crazy tonight. And according to some people, "we need the rain." For what, to float my ark in?

This is hell week for me at school. Our drama production is this Friday night, the school assembly is tomorrow afternoon, and we've had marathon rehearsals every day this week. I even made the kids come in on Monday, which was their day off, and rehearse from 12 to 4 because I was panicking about their state of readiness. I'm a little calmer now, but they're still flubbing lines too much for my comfort, and if the entire audience can hear them, it will be a small miracle. Add to that the fact that the grading period ended today and grades are due Friday AND I'm trying to trying to take a graduate class in my "spare" time, and it's no wonder that I'm mixing Bloody Marys on school nights. There just isn't enough Calgon in the world.

Our basketball season is probably over, just as March Madness is really gearing up. The hubby and I went on a road trip last Friday to the CAA Tournament in Richmond, to see our beloved Dukes take on William and Mary. I was so confident they were going to win that I was making plans to attend the second round the next day, and speculating about getting to the semi-finals. But, it wasn't to be, for whatever reason...too many BS fouls called against us, our "star" appearing to be hobbled, a technical foul called on the coach, again for BS reasons...anyway, JMU lost by five to a team they should have easily beaten. And I'm still bitter, although not as much as I was. I continued to watch the tournament on t.v., rooting against our rivals as much as I could. I've watched college basketball every night this week, which is terribly unlike me--my M.O. is to completely ignore all basketball other than the Dukes, then fill out a bracket blindly in March. Now, at least I'll be making sort of educated guesses. And I'm patiently waiting until the weekend when we should hear about the possibility of post-season tournaments for losers. But I had fun on the trip, and we'll probably go again next year.

The view from our final seats--after sneaking down from our real seats in the upper level.

The JMU Pep Band

The tournament last weekend was held in the Richmond Coliseum, the site of many, many concert experiences for me in my youth. Some of the best shows I ever saw were held there--INXS, Motley Crue, and a bunch more that I can't remember right now because I might have been slightly intoxicated for most of them. Oh yeah, AC/DC! I remember now! I might just have to dig out my ticket stubs and talk a walk down memory lane sometime...but anyway, the arena that used to just awe me back then is now a broken down relic of a day gone by. The concrete steps are chipped, the paint on the railings shows layers and layers underneath, and the concourse looks small and dingy. The armrests don't move, the seats are uncomfortable, and I swear I had a flashback when I actually looked into the arena from the concourse.

We also celebrated Dr. Seuss' birthday last week. We read his books every night, and discovered that Andrew can read just about anything he picks up. After the Dr. Seuss books, he moved on to some Star Wars books on a midway through 2nd grade level, so I'm pretty impressed. But back to Dr. Seuss--we honored him with a breakfast-for-dinner night of green eggs and ham (and swirly pancakes in every color imaginable). Yum. I could eat some right now!

The hubby has fallen asleep on Andrew's bed and is snoring. Everyone's asleep but me right now, and I could easily be, except for this post I must finish, the laundry that needs to go into the dryer, the dishes that still need to be finished, and the lunches that need to be packed. And, oh yeah, I think there's basketball on!

Andrewisms

2011-03-02T23:25:00.000-05:00

At night, when Andrew is unwinding and trying to fall asleep, typically he asks one of us to rest with him for a few minutes. If it's the hubby's turn, he falls asleep in three seconds and snores so loudly that Andrew can't fall asleep. If it's me, I lie there watching Andrew, trying desperately not to fall asleep and get stuck in there. Some nights are faster than others, because as Andrew will tell you himself, "It takes me a while to get to sleep."

One of his nighttime rituals as he relaxes and settles in is nuzzling with his lion, which I watch from barely open eyes so he won't see me peeking at him. He lies on his back with lion in an embrace, and he rubs noses with lion, kisses him goodnight, and sometimes whispers to him, just before getting into his final sleep position and drifting off.

Tonight was much the same, only I was watching the fish in the tank across the room (trying not to fall asleep). Andrew paused his nuzzling long enough to say quietly, "This is what we do before we go to sleep--we play the staring game." (Ohhhh...is THAT what you were doing? Because from over here it looks like you're making out with your stuffed animal!) He then returned to staring into Lion's eyes for a moment before saying, "Oh! Lion blinked! I win!" (I'm giggling again now at the thought of this, which probably loses a lot in translation.)

Trying not to burst into hysterical laughter at what struck me as a Calvin and Hobbes moment, I whispered, "Andrew, shhhh!" in an attempt to get him to settle down and go to sleep. Andrew deadpanned, "Why? It's not like we were playing the quiet game!" and then turned over and went to sleep as I laughed my way out of the room. I just wish I could draw comics!

Bloggy Backlog

2011-02-14T20:14:00.000-05:00

I think I may have mentioned that I'm a terrible procrastinator. I'm also not very organized, I'm mostly unmotivated, and I can rationalize my way out of just about everything. Among the many things that I neglect or put off (in no particular order) are housework, doctor's appointments, schoolwork, work for school, and lately, just anything that requires much effort and chutzpah. I'm pretty sure it has much to do with the weather--although that just exacerbates a preexisting slacker attitude. I may also have mentioned a few weeks back that I was mysteriously compelled to clean my house top to bottom, purge everything of little or no value, then paint and redo every last remaining room, and I got going pretty good for a while. Then it screeched to a halt. Well, let me give myself a tiny shred of credit--it didn't screech to a halt; it was more like running out of gas. I went increasingly more slowly, lost interest in individual projects, moved on to other things before I finished anything, and then just puttered to a stop. And stayed there. Now I'm frustrated because the house is a complete wreck, there are little messes everywhere, I STILL don't want to do anything, and more things keep jumping on to my plate, leaving me little energy and positive attitude for any of it.

One of my ~~successful~~ SORT OF successful projects was the purging of our tiny little storage room. We have no usable basement, squirrels live in our attic, and we have no garage, so this little unused bedroom is critical to life as we know it. From my sisters' childhood toys to containers full of baby clothes, crib pieces, Christmas decorations, mementos from our almost 19 (yikes) years of marriage and youth before--you name it, it's in that room. And it was so full that I could not walk into the room without risking my life. No joke.

Ugggh, Hoarders, here we come.

This is one half of the room in "before" mode. The only reason I could take that picture, though, is because the other half had been cleared, but in my frenetic pitching and tossing, I forgot to chronicle the whole process. The one thing I did sit down for, though, was to sort through the multiple cardboard boxes and plastic storage bins full of cassette tapes that the hubby and I had accumulated throughout our teen years and early marriage. I wish I had counted them, because it had to be thousands of cassettes.

See anything you recognize? Well, they're all trash now, along with these...

and these...

and thousands of others that I didn't stop to take pictures of. Nostalgia set in, quickly, though, and I took specific pictures of these fly-by-night bands that I had some weird attraction to in my teens, simply for posterity's sake. How else will the world remember Gene Loves Jezebel and Wa Wa Nee?

James saved a box set of Jimmy Buffett cassettes, even though we have them on CD, and I rescued these two precious treasures from the garbage bag. Yes, I also have them on CD (and Working Class Dog on vinyl!), but these were present for the beginning of a long love affair, and I just couldn't do it.

The rest have made their way to the cassette tape graveyard...or will, rather, once the flatbed trailer parked behind my house is finally full and pulled away for the trip to the landfill. I told you we never finish anything, right? Better make it soon, before I'm inclined to dumpster dive into my own rubbish and rescue Robbie Nevil.

Saturday Six-Pack

2011-02-05T19:36:00.000-05:00

Here's a Happy Birthday Six Pack to my Shmoopy!

1. I have laryngitis. A cold three weeks ago turned, once again, into bronchitis, then laryngitis. I HATE not being able to talk in a normal voice, and I absolutely can't be silent (even though people might wish it). I woke up this morning sounding more normal than I have in two weeks, but then we went to the basketball game...and now I can't talk again. Home treatments for laryngitis include drinking a lot of fluids and REST, but that's a difficult thing for me to do in light of my FANATICISM for JMU basketball. It is my DUTY to scream my face off, including well-placed "WOOOOOOOOOOOOs" and heckles to the brutal CAA refs assigned to today's game in the form of "Invest in some glasses!" At any rate, my throat hurts like the dickens, and we still lost, although barely (and only because of SH*TTY officiating---pardon the language, I'm still livid.)

2. Today was Shmoopy's birthday. I think the little guy and I did well in treating him today--I hope he had a good one. We started off with a breakfast at IHOP (not very well though-out in light of later developments, but oh well--it was good) with my sister and her main squeeze. We then headed off to the Convocation Center for our Dukes taking on VCU (the number one team in the conference, mind you). I had brilliant inspiration yesterday and managed to pull some strings to get us on the VIP list, which allows special entry in a "room" with food and beverages, including BEER. Andrew wasn't interested, but that let James go rub shoulders with the upper crust who can afford to donate $1,500 to JMU every year. (I mean, we probably end up spending that much too, but just a flat donation? Fuhgeddaboutit!) He enjoyed some adult beverages and the ability to enter the inner sanctum. As for the game...well, it was GREAT, with the exception of those couple of points difference in the score. After the game, there was an Akeem Jordan (Harrisonburg native, JMU alum, and NFL player) bobblehead giveaway, autograph session with Akeem AND our Dukes team (again), all of which were successfully navigated.

From there to Dollar Tree, because Monday is the 100th day of school and Andrew needs to take 100 of something with him to class...he wasn't too keen on the dry beans I offered, so we went to find pompoms and popsicle sticks (which ARE more fun than pinto beans, I'll admit.) When we left Dollar Tree, something smelled GREAT, so we went for "LINNER" at the Boston Beanery, an old favorite. I drank Dr. Pepper and helped Shmoopy eat the gigantic piece of Boston cream pie they brought him a complimentary piece of, and thoroughly enjoyed the SUGAR involved there. Then, on to Walmart, where Shmoopy's present from us was picked up--a second "nunchuck" for the Wii, so that my guys can play Lego Batman with two people and argue about who gets to be the hero and the sidekick.

3. I'm getting excited about a trip to Pennsylvania next weekend. Trips to Williamsport are always a good time, and I'm stoked to hang out with my cousins and meet a new addition to the family.

4. I am in the middle of a redecorating project in Andrew's room. We decided it was time to bid Pooh a fond farewell and update it to something older...and since the current obsession (or one of them) is super heroes, that's the theme. Nothing too tacky--just a full-wall cityscape mural, red and blue accessories, and some framed artwork. Here's my inspiration:

It will probably look nothing like either one of these when I'm finished, but that's what inspiration is all about, right?

5. The Super Bowl is tomorrow, I think. I have nothing invested in this one, and I'm not even really sure who the Steelers are playing. But we'll watch at least some of it, and I'm excited about the Black-Eyed Peas at halftime. And in a historical context, the skunks that sometimes live under our house usually make their presence known by spraying under the house and stinking everything up, so I will be holding my breath (no pun intended) throughout the game.

6. I have not worked a full week since before Christmas. First, there were the two snow days that jumpstarted Christmas break. The first week back was short a day, I think. We had two workdays in another week, I called in sick one day with the start of this cold/yuck, and Andrew was sick one day this week. I'm taking Friday off for our trip, I'm sure we'll get at least one or two more snow days, parent conferences are coming up...and I just may see what I can do about continuing this record until our tiny little spring break. Five days is just too much!

Go Dukes!

2011-01-23T10:47:00.002-05:00

I thought I'd take a little time this morning to focus on what's occupying a large amount of my time these days--basketball. No, I'm not playing. I'm not coordinated enough to dribble and walk, much less incorporate all the other stuff. But Karma has bitten me in the butt once again, it seems. Just a few short weeks ago, in the thick of college football season, I ranted a few times about the insanity that seems to possess people when rooting for their teams. "It's just a game! I can understand rooting for one's team or alma mater, but for the love of all that is holy, worry about something of consequence!" Well, here we are, well into the CAA basketball schedule, and MY brain is full of stats all of a sudden. Never in my life have I been able to rattle off standings, records, and random trivia, and I'm wondering if I should be worried!

Andrew talks to Duke Dog from our seats in 2006.

Andrew hugging Duke Dog in 2010.

Maybe a little history would be appropriate here. We have been attending JMU Men's Basketball games since Andrew was a mere bun in the proverbial oven. Andrew knows his way around the Convocation Center better than some of the people that work there. He even has a game night routine--he takes a small backpack of toys to occupy himself with (Lion goes, too, of course.), he pays attention for about one third of the game (enough to understand the basic rules, never mind the finer points), he screams his head off for the audience participation moments, in a noble effort to win t-shirts and pizza, and half-time can not pass without his walk with his daddy around the concourse, a trip that inevitably ends with the purchase of popcorn, cotton candy, or a blow pop. He has had his picture taken with Duke Dog so many times, I'm starting to think they're related. He knows the words to the Fight Song by heart (and sings them in the bathtub when he thinks no one is listening) and flirts sheepishly with the many college girls who think he is cute. And no game is complete without a trip down on the floor to run around after the game.

Andrew found Duke Dog on the bench! (2006)

Through it all, though, we've been supporting a losing team. We've been through multiple coaches until finally finding one that works. We've watched the heartbreak of the many players who have stepped out onto the court, and still we went and supported them. And it was easy not to get too wrapped up in it--we were used to losing, so it wasn't terribly painful.

Now, though, things are different. The Dukes have a great coach in Matt Brady. I don't know the technicalities, but it's clear that he coaches with heart, that he is invested personally and not just professionally. He's a nice guy to boot, and he'll stop and thank us for coming out even when a game hasn't gone his way. The players are a classy bunch of kids--they stop to show appreciation for their supporters after every game, they work as a team, and it's clear from where we are that they're a team with heart.

Andrew and me with Alioune Diouf and Denzel Bowles.

And the team is winning! After yesterday's game, the Dukes are 15-5, not as good a record as they had going into this week, but still good! And not to start sounding like a sports article, because that wasn't the intent here, but yesterday's game was the first ESPN appearance at home since 1994, which is exciting! Things have been going so well, and I've gotten so used to having my team win, that the losses have become painful. So painful that I cursed at the television during Wednesday night's loss to ODU. So painful that I held my breath during the last two minutes of yesterday's very close game (and loss) to George Mason.

What strikes me the most, though, is that I am happy that Andrew has these guys as role models. He's not involved in sports yet, and if he's anything like his parents, basketball is probably not in his future. But these guys play good, clean basketball. They hold their tempers in check (much better than I would), and they are clearly demonstrating what it means to be a team. They have their stars, certainly--what team doesn't? But those same stars are the first ones to their feet when kids who don't get much playing time get substituted in, like the night that all twelve players who were dressed scored at least two points. Watching those guys root for their teammates, wanting them to share their glory, was truly something special. Having the team acknowledge the crowd as a valuable contributor continues to be refreshing and touching at each game. And it's indicative of the heart of these guys that after yesterday's breath-holding loss that my saying, "Good game!" inspired a hug from the player.

All of that being said, I truly hope this team continues to play well and to win. I'm enjoying the ride and the glory and the anticipation of the next games (three coming up this week!). But if, for some reason, things should turn south, I'll still be there on my feet, screaming myself hoarse and clapping until my hands hurt. These guys deserve to win, but no matter what, they have earned my support. Go Dukes!

Pizzelle Day 2010

2011-01-10T21:20:00.000-05:00

I really don't have time to sit and write just now, considering the fact that my dad and James just finished installing a set of shiny new cabinet organizers under my kitchen counter. Of course, everything under there had to be pulled out to do it, so it looks like a Corningware factory blew up in the kitchen at the moment. Add to that the dinner dishes, the lunches to pack, the coffee to make, the load of laundry to run, and the snow dance to do, all before eleven, and that means I need to write like the wind.

I have been a whirling dervish lately. I'm not sure why, but I am. Maybe I've been stricken with a horrible case of OCD, or maybe genetics are just kicking in. I have always been amazed at my mother's ability to go and go and never stop to rest while I've been perfectly content to hold down the couch and read. No more, though--I'm lucky to get through three pages before I'm unconscious, because I've been in overdrive so much.

Anyway, one of the things that kept me busy over our winter break was Pizzelle Day. Pizzelles are a long-standing tradition with our watered-down Italian family, but it's one that I treasure. I used to help my grandmother make them on the old-fashioned iron that had to be held over the stove, and it only made one at a time. Later, after my grandmother's death, we used to make them with Edna. I didn't make any last year, partly because I didn't feel like it, but also because I couldn't find my electric pizzelle maker. I for damn sure wasn't doing it the old-fashioned way. This year, my sister/BFF and I spent one of the first days out of school making these lovely cookies, drinking a bottle of wine, and making one hell of a mess. It was a good day.

Eggs waiting to be smacked around.

The oil, vanilla, and the all-important anise seed join the fray.

Sugar and sifted flour finish it off.

Leigh Ann plops 'em down on the iron.

Big bottle of cheapo wine in the midst of the chaos.

The next generation comes to help.

The cookies that stick and have to be scraped off. I ate a million of these scraps that day.

Ingredient hell all over the kitchen table. Have I mentioned that need an island?

The cookie thief grabbed one and ran off to the safety of the living room to dispose of the evidence.

Finally, the resting place, inside a foil-lined wooden cheese box. Three hundred cookies later, and I think we'll still be eating them by St. Patrick's Day.

Call off the APB!

2011-01-06T11:54:00.000-05:00

I am here. Really. And my intentions are great. I have blog posts running around in my head, I take lots of pictures of every dumb little thing that we do, and yet I can NOT manage to get them posted. Uggh. I am so frustrated by it!

Part of the problem...or the solution, depending on how you look at it...is that my organizational brain cells have kicked into overdrive. It's like NESTING, times five. And no, there is no "news" to share, so there's not even any reason for nesting. As I write this, from the relative quiet of my classroom during the kids' silent reading time, there is a fifteen foot utility trailer sitting behind our house. Said trailer is full of STUFF that we have hauled out of our ridiculously clutter-filled abode. Three chairs. A sixty year-old mattress and bed frame. Boxes and bags of garbage (there's another post on that one to follow soon. Pinky swear.) And still there is an entire room of my house (the dining room) devoted to storing stuff to go to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. (Organizational Tip #1: If you're going to donate something, box it up and put it in the car and TAKE IT immediately--don't let it turn into another problem to be handled at a later date. I'm still learning this lesson.)

I have cleaned out a storage room, rearranged furniture, cleaned out cabinets, made lists (both mental and actual), made a menu for the entire month of January, purged, expunged, and tossed. And it's been exhausting. Not to mention time-consuming. And I'm not finished! There are many, many things left to do, and all in a certain order. Project A has to happen before Project B can start. For example, I couldn't put away holiday decorations until the ~~death trap~~ storage room was cleaned out. I couldn't move the treadmill to the rec room (nor the brand-new Wii that Santa brought) until one of the couches was moved to the office. I couldn't move the couch to the office until the office was purged and rearranged. And so on.

It's a never-ending cycle, but I'm enjoying the results. The motivation and inspiration would take me another whole blog post to explain, but suffice it to say that I'm not posting because of WORTHWHILE reasons and causes, not just that I'm sitting on my fat butt doing nothing. And because I've made mental resolutions (not in print, where I have to prove they're happening, mind you) and am sticking to most of them and getting into a routine of being an Energizer bunny who never sits down, I'll add posting (and commenting on my favorite blogs) to my list of things that I squeeze into my schedule. Because I miss it, I really do.

And by the way, happy New Year!

A Special Visit

2010-12-07T21:31:00.000-05:00

Today I had the great pleasure of visiting and volunteering in Andrew's classroom. I had originally signed up to chaperone a field trip to a local tree farm, which would have been great, too, but this was better. Mother Nature and the Snow Miser were on my side, apparently, because the frigid temps we've been having around here this week caused the kindergarten teachers to wisely make alternative plans--they had the presenters bring their show on the road to the elementary school!

We working parents don't often get to enjoy things that stay-at-home parents do, and volunteering in the schools on a regular basis is one of them. I enjoyed myself so much today that I could think of little else than how nice it would be to have the luxury of being one of the regular volunteers, to have that be my Tuesday "thing." I try to be as involved and informed as I can, and it's probably easier for me than it is for many people...I'm a teacher, my school and his are next door, my sister and several good friends teach there...the list goes on. But it's not the same as being able to witness first-hand the atmosphere, the schedule, the kids and activities that I hear stories about, and just flat-out being able to watch Andrew in his element. And boy, was he ever in his element. He was self-assured, confident, smart, well-behaved, and funny. And I'm not saying that to "brag on" my kid, but to marvel inwardly and with a couple of tears in my eyes at what an incredible little guy he is and how stinking lucky (blessed, if you will) we are.

As I prepare the photos from today's visit, (all taken with my cell phone, because I don't think these once-in-a-blue-moon opportunities through very well ahead of time), I am wishing that I had written down some of the one-liners and quips I heard from the kids in his class today, because they had me chuckling for most of the afternoon. Again, I'm a bonehead. Enjoy the pictures.

After we ate lunch in the classroom (due to the adjusted schedule), Andrew's teacher announced center time. Andrew made a bee-line to the housekeeping center, where I'm told he spends most of his time. He ventures occasionally to the art table, but I can understand why he avoided the blocks--that's where the rough crowd hangs out. Andrew and his little buddy were making taco soup.

Andrew in one of the housekeeping costumes.

Soon after this picture was taken, Andrew's teacher caught me off guard by asking me to read aloud to the class while she helped get set up for the next activity. Back in the day, before I finished my degree, I was an instructional aide in a kindergarten classroom, and BOY did I have deja vu today! But the class was great, and once I got over my smidge of stage fright speaking in front of other adults, we read a great story about a puppy who wants a little boy for Christmas. It was touching and appropriate, but I was on such auto pilot that I don't even remember the title of the book.

The presenter from the forestry service came into Andrew's classroom as the first part of their "field trip." He brought in a pine tree that "just happened" to have a bird's nest in it. The kids were enthralled, and a riot damn near broke out when we heard a bird starting chirping. I bought it for a minute or two, and was actually concerned a bird was going to be trampled in the melee, but it turns out that Mr. Funnyman Forest Ranger had some sort of bird chirp thing in his pocket. Andrew announced out loud that the noise was coming from his pocket, and I was pretty sure they were going to take the old guy down and frisk him until they found that bird. I never should have read Lord of the Flies. I always assume the worst about groups of little kids resorting to mob violence. Andrew stayed in his seat as the rest of the kids rushed the park ranger.

The presenter had some pine tree slices that he brought along to demonstrate how one can tell how old a tree is. Andrew volunteered to count that one and determined that it was eleven years old.

We moved on after the ~~park ranger~~ tree aging lesson to a different classroom down the hall. This presenter, who is a well-known local conservation teacher that I knew from previous experiences at my own school, brought a tree stump full of products that we get from trees--everything from fruit to toothpaste. Yes, toothpaste. I still need to look that one up.

She also led the kids in a brief musical session--cedar wood blocks and emory board-type instruments were distributed, and the kids played along with a CD of a Native American musician singing about the gifts of the cedar tree.

The final activity of the "field trip" was a lesson on pinecones--the different types, sizes, etc., and a hunt for pinecones throughout one of the classrooms. I forgot to take pictures, though, because I was too busy scurrying around the room hiding the pinecones, and remembering to do so at knee level where the munchkins could find them.

I was pleasantly surprised that there was a school assembly toward the end of the day, and I stayed for that too, at Andrew's request. I could have gone back to school and actually done my job, but the plans were in place, and what the heck? I don't get these opportunities often, as I said. So, we marched down to the gymnasium to watch a really great performace of a cute little Christmas musical by the 2nd graders.

Andrew and I were starving when we got home, so we made pizzas together for an early supper. He declared that he was only putting one pepperoni on his, and that I could have the others. (He will eat cold pepperoni out of the package like it's going out of style, but he doesn't like it on pizza--go figure.)

We went back to school later on for Andrew's first school show of any kind--the art show. He had several pieces on display throughout the cafeteria, but those masterpieces will have to wait for a different post.

All in all, a great day, and one that I will treasure. Andrew has asked me to come back again on a regular day when I can see him in his classes and his specials. I think I can manage that--it will be a good use of personal days.

My Poor Neglected Blog (a.k.a., Randomness)

2010-11-20T12:04:00.000-05:00

I did not mean to take a month's hiatus, honestly. I kept coming back after the last Edna post and looking around, thinking about posting, but realizing I had nothing to write about. Then I said to myself, "Self, why not just make it an even month?" Then I procrastinated for a couple more days, and now I'm back. Hopefully.

So, there hasn't been a lot happening lately...well, nothing that was worthy of writing. Family undercurrents of drama swirling around, threatening to blow, work hassles, daily grindstone kind of stuff...nothing too eventful or interesting. We've been here at home for what seems like an eternity---the first few weeks we stayed home from the lake were very refreshing, but then we settled back into a routine of not getting much accomplished on the weekend. Now, I'm just missing the lake, and warm weather.

Andrew has been learning a lot at school, and he loves it. Of note this week is the idea of symmetry, which he displayed the other night in a restaurant by saying, "Mommy, you know what would happen if you cut this wall in half? Symmetry!" Also of note is the fact that he knows who Squanto and Powhatan were (while his daddy says, "Who's Squanto?"). We'll be on a mission later today to find some cheap and easy materials to make a Native American costume for the kids' Thanksgiving feast on Tuesday. Unless Andrew decides to be a Pilgrim after all, which happens every ten minutes or so.

Andrew is headed to my mom's tonight for a sleepover. It orginally was planned as a babysitting event, as the hubby and I were headed out to see the 80's cover band I enjoy seeing. But, I woke up snotty and coughing for the sixth or seventh time since September, and James just realized the transmission is acting up in the good car, so I don't know how much "out" there will be. Andrew will still get his night out with Grammy, but I might be in bed by seven if things don't turn around quickly.

As we head into Thanksgiving week ("Hell yeah!" for the 2-day school week!!!), we're facing some changed traditions. Last year we tried to do everything the same for Thanksgiving--even down to fixing dishes that Edna traditionally prepared. But, it was too soon after her death, and it was an empty holiday. I didn't want to do that again this year, and so we decided to go to the lake after dinner at my mom's. We'll have a dinner there, but not on Thursday, and there might not be turkey or the usual suspects being served. Hopefully the weather will be pleasant and warmish, and we'll get to have a boat ride or two before the weekend is over. Then we plan to close down and winterize the lake place for its long winter sleep.

For now, though, it's back to the Saturday routine of laundry and trying to keep some semblance of order in our cluttered existence. And tissues, lots and lots of tissues.

Dear Edna

2010-10-18T20:55:00.056-04:00

Dear Edna,

There are so many things that I have wanted to talk to you about over the last year that I don't even know where to begin. I have my own little private conversations with you every day, and I have to believe that you hear them. There are still days when I do not believe that you are gone. Actually, parts of most days, that's the case. My head knows it's true, but the reality of us without you is a reality that no one really wants to accept. And in spite of knowing that you are around us somewhere, there is nothing I wouldn't do to be able to have another conversation with you, tell you all the things I couldn't tell you in that last week, and to be able to hold you and give you a hug.

As I write this, Andrew is calling me from the bathtub. He misses you a lot, too, and it breaks my heart that he didn't have you with him longer than four years. He is so perceptive and so sharp, just as you always said he was, and he knows entirely too much about death for my taste. We sat at your grave this afternoon, Andrew, Lion, and I, and just took in the peace of where your body lies, surrounded now by not only Granny and Grandpop, but by Uncle Bob, who I know keeps you company wherever you both are. Andrew sat quietly in my lap while I cried and he sniffled, and I told him how very proud of him you are and how much you love him even still. I want him to remember and know. I think about you every time we read a book together, and wish you could see what a fantastic reader he already is.

Dad is doing better lately, although I think he would disagree. He hosted a dinner last night (I know you know this already), and showed amazing strength. He still feels lost without you, and is searching for something to fill the void. We humor his talk about buying "trikes" and running off to the tropics, but we all know he's looking for something that doesn't remind him every second of every day that you aren't with us anymore. He is so proud of all of our places at the lake, and I'm with him in wishing that you were here to enjoy us "taking over" the campground. He's worried about me and my bronchitis that won't go away, and he finally put it into words the other night--"That's how Edna's started, with that cough she couldn't get rid of."

I found a poem the other day that describes how I feel constantly about where you are.

"Death Is Nothing At All"

by Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all:

I have only slipped away into the next room.

I am I and you are you;

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by my old familiar name.

Speak to me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference in your tone:

Wear no forced air or solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the

little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Why should I be out of mind

because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere very near,

Just around the corner. All is well.

I love you, and I thank you for being a mom to me for the short thirty years that I had you. I miss you more than I could ever say, and I wish with all my heart that I had been allowed and able to say these things to you before you left us. I know you knew them, though, and that consoles me. And I know you hear me now, and that comforts me. Thank you for being my biggest supporter and advocate all those years, and for loving me as if I were your own. Rest well, E.

Mid-October 2009

2010-10-15T12:05:00.000-04:00

As I've mentioned before, this week marks the anniversary of one of the most difficult times in my life. Fall is a bittersweet season anyway, and always has been for me, but even more so now.

There are so many things from last September and October that I don't really remember too many details of, and I regret that. I wish I had written down specific days and events and thoughts so that I could reflect on them now, when I'm able to. Of course, my mind was elsewhere, and we were busy helping to make Edna's transition as easy for her as possible. I know that on this day last year, we were in full bedside vigil. She was already lost to us in all ways but one, and practically every moment of the day and night was filled by trying to make sure Dad was okay as we watched her breathe and held our own breath as the pattern became more and more irregular.

We are headed to the lake in a little while, for what is sure to a somber weekend. Dad is struggling again as we reach this anniversary, after rebounding in the last couple of months. I have had a difficult time balancing my own grief and distractions with encouraging him to continue to fight the good fight. In what I hope will be a healing moment for him and not a re-opening of the wound, Dad wanted to host a memorial dinner at his house on Sunday night for family and close friends, so we'll be back for that Sunday evening. It's sure to be reminiscent of the family gathering after the funeral service, and I got to looking through pictures of that earlier today. Here are some of the more poignant photos and memories.

Close-up of the flowers in the casket spray. The last gift we ever gave Edna.

My dad with his brothers. I am so happy that I took this photo. You can't tell by looking at him, but Uncle Bob (middle) was fighting his own fight with an invasive brain tumor. He was so happy that he was able to make the trip and be with his family. Little did we know that in a few short months, we would lose him, too.

The family photo taken at the graveside. I love this picture, although it breaks my heart that it takes events such as these to get us all together and posing for a photo. There are three generations in this photo.

I know I'm probably breaking all sorts of internet safety rules by posting this, but I don't care. The youngest generation meeting the past generation as Andrew and his cousin play on their great-grandparents headstone. I know Andrew has had a lot of thoughts and questions about these people he never knew since, every time we visit the cemetery, and I'm proud of him for respecting and wanting to know about his heritage.

Life goes on, even quickly after. Kids are way more resilient than we are, and as thoughtful and perceptive as Andrew is, he's still able to move quickly on to the good stuff. In this case, his Halloween costume and slinging webs in Grandpop's kitchen.

Born on Columbus Day, a.k.a. Thirty-Nine Reasons to Hate My Birthday

2010-10-11T23:02:00.000-04:00

So, today was Columbus Day. It was also my birthday. Both did nothing for me today. So, here goes my list...

1. I'm 39. If I don't have another baby while I'm 39, I'll never have another baby.

2. If I didn't have students, I would have gotten no presents today.

3. My husband took me literally when I say I don't want to celebrate, and he bought me a card that he and Andrew both signed. He should read me better than that.

4. I still have bronchitis.

5. A student sent me flowers, but no one else did.

6. My siblings texted me "happy birthday" messages...well, the two that remembered. A phone call would have been nice.

7. I spent the evening alone doing laundry and watching television.

8. My birthday was on the weekly school calendar, so people knew about it.

9. I am equally annoyed by people wishing me a happy birthday as I am by people ignoring it.

10. I had Chinese take-out tonight and didn't even enjoy it.

11. There was no cake.

12. James got violently ill and went to bed before Andrew did. Not his fault, but I'm still angry with him.

13. My mother wrote me a check. I want her to be able to know what would make me happy and buy it herself.

14. If my mother had bought me something, I would have hated it and returned it.

15. Edna used to buy me the best outfits for my birthday. She was the only one who could, and now no one does.

16. On this day last year, I was so positive that Edna was going to die that day that I rallied the troops.

17. My birthday last year was "celebrated" around a hospital bed and my dying stepmother, who was just lucid enough at that point to know something was going on.

18. On October 12 of last year, I received word that one of my favorite former students had been in a car wreck and was brain dead.

19. I was born on Columbus Day. My birthday has only been on Columbus Day six times since then. If I count those like people born on February 29, I'm only six years old. That's not helpful at all.

20. Next year, I'll be 40.

21. I'm worried about transferring my pathological hatred of birthdays to Andrew.

22. Today was Monday.

23. I have an all-day inservice tomorrow.

24. Rick Springfield didn't call me to tell me "Happy birthday!"

25. I want to be at the lake.

26. I'm running out of reasons.

27. I'm too old to get my tonsils taken out.

28. I ordered eye firming cream for the fine lines and wrinkles from Mary Kay today.

29. I am not a perky person, and when I'm not perky, people think I'm being a bitch.

30. I think I really need an inhaler, but I don't have a doctor.

31. Anything higher than 250, unless we're talking about money someone's giving to me.

32. I just realized I have nothing to read before bed.

33. My birthday wasn't on 10-10-10 or 11-11-11. 10-11-10 looks like a locker combination.

34. 82 Facebook friends commented on my birthday. Maybe eight of them really care.

35. I don't have lunch money for tomorrow, and will probably have to "steal" it from Andrew's money jar.

36. James is going to be a treat to sleep with. The guest room is sounding good.

37. I'm craving a Coke. A real one.

38. It's 11:00, and I wanted to be in bed by now.

39. I can not remember a birthday that I've enjoyed. Ever.

There is Light at the End of the Tunnel

2010-09-28T22:03:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling a little better.

The Week From Hell

2010-09-25T09:54:00.000-04:00

It's very appropriate that this week hit on a full moon, because boy, did we have some crazy stuff going on around here. I just realized that, once again, we're home on a Saturday morning, only this week, I'm not so psyched about it. So, let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Two weeks ago, in a flurry of "get stuff done around the house woo-hoo-ness," we did some major brush clearing and hedge/tree trimming. It's a job left unfinished, but it looks much better than it did, and I'm less concerned that there are actual monkeys living in my front yard. It was a warm weekend, and on the second day of work, James ended up working in gym shorts and nothing else. Okay, in hindsight, that's a bad idea, but it's hard to argue with a large sweaty man in the midst of manual labor. In a job that's usually MINE, James apparently ran across some poison ivy. Lots of it. In fact, by the looks of him, not only did he run across it, he wrapped himself in the vines and did the hula dance while rubbing the vile parasite all over himself. So, several days later, he breaks out in a raging case of the creeping crud--legs, feet, belly, waistline, and eye socket all covered in the oozing red itchiness. Ick. Well, anyway, after days and days of ~~sh*t my Granny put me through~~ homeopathic treatments such as salt water baths and nail polish remover, it really wasn't getting any better--in fact, some of it looked worse, as if it were infected. James is lucky enough to have an on-site clinic, staffed by a nurse practitioner, at his job, so he paid the lucky lady a visit on Thursday. She promptly decided that the poison ivy was no longer the problem, but a raging case of cellulitis that was kicking his ass. Steroids and antibiotics were prescribed, and he's well on his way to healing.

As if one member of the household being a semi-invalid weren't bad enough, I started feeling bad (not badly, mind you, I feel things quite well!) on Tuesday. Swollen glands, sore throat, an all-over "out of it" feeling, all just in time for our free flu shots to arrive at school. (I had to take a pass on it until I feel better, but our school nurse is keeping it for me. There are very few perks like that when you're a teacher, so I gotta take advantage of it.) All I wanted to do was sleep, so of course, that's the one thing I couldn't do. Andrew was up several times during the night Tuesday with nightmares (At least one of the dreams involved a prince dying; he said the prince was curled up in a ball on the ground, and he was rising above himself and still able to talk after his body was dead. Interesting ideas from a five year-old.), so of course I was up too, and then ended up "sleeping" in his bed for an hour or two. Andrew was coughing and really tired from his night, and I felt like sh*t on a stick, so we both took Wednesday off to recuperate. I slept a lot, and Andrew trashed the living room single-handedly.

On Thursday, though, we both felt a little better, so we got up and went to school. I struggled through the morning, but started to feel a little better in the afternoon. When Andrew got off the bus at my school, though, I knew something was wrong, and in five minutes he was asleep in my desk chair, feverish and puny. As the evening wore on, his fever spiked around 102-103 while mine crept up to 101. Ideally, this is the part where we're waited on hand and foot by a loving and capable husband and father, but nothing in this household ever works out ideally, and said loving and capable person was miserable as well, so he did the best he could. While MY illness apparently craved carbs (like the dozen donuts I almost single-handedly polished off in the course of 24 hours), Andrew's craved nothing. Not even Spongebob chicken noodle soup appealed to him. Thank goodness for mandarin oranges, or he'd be eating nothing at all.

Preparing for the inevitable second day off, I emailed my plans for Friday to my awesome co-teacher Thursday night, and knew everything was under control there, in spite of full moon fever hitting the middle school. Friday was spent dosing grape Tylenol to Andrew every four hours while he lay around practically motionless watching t.v. (Okay, I KNOW that 15 hours of t.v. is NOT healthy, but it's what we DO when we're sick. And, I'm proud to say that we chose quality entertainment in the form of E.T. and Back to the Future Parts I and II.) In between taking his temperature with the temporal artery thingy (and running upstairs to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, at least until I figured out how to switch the setting--duh) and giving him meds to make him comfortable, I held down the other couch and was miserable myself, without a damn adult Tylenol anywhere in the house. Short of guzzling the entire bottle of grape goo, there was nothing to do but suffer.

To make matters worse, at some point, whatever creepo virus or sinus infection I have going has crept into my eyes, and I now have a raging case of pink eye, the viral type, I ~~assume~~ hope. I'll spare you the disgusting details, but it's rather aggravating to have to pry my eyelashes apart with my fingers after a nap. Ewwww. It's appropriate for the full moon, however, because my eyes look like they belong to some horrible creature who only eats brains for dinner. This monster, however, craved egg drop soup, pork lo mein, and donuts, more donuts. Is it "feed a fever, starve a cold," or the other way around?

So, to make a long story slightly less long, we're home this Saturday morning instead of at the lake where we had planned to be. And I'm disappointed! (I forgot to mention that a raging thunderstorm or possibly even a small tornado touched down in the campground mid-week, uprooting trees and squashing several houses. Ours was fine, as were Dad's and my sister's places, but a few of our neighbors weren't so lucky. Dad's been assisting with clean-up since Wednesday morning, and I think will return home today, since we weren't able to join him down there.) So, welcome to Saturday---a day of self-medicating and recuperating (hopefully). Andrew's fever is gone, and he hopped out of bed and started trying to lure one of the cats into his hamper (I don't know what he was planning to do after that--good thing she didn't fall for it!). If I can get him to eat something, I'll be reassured that he's mending. I, however, have a head full of gunk, bright red eyeballs, and popping ears, but someone has to muck out the mess that several sick people can accumulate over three days. Hoarders, here we come.

Saturday Six Pack

2010-09-18T10:50:00.001-04:00

Well, it's the weekend, and I once again find myself at home, sweet home. I am relishing it--being able to do laundry on Saturday at a nice, leisurely pace; the anticpation of hanging clothes on the line; watching and listening to Andrew play with toys he often doesn't have time for during the week (Right now, he's playing drums along with Phineas and Ferb.). And, of course, I have access to a computer, which means I can enjoy a Six Pack on this beautiful morning.

1. The weeks are flying by. We have been in school for almost an entire grading period already! That's both good and bad. As we dip into fall and the weather becomes comfortable and pleasant, I dread the return of winter--especially if it has any plans of being as much of a hateful bitch as it was last year. I dread the cold, and I dread the heating bills. If it were up to me, we'd go straight from Thanksgiving to Christmas, then to Easter, and skip all the crap in between.

2. Andrew is going to spend the night with his grammy tonight, and Shmoopy and I are headed out on the town. I'm stuck in a dilemma though--we arranged the sleepover and planned to stay home from the lake specifically to see this fantastic 80's cover band, The Reflex, play at a local establishment. This band is great fun, and plays everything from A-ha to Nena, and yes, even Rick Springfield. I wasn't able to go the last time they were in town, and a lot of classmates from high school that I've reconnected with since our 20th reunion last year, and since everyone and his brother is now on Facebook, seem anxious for me to go. But, I found out a few days ago that our good friends Matt (a.k.a. The Voice of Reason) and Tina were also planning a rare night out to a different establishment to see a different band. So, I'm torn...go hang with acquaintances and see a band I LOVE, or go hang with people I love and see a band I don't really like. Ugggh, decisions.

3. Andrew is doing a great job at school, and I think he loves it. Of course, when I ask him, his response is always, "Fine," with no details. But in the middle of random everydayness, he blurts out things like, "Mommy, in music, we still haven't gotten to use the instruments!" Or he might recite a poem he learned while he's playing, unaware that I'm listening. Through the bits and pieces I get scattered throughout our day, I can tell he's enjoying it a lot, and that he has settled quite nicely into his new routine. I don't really think he's learning anything yet, though, but that will come as reading groups and Power Up groups start sorting themselves out. I just hope it's fast enough that he doesn't get bored reviewing shapes and colors that he's known since before he could talk well enough to name them!

4. Work is a big stressor right now. We have a great group of kids, but there are some real challenges if every kid is supposed to pass the same standardized test in the spring. I'm a big advocate of the idea that every child can learn, but realistically, every child won't learn the same things, and as much as we remediate and reteach and accommodate, there's simply no way that a child reading on a first grade level and spelling phonetically about as well as Andrew does is going to pass a seventh grade reading test. We're good, but we're not that good. As if the academic challenges weren't enough, we are faced with some ~~effing crazy~~ extremely difficult parents who, I'm assuming in the interests of protecting and advocating for their children, are actually causing irreparable damage and testing the limits of my ability to bite my tongue. It's a bad thing when I fantasize about telling these parents exactly what I think of them. And I also just realized that I have to take a class before spring for recertification, and that's my LEAST favorite thing to do.

5. I have a list of home improvement projects a mile long. Maybe two miles. Last weekend, we trimmed trees and shrubs and thinned out honeysuckle (and poison ivy, apparently, from the angry red splotches the hubby has all over him) for about four hours each day, and it made a huge difference. But it highlighted the other outdoor projects that sort of need immediate attention, such as the south-facing wall of the house, one of the few walls that isn't sided, which needs an immediate paint job. I rarely see that side of the house, and it doesn't face the road, so the fact that the paint is peeling off in big chunks is easy to ignore. The porch needs to be painted too, and ideally before it gets any colder. I just love old houses. Sigh.

6. We are approaching the one-year anniversary of the worst time in my life, and I'm braced for impact, both mine and others'. These next few weeks will mark the last "firsts" since Edna's death, and certainly the most difficult. I've blocked out most of the specific dates, but this was the beginning of the Waiting. The time when we all knew what was going on but weren't allowed to talk about it with her. The time when every phone call made our hearts sink. The time when all I could think about was how I was going to explain it to Andrew. The time when I had to stay strong to hold others up. And I feel it...as much I enjoy the changing weather, fall will forever be That Time. A trip to the pumpkin patch will forever be What We Did the Weekend After She Died. My birthday will always be bittersweet, because that was the true beginning of the end, and I will never forget that I held my breath that whole day, just knowing it would be any time. I've been pretty good, pretty okay, throughout most of the "firsts," and just in general. It was so hard for me in the six months leading up to her death, that afterwards I think I just exhaled. But I feel it coming. I finished a YA book this morning, brand-new to the school library. The heroine's mother had died, then her father, and at the end, her only friend, a bewitched cat who talked, also died. And I cried. I feel it behind my eyes, in my throat, and in my stomach. It's becoming the waiting time all over again.

There's No Place Like Home

2010-09-11T10:03:00.000-04:00

It's Saturday morning, and I am at home. And it's wonderful! I realized last night that this was the first weekend we have been home in about eight weeks, and I was amazed that it has been so long.

Don't get me wrong--I love our lake place, and I treasure being there. On this beautiful, crisp morning, I can picture the beauty of the lake reflecting the sun and the smell of the woods. And it's 9:30, which means I'm missing breakfast fixed by my dad, a Saturday morning ritual. And I'm wondering what Lester, the 18-inch catfish I caught and accidentally released last Saturday, is doing with his day. (Lester, I am coming for you. Don't you worry.)

But on the flip side, I had the inspiration to write this morning, and I can. Life at the lake is practically electronics-free and somewhat isolated. Andrew watches a little t.v., but it's mostly shows that we've recorded at home and taken down with his portable player. We don't watch news, I barely use my phone because everyone I would talk to is there, and I certainly don't have a computer or internet connection to distract me from the lake, even when I want it. I keep talking about purchasing a netbook or laptop to take with us--I am inspired to write almost constantly at the lake, but short of scratching down notes on paper (perish the thought), I have no way to put it into print. And as many times as I write myself notes about ideas, they get lost in translation. The moment passes, I can't remember what I was trying to remind myself of, or I just get plain distracted and move on. And while I would LOVE to be able to sit on the dock and write, or get up early and sit outside with my cup of hazelnut coffee in my pajamas, I also don't want the distraction to intrude on our idyllic and serene (unless someone is yelling at me, but that's a story for another day) escape-from-reality lifestyle.

I am also amazingly impressed with the amenities of home that we don't yet enjoy at the lake--like a toilet in the house. I was able to get up in the middle of night and traipse to the bathroom without worrying about a flashlight or the boogeyman or where the golf cart key is. And first thing this morning, I was able get out of bed without climbing delicately over James (the lake bed only has one way out) and walk calmly down the hall to the bathroom instead of the morning RACE to the bathhouse which is inevitable after drinking the requisite four-to-six Stella Artoises (I have no idea if that was the right way to make that plural? My six years of French is failing me.) or Hoegartens from a "mixy-matchy six packy" the night before.

The house will get some attention today as well. Rooms that have been picked up and put away, but not cleaned, in months, just might get vacuumed and dusted. And while I love my house unconditionally, in a few hours, I will be bemoaning the fact that we live quite comfortably in four tiny rooms at the lake--in a house that takes all of fifteen minutes to clean from top to bottom. That's as opposed to the ten rooms and three bathrooms that we ~~don't need~~ ~~have filled with crap~~ currently occupy when we're home. (My grand plan, if we're having no more kids, is to move us all into the downstairs of this rambling old farmhouse and turn the upstairs into another apartment--also a "story" for another day.) It will take me all day to accomplish anything, because I'll spend most of my time running up and down stairs or walking fifty feet to get from one room to the other. And then the house still won't be clean. There are outside chores awaiting as well---hedges that threaten to take over the yard, bushes hanging over the sidewalk, a sandbox that needs to be de-leafed, and a porch that desperately needs to be swept and hosed.

All that being said, as I prepare for my second cup of coffee and venturing downstairs to make blackberry waffles for my guys, while I will relish every second of the day and all that it brings, my mind will inevitably be divided into A Tale of Two Towns, each with their own appeal (and drawbacks). And I stop to remind myself that we are so very lucky to have both options (for I so often look only at the negatives) and to live for this minute in this place. And just as "parting is such sweet sorrow," and being away from the lake makes me miss it, "absence makes the heart grow fonder." It will make it that much sweeter to return to the lake in two weeks, just as being away has made it sweet to be home.

And now, off to start the day. At home.

It Has To Be a Teacher's Kid!

2010-09-02T13:17:00.000-04:00

So...as much as it pains me to admit it to the world, Andrew has been sent to the principal's office at all of eleven days into the school year. Yep, I am so proud. Now, as mortified as I was to hear that news when his teacher emailed me yesterday, it turns out that it wasn't that bad. I guess.

Apparently this little cretin in Andrew's class who can't keep his hands, feet, and elbows to himself had the audacity to punch Andrew in his backpack while the kids were all waiting in the cafeteria to be dismissed to their classes. Andrew grabbed the kid's arm in a "you better knock that sh*t off" kind of gesture. The "bad kid," as I like to call him, then scratched Andrew right down the middle of his face. Well, Mrs. Teacher On Duty asked what the problem was, and the devil's spawn told her that Andrew BIT him! So, Mrs. I-Didn't-See-What-Happened sent Andrew promptly to the office. Hmmph!

The principal spoke with Andrew for a few minutes, told him to apologize, and then walked him back to class. Clearly not a huge deal...yet. Andrew's teacher spoke with the boys and realized that Andrew was telling the truth about what happened AND that he had been provoked, because lemme tell ya...while Andrew feels free to act like a nitwit at home sometimes, at school, he is a little goodie-goodie (I have no idea where he gets THAT.) So, no big deal as far as school goes, other than a reminder about handling things appropriately, in a "hands to yourself" kind of way.

All that being said, he DID go to the principal's office, and he DID have his hands on someone else, so he got some consequences from us. He lost computer time for the day, had to have a BIG, LONG, BORING talk with me about appropriate ways to handle things, AND I made him write an apology letter to his teacher and the principal. What I wanted to say, and couldn't, of course, was knock the little turd on his ass next time he puts his hands on him--but of course, that's NOT the right way to handle things. It's a fine line kids have to walk between standing up for themselves against bullies in a way that gets through to them and handling things "appropriately," and for parents who want their kids to be strong--not just physically, but emotionally as well--enough to speak up and make more aggressive kids listen.

So, I'll be PC, and I'll talk the "teacher talk" about not hitting back, and I'll support the teacher and the principal in their efforts to keep the kindergarten peaceful and violence-free. I'll hope that there aren't any more of incidents of this child, or any other, putting Andrew in a no-win situation, because I'm walking a fine line of my own--how involved do I get at this point, and from which approach? And how soon do I take some time off to volunteer in Andrew's classroom and witness first-hand the antics of Class Bully? Stay tuned.

Andrewisms

2010-09-01T06:49:00.000-04:00

This may be a sign that Andrew is growing up, OR that we watch entirely too much iCarly. (Sam's funny, but she's not such a great role model!) As we get more and more details about school from Andrew, he updates us on prior situations--such as the one with one of the PE teachers, who told Andrew on Day 2 that "Lion is NEVER allowed back in the gym AGAIN!" It apparently made enough of an impression on Andrew that he said the teacher was only "kind of nice" while the other PE teacher was "really nice." "Kind of nice" is Andrew Speak for "I don't like that guy."

Monday night on the way to dinner, we were discussing the day's events, and it turned out that he had PE again that day. He relayed the details, and I said, "See, he's nicer than you thought he was!"

Andrew quickly replied, "Yeah, but he's still kind of a fudgebag."

Wednesday Whatevers

2010-08-25T23:11:00.000-04:00

Up until five minutes ago, this post was planned as an Andrew's school days update, and I was actually in a pretty good mood. All that changes quickly, though, and somehow I ended up with a bunch of crap to bitch about.

Andrew's (and my) week started in the complete opposite direction from last week. As great as last week was, Monday and Tuesday morning were equally sucky. What had been a bright, smiling face boarding the bus last week turned into a sobbing, hysterical, tear-Mommy's-heart-out-and-stomp-on-it pathetic, crying face--all out of the blue. He had not mentioned not wanting to go to school or ride the bus until almost time to leave the house, and then he was fine until I walked him out to the bus at my school. Of course, I shoved him onto the bus as he held onto my skirt...and then cried myself as the bus pulled away with his sad little face still crying as he held my gaze. Ugggh. We talked that afternoon, but didn't get to the root of the problem...only to have a smaller scale repeat on Tuesday morning. WTH? We all decided that Daddy would drive the little guy to school this morning, and on the way there, Andrew revealed the problem: his little girl friend was pressuring him to sit on the bus with her every day, and he just doesn't want to. It was fine the first few days when they both needed something familiar, but he's moving on. She wasn't taking "no" for an answer, and he was trying really hard to stand up to her without hurting her feelings. So, he was causing himself pain and anguish in an effort to be nice. Good for him...but geez! Of course, today there were no tears, but we're attempting the bus again tomorrow. I just might have to tell her myself to preserve my own sanity.

We are on Fish Death Watch II, I think. Jiggah II, the replacement for the dearly-departed Jiggah I, was upside down in a plant when I came upstairs this evening. He was fine this morning, dammit! So, Goldfish 911 to the rescue---some time in a small glass, a dose of antibiotics, and a few peas to clean him out---and he righted himself in no time! Ever (stupidly) optimistic, I thought for a while he just might be okay, and I put him back in the tank with Bootie. I was even encouraged by seeing him poop! Sadly, though, I realize it's probably just a matter of time, but to quote Andrew upon seeing Jiggah in his ICU glass, "Oh, I really hope he doesn't die too!" (My poor son has seen entirely too much death for his young years.) So, keep your fins crossed, and short of mouth-to-mouth and any kind of vet bill (I like him a lot, but he is "just" a fish!), I'll do what I can to save him.

My stress level at work is entirely too high for this early in the year. Between psycho kids who give me death stares when I expect them to work, colleagues who don't do what they're supposed to, and principals who ~~dump on~~ trust me with entirely too many responsibilities, I am almost fed up already. My nature, typically, is just to take on the extra responsibilities, regardless of what havoc it causes for me. But not today. My proud moment of the day was a triple-redelegation. No, I won't call so-and-so's parents to arrange a conference, but his homeroom teacher will. No, I won't call so-and-so's parents to find out why she hasn't been at school for days and days already, but her homeroom teacher will. And no, I won't create a huge thank you poster for the whole faculty to sign to thank the donor of Subway sandwiches for a first day treat, but the art teacher will. And in the end, I have "taken care of" these things by ensuring that they get done...even if it is by others. It may sound unprofessional and as if I don't like my job (I do), but I stand by my opinion that lately, it does not do me any good to excel at any aspect of my job--all it gets me is more thrown my way, because I "can handle it." It also doesn't seem to hurt to SUCK--those people get absolved of extra duties because they CAN'T handle them, and they still get to keep their jobs and take home paychecks. It's. Not. Fair.

To top it all off, my car has been in the shop for over two weeks now and still hasn't been touched. Granted, I procrastinated taking it to our local neighborhood mechanic, but seriously! Guys, maybe if you took shorter lunches and stayed at the shop past four p.m., you'd get a little work done! I know I said I wasn't in a rush, but I also didn't mean to wait until Halloween. Thanks to you, I got yelled at and made to feel like a ten year-old again by my dad, whose van (Edna's) I have borrowed to tide us over, and who can GLADLY have his damn van back right this very minute if he insists on making me feel like crap. Please--yell at me about things over which I have no control. That's my favorite!

To ice the cake, Dad mentioned he is taking a trailer full of stuff with him to the lake this weekend, just in case we needed anything hauled. He rattled off a bunch of things, the last of which were some plastic outdoor chairs he's taking down for my sister. His next comment? "She probably won't want them, though, because they're not new and pretty. If she doesn't want them, you can have them for your place." Need I say more?