Melinda

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

2012-01-12T11:09:00.003-05:00

You know it's time for a facial wax when you glance in the rearview mirror and wonder for just a second why, when you aren't driving a red ferrari, Magnum P.I. is behind the wheel of your car. Brow/upper lip maintenance needed. Yuck head cold equals sleepless nights equals dark shadows that don't at all look like the "smoky eye" I'm trying to pull off. I just look tired and sick. But even when Mom is down, life goes on.

The boy, who has turned 11 this week, has decided that he doesn't want the annual birthday party EVENT (okay it's hotdogs, chips, fruit, cake and ice cream and lots of running around staging sword fights boy mayhem). Instead he would like a trip to Savannah to visit the toy store. At the ripe old age of 11, he has never been to a store that exclusively sells toys. But can I just say that I'm a bit lost not preparing for the usual party festivities? It was also my opportunity for grown up conversation with my favorite fellow moms of children of a like age and now I have to wait at least another month before one of our favorite families invites us to their child's party before I can indulge in mom chat.

I like to think I'm coping well with the fact that my oldest child is becoming a tweenager and that my youngest is seven going on seventeen. I confess that while I've had to let go of the smocked dresses with bloomers, the Thomas the Tank Engine trains have been packed away and Dora yogurt is no longer on my grocery list, there is one thing I've struggled to leave behind. Those sweet little baby washcloths are still in the basket next to their tub. They've been washed so many times they aren't much more substantial than tissue paper, but I still can't bring myself to throw them out. I've rationalized that they are the perfect size for getting behind small ears and between toes, but I know I'm in denial. As long as those worn little scraps sit in that basket, my babies they will be.

Nose-talgia?

2012-01-08T19:26:00.004-05:00

A little boy who was in Abby's class suffered a severe brain injury last month. He is on the road to recovery. One of the therapies they are using with him is to introduce familiar smells to stimulate brain activity. Smell is closely tied to memory. Few things can stimulate recall like familiar scents.

Several weeks ago I attended a parent-teacher conference at school. The smell of chicken and hot dish soap instantly conjured images of orange lunch trays, cardboard milk cartons and lunch ladies garbed in plastic aprons, gloves and hairnets. I can see myself standing in line, waiting for tired women to slap a spoonful of chicken and dumplings, overcooked green beans, a brilliant orange yam and a slice of peanut butter cake on my tray. It seems like no matter what is being prepared in the lunchroom, it always smells like chicken to me!

A whiff of honeysuckle in late May and I am riding my bike, barefoot, around the block... drawn by the sweet smell to stop, pick a few flowers and collect the drops of "honey" clinging to the ends of the stems. I can feel the warm breeze, hear the whine of mosquitos and taste the dewy sweetness as clearly as if I had climbed into a time machine and whisked back through the decades to a spring day in 1985.

The scent of Irish Spring soap reminds of baths in the claw-footed tub at Grandmother Hall's. The gleam of sunlight through homemade curtains, the feel of the bristles of a nail brush under my nails, the creak of floorboards as Grandmother brought in a fresh towel and a bottle of Jergen's lotion for after the bath.

Chimney smoke wafts by and I can see my dad adding another piece of wood to the wood burning heater while my mother sits so close to the warmth she is almost IN the fireplace, reading a book. A patchwork blanket wrapped over her and her glasses perched either on her nose or on top of her head. The squeaks of the rocking chair as she rocks and reads. Oblivious to anything outside the pages of that book. The warmth, the noises, the images are so vivid they are almost touchable. As clear as a photograph.

So perhaps nostalgia is all in the nose?

New

2011-12-31T22:38:00.004-05:00

Ahhhhhh. Now that is the ultimate in relaxed isn't it?

This year, 2011, I've found myself feeling like an acrobat trying to stay on top of a rolling ball. Struggling to keep up instead of being out in front. Thus the terrible inconsistency with blogging. My head has been an unorganized, chaotic mess. I'm hoping that 2012 will be the year I get ahead of the game and stay there. To that end, I took a week of vacation time to chill and recharge. A nice way to close out the year. A nice way to begin a new year. I hope my year has many moments that convey the same oblivious to the outside world that the picture of Abby sparks in my soul.

Rob and I sat down today and worked on a plan to make the most of our time and energy this year. On Sunday evenings, we'll sit down together to discuss what the upcoming week will bring, who will be taking the kids to this or that, how can we each fit in time for ourselves to workout, read, write, blog and time for us as a couple and as a family. I know it isn't for everyone, but Rob, J.T. and I all function more efficiently and calmly when we know what to expect. Abby of course, is up for whatever adventure comes her way. She is certainly good at providing adventure!

We want to eat out less and exercise more. The idea is to plan our grocery shopping so that we don't use an empty pantry as an excuse to stop for easy, unhealthy food. The kids will be outside for at least an hour in the afternoons and will be e-free on weekdays.... no video games, tv, or computer time (unless necessary for school).

One big item on the list is to get the kids on a more consistent schedule with pitching in with chores and jobs around the house. We are hit and miss with this. I'm a big believer in every family member being responsible for making things work. We are a family and we all need to contribute to making our household work.

The kid list includes:

Laundry - clothes in the dirty hamper, to the washer, clean clothes back in your drawer/closet.
Dishes - unload and reload the dishwasher and take your plates/cups to the sink when you finish eating.
Toys - put your things away, no matter where they migrate, return them to their homes please.
Recycling - sort the recyclables at home and help place in proper bins at the recycling center.
Bob duty - feed, water and exercise the dog.

Of course, I must begin my year by getting caught up with all of you, dear friends!

Simple Gifts

2011-11-08T19:55:00.004-05:00

The things that made me happy today.

Warm brownies and cold milk.

Ten minutes of lazy waking up after the alarm went off.

"Hey, Mom! The tooth fairy left me $5!"

Little bits of cotton fluff scattered on the roadsides.

A seven year old girl in a purple tutu.

Japanese for lunch.

New Lipstick.

Pumpkin spice candles.

Empty laundry baskets.

Mix-tapes: Band of Horses, the Dittybops, Bruce Springsteen, Sally Seltmann.

Sunshine and Autumn leaves and giant bales of hay.

Fall

2011-10-29T17:06:00.003-04:00

And I don't just mean the season. I feel a bit like Alice down the rabbit hole lately. Chasing reality.

J.T. has come home with some interesting homework assignments lately. One of which was to write massive numbers (58,784,232,085) in expanded form using exponents. I had to google it. It took forever and frankly I'm not sure I understand it yet. I may never understand the purpose of it. The ridiculous demands of our current school curriculum are driving me crazy. Normally I'm not a one of those who worries excessively about the future, but if all we are focusing on dumb things that have no real life application, will we be surprised when the ability to think outside the box and be creative wanes?

I've just realized that this is J.T.'s last year of elementary school. My oldest child will be in middle school next year. He's still very much a "kid" to me. He looks like a kid, has a pile of lego and action figures under his bed and has to be reminded to brush his teeth, but the tween years loom. He needs deodorant now (and yes I have to remind him about that too). For now, he's on the fence about Santa, but has figured out the tooth fairy. He WANTS to believe in the jolly guy from the North Pole, is clinging to it, but has grave doubts. His confidence is growing. Last night, he won 3rd place in the Halloween costume contest at the park with his take on Scarecrow from the Batman movies. He and Rob, who gets all the credit for costume design, were thrilled.

Abby was less than thrilled. "You said this was just for fun," she said, lady bug arms crossed and one black ladybug foot tapping impatiently. If HER confidence grows anymore, we're in trouble. As J.T. put it: "I'm thinking about making a comic strip about our family. Abby, the unstoppable force, meets the immovable object, Dad watching football."

Dear Bob

2011-09-26T00:09:00.005-04:00

(the not such a) wonder dog,

Night time is for sleeping. Even for not quite one year old dogs. The cows are well, uncowed, by your barking and howling and carrying on. A cow's gotta "mooooooooooooooooooooo", you know? So if you could SHUT IT DOWN with the 12 a.m. racketfest, I would appreciate it very much.

Also, the flowerpot is not your enemy. There is no agenda there. It just wants to sit on the porch and be pretty. A simple vessel for containing something floral in nature. Okay? It doesn't want to fight you! If you knock it into the wall, it will come out fighting. You WILL get tangled up in it, despite the fact that this would seem to defy the laws of physics. So can we call a truce with the flowerpot already? Please?

Last, but not least, no more inviting your friends over while we're away. No breaking into the trash can and scattering leftover party goods about the place. You're already grounded for the rest of the year, so if you expect Santa to leave even the tiniest treat for you at Christmas, you really need to tell the beagle to stay home. You lie down with dogs.... well. I think you know where I'm going with this.

P.S. Sidewalk chalk is not for eating. I like rainbows as much as the next person, but I don't want one on the grass.

Love,
Mom (the person who is in charge of feeding you)

Changed

2011-09-19T19:56:00.005-04:00

Something awful happens. One of those terrible, life altering losses that are supposed to happen to other people. The phone call that fractures everything. The numb gives way to crushing grief that turns into perpetual sadness that eases into mostly something bearable. Something makes it okay to wake up. Okay to smile, or laugh, or feel a bit normal. Even if "it"never quite goes away. There are still days when you have to choose to put one foot in front of the other, to take a breath and another and another. Days like tomorrow.

I heard someone say that "closure" is a television word. Something that doesn't exist. Losing someone you love isn't something from which you recover. It is something you learn to live with.... in an altered, strange world that looks, smells, and keeps on spinning, just like before. It is you who is different, not the world.

Six years of missing. Of wishing I had made more phone calls, had more conversations, been less judgmental, enjoyed the moment more. I wish that I could say that living through it had made me into a better person. Someone who appreciates what is important, truly important in this life, but I don't know that it is true. The cause did not engender some kind of beautiful effect. No metamorphosis into a higher level of being.

Mostly, I'm grateful to have known him. Grateful that when the bottom fell out, the closeness of our family kept us from falling headlong into the pit. Grateful that my parents gave us a childhood filled with love and togetherness and things that can't be traded for something out of a wallet. I'm still me, no better than before, but different all the same.

The Girl

2011-09-07T22:18:00.003-04:00

got her ears pierced today, an early birthday present for the big 7 candle event that happens later in the month. She picked purple starter earrings and didn't cry at all. Much better than I did at the ripe old age of 35 when I got mine done last summer. She's such a girly girl! It disconcerts me most of the time. I'm more of a mix than she is. Keeping her out of the makeup, heels and gaudy jewelry is becoming a full time job. I have to do a face check every morning to make sure she didn't sneak into my makeup and slap on some lipstick while I was fixing breakfast.

Now that school is back in session, her dance lessons have resumed. Tonight, she insisted on having a Dance Off, boys vs. girls. Of course the boys bailed. Total scaredy cats!! I have to say neither of them have any sense of rhythm. So it was a wise move. The challenge then shifted to Mom vs. Abby. I pulled out all the stops. Vogue, Electric Slide, a really weak Running Man, and some mixed martial arts moves. Stomper Girl would have been (not) proud! I knew the thing was rigged anyway. Rob told me he was voting for Abby BEFORE the music even started. Cheaters.

I think we know who the REAL winner was. C'mon. ELECTRIC SLIDE.

Abby disagreed. She said: "Here Mom. Do you need this napkin.... to wipe off your FAILURE.

She was 92!

2011-08-17T20:49:00.006-04:00

When someone has lived a long and (mostly) happy life, a funeral becomes not a time of grief, but an opportunity to share wonderful memories and to reflect on how lucky you are to have that person in your life. Our family enjoyed looking through old black and white photos of Grandma Hall as a baby, a young girl, a jodphur-wearing teenager with a piebald horse, a grinning newlywed tucked under the arm of a lanky man in a fedora and a double-breasted suit. He was grinning too! A young mother gazing at her baby with adoring eyes, oblivious to the camera. A proud grandmother surrounded by a motley crew of disheveled kids. A time to be grateful, to feel lucky and blessed to have her.

Grandmother died on August 6th after a life well-lived. Old enough to be born into a family whose chief means of transportation was horse and wagon. Old enough to remember when cotton and corn were picked by hand and loaded into the wagon, which was pulled by the horse, to the gin or grist mill. Old enough to have played in a yard that was filled with flowers instead of grass. Old enough to have used a wood burning stove.... even as a newlywed! Old enough to have lived through The Great Depression (her father lost the farm), to watch a husband leave to fight in World War II and to get confused about "swim, swam, swum" because they changed the rule after she finished school.

Old enough to call jeans "dungarees" and the refrigerator the "ice box". Old enough to remember phone operators and doctors who made house calls, and to have made enough chocolate chip cookies, cheese straws, chewy cake, pimento and cheese, apple salad, banana pudding, fried cornbread, and apple tarts to feed a small army of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Old enough to call earrings "ear bobs" and to say things like: "Pretty is as pretty does" and "sit up straight, like a lady".

She loved and was loved and had a pretty marvelous life. There were no grand trips or thrilling adventures. Much of her happiness came in helping others. She and my grandfather would take widows out for Sunday Drives. She sent meals by our house weekly when my mother went back to work and sent her famous deviled eggs to church suppers.

To me she was this elegant blonde who managed to look beautiful with minimal effort. Who never went anywhere without her nails done, her clothes pressed neatly, her hair done up and a pair of earbobs on. She would show me how to do things like paint my nails (a long swipe down first one side, then the other, then a smooth stroke down the middle to finish the first coat), pluck my brows (ouch!) and to sit with my legs tucked to the side. As my cousin Lisa said, I think I'm letting my grandmothers down on the elegance, stately score. I'm usually a mussed, unorganized mess. Despite detailed lessons at her knee, I still can't paint my own fingernails worth a doodle or sew a button on a shirt. But she loved us anyway. Even if those lessons must have seemed like the epitome of futility at times.

She was easy to love.

Running Faster

2011-08-05T19:09:00.005-04:00

... but can't catch the carrot. Too many balls in the air, irons in the fire, cooks in the kitchen, etc.

It has been so long.

I really haven't had two coherent thoughts to string together, much less enough for an entire post. I've been avoiding the blog because I know I'm so far behind on catching up with what is happening in everyone else's lives and maybe I really didn't want to think about how much I've been missing out on in the blogiverse. You, dear readers, know that you will end up with a potluck kind of post I'm sure. So here we go!

It's hot. My brain seems as sluggish as the muggy, humid weather. Blergh. Even the pool isn't refreshing. The water is more like bath water than anything cool and relaxing. We took the kids to Magnolia Springs State Park last week and they declared it "the hottest day ever." We did the picnic thing (of course there were ants), took a short nature walk and packed it in. The stop for ice cream on the way home salvaged the day I think.

The last month has been a whirlwind. We've been away for a trip, the kids have been off with each set of grandparents, we squeezed in a date night and a viewing of Harry Potter (loved it!).

My car has decided to crank only intermittently. All repair attempts thus far have failed. Two weeks of working fine, then it won't crank. Then it cranks for two weeks, then it won't. New battery and alternator, new crank relay (?).... and of course when the mechanic tries, it works just fine. We'd really like to get another good year or so out of it before trading it in on a new one. Stupid car.

Rob's mother lost her keys and swore up and down that Rob had them. He didn't. You all know how organized he is... no way would he be unable to find them if he had them. We looked high and low and under and over and around and then did it all again. No keys. She was still convinced he had them. He didn't. I did. He found them in my purse when he went to get my cell phone out to charge it. Oops. In my defense, that thing is HUGE (think Hermione's bag) and has about a billion compartments. I think she may have given them to me before they left for the airport and in the thousands of events that took place betwixt and between I completely forgot it. Did I say "oops" already?

Abby, who has never met anything that was childproof, managed to open the safety cap on the vitamins and took four. While I was lecturing on pill safety, her brother threw in his own little cautionary tale: "Abby, Elvis DIED from taking too much medicine!!" He even had his hands up in the air and his eyebrows in outrage position. It was so much more effective than anything I could have said. Even if she doesn't know who Elvis is.

Free Me

2011-07-13T01:13:00.004-04:00

Currently listening to Joss Stone's Free Me. Serious crush on this song.

Hair down, summer dress, bare feet, dancing in the den, eyes closed, glass of wine in hand.

Playing it loud.

Christine and J.G. A Love Story

2011-07-03T20:21:00.007-04:00

In a small blue room on College Street sits a woman who, seventy one years ago, fell in love with a red-haired man whom she knew from her childhood. When they were small she watched him swinging around the columns on his front porch across the street while she played with dolls on hers. When they met again, she recognized him before he ever took off his hat to reveal that red hair underneath. Theirs was a six month courtship that culminated in a wedding at the parson's study.

They built a life in a small house with a wrap around front porch and a screened in back porch. She watched him go to war with a young girl beside her and a babe on the way. She welcomed him home and introduced him to a second daughter. Everyday she polished his shoes and he took the list she gave him to do the shopping. She baked cookies and he delivered them. He sat at the kitchen table and diced and chopped, sliced and cut and she cooked. She shopped and he paid the bills. She fertilized and he cut the grass. She waved goodbye as he drove to his shift as a prison guard, and prayed he would come home safely.

Each Sunday he dressed neatly in the shirt she pressed, the suit and tie she picked. She put on “ear bobs”, touched up her hair with a pick, asked him to zip her dress and off they drove. Three blocks to church and three blocks back. They raised their daughters, Pat and Linda, in the quiet little house with the big backyard. They loved them through thick and thin, though their wasn't very much thin. How could two girls brought up in such love ever raise much of a ruckus?

Eventually they welcomed grandchildren and rocked and read and babysat. She patched the knees of torn dungarees and sewed buttons back on shirts. He bought crickets and packed up the long cane poles so they hung out the car window, a flag that said without words: “Going fishing!” and patiently baited hooks, took off the catch and never once dipped his own line in the pond. Then there were great grandchildren and they repeated all that had gone before with the same books and toys, needle, thimble and cane poles (but new crickets).

And then. He was sick. The recurrent bronchitis turned to pneumonia that turned to something else. And he was in a hospital 60 miles from home. Home being not the little white house with the red columns and detached garage, but her. And then he did come home and he cried to see her again. She was no longer the slender blond whom he had married on a cold day in February, but do you imagine that he had never thought her more lovely? Not long after, his breathing changed. Infection had set in and this time he would return neither to the little house on the double-lined drive nor to her.

Ten years from that day she sits, no longer in the house where they lived together but in a nursing home. A summer wreath hangs on the door. Framed pictures of the girls hang on the wall next to the window. A hummingbird calendar tracks the days and months as they pass. Outside her windows blue jays, redbirds and little black cowbirds swoop to the bird feeder. Linda has updated the magnet boards that hold family pictures with photos of the first great-great grandchild and Pat has made the bed and turned back the covers. She can no longer chat with them as they sit with her day in and day out, morning and afternoon. The life that lit her blue eyes is fading as quickly as their color.

Today, one of them will help the staff use the lift to move her from bed to chair and back again. One of them will take care of personal needs the mother is no longer embarrassed to endure at the hands of others. The daughter, Linda or Pat, will bathe her, gently scratch her scalp, spoon feed her small helpings of yogurt, plump the pillows just the way she likes them. The daughter will call for medicine and tuck a small gift in the breast pocket of the hospital gown, so her mother, whose lips can no longer form the words “thank you” can, nonetheless, say “thank you” to whoever comes to help. And these daughters still search for, and find, the woman who fell in love with a red haired boy so many years ago. And they love her, with gentle words and hands, as she has loved them.

When Life Gives You Peaches...

2011-07-02T17:20:00.002-04:00

make peach cobbler!

My strawberry couple gave me a big bag of fresh Georgia peaches yesterday. So this morning, I peeled and sliced them, googled my favorite recipe (below) and coerced the kids into helping prepare a south Georgia summer treat. Note that I used skim milk in mine, which surely cancels out some of the butter? I know, I know... the SUGAR. I just couldn't help myself. I did save three peaches for slicing and eating plain. But there were so many peaches. It would have been so wrong to let them just lay around and ruin wouldn't it?

Dear Kmart,

2011-06-26T12:47:00.003-04:00

It's over. You've teased me with your blue light specials. Tempted me with soft Martha Stewart linens. Marked your books down to 25% and added a line of children's dance accoutrements to keep our relationship limping along. Instead of being warned by your mostly empty parking lot, I fell hard for the false promise of short checkout lines, only to discover a single cashier on duty and a line 6 customers deep.

Why Kmart? Why? Was I not disheartened enough with your lack of help, customer service and wonky-wheeled shopping carts? Did you have to add a survey to the electronic checkout? Mr. Bluelight wants to know if I would recommend Kmart to my friends? Highly likely, probably, maybe, probably not, no? You won't let me complete my purchase unless I answer? You've sealed your fate.

I can quit you Kmart. Luckily, I won't need a restraining order.

Sweet Tea

2011-06-22T15:02:00.005-04:00

Good sweet iced tea is created by steeping tea bags for at least five minutes, pouring the hot concentrate in a pitcher, adding sugar,and stirring to dissolve before filling the pitcher to the top with cold water. It is impossible to sweeten cold tea! No one wants grains of sugar suspended in their tea glass, which is exactly what happens when you add sugar once the tea is already cold.

It's brutally hot. The first day of summer on the calendar, but the 50th day according to the temperature gauge since early April. A nice cold glass of sweet tea, heavy on the ice, is THE way to cool off. We've been downing the tea by the pitcher.

Why?!

2011-06-17T11:06:00.002-04:00

Children and reason go together like chocolate and pickles or sharks and seals.

Why do I have to go to bed? Because it’s late! Because it’s past your bedtime! Because you’re cranky! Because I’m cranky!

Why does he get to go first? Because somebody had to do it and you can’t BOTH go first! Because it’s his turn!

Why can’t I wear the sparkly shoes to town? Because we’ll be doing lots of walking and they will hurt your feet. Because I they don’t stay on!

Why do I have to brush my teeth? So you don’t get a cavity! So no one has to smell your stinky breath! So your teeth don’t fall out!

Why do I have to brush my hair? Because it looks like rats nested in it! Because it’s rude to go out in public without bothering to comb your hair!

Why can’t I get in the pool by myself? Because you might drown! Because I can’t hear you if you get into trouble! Because it is the rule!

Why can’t I sit up front? Because it isn’t safe! Because it’s the law! Because you aren’t tall enough!

Why are you yelling? Why?! Why?!
BECAUSE YOU ASKED WHY!!!!!!

Telemarketing FAIL

2011-06-15T14:44:00.003-04:00

This morning I received a call from a telemarketer. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Good morning. May I help you?"
Her: "Good morning, this is so-and-so from such-and-such marketing. Do you have an email address?"
Me: "Yes."
Her: "May I have it?"
Me: "No."
Her: Silence.
Me: (after a few seconds). Click.

Five seconds later the phone rings. I answer it with my customary cheerful "Good morning! May I help you?" She says: "You B*$&#!!! You are SO RUDE!" Hangs up. Then calls me back FIVE times. Each time I get no response to the standard greeting. Until I say, "If you keep calling I will contact the Federal Communications Commission to report you." She says: "Go ahead. GO AHEAD!" in a sing-song voice that I've only ever heard before in a school yard.

But she didn't call me back.

And she certainly isn't going to get my email address NOW! Sheesh.

How long HAS it been?

2011-06-04T21:14:00.005-04:00

So long I almost forgot my login/password!! Insert sad face. A picture of the kids in case you can't remember what they look like. J.T. is as tall as my chin now!

This also could have been titled: "Drowning, not waving!"

Every year, the transition period that is the last month of school and the beginning of Summer, sneaks up on me with all its busyness and running around. Dance recitals, year end productions, Honors Night, shifting from school schedules to break schedules, getting ready for vacations (or staycations in our case), purchasing and putting up the pool, the anniversary trip to Savannah (nicely organized by the darling Rob), graduations, airport drop-offs, watering instructions for Mrs. Gail's flowers (really... we should just rename it a botanical garden) while they were away, launching one of those boot camp workouts that has hour long workouts six days a week..... blergh! To-do list too long for hours in the day. As usual.

Mary sent LOVELY photographs and I'm just now getting around to posting about it. Loads of guilt over that. As you can imagine, or if you already own some of her work, you know that seeing those images on a screen and actually holding them in your hand are two very different things! I've picked this one to frame and put in my room upstairs. It is absolutely perfect for the quiet, peaceful ambiance I want to create in that space. The space I have yet to be able to utilize! Soon, I hope, soon. Maybe getting that photo framed will inspire me to fully claim the space and spend time in it. Alone!

Her creativity stuns me! The ability to just frame something and tweak it and instinctively KNOW that it is the shot you want. Did I mention stunning?

I'm off to have a bath, pour a glass of wine (Shhhhh! Don't tell workout guru that I'm cheating on the eating plan... like the bowl of ice cream I had at 4 p.m. didn't already break a rule or four) and watch "The King's Speech" with Rob. Hello Colin Firth!

The glass of wine has to be partaken of tonight you see. Abby informed me after watching the pool safety video that I can't swim in the pool because I drink. I rolled my eyes and told her that you shouldn't swim after having a drink, but having a drink doesn't mean you can't EVER go swimming! Rob laughed at me and told me that she'll probably tell all the kids that her Mom drinks. Which sounds awful doesn't it? "My Mom drinks." Instant mental picture of some bag lady knocking back shots out of a paper bag.

Too busy to even pop the cork, much less pour a glass OR drink it straight out of the paper bag!

Minnutes Pack up your troubles

2011-05-08T18:45:00.001-04:00

Because it has been a crazy hectic week and I want to sit with a glass of wine and not have to listen to any whine for a bit.

Strawberries

2011-04-27T21:52:00.003-04:00

A dear couple that I know through my work at a local non-profit stopped by today with a gift of FOUR pints of strawberries, freshly picked from a local grower. They are bright red with brilliant green tops and you can smell their sweetness before you ever bite into that delicious flesh. Abby and I have already gone through close to half of them.

This couple is no ordinary husband and wife. I met them before they retired, before they had time to pick strawberries in the middle of the day in the middle of the week. The Mrs. served on the finance council and was winding down a very productive career as a businesswoman. She was sharp, very sharp. The Mr. was getting set to retire from years of self-employment. Over the next few years, they indeed retired and settled into the quiet years of garden puttering, wood working, bike riding, trips to see children and grandchildren... and then the Mrs. was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease.

Her husband has not let this diagnosis change who they are to a large extent. They still travel to see the children and grandchildren, even though the Mrs. can't always remember where they are going and whom they are going to see. Volunteer work (including strawberry deliveries!) is still undertaken. She is still neatly dressed and if he doesn't quite match things as she would have, or her hair isn't as precisely combed as it was before, no one would ever say. Most would never notice. You can't get past the gorgeous, child-like happy smile that is almost always on her face.

Watching him maintain, at what must be great sacrifice to himself, her safe, secure world is stunningly beautiful. She watches every move he makes, for he has become all that she can remember, her only touchstone and connection with what is real. Even if she doesn't know why, can't remember much of who she is, who they are, she knows she is loved. Sweetly, gently. Forever.

Everytime I fish a strawberry out of the basket, I think how wonderful that kind of love is. How beautiful to witness the sweetness of love, not in the blush of youth and joy when life rises up to meet you, but in the wane of life, as days grow shorter and life grows harder. How beautiful.

Litany

2011-04-20T20:57:00.003-04:00

Finish your supper

Put your plate in the sink

Stop picking on your brother/sister

Pack up your bookbag

Get in the tub

Brush your teeth

Put your clothes in the hamper

Wipe up the floor

Did you wash behind your ears

Turn the light off

I love you

Go to bed

Go to bed

Go. to. BED!

Life is Like a Carton of Sour Milk

2011-04-17T20:28:00.004-04:00

It smells and there are chunks.

Today was grocery shopping day. We go on Sunday mornings because it is the least crowded day to brave the superstore. When we arrive home with our groceries, we usually do a quick clean-out of the refrigerator. Out goes the last of the wilted produce, the leftovers that never got eaten, the milk that doesn't pass the sniff test.

Today I set the carton of milk out on the little table we have by the garage door, planning to take it out to the edge of the woods to be poured out. Only I got distracted by squabbling children and completely forgot it. I know. We're all really SHOCKED that Ms. ADD got distracted.

The dog, however, did NOT overlook my forgetfulness and was just too intrigued by the carton to leave it alone. He turned it over. Strong smell and lumpy texture notwithstanding, he drank/ate it. Rob discovered this when he went to the car to get something out. While I was getting a bucket of water, soap and a mop together, Abby ran in to inform us that Bob (the genius dog) had barfed. All over the garage. Which is how I discovered that Bob had also eaten an onion. And a strawberry. And a LOT of sour milk.

So the moral of the story is no good deed goes unpunished or don't delay pouring out the old milk or curiosity may have killed the cat, but it makes the dog throw up.... Choose your own moral.

The good news is that Monday doesn't look nearly so intimidating now!

She Dements Me

2011-04-14T19:18:00.004-04:00

I love her. But boy oh boy does she drive me crazy sometimes!

Quirky can be endearing. Unless one of your "quirks" is that you like to open board games and take out all the cards and spread them out on the floor. All of the cards from all of the board games. Monopoly, Candyland, Head Bandz, Memory. At the same time. Hundreds of little rectangles, all mixed together like a giant card melting pot: "Draw Four" snuggling up with "Go Directly To Jail." It only takes her about three minutes to create this chaos. The clean-up is much longer and involves me alternately cajoling and demanding and finally yelling a bit.

It dements me. It really, really dements me. It also makes me want to give our games away. Because no matter what punishment is doled out for this crime, the rate of re-offense is 100%.

Yesterday

2011-04-04T16:03:00.005-04:00

I lay spread-eagle on the trampoline, eyes closed.

Watching nothing.

Doing nothing.

Just being.

Letting the breeze cool my sun-warmed skin.

Listening as it flipped the pages of an abandoned book to and fro.

The distant thrum of a lawn mower.

A bird chirping from his limb on a River Birch.

Squealing kids playing under the water sprinkler.

The dog barking at a leaf.

No one and nothing calling my name.

In the moment.

2011-03-26T13:46:00.005-04:00

I am from handmaid quilts, White Lily flour and sweet tea.

I am from the wood sided house on the gravel paved road, the shade of pine trees and the sweet smell of honeysuckle in late Spring.

I am from pink and white azaleas, sandy soil and cotton fields, dogwood trees, magnolias and pine straw.

I am from Sunday dinners and Scottish, French, and British stock, from Rhoney and Dickinson, Hall and Brown.

I am from wood mills, teachers, newspapers and merchants.

From oral histories, told at the knee of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends and family recipes prepared with no written instructions or measuring.

I am from Baptists and lacy Sunday socks, black patent dress shoes for winter and white for summer. Slips with crinoline to make a dress twirl.

I'm from the Southern U.S., from hard work and honesty, lacy fried cornbread and cheese grits.

From the banks of Upper Lotts Creek to the rolling hills of west Georgia, from farms and homemade biscuits to ice delivery trucks and planer mills.

I am from boxes filled with snapshots of camping trips, family reunions, birthday parties and pets.

The One with the Medicine, Rinse Cup, and "Glue"

2011-03-20T20:34:00.003-04:00

On Tuesday, Abby awoke at 2 a.m. complaining of an earache. Antibiotics were prescribed. First dose was poured, neatly measured - 1 teaspoon. The phone rang. While I answered it, she poured that teaspoon right down the bathroom drain.

On Wednesday, she wanted to sleep in my bed. I said no. She went to her room and put on her nightgown, came back into the kitchen and said: "I can't sleep in my bed. It's wet." I investigated and discovered a nice soppy puddle in the middle of the bed. And an empty toothpaste rinse cup on the bedside table. "Did you pour water on your bed Abigail?" You've probably seen that guilty look before. The one that functions as a wordless "yes".

On Friday, while I was in the den reading (what was I thinking!) Abby very quietly got out the flour, some water, a few cubes of ice and made really cold glue. There was glue and flour and water and little bits of ice. Everywhere.

Of course it would be the every other Friday that the cleaning lady comes... freshly mopped floor and vacuumed rug. I think there might be a rule about kitchen disasters only happening just after it has been cleaned?

Oh, What a (Not) Glorious Morning

2011-03-15T16:11:00.002-04:00

Morning began at 2 a.m. for me, when Abby woke up with an earache. It took close to an hour for pain medicine to kick in and for her to go back to sleep. At 6:30, J.T. awoke complaining of a sore throat and fever. So we decided he would go to work with me and Abby would stay with MaMa. Trust me. No one wants to handle TWO sick kids alone. It is CIA level torture.

I packed them each a bag, some entertainment selections, medicine and lunches. We were, of course, running late to get everyone where they needed to be. Alot of scrambling later, we had everyone in the car, with their respective "stuff", all buckled in. So. The car wouldn't crank. It's not even MONDAY!

PaPa let us borrow his truck, doctor appointments were scheduled, we made it to work on time and $100 later, the kids have antibiotics and school excuses in hand.

And I have five alarm headache.

The Doldrums

2011-03-07T15:58:00.003-05:00

See how puffy my eyes are? Winter turned to Spring almost literally overnight. One day it was cold and the next it was balmy and the Bradford Pear trees, Dogwoods, Lorapetalum, Dandelions and other assorted blooming plants and weeds burst into full pollination! We are now stocked with allergy meds... but it seems like trudging through the normal cycle of homework, extracurricular activities, Spring Fling, birthday parties, etc. is all the more difficult through the haze of allergy-induced sneezes and sinus pain and pressure. Ugh.

It also means energy for blogging has been zapped. As always, so many posts running through my head--photos of early Spring blooms, the local theater playing The Diary of Anne Frank, dusting off of old projects--has been delayed. I'm just catching up with what all of YOU have been up to as well! Hopefully things will settle out and regularly scheduled programming will resume.

Are you KIDDING me?

2011-02-22T21:20:00.002-05:00

Sunday I witnessed a middle aged man texting... during a funeral.

Bieber Fever :-(

2011-02-19T11:53:00.003-05:00

I sat through two hours of film featuring tweenager girls crying and hyperventilating over Justin Bieber. How much do I love her? TWO HOURS!!!

This is the Bieber shrine in her room.

Miss Hollywood

2011-02-14T22:47:00.003-05:00

Trimmed

2011-02-08T22:39:00.003-05:00

"Abby. Did you cut your hair?"

"Um. No?"

I think the evidence says otherwise.

A Brief Detour

2011-02-05T19:15:00.002-05:00

Just because it made my kids laugh and laugh and laugh.... and Abby kept saying: "Alan! Alan! Alan!" after she watched it.

Schooled

2011-02-02T19:32:00.004-05:00

I've decided to stick with a bit of the "Where I'm from" theme for posts in the near future. Statesboro is a college town and has been for over a century. My sister and I were the third generation of our family to attend Georgia Southern. My Grandmother Hall attended in the mid-1930s. My mother graduated in 1963. Christie, my sister, finished up in 1989 and I graduated in 1998. These trees have been there for all three generations! The common area above is called "Sweetheart Circle".

The town has grown as the college (now a Carnegie Melon Research University) has thrived in the past two decades. We even have a Starbucks now and TWO book stores! Enrollment has tripled since my sister graduated and grown by 5,000 students since my own graduation year. New apartment complexes, shopping centers and restaurants have expanded along with parking complexes, dormitories, and academic buildings. Students make up 40% of the population and Georgia Southern University is the largest employer in our region. We are a true college town.

The campus is beautiful. There is a lake (really a pond) in front of the library and plenty of room has been left amidst the expansion of buildings for trees, benches and cobblestone pathways. I have to admit that when I was a student, it irritated me that the chemistry lab was sadly outdated while money was being spent on new pathways, fancy outdoor lighting and the like. The results are nice and money has finally been spent to update both the biology and chemistry buildings. NOT before the College of Business and Accounting or the Athletic facilities, of course. But updated nonetheless.

What's Your Story?

2011-01-26T09:30:00.006-05:00

When I'm not so caught up in my mental to-do list that I don't notice my surroundings, much less the people passing by, I often study the faces, clothing, mannerisms of people I meet - and wonder... What's your story? What do you do? Where are you from? Who are the people who matter to you? Where are you going? Why? What do your dream of for your future? Why did you want to become a banker, lawyer, flower shop owner, teacher, artist, photographer, dance instructor, secretary, architect, etc.?

The city of Statesboro recently installed park-style benches along the downtown streets. Instead of facing out, they face the storefronts. Is it me or is that backwards? The streetscape really is lovely and laidback. One of the bank parking lots is used as a farmer's market each Saturday where local growers sell produce, flowers, homemade breads and crafts. The first Friday of the month businesses stay open late and the downtown restaurants offer free samples and wine tastings. Below is a video that has some neat pictures of the town as it was growing. Disclaimer: It isn't well done. Why the heck are they shooting film through tree branches?

Date Night

2011-01-23T16:45:00.003-05:00

Simple pleasures.

No kids underfoot who have to be told "stop that!" or "please put that away".

A bonus that the cleaning lady came Friday, so there was no "to do" list hanging over my head.

No laundry that needed folding, no vacuuming or mopping or anything else to distract from having take out, a rented movie, time to enjoy each other and relax.

It was the best time we've had in ages and it was virtually free.

This date night brought to you by Grandma Pat, Applebee's gift card and Netflix movie rentals.

Coupon FAIL!

2011-01-19T15:37:00.003-05:00

Rob detests coupons. Anything that requires a slow down or check-out confusion isn't worth the savings in his opinion.

A friend told me that the Wednesday edition of the Savannah Morning News has a giant coupon section. She clipped and snipped her way to $30 on a grocery bill one week. $30 is nothing to sneeze at, so I figured I would stop and pick up a newspaper on the way to work this morning. I slipped the change in the slot, opened the door to find the only newspaper left was the one they put in the front glass. Of course it was wedged in tight (all those coupons inside) and turned into a two hand job to wrestle the thing out. Of course Ms. Coordinated managed to fumble around and the sections separated. I grabbed section A, B, C, and D with both hands but just missed the coupons and watched in horror as the door slammed shut. Locked. With my coupons still inside. Of course I didn't have enough change for another go.

So I'm going to take this as a "sign" that we aren't coupon people.

Awakenings

2011-01-12T16:32:00.003-05:00

Half a lifetime ago, I was in the twilight of youth and the dawning of adulthood. College, marriage, career, parenthood, all lying in the unknown. Dreams of adventures, travel, people, places, milestones and wishes were jumbled up inside. Excitement, anticipation, knowledge, fear, certainty, questions, answers, hope, joy. There were millions of choices still to be made. But with each choice made, the jumble lessened. One path chosen, others passed by.

One day. It seems like such a small increment. Yet that is where life is lived. In the moments that make up such a small window of our lives. Good things. Beautiful things. Horrible things. Blah things. Tests, chores, phone calls, decisions, graduations, marriages, childbirth... Each event altering the choices that will be made in the future, until one day you wake up and realize that the bestseller hasn't been written, the grand trip hasn't been scheduled, opportunities have come and gone, and perhaps your greatest adventures involve the ones you read aloud to your children or watch unfold on the movie screen or TV and the most thrilling part of your day will be when your child "gets it" during a lesson on line segments and graphs.

Caught up in those moments that make up a boring day, but all together knit the pieces of our lives together to form an adventure. Nothing that anyone would write about or fight for, dream of, or maybe even remember. A quiet life, where dreams of novels and fame, successful careers, places to go and people to meet are replaced with smaller things. Time to read, report cards, refrigerator art, date nights, a comfortable chair and a glass of wine.

Dreams

2011-01-05T15:55:00.002-05:00

Why do we dream?

When I was pregnant with J.T. ten years ago, I had some of the most vivid, strange dreams I have ever dreamt. One recurring nightmare featured me sitting in a college class, asking the other students why they were so diligently reviewing their notes before the beginning of class. Of course a test was scheduled for that day. Guess who hadn't studied?

The metaphor for that one is obvious. I didn't feel prepared for childbirth or a newborn! Which was true. When he was born, I thought to myself, I need another month. Then I'll be ready. Which of course ISN'T true. I don't think anyone feels adequately prepared for parenthood. I still don't.

Let's try something more difficult to interpret. Last night I dreamed that I was suddenly in Australia, having skipped the 20 hour flight, etc., wondering why on earth Rob and I decided that I should go alone and leave both husband and children behind. Was I in Sydney touring the sights? Trekking through the Outback? Diving off the Great Barrier Reef? Surrounded by blogging friends at a fabulous restaurant sipping wine and relaxing? No. Mary and I were touring a wildlife sanctuary and I was being attacked by..... turtles. Weird, lizard-looking turtles.

Hi my name is Melinda...

2010-12-18T19:15:00.005-05:00

just in case you've forgotten who I am!

I've been a bad blogger. So many posts running through my head and an inability to put them together coherently. Perhaps you should just have a look inside? I'm not sure what the sound track would be for this post, something soothing? Marshmallow world? Deck the Halls? The Target ditty that I have on repeat in my head as it seems to ALWAYS be on?

Phew! MOST of the presents purchased. Only two left. And those are the hardest two! Only minor concerns of: "What if they don't like it? Will it be a pain to return?"

The kids have wrapped the presents so they are a bit of a happily rumpled mess with wobbly bows/ribbons and dodgy taping around the edges. They've wrapped things that aren't presents. I'm pretty sure there are a few ornaments, one box full of Christmas ribbons (which a certain six year old forgot would be needed to do the remainder of the presents) and some full of who knows what. If something is missing, it probably is wrapped and under our tree.

We have a new puppy, which is a bit like having a newborn baby. We've had an unusually cold December so far, with several nights below freezing (probably over our annual average already), so he's been sleeping in his kennel in the laundry room. He starts the "I've got to go!" crying sometime before 6 a.m. What joy to stand on the doorstep in the freezing pre-dawn hours waiting on him to finish his business. I swear it is just like Austin Powers when he first wakes up from the deep freeze. Go. Stop. Go. Stop. Gooooooo. Stop.

There have been school Christmas plays, dance recitals, sniffly noses and nighttime coughing, a funeral, canceled shopping trips, cookies that didn't work out (note to self: double ALL the ingredients when making a double recipe), fudge that did. All the whirlwind stuff that means Christmas is coming! Again.

And didn't we JUST DO IT a few months ago? Can we push it to every other year?

Building

2010-12-04T19:20:00.003-05:00

It has been building, rising, creeping and now boiling over.

In their defense, we've had a hectic fortnight of holiday, trip to Myrtle Beach (five and a half hours in the car each way), rehearsals, recitals, practices, homework, testing, etc.

But today, they were cranky and defiant to the point that it resulted in a one week ban of use by either child of anything that requires electricity in any form. Be it outlet or battery, computer, DVD, television, video game, etc.

I think they'll be the better for it. We have let technology overtake us little by little and have discovered that we need to launch a counter-offensive. We are instituting a sharing policy of electronics with time limits strictly enforced.

So far we have played monopoly, visited the Wildlife Center at Georgia Southern, played outside far longer than usual, despite cool temperatures, and done some toy sorting in anticipation of Christmas.

More deep thoughts on this later. For now I am emotionally drained. It is very, very important to me for my children to appreciate that they are very lucky and to treat people with respect. Our meltdown (which involved both children AND parents) was a huge revelation to me that we have some work to do on that front. I don't mean to say that I want them to be pious and meek and let themselves get walked on or to crush their spirits under the weight of rules and regulations, but that we have to achieve a balance between good self-esteem and compassion and respect.

Full

2010-11-25T19:07:00.003-05:00

My heart.
My belly!
My home.
My life.

Today is Thanksgiving. A day full of family, love, food made with love, lots of laughter and gentle reminders all around how very lucky we are to have things, life, but most of all people we love who love us back.

It might be the only day of the year I gladly woke up at 5:30 a.m. It is my first year being responsible for the star of the feast.... the turkey. He was placed in the refrigerator to thaw on MONDAY. This morning he was still in the frozen tundra state. A quick google later and he was immersed in cold water and warmed up to ready to bake temperature quite nicely.

There was turkey, chicken, cornbread dressing, sweet potato souffle, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, green beans, mustard greens, butter beans, dumplings, broccoli salad, cucumber/tomato salad, pear salad, rolls, yeast rolls, cornbread, pecan pie, chocolate delight, rum cake (mmmm!), strawberry cake, apple slices, strawberries and donuts. We're full... all seventeen of us... and sleepy.

Tomorrow is Black Friday and stores will open for Christmas sales at 4 a.m. Guess who WON'T be there. If I get up at 4 a.m. it will be because Hugh Jackman and Nathan Fillion are on my doorstep. Since shopping isn't in my top five list of things I enjoy doing, I have to say that the prospect of battling hordes of savings crazy maniacs in the aisles of Walmart or the mall stores is my idea of hell.

Photo Diary

2010-11-16T20:57:00.002-05:00

Fair Week Parade

Tacky Day

Halloween Costumes

The Fair

November? Really??

2010-11-14T20:40:00.002-05:00

Oy vey. We've been busy.

Parades, The Kiwanis Fair, Tacky Day, guitar recital, dance lessons, school, homework, family portrait session... and we're only halfway through November! 36 days until Santa!! 101 things to get done, places to be, gifts to wrap..... oh my. Taking a deep breath now.

I have photos to share of what we've been up to.... but blogger is not cooperating and won't let me load photos much less video.

But I'm still here! Still breathing (despite the strep near death experience) and thinking of fascinating blog posts to write that stay stuck in my head and get nowhere close to cyberspace.

Status Update

2010-11-01T12:44:00.003-04:00

Did you know that having streptococcus invade your throat is a really, really painful experience? That it could take an adult female out of commission for THREE DAYS? That swallowing could threaten to bring you to your knees and dry mouth make you consume your body weight in water in 48 hours... while your mouth remained dry? Did you know that you would be in such agony that someone would have to drive you to the doctor, help you in and out of the car and that you wouldn't care that you had no makeup on and hadn't combed your hair? Did you know that you would beg your beloved to amputate your throat?

Now you know.

I had planned to blog about J.T.'s Halloween concert and Abby's newly learned skill of crying on demand. But I felt it most important to get this important health bulletin out. Wash your hands... stay far away from your germy children, disinfect everything. You do NOT want to get this.

Lines

2010-10-27T21:40:00.003-04:00

This song is on high rotation around here since our friends Chris and Ashlee turned me onto it.

I look at the little creases around my eyes and wonder at how many hours of laughing it took to etch them there. The wrinkles that crowd my forehead when I squint or frown will become more prominent in time...testament to those days that end in frustration and moments I wish had never happened. But I'm glad that there are fewer of them than the laugh crinkles around my eyes and the little crescents on the edges of my mouth that are reminders of grins gone by. All of these lines upon my face, tell you the story of who I am.

It's Official

2010-10-12T21:06:00.003-04:00

I'm an old person. What follows is a rant about "today's fashions". Much like my father, who complained about paying good money for jeans that looked like they were ready to be thrown out, I find some of the offerings on the store racks to be less than appealing. This is completely hypocritical of me, whose historical closet included stonewashed jeans, hightop reeboks, and jelly shoes, but remember, I'm OLD now and I get to complain about the younger generation and their nutty fashion choices.

The jegging, for example, is sure to be to 2010 what legwarmers were to 1985. Jeans, yes. Leggings, okay. Combining them? No.

The romper suit for grownups makes me think of dress up in reverse. Abby has a romper and looks quite adorable in it. On a twenty-something it looks weird. Particularly when it is a short romper.

The Beiber haircut. Barbershops/Hair salons the world over should be barred from allowing anyone old enough to shave to inflict this hairstyle on the rest of the world population. Perfect for the thirteen and under crowd. But goofy looking on say, Tom Brady (and there was a collective: "Who the heck is Tom Brady?".... he's the guy married to Gisele Bundchen).

The herd pocketbook. An animal print shoulderbag that is now yesterday's must-have. Lovely visual commentary on following the crowd there. Have a matching bag and you can hang out with my herd, ahem, group.

The rain boot. It hasn't rained here in weeks, yet rainboots are everywhere! Why would you wear them when it's not raining!! It dements me, as Mary would say. Not a puddle to be found and people strolling around in rubber boots. I keep staring at their feet thinking, your poor feet must be sooooooo hot!

I wonder if it has spawned an epidemic of athlete's foot?

The Dave Brubeck Quartet - Take Five (1961)

2010-09-29T18:19:00.000-04:00

One of my all-time favorite jazz pieces. The 5/4 time, the lovely saxophone. Sigh. Take off your shoes, pop in the music, have a glass of wine... Mmmmm. Delicious.

The Cookie Lady

2010-09-24T19:16:00.004-04:00

There is a little lady who stops by my office frequently and delivers a bag of Neiman Marcus cookies, a dozen or so, stuffed into a ziploc bag, labeled "For Melinda" or "For Melinda's family". Is there anything that could brighten a day more than getting cookies delivered... with your name on them, no less? She is elderly, and of late, her memory is failing. Sometimes the cookies are a little too crisp on bottom or a little too salty. But it makes my day nonetheless.

Holy Hell, What a Day

2010-09-13T22:17:00.002-04:00

Overslept.
Burnt the toast.
Twice.
Boy comes home with bad grades. Didn't follow the directions.
Someone else's screw-up takes over the day.
Mind whirling, trying to figure out how to unscrew the screw-up.
Late delivery. Late leaving for home.
Homework. Dishes. Supper. Baths. Bed.
Still whirling.
Wine.
Bread.
Bed.

Repeat tomorrow.

The Care and Feeding of Roses

2010-09-04T18:53:00.003-04:00

It is the Labor Day holiday weekend, no work on Monday. In homage to the "labor" bit of Labor Day, I got up early to do sheet washing, cabinet wipe downs, followed by supervising the kids in the pool.

My rose bushes are mere feet from the pool, and in classic feminine multi-tasking syndrome, I thought to dead-head them, pull weeds from around their bases, and clip out any bad/diseased places.

They are Knock-out Roses. Lovely shade of hyper pink that bloom 8 months out of the year. As I worked I reflected on the fact that rose bushes, and their care, are a metaphor for life. Dead heads that are removed, fading older blooms replaced continually by new, tightly wrapped buds. Unseen thorns that prick and scratch at soft flesh. They grow better each new season with a bit of pruning and one must keep vigilant for pests and fungus while providing the right amount of water and fertilizer. But the end result is worth all the effort and work.

Pause

2010-08-29T23:12:00.002-04:00

It's been a crazy week. There are days when I swear I attract crazy like a right wing television host. I'm closing my eyes and imagining a pause button for life, where I could just get off the treadmill and everything stays frozen while I breathe.

In and out.

The laundry pile isn't growing, homework doesn't need to be checked, the dishes aren't threatening to overflow the sink, no one is squabbling or complaining about the bread on the grilled cheese being "too mushy" and I can just. breathe. All of the obligations and duties are on hold. No one's happiness or needs are dependent on what I get done. Or don't get done.

Exhale.

Some mood music please.

The One with the Re-enactment

2010-08-21T16:14:00.003-04:00

My children informed me today of an adversarial sibling interaction in which the female was subjected to a dodge ball type attack with a flattened soccer ball at close range.

They cheerfully re-enacted the entire scenario for me in slow motion. The boy was undoubtedly guilty.

He was thanked for so readily assisting in his own prosecution. The judge waived incarceration in favor of time served as the injured party was both not injured (it was a deflated ball and really, he just set it on her and didn't throw it)and might have poked the bear with a stick in order to illicit the encounter.

Note that SHE did not volunteer to incriminate herself. Now we sing: "Girls go to Mars to get more cars, boys go to Jupiter...."

Did You Miss Me?

2010-08-10T22:15:00.004-04:00

Two weeks with no news here. Really, there has been no TIME to construct a blog post. The kids started school last week which means we had to sort out our routine after 9 weeks of lazy summer days.

It hasn't been a seamless transition. Abby started dance lessons today and J.T. continues with guitar. Add in homework and chores, playtime and supper, all to be accomplished in the few hours between end of school/work and bedtime and you see that we are busy. I prefer to be busy and in a routine, so in an odd way, I feel a little more relaxed as we are finding our groove.

Rob and I have also been finishing the upstairs project. The painting, apart from a few touchups, is done and the carpet was put down today. Dust is EVERYWHERE, and there are lots of small things to tackle, so we aren't at the finish line yet. But the big stuff is done. It feels nice.

Stomper Girl is looking for happy things and it has inspired me to focus on the ups instead of the downs. I'm a big believer in the fact that some days you have to make your own happy. Find it. Reach for it. Turn blue into sunny yellow.

Here is my happy for today:

To Grandmother's House We Go

2010-07-28T22:49:00.004-04:00

Mary and Aunty Evil expressed a curiosity several posts ago about our farms. So I thought I'd share a few photos taken between our house and mothers (a twenty mile or so distance). These are scattered along the roadsides. Old wooden barns, sheds and outbuildings. Nature is taking them back over. Rusted tin tops their wooden beams, vines are reclaiming the timbers... but they are, I think, beautiful. Everytime I see one, it makes me wonder who built it? What was their daily life like? 80, 90 or 100 years ago...
We live on a dirt road. Advantage: little traffic. Disadvantage: no road crew to maintain it.
It's not Tara from Gone with the Wind. This type of farm house is actually far more common than the huge, column graced homes of the movies. A wrap-around porch, chimneys on either side of the house. It gets hot here and the goal of heating/cooking would have been to let the heat escape quickly, instead of hoarding it as would be an advantage in a colder climate, where it would be more common to see a centrally placed heating source and chimney. Hallways typically run straight through the center of the house, from the front porch to the back and are called breezeways, as they let cool air flow through the house.
Cotton. Goes through cycles of popularity based on the soil. Cotton is best suited for growing in rocky, sandy soil. You can tell from our dirt roads, that we don't have rich soil. When I was younger, cotton was not THE crop that it is today and was in the 1950s when my parents were growing up. The majority of our local fields are planted in cotton today.
Another gorgeous, fading barn. If you peer in closely, you can see a modern tractor underneath the eaves. Old sheds and barns are still used to shelter tractors, hay bales, wire, etc.

Wild

2010-07-21T20:56:00.003-04:00

Living on a dead end dirt road entitles one to up close encounters with native flora and fauna. In the past two weeks we have seen:

eighteen wild turkeys (pictured above... I have NEVER seen more than one, maybe two at one time)

one black snake

innumerable brown rabbits

two centipedes

a dozen frogs

one turtle

two tortoises

100 cow birds

dozens of house wrens

eight squirrels

fifteen wasps (think of these in the past tense as they are no longer nesting among the eaves of our house)

millions of ants

ten lizards

one armadillo

Getting Started

2010-07-06T07:55:00.003-04:00

The top picture is Rob's collection room getting a coat of primer. The second is my retreat space, already primed!

Dream a Little Dream, II

2010-07-03T09:46:00.002-04:00

The renovations upstairs are a GO! I spent a good deal of time diligently researching possibilities before we met with a loan person at the bank. We were pleasantly surprised to discover that we could get a better rate than we currently have and easily afford the upstairs work we dreamed of making a reality.

The framing, insulating and dry wall work is complete. AC unit in and tonight. We paint. This may mean divorce proceedings on Monday, but we figure we can muddle through and save that much money on hiring professionals to do the job. Rob's portion will be a bold blue while mine will be a soft Scandinavian color. I'm stuck between a palladian blue and queen anne pink. Both soft and mellow.

Then I will just need to save up for the fun bits.... I love this desk and will need a reading chair, something cushy and comfortable.... perfect for melting into with a good book. Art for the walls and a sweet touch here and there.

Bliss.

Simple Gifts

2010-06-30T18:41:00.004-04:00

Ripe strawberries, Belly laughs, cotton dresses, lipgloss, new earrings, refrigerator art, chocolate chip mint ice cream, ruby relaxers, happy endings, belle and boo, CASTLE on DVD, toffee, farmer's markets, words, shabby chic, messy hair, gap-toothed smiles, dancing in the den, five year olds, old movies, mix tapes, mail, blogs, puzzles, peach cobbler, tutus, after the rain, kisses, husbands who help, pink suitcases, vintage, chocolate milk mustaches, nine year olds, pico de gallo, thunder, cold wine, warm bread, blank paper, s l e e p y m o r n i n g s.

Fresh

2010-06-27T07:34:00.002-04:00

Our purchases from the Farmer's Market on Saturday. Not shown: a huge watermelon. I used the peaches to make peach cobbler, sliced the tomatoes and sprinkled with salt and pepper and cooked the white peas, sliced the eggplant into rounds and fried them. Add sauteed chicken (the only thing not purchased at the market)and you have our Saturday night supper. I think my favorite thing about summer is the fresh veggies and fruit. Delicious.

Sniffle, Sneeze, Cough

2010-06-23T16:23:00.004-04:00

I have contracted a rhinovirus. Also known as the common cold.

My head feels like small people are slamming away at my skull with pick axes while my sinuses are swollen, stuffed and inhibiting my ability to breath normally. Swallowing is an exercise in torture that produces pain in both my throat and my ears. I dare not leave the vicinity of the tissue box without a handful tucked into my pockets.

Misery.

Breathing and taking care of other basic functions has taken priority over any non-necessary functions like cooking and cleaning.

What a wonderful way to celebrate a three year blogoversary!

In the Summertime

2010-06-14T20:30:00.004-04:00

when the weather is HOT. Our summer is not a three month season. It usually begins in early May and lasts until the last of September of mid-October.

I love the sunshine. Long, lazy days when it doesn't get dark until 9 p.m. But the heat and 100% humidity? Not so much.

We are beating the heat with this:

Please note that it is leaning to the left. The directions said it needed to be on absolutely level ground to prevent listing, but we decided it wasn't necessary. Stupid instructions also state that the pool would be ready for water in 45 minutes. To which Rob guffawed and muttered: "Not when married people do it." He was right. It took closer to two hours of sweaty, cranky labor to put it together.

We have also tried out a few indoor amusements that don't involve video games or TV. And yes, those are MY artistic renderings (and you thought I was lying about the level of disaster that is my art/craft talent). Ha!

Happy Anniversary

2010-06-05T20:01:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow is the 56th anniversary of the D-day invasion. It's also our 12th wedding anniversary. No, it doesn't seem like it's been that long. I can still remember very vividly the details of that day. We've turned out well I think, for two people who are muddling through it all together. Content and happy. Still friends, still confidants, still in love.

Happy Anniversary Rob.

Music from our first date:

Hello Vacation!

2010-05-31T20:23:00.004-04:00

Could it be that these little babies are already big school kids?!

Today was the first day of summer vacation for the kids. J.T. earned a medal at Honors Night on Thursday for making A/B honor roll every term. He slept with the medal in his hand. Abby got a tag for knowing all of her sight words. We celebrated their hard work (I have read that it is important to remind your children that hard work earns good grades, not something so vague as 'smart') and Ma Ma's birthday with dinner out.

What kind of mother-in-law do I have? The kind who chose pizza for her birthday dinner because she knew the kids would prefer it to a real sit-down restaurant that offered something so exotic as vegetables and salads. We refused however, and insisted on taking her somewhere that requires silverware. My father-in-law, of beer and liquor preference ordered a mojito. The look on his face when it arrived with mint leaves and a sliver of sugar cane... if only they had added a little umbrella. I told him he should have just ordered the beer.

I have this week off, so we have made big plans: Splash in the Boro with the cousins, a trip to the library tomorrow, grocery shopping (usually Rob's domain), an UNO tournament, yard work (oh the weeds!), car cleanout (it really is a rolling dumpster) and hopefully, sleeping late everyday! Abby let me sleep until almost nine this morning... before she woke me by blowing on my eyes and pointing out that if I would only look at the window I would see that it was day and not night. "Wake up Mom!" A call to action that was followed by a demand, er, request for chocolate milk.

As we were puttering about, I overheard them say my favorite words: "Let's pretend..."

Yes... let's.

A Girl and Her Lip Gloss

2010-05-23T18:19:00.003-04:00

Or more appropriately, a girl and her lip gloss gone crazy. All over her face, in the hair around her face... and dozens and dozens of lip prints on my dresser mirror. She even put it on her hand and made hand prints on my mirror.

Burnt Offerings

2010-05-17T18:02:00.000-04:00

Melinda has gone where no one has gone before.

I burned a batch of cookies.

Twice.

The same pan of cookies.

Two times.

Forgot to set the timer the first time and overbaked by 20 minutes.

Turned the oven off and let them cool/stop smoking.

Forgot they were in the oven and left them in it over night.

Turned the oven on to preheat.

And burned them again.

Pause Button Please!

2010-05-12T20:40:00.000-04:00

I'd like to temporarily slow things down. Let the world stop spinning while I take a deep breath, have a spot of tea and a cookie... and exhale. Make that a glass of wine and entire box of cookies please.

We survived the graduation turned engagement party. My niece's boyfriend proposed with a rubber duck ring. Long story, but the entire proposal (which he bravely pulled off in front of 40 of their nearest and dearest family and friends) suited them. He was a music major and she just got a degree in German and Cultural Anthropology. They will need to take a Rob boot-camp course on organization and spread sheets as this is NOT a case of opposites attract.

I finished the painting. My mother tells me that next time I should hire a painter. Which I think isn't an indictment of my brush/roller skills. Maybe. The ADD and the painting... not a good combination. I rolled a while over here and got bored with the long wall, switched to the short one. Spotted a bare spot over the doorway.... eh. That could explain the drips on the baseboard, the speckles on the back of the computer, the little runs of paint in the corners and the odd smear of Nantucket Gray (it's actually green-oh so jealous aren't we Aunty Evil)on the door frames. It did clean up well. Mostly.

The Wedding Shower was lovely. Perfect weather. Great family. Delicious food. One kid who "accidentally" slipped and just happened, HAPPENED to land in the pool. Of course it would be MY kid and he would then proceed to apply wet lower half to dirt to create a nice muddy coating all over his pants, feet and hands.

The cleaning lady came. Oh lovely, sweet cleaning lady. Which did give me a moment for a sip of Aussie tea and a nibble of Tim Tam at the end of the day.

The Tim Tams and tea, by the way, are MUCH more delectable than the Vegemite. Is it an acquired taste? I followed the instructions to the letter. Spread thin over buttered toast... but.... meh. I will try it again. Visitors here say that boiled peanuts are slimy and gross too. But we think they are delicious.

It really is the simple things in life that make it all worthwhile, yes?

?

2010-05-04T08:51:00.000-04:00

How does one manage to get paint under the drop cloth and not on it?

If your nine year old were to drop a four letter word into playdate conversation, does it have to be in front of the child with the judgmental parent?

What are the odds of Abby using her orange ear plugs to attach a "calendar" to her wall, just hours after the paint is dry? What are the odds that the ear plugs have an oily component and leave a lovely greasy mark on a freshly painted wall?

Did you ever snort laugh when your daughter, when asked about her dream job, responds: "I wanna work at Burger King when I grow up!" ?

Is dressing room lighting the WORST lighting on the planet, or do I really look like that?

Why did the romper come back in style? I get it for the small people. But on the grown women.... not so much.

Do you know the proper way to eat Vegemite? I got instructions with mine!

The Eleventh Annual Anniversary Trip

2010-04-28T20:16:00.000-04:00

Twelve years of marriage, already? My how time flies (hush up Rob).

Tomorrow we are embarking on the annual Savannah Anniversary Trip. Five weeks early due to work commitments for each of us. I've been looking forward to it all year. Books, clothes, shoes, window shopping, dinner, time alone.... bliss.

This is me...

2010-04-19T21:31:00.000-04:00

setting about a Spring-time reboot. Freeze that image in your mind. By the time I'm done:

* Painting the den, hallway, stairway, guest bathroom AND the kitchen wall that J.T. splattered green den paint all over

* finishing up stage 1 of the "me" project of 2010

* steam clean the carpet

* organize swim lessons and guitar practice

* play hostess at a wedding shower

* host a Graduation party for my niece

* work on Mother's (did we decide if that was Mother's or Mothers'?) Day festivities

and

worst of all

cringe at just the thought of it

* go bathing suit shopping

THAT FACE won't be nearly that serene!

Hodge Podge

2010-04-12T13:33:00.000-04:00

Here's your update Aunty Evil! We've met with the mortgage person at the bank, and have decided after much number crunching, that we'd be better off saving up the money for our project. Which means dream delayed. But it is really important to us to be smart about our finances, as our local economy is expected to take a big hit this year. The good news is that Rob's careful financial planning and attention to detail resulting in us getting the best possible rate on our mortgage in the beginning.

This next bit is very dark ages--mid-1990s at least. We are still on dial-up! I know!! We live in the boonies and it has only just now become available in our section of the countryside. So of course, upgrading is HIGH PRIORITY! Remember the sound of the PC dialing in? Yeah. It's not so unfamiliar for us. That means I'll be posting more pictures and zooming through the web at lightning speed. I figure I can get the whole internet done in a few months.

My brother's birthday was the 9th of April. He would have been 46. Every year, my parents, siblings and I gather together and remember how lucky we were to have him in our lives and share our memories. This year, we spotted a big brown owl watching us carefully as we walked. He/She hooted and clicked at us, tilting its head to get a better view. We paused and watched the owl just as carefully. On our way out, we discovered the reason for his care.

Dream a Little Dream

2010-04-01T13:13:00.000-04:00

On Wednesday I have an appointment to meet with someone at the bank. We plan to discuss the feasability of turning our unfinished upstairs into a finished space. It's all a big fat "if" for now.

BUT. If it is easily within the realm of our finances, we plan to go ahead with it. The 'easily' is emphasized because we are cautious with our money. It would not do for either of us to live under the stress of worrying over making payments, stretching dollars for something that is not essential. I don't mean to sound as if we are cheap, or that we tuck away our dollars and cents for the future, without enjoying the present. We each purchase little bits of happy: books, a new dress, lovely sandals, movies, dinners out, etc.

"It" will be a place for Rob to display his large collection of toys, er, "collectible action figures" and comic books. I will have a retreat space where I can read and write and think in peace.

Even though it is still in idea phase... I've begun to dream a little. Don't you think this would look nice on clean, white walls? A bit of whimsy here and there? Perhaps a cushy chair or chaise for reading and daydreaming. A desk for writing, blogging and emailing. Notecards tucked in one drawer, scribbled ideas on so many fragments of paper nestled away in another... Books on shelves, piled high in corners, the window open to let in the light and fresh air.... sigh...

Diary of a Field Trip

2010-03-17T09:25:00.000-04:00

Friday

- 5:45 a.m. Alarm off. We parents get ourselves ready and the final things in the car (except for those one or two essentials that are always left behind - more on that later), before waking the small people. Can I tell you that they've never gotten up so willingly? All I had to do was flip on the lightswitch and say "Today is Field Trip Day!" They popped up like jack in the boxes and beat a path for the bathroom.

- 7:30 a.m. Caravan of two school buses and 20 or so cars is scheduled to leave the school

- 7:45 a.m. Caravan of two school buses and 20 or so cars pulls out. Bus drivers immediately deviate from the pre-printed map to take a back roads short cut. Luckily we are the first car behind the bus.

- 8:00 a.m. Hit the interstate and accelerate to.... 55 miles per hour. 15 miles UNDER the speed limit. I have begun the side-seat driving and will hear Rob mutter "Yes dear" quite frequently as I offer advice; "Stay with the bus! Why are you passing the bus? What if they turn off behind us! Oh, you had to let that car in huh? How are we going to get back behind the bus? Oh. Pull off on the shoulder and let them pass us.... Good plan." Abby has already started asking "How much further?" and "Are we there yet?"

- 8:45 a.m. I realize that the essential I forgot was my makeup bag. Although our fellow travelers will get the full benefit of fixed up Melinda, the vacationers of Saturday and Sunday won't be so lucky.

- 9:45 a.m. The caravan, or what's left of it after over half the parents decided the pace was too slow and zoomed ahead, pulls into a rest area for a bathroom break.

- 11:00 a.m. It starts to rain. Can you imagine driving a school bus loaded with 50 kids on a five lane interstate (that's just the north bound lanes) in the rain? We spend the next hour carefully staying behind the bus, copying every lane change, speed change etc. Abby asks "are we there yet?" for the 32nd time.

- 12 p.m. At last. The aquarium is in view. But wait! The bus has it's own special parking and we have to find a place to park. We pay $5 for a spot in a parking deck and wind our way up and up and up until finally, there is a spot on the 8th level. Couldn't have parked soon enough... all that circling was making me dizzy. "Yes we are here Abby!"

- 12:15 p.m. We meet up with the school buses. The teachers had a really great plan to let the kids eat their sack lunches in the park across from the aquarium before our scheduled 1 p.m. tour. In a brilliant bit of planning all my own, I purchased two sandwiches for Rob and I the day before and packed them in our cooler, thinking we could eat with the kids in the park, saving both time and money. And then it rained. So the kids ate on the bus, there is nowhere to sit in front of the aquarium that isn't soaked and mass confusion of the pre-purchased tickets reigns.

- 1 p.m. By the time the ticket mess is sorted out and Abby and I have returned from the bathroom, the kids are inside, we are being rushed in and our sandwiches have to be thrown in the trash. Goodbye delicious sandwich and fresh strawberries. "No outside food allowed."

- 1:01 p.m. We begin a self-guided tour through the aquarium. There is a moving sidewalk that passes underneath a portion of the largest tank, the one that holds 3 whale sharks, 2 manta rays, 6 giant grouper and an assortment of other sharks, tropical fish, etc. It is amazing. 63 million gallons of water, every drop of which is filtered hourly. There is a 'theater' seat up in front of the tank where you can sit and listen to a guide give information on the different animals as they pass in front of the tank. We even get to watch them eat. Huge quantities of fish are poured into a large pipe that comes up under the tank and into the water. The fish know it is time to eat when bubbles start rising from the bottom of the tank as the pipe is opened. They quickly gather for the feast. The guide explains that the whale sharks are 'target fed' every other day, with a big scoop of plankton put right in front of their wide mouths for filter feeding. Their esophaguses are only about the diameter of a golf ball, so anything large could cause them to choke.

- 2:30 p.m. We decide to wait out the remaining time before our 3-D movie in the aquarium cafeteria. Rob brings us an order of chicken fingers and fries to share and four drinks. Cost = $19!! No wonder they don't let you bring in your own food! Abby wants to go in the gift shop. Me: "No. I'm not paying $20 for a stuffed whale shark."

- 3 p.m. We rejoin the rest of the school group upstairs and wait in roped off lines to enter the theater. Ten minutes of line-waiting hell as Abby keeps going under the ropes to peer over the railing at the other patrons or to poke her brother, wallow on the floor (yuck) and poke her brother... repeat. We are supplied with 3-D glasses and swarm in to find seats.

The cartoon film features a fish that is eerily similar to Dory from "Finding Nemo" and the makers are lucky that Disney doesn't sue them for copyright infringement. A "Bruce" the white shark character make his appearance EXACTLY the way the white shark did in Nemo... sneaking up behind the two smaller fish. The narrator fish appears to burst through the screen and water spritzes us from the ceiling, then bubbles fall followed by octupus tentacles in the form of strings and finally a blast of air, all perfectly timed with messages about ocean conservation. The kids squeal in delight at each of them.

- 4 p.m. We sign the boy out and try to find our way back to car park where we have to puzzle out the electronic payment system for the parking garage. The ticket has to be inserted into a vending type machine, which spits out change and a receipt to be used as you exit the parking deck. We. are. tired. But we still have to find our way OUT and onto the interstate for the next leg of the journey. More about the rest of the weekend adventures later. I'm tired all over again now. How 'bout you?

Tripping

2010-03-10T12:17:00.000-05:00

We are planning a trip! First, we are travelling with J.T.'s class to the Georgia Aquarium, then we are going to take a respite here.

Spring Weather means warm weather AND cool weather clothes must be in the suitcases. We will be spending about 12 hours in the car round-trip, so DVD players, DS games, board games, books, etc., must be included. Snacks, drinks, hand-cleaner, paper towels... the list goes on. and on. and on. After all the careful planning, we will forget something essential like toothesbrushes or deodorant. Rob's dad once went off without any underwear in his suitcase. Talk about forgetting the essentials!

I also have to make a road trip CD from my itunes... which means every other song Rob will say, "What IS this?" There was a Leonard Cohen (composed Hallelujah) documentary on TV the other night, so the CD will have some of his work, as well as Black Eyed Peas, Ingrid Michaelson, Snow Patrol, The National, Smashing Pumpkins, and Sugarland. Something for everyone.

Spring Fring/Spling Fling

2010-03-07T20:49:00.000-05:00

Friday was the annual Spring Fling carnival/fundraiser at our elementary school. As you can tell from the post title, pronouncing Spring Fling correctly takes a bit of practice.

Cheap hot dogs, cokes, chips and homemade baked goods... yum. Kids running in mad circles about the field, all clad in matching brown Spring Fling shirts... ugh. Odds of the kids sticking together and making it easy to keep track of one's family amidst a sea of writhing, squealing brown... nil. Number of kids piling into blow up bounce houses/obstacle courses because the college student volunteers were late... countless. Children who developed selective hearing: "What? I can't hear you!" when told to get out of the crush before they were squished... two. Tummy aches from too much cotton candy topped of by ice cream... two. Knowing the cleaning lady had been and a tidy, fresh house awaited our return... priceless. Minutes before the trashing of the clean house began... 23.

It was a blissful twenty three minutes I tell you. BLISSFUL!

Melinda

2010-02-25T10:56:00.000-05:00

*has schedule an appointment for a cut, color, and eyebrow maintenance...3 months overdue.

*is having a love affair with the movie 500 Days of Summer... particularly the gorgeous vintage frocks and music Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths, anyone?

*complains about the cold but will be equally cranky about the hot two months from now.

*as ever, is unorganized, and can't find: nail clippers, tweezers, a stack of completed thank you cards, OR my brown argyle socks.

*has children who have mud puddle radar and can find one and wallow in it on the sunniest of days.

*which means her washing machine could go on strike at any moment.

*doesn't wanna... workout, have salad for lunch, give up chocolate, do the laundry, or clean out the closet.

*is living such an exciting life that the highlight of the week thus far was the fact that toilet paper was on sale.

*thinks the Olympics aren't nearly as fun without the USSR to root against.

Snow Indeed!

2010-02-15T12:12:00.001-05:00

Kid quote: "The best day ever!"

Dad quote: "Snow is like an amusement ride; you get on, enjoy, get off and go home."

Snow?

2010-02-11T14:05:00.000-05:00

It might,just might, MAYBE snow tomorrow evening.

My children are over the moon with excitement.

Fingers and toes crossed that they get their very first snowfall.

The last time it snowed I was in college and had to drive to my history class. Quite brave of me to sludge through 1/2 an inch of snow and twenty degree weather so I could be the ONLY person who showed up.

Bicycles and Pink Sunsets

2010-02-04T15:03:00.000-05:00

Life is Like

2010-02-01T13:38:00.000-05:00

(oh you thought I was going to say 'a box of chocolates' didn't' you)?

I was thinking more like a really fast merry-go-round that never stops, even when you feel like you're going to be sick.

Dear dad of the recent 'Daddy' post went in on Thursday for a heart catherization and was quickly bustled to Savannah in the ambulance. Three arteries that were 70-80% blocked required a triple bypass surgery early Friday morning. He did really well and should come home tomorrow! It is stunning to me that someone could have heart surgery on Friday and be ready for discharge on Tuesday. The six weeks of taking it easy that are prescribed post-surgery will be harder than the surgery itself.

Abby is leaning to ride her bike... without the training wheels! What?! Already? She has it mostly mastered in a hang-on for dear life way and has a tendency to steer to the left.... meaning our down the driveway beginnings find their arcing journey's end in the backyard. She grins the whole time and pedals like a mad woman.

J.T. should begin guitar lessons this month if we can sort out our schedules and would like to sign-up for baseball in the spring. Abby is pestering us for dance lessons. Fitting in extracurricular activities and homework and meals, etc. is quite the challenge! I have no idea how my mother managed with four of us.... baton twirling, football, piano, band practice...

The car has done the now that it's paid off I must break something routine. Twice. At a price tag of $1,000. Abby's tubal ligation bill came. Without listing the portion paid by our health insurance. Which necessitated several phone calls and navigation of the automated phone system loop. I might have muttered an ugly word or twelve while on eternal "please hold".

Last night we had the most gorgeous pink sunset. It made the merry-go-round ride slow down. Just for a bit.

Wise Beyond My Years

2010-01-22T13:34:00.000-05:00

Another year, another year older... or as those of us in the ripe old thirties like to say, another year wiser. Since I couldn't invite you all over for cake and ice cream, I thought I'd share some of my hard-earned wisdom with you. You might want to take notes.

* Sock sorting is not a job for the Attention Deficit. I have 27 socks in all lengths, colors and thicknesses who have no mate. It may have something to do with the washing machine and dryer eating them and it may have something to do with the fact that I am bored and distracted by the time I get around to the socks.

* 11 p.m. is a late night. A really late night. If you're going to plan a nice big party (with handtowels please) Aunty Evil, I need to be home by 10 p.m. at the latest. Otherwise I'll be snoring face first in whatever delicious dessert you've prepared for me, the guest of honor.

* Don't try to convince the "I'm not flying unless it's a medical emergency" husband that a trip to Alaska next summer is a good idea. Aside from the whole flying thing... trying to contain Abby on a non-Disney cruise to a whole lot of history rich/kid activity poor destinations seems like a bad idea. So I think trying to convince him that flying to Australia in the pressurized cylinder of death over shark infested waters is not up for a vote right now either.

* Fingernail polish with glitter will NOT come off! It cannot be scraped off, peeled off or chemically disengaged from the fingernail under any circumstance known to man. Or to woman. Or to this woman anyway.

* Those little diet meals in the frozen food section are filling.... for about 30 minutes. Eating 5 cookies for dessert negates the benefit of the healthy meal. Unless one subscribes to the "I could have had fettucine alfredo AND the cookies" theory. Luckily, I practically invented that theory. I call it "The Diet Coke Principle." Diet coke cancels out candy bar because I could have the candy bar and a regular coke. So technically, I saved myself 200 calories.

* No matter how old one gets, if one is "the baby" in the family, one will always be referred to as "the baby".

* You can make your best friend's husband turn really, really white and speechless by announcing that you've seen that video of him doing the Wiifit hula hoop... and it's all over youtube! Even if you haven't and it isn't.

* A cake, some friends and a couple of presents is all it takes to make a 9 year old boy exclaim "This was the best birthday ever!"

* No matter how stringently one enforces the "no eating outside of the kitchen" rule, one will find cheese cracker crumbs and ice cream spoons in bedrooms, under the couch cushions and even in the bathroom (?!).

So go on. Take this sage advice and live a better, more fulfilled life starting right now! Oh, I have another one about playing chicken with a squirrel, but I'll save that for later. The long and short of it is, if he'd had a bigger brain, he would have darted right and not left. You know, away from the car and it's giant wheels of death.

Daddy

2010-01-14T12:44:00.000-05:00

I love my daddy. I don't talk about him often enough in this space. He's a stubborn, hard-headed, soft-hearted, penguin-walking, mathematical/engineering whiz with a love of ramblin wrecks, sweet and sour pickles, WWII history, and trains. He gave us his time, money, support and love... and still does.

He has sold cokes and cooked hot dogs at the football concession stand to support his band geek children. Travelled to football games near and far to cheer on the son whose first punt went farther up than out, but who developed into a great tackler and could get the fool out of the football by the end of the season. He has used his trusty pocket knife to relieve feet of splinters and entertained us by proving that someone with a lot of muscle mass cannot float and will instead sink to the bottom of the pool. He not-so-patiently taught us how to drive both a manual and an automatic car, even though it is probably responsible for the lack of hair on his head and the gray in the few that remain. You can still find him taxi-ing grandchildren around and his spaghetti is spicy deliciousness.

"Sit" and "still" are not in his vocabulary.The last movie he sat through was The Fugitive in 1993 and he loves my mother so much he took her to see Gone With the Wind (all four hours of it) when they were dating. If you need him, he's probably in the shop making something or repairing something or hanging out with the dog.

He taught us THE best fight song EVER:

Doctor is a concept that ranks right up there with educated idiots and liverwurst for my Dad. So it wasn't a terrible shock to any of us that the way we found out he'd been having chest pains for a while, was when he experienced dizziness and left-arm pain at the hardware store and ended up in the ICU hooked up to a cardiac monitor for a couple of days. He has an appointment with the cardiologist next Friday and needs to watch his sugar intake and was prescribed something for cholesterol. We're grateful we get to love him a lot longer and that we can still ask him for advice and opinions for many years to come.

Brrrrr!

2010-01-05T11:12:00.001-05:00

The cold has descended to even the deepest parts of the south. The Everglades are under a freeze warning! We're talking mid-40's for the high and low 20's for the overnight low. For thin-blooded southerners, that is practically arctic cold. Thank goodness for hot chocolate and fuzzy blankets.

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Happy New Year

2009-12-31T12:33:00.000-05:00

This year I have resolved to do something for me. Just me. Something totally revolving around moi... not something for the family or for friends or everyone else.

It's not a shopping trip or a makeover or anything fleeting. Not a "mother's day out" kind of event. This will be a project that I want to do, that benefits no one else. Something that is just to make me happy. I have no idea if it will be a success or a big, fat, FLOP. But I've decided that I want to give it a try. Perhaps it will mean I become a better everything else? Wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend--if I take on a little bit for me?

To start your New Year off on a fun note:

The sartorialist would gag on a Manolo Blahnik stiletto in the face of this: people of walmart

Hopefully 2010 will not deliver any nightmares from the bakery to your table.

And finally, the words that should die a merciful death in 2009 and not reappear in 2010... please: chillaxin (chilling and relaxing), sexting (texting about sex), unfriend (not a verb).

I'm on Top of It!

2009-12-17T12:13:00.000-05:00

Even if "it" is starting to resemble a ball.
A big one.
One that is careening downhill.
Faster and faster and faster....

Today I am finishing up the charity gifts. Why are there always five missing... and those five belong to people who did not sign their names on the sheet and therefore cannot be called with a reminder that the gifts were due four days ago?

Tomorrow Miss Abby is having tubes put into her ears and her adenoids removed. She has made me "promise to visit everyday while she is in the nursing place" Don't worry, we should only be there for a few hours. Her great-grandmother is having some tube work of her own done at the same out patient facility at the same time! We've been joking that the 91 year old and the 5 year old could share a bed and we could get a discount. Which would be nice since they've already asked me for a check upfront to cover the out-of-pocket/deductible costs.

I am almost completely done with the shopping. Only Mr. "What the heck do you get the man who goes ahead and buys what he wants before you have the chance to get it for him" remains on my list. I have a few more things to wrap and then the gift stuff is done.

Christmas Cards you ask? I'm joining Fairlie's crusade to turn the Christmas card into a January thing.... I'm not nearly so stretched in January.

There is fudge to made, cookies to whip up and munchies to be mixed. But I'm on top of it. I may be one small slip up away from becoming road kill on the holiday highway, but I'm on top of it.

Fa la la la la, la la la la!

Out-of-Season Fruit

2009-12-12T16:42:00.000-05:00

Friday was "one of those days". At work, we hosted a meal for the family of a dear woman who lost a long battle with a progressive disease earlier in the week. She and her husband had been married for 56 years. Her devotion to her loved ones and theirs to her was a beautiful thing to witness over the past few years. Her husband humbly took care of her with great care, patience and devotion. He and I both cried a bit when I gave him a hug.

The schedule for one of our busiest days was a bit off due to this and I finished up about 30 minutes late with the "have-to" tasks. Saturday was the Christmas Bunch for Rob's co-workers... for which I volunteered to bring a fruit dish. In my dash to the grocery store on "everyone shopping today because Saturday is supposed to be really nasty" Friday evening, I forgot one essential thing.

No. Not my purse. Or my wallet. Or my debit card. Or my coat.

I diligently checked the quality of the fruit. Examining grapes to be sure there were no mush ones in the bottom of the bag. Poring over the blueberries to be sure they were all unspoiled. Gently squeezing the cantaloupe to test for ripeness.

The price of the fruit piled into my basket never tabulated. In fact, the checkout was loud and I didn't hear the total and never glanced at the cash register display. If I had, I might have realized before I got to the parking lot that I had just spent $27.88 on fruit. Ouch!

To make matters worse, the heavy $7.50 cantaloupe rolled out of its bag and bounced around the trunk... partially crushing the $6.99 container of blueberries. Fortunately the $8.99 grapes were unscathed.

Making a List....

2009-12-08T19:35:00.000-05:00

Checking it twice!

The kids are working out their Santa lists. Good thing since "Santa" is making the shopping run tomorrow! J.T. listed out a bunch of expensive things: X-Box, Nintendo DS, Games for Nintendo DS, Batman lego.... and had to be reminded that Santa has to be paid for the toys he delivers. the Batman lego seems doable. Except for the fact that they don't make Batman lego anymore and judging by the prices listed on Ebay, made very few at all! $200 for a 200 pieces of lego in a box? Not so much.

Abby keeps adding to her list. Nintendo DS, Dora game for Nintendo DS, lipgloss and nail polish, Splashy the Whale, and hundreds of "I want that!" moments in Wal-mart and during cartoons. Oh how I wish I had developed the idea of Dora or lego.

The tree is up and has been (thank you very much) since the day after Thanksgiving. It is leaning a little. Maybe alot. But the ornaments are staying on! I think I forgot a crucial piece when packing it up last year. Something to do with fitting the pole into the base? (Shut up Aunty Evil). It's a lovely pre-lit piece of fake greeny that takes all of 2 minutes to assemble. I LOVE it. Bets the heck out of the one we had with 60 branches that had to be matched into color coded slots.

I've even already purchased a few presents. Rob guessed his before I even got the bag out of the car. It's a bathrobe to replace his tatty one. "What else would you buy me from the mall?" he says.

The Christmas tunes are on high rotation. Abby has altered the lyrics to "Rudolph" by changing the "guide my sleigh" bit to "guard my sleigh". Which really does make sense. There have to be millions and millions of dollars worth of toys piled into that thing. An enterprising elf could make a fortune on the black market with some of those electronics.

One of my work projects has been a Giving Tree. The tree is loaded with cards. Each card lists the name of someone, their clothing size, shoe size and a wish list item. Most of the names are for school age children. It is heartbreaking to read hand-written notes from teachers: "Really needs new shoes" or "desperately needs underwear and socks". We live a life of plenty when so many don't. It is wonderful to see people taking the cards and coming back with armloads of gifts. Most people have gotten every single item listed on the cards, even though they were asked to just choose something.

So... after feeling behind to start the season, I'm beginning to find my feet and gain a little traction on the road to the holidays. I hope you are all good enough to find a little something from Santa under your tree this year. A couple of you (ahem, you Aunty... and your favorite Abby) need to get cracking though!

Melinda, a.k.a. Old Square Butt

2009-11-28T16:32:00.000-05:00

The girl told me yesterday that my butt was square, not round like hers. It also "looks old".

Thank you darling. Thank. you.

Hello, weight watchers?

P.S. I helpfully did not point out that childbirth, age and gravity have contributed to my square butt condition... don't want to polish the rose color off those glasses just yet.

Christmas Hope

2009-11-17T10:50:00.000-05:00

I admit I'm in denial that there are only 40-something days left until Christmas and far more tasks to be done than can possibly be fit into that time frame. Decorating, shopping, cooking, shopping, baking, shopping, class parties, shopping, charity gifts, shopping, gift wrapping.... Ugh.

A 112 yearold editorial from The Sun newspaper of New York City. This letter, and Francis Church's reply were originally featured on page seven, 8th letter down (after a letter about those new-fangled chain bicycles) during the Christmas season of 1897. It is the most reprinted editorial in the English language.

Rob and I were discussing how wonderfully this letter rises above the innocent question of a child and challenges us to take on the roll of Santa ourselves to those we love and to all of those with whom we share this world. I have highlighted my favorite sentiment of Mr. Church's wonderful response to little Virginia.

DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET.

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Be Careful What You Wish For...

2009-11-14T19:32:00.000-05:00

... you just might get it!

A post or two ago I told you that life was rockin along, boring as usual. What a CLASSIC "spoke too soon" moment that was!

The girl is recovering from her third double ear infection in just over a month. And as if the agony of earaches was not enough to wipe us out, she managed to pick up a virulent streptococcus infection in her throat. The antibiotics taste HORRIBLE! You don't even have to taste it to figure that part out. The ten minute, tag-team effort to shove 1 teaspoon of medicine past clinched teeth should be proof enough.

Lack of sleep, medicine battles, and anti-biotic induced crankiness have made our house a cranky place to be. So don't pop by without warning! You may be roped into motrin-giving, yogurt-coaxing, I'll-buy-you-the-moon-if-you-just-take-this-tiny-bit-of-antibiotics...please bribery.

On Thursday she refused to wear anything but a red dance outfit. It was the first truly cold day of the Fall, so the heater had to be turned up. The heater that hasn't been used since last winter. Apparently dust builds up on the heat strips in one's attic space and will create a strong burning smell (even though nothing is burning) and set the fire alarm off! Who knew?

Soooooo... the Fire Department made a visit just to check things out, and, lucky them, got to pick their way through the attic that is NOT tidy. This was after they had stepped over 15 toys, two towels and other items in a house that has been functioning on emergency clean-up only basis for most of the week. At least we know the fire alarm works just fine and that our local firefighters have a response time of under 10 minutes!

Friday was just...just... NUCLEAR! She was well enough to go back to school after four days out, but had to spend two hours with me at work after school. During which time she did the exact opposite of what she was asked to do or not do at least 50 times. I counted. It's no exaggeration.

After work we stopped by the Rec Department to sign the boy up for tennis lessons. So of course, while I was paying for said lessons and engaged in conversation with the clerk, she slips away to the playground... after being very directly told "NO!" in response to a playground visit request less than one minute before. Grrrrrrrr! So pixel nanny privileges were suspended for the entire weekend. Which resulted in a 30 minute meltdown. Melt.... down... I'm surprised you couldn't hear it all the way at your house!

Get your guest room in order Aunty Evil. I'm one tantrum away from sending her over!

The Fixer

2009-11-04T11:50:00.000-05:00

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."

— Henri J.M. Nouwen

I think of myself as a "fixer." An analytical thinker who, given a problem, instantly begins the process of weeding through ideas to find a solution. When I was pregnant, I read a bazillion articles and books about pregnancy. Soon the firstborn was keeping us up at night and the "What to expect" book was never too far out of reach. Google has been both friend and foe in the effort to tackle such parenting issues as picky eaters, weird ailments (see Fifth's Disease... transmitted to us electronically via Stomper Girl, impetigo and the MRSA scare).

My brother died. You can't fix that. Can't read an article, attend a class, find a resource to make your life, the lives of those you love, magically return to the sunny days of "before". But by God I tried. I read books on grief, stupidly offered them to my mother, thinking that grief and loss is something that you "fix." Then I stumbled upon this. And I knew. This isn't fixable. It doesn't go away. It does change, life can still be good. But it doesn't return to what it was. How can it? All of life's experiences change us, make us different people than we were in the before.

I often wish that instead of shoving solutions her way, I had just sat with my mother and done nothing. Just helped her carry the weight of grief. I wish I had just been there. Just given my love and my sorrow and my own sadness. Simply been there.

Today I have read of two people who are touching wounds with warm and tender hands. Instead of fixing, they are giving love and hope. It reminds me that life is not always warm and safe. But there are friends who make it not quite so dark. Not quite so lonely. Not quite so sad.

Thank you friends.

Snippets of the Daily Grind

2009-10-27T13:15:00.000-04:00

On the way to school, the girl spotted a radio tower that stands about 100 feet tall at the local power station.

"Look! The Eiffel Tower!" she exclaims.

Her brother rolls his eyes and says: "The Eiffel Tower is in Paris."

"We're in Paris?!" she says.

Not exactly darling. Coco Chanel and Co. are but a distant dream on this coastal plain.

Yesterday, I was coerced into ditching my magazine article about Fall decorating (lovely pumpkin paintings and some gorgeous wreaths) so that I could participate in "Art Class". I think we all know I wasn't going to actually attempt those Fall crafts anyway. My last pumpkin carving attempt went sour with the teeth bit. Cut left instead of right and your orange gourd is left toothless. Perhaps suitable as a mascot at the geriatric ward?

Art Class consists of sitting on the stairs and practicing our letter-writing with color pencils. Which I excelled at creating. My teacher was impressed. Star Pupil AND Line Leader... all in one day! Being the only student certainly has its advantages.

I have spent the better part of the week coughing, hacking and in general allergy/cold sick misery. So my husband braved the wilds of the Cotton Festival with Thing 1 and Thing 2 all by himself. That's right. One grown-up, two evil, er, sweet children dressed in costume and a bazillion pieces of candy laid out in a maze! I'm thinking of nominating him for husband of the year status for that one. Well, that and the fact that he does the grocery shopping every single week.

Take Five

2009-10-23T12:51:00.000-04:00

Hello.

Again.

Is your head spinning yet? Old place, new place, old place. I know, I know. Get it together, girl!

See, the old place never felt right. Never grew on me... really never WAS me at all. I would go to that new space and .... nothing. No writing karma, no stories spinning in my head, no lovely sing-alongs dancing through... blah. Blech. Blerg.'

So here I am. Home again.

Backwards and Forwards never seemed more apt a description.

A little Take Five for you.

Going Doooowwwwwnnnnn

2009-08-16T21:43:00.000-04:00

So. This is the last blog post for public consumption. I have weighed the pros and cons and have decided to take the blog underground. All of my regular readers will, of course, be invited along. I had to let you know that, because Aunty Evil just yelled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and I heard it, all the way over here. A friend recently had to block some things on flickr after one of those creepy people I'd like to think don't exist, but unfortunately indeed do exist, bookmarked a picture of her child. I made the decision, perhaps without careful thought, to use our information and photos a bit freely in this space. I don't want it to be a decision that might cause harm to my wee ones.

My last not-so-important observations before the move follow.

We went to Wal-mart tonight (argh!) after the girl ate the last of her lunch box entree, despite the fact that I told her NOT to eat it. Or perhaps BECAUSE I told her not to eat it? Anyway, there was nothing for her lunch tomorrow, so we loaded up and made the trip. On move-in weekend for all the returning university students. Oh joy.

The forever wait in the checkout line turned a marathon sing-along of Queen's "We Will Rock You" including mangled line about "sit you on your face" instead of "you big disgrace". It also provided me with time to make a mental Fashion Do's and Don'ts list.

Bedroom shoes should not leave your house. Grab the sandals, the flip flops, crocs... anything but the bedroom shoes.

A nightgown is not appropriate shopping clothing. Talk about a total lack of effort!

Shorts that do not cover your lady lumps are essentially underwear and should not be worn as outerwear.

In that vein, a brightly colored bra under a see-through shirt is also inappropriate for public. Madonna tried that in the 90's and really, it didn't work then either.

Tank tops are gym wear. They should not be worn anyone over a certain age/weight limit. Not ever. Never.

There are more but I got distracted by a knock-knock joke and a secret handshake involving the pattycake song. See you on the other side!

What's Up?

2009-08-09T22:00:00.000-04:00

Lots.

We are still working our way into the school week routine. Earlier wake up times, earlier bedtimes, lunchboxes going missing every other day, e-free on Monday through Thursday... The small people have protested this action as a war crime and are threatening to convene a NATO security council meeting over the issue of no TV or video games on school nights. By Thursday, I may be willing to testify on their behalf.

J.T. gave us a grand performance of Phantom of the Opera on Friday night. He had parts divided up for he and Abby, a sound technician and everything. Only Abby had a real Carlotta moment and decided it was her way or the highway. Which was fine with us. J.T. played ALL the parts and delivered a nice rendition of his favorite show. Abby sat stage right and sawed paper dessert plates in half using a plastic knife. All the while loudly proclaiming that if we didn't do what SHE wanted to do, then she would not play with us anymore. Not never. Not never again.

Tonight Abby asked me how turtles breed. I thought:

A) I don't know. That's why we have google.
B) If I did, I wouldn't tell you.
C) Wait a minute. Did she "breed" or "breathe".

Turns out it was "breathe".

Back to School!

2009-08-04T16:17:00.000-04:00

Summer is technically over, in terms of no school anyway. It's still hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk and will be until Halloween. BOTH kidlets started school yesterday. J.T. in grade 3 and Abby in pre-K.

We went armed with supplies, bookbags, new lunchboxes, a slew of completed paperwork and even a little excitment about the new year. J.T. went into his room like the seasoned veteran he is, found his desk, shoved a box of tissues at his teacher (from the room supply request list) and said: "My MOM says you need these." He was very concerned that someone else had brought tissues too and these would be overkill and why NOT suggest it was all MOM's idea, just in case.

Abby's class has 20 four year olds enrolled. TWENTY! There is not enough ibuprofen in the world for me to take that on. One kid cried until he threw up all over the teacher's assistant. Luckily, they found a t-shirt for the poor woman to wear the rest of the day. Abby didn't cry (0r throw up) and after a few minutes of quiet observation, dove into the activities. I asked her if it was okay for me to leave and she just nodded and kept at her puzzle. Sniffle. Good thing they were handing out tissues at the door.

Abby asked me last night why the kid was crying and calling "Mommmmmyyyyyy!" and I said: "Perhaps he missed his mommy? Did you miss your mommy?"

"No," she said, with a bit of an eye roll.

They survived, even thrived, and came home... without their lunchboxes.

Sophie

2009-07-28T21:16:00.000-04:00

A boy and his dog share a special bond. They grow up together. Playmates, pals, buddies. One a confidant who cannot share the secrets whispered into a warm furry neck, who licks away tears and barks excitedly at a belly laugh. The exuberance of childhood contained in a wiggly, whining bundle of happiness and unconditional love.

Our sweet Sophie was hit and killed by a truck this afternoon. My poor J.T.'s heart is broken and mine is a little cracked.

She will go to rest with her favorite ball and lots of tears (I'm crying my eyes out right this minute).

She was loved.

We miss her so much.

Under the Bed Part II

2009-07-27T20:50:00.000-04:00

I cleaned out from underneath my bed.

This is what was under my bed.

In this pile.... there is nothing, not ONE thing, that belongs to me.

The owl clock... THAT belongs to Rob.

The red juice cup with the "stuff" clinging to its edges?

THAT went straight in the trash.

Happy Music

2009-07-20T15:54:00.000-04:00

This song has been running around my head like a Wild Thing since I heard it during the upcoming movies bit at Harry Potter (which I loved).

I love songs that make me want to close my eyes and dream. Imagine running through the yard with the cold spring grass licking at my feet and the breeze rushing at me, through me, around me. Lifting my face to the sun and soaking up the light, heat, happiness. Picking honeysuckle blossoms and painstakingly releasing that single long stem to capture one drop of sweet nectar. Songs of carefree childhood.

What's your slice of happy today?

Morning

2009-07-14T19:44:00.000-04:00

7 a.m. - Glance at clock and determine that "just five more minutes" is perfect.
7:25 a.m. - Get up and fumble blindly to the bathroom to put in contacts.
7:26 a.m. - Start a load of laundry.
7:30 a.m. - Pop two pieces of whole grain in the toaster oven and unload the dishwasher while bread is toasting.
7:34 a.m. - Bread has skipped right past toasting and into burning. Get out two more pieces of bread and repeat.
7:40 a.m. - Low fat cheese, toast and a cold diet coke and the morning news.
7:50 a.m. - Begin making the pillow-wrinkled face presentable for the public. A light moisturizer, eye makeup (which I never do well... they never quite match... one eye has slightly more liner than the other or the shadow isn't evenly applied), creme blush and a dusting of powder.
8:00 a.m. - Let the hair battle begin. The hair is armed with humidity and natural curl. I am armed with anti-frizz gel and a flat iron.
8:15 a.m. - Still working on the stubborn cowlick in the front. Decide that cutting cowlick out is an impulse best not acted upon. It's really tempting though.
8:20 a.m. - Flip on the lights in the kids rooms so they can begin the: "Mooooommmm. It's not daytime yet..." complaints.
8:25 a.m. - Slip on skirt and hot pink shirt. Buckle wide black belt over shirt. Looks stupid. Take shirt off and pick our pink patterned empire waist blouse. Arms look too fat. Decide on the wrap-dress. But now my shoes don't match and the multicolored necklace doesn't match the pattern of the dress.
8:35 a.m. - Walk down the hall to the kids' rooms wearing one shoe (where the heck is the other one). "Rise and shine people! Hit the deck! Bathroom, brush teeth, get dressed... let's go!"
8:36 a.m. - Roaming around the house looking for other shoe. Not in the dining room, not under my bed, not in the laundry room.
8:37 a.m. - Kids still lumped under covers. Don't think they've moved since 8:20 a.m. complaint.
8:38 a.m. - Drag the boy out of bed by his feet (don't worry... no injuries) and push him towards the bathroom.
8:38:30 a.m. - Dress the girl WHILE she's sleeping (I'm very speedy at this... practice makes perfect), including shoes and socks. My missing shoe is discovered in her closet. Should've looked there first.
8:40 a.m. - Boy has made it the bathroom. But is just standing in nightshirt and underwear, staring at the mirror. "Teeth don't brush themselves son. Get cracking now. Please?" Boy picks up toothbrush.
8:41 a.m. - Began the hair battle with the girl. I am armed with the only hairbrush she will tolerate, two ponytail holders and a hairbow. She is armed with cranky and a whole lot of stubborn. I win. But only because I outweigh her by xx pounds. There is great wailing and gnashing of teeth (that bit is by me, the wailing is her) and I once again am thankful our neighbors don't live within earshot of our house.
8:43 a.m. - The boy has both the toothbrush and the toothpaste in hand. But one has not met the other and the breath is still stinky. Threaten to brush them myself and am rewarded with action.
8:45 a.m. - Tell the boy that the girl is ready. He manages to throw on shorts and shirt (backwards of course) and sandals in record time so he can beat her to the car.
8:48 a.m. - Everyone in the car and buckled. Yay! Backing out of garage. Make it all the way down the driveway and realize the boy's lunchbox is still on the kitchen counter. Pull back in and grab lunchbox. Repeat the reversal out of the garage and realize that I forgot the frozen yogurt for the lunchbox. Repeat trip back up the driveway, into the house and out again.
8:53 a.m. - Finally pull onto the road and realize I've forgotten my sunglasses. Crap. Glance at clock and debate another trip back up the driveway. Decide squinting is worth it.
8:53 a.m. - Kids begin argument over which song they want to hear. "Number 10! NO!! Number 4. NO! Number 10!" We comprised on number 7.
8:56 a.m. Pull onto Westside Road. Right behind a tractor. No passing zone for 3/4 of a mile. Lovely.
8:57 a.m. - Still behind tractor. Wishing I hadn't take that extra five minutes onto my snooze (okay I know it was 25 but work with me).
8:58 a.m. - Tractor turns off. Yay! Smooth sailing all the way to the raptor center. Green lights and all! I must have done something right.
9:05 a.m. - We are last arrival for Wild Life Camp. College age student with no kids and lots of knowledge casts me look of mild censure. Mumble apology.
9:10 a.m. - More green lights on the way to Abby's school. Lucky day! She insists on taking largish singing Frosty the Snowman in for show and tell. Teachers very impressed with my cleverness for selecting cold toy to 'beat the heat.' Smile and accept praise. Do they need to know that I argued against bringing that one? I think not.
9:15 a.m. - Everyone squared away. Looking forward to work! Nice, quiet work. Where there are grown-ups and there is no arguing over seating arrangements or music selections.

How was your morning?