restless mama

Dirty Dozen

2009-05-09T18:45:00.010-04:00

My G man, aka Brainiac, turned 12 last Saturday, celebrating in style with mud fights, stream exploring, football and lemon pound cake. He invited 16 kids, including 2 girls, to party with him at my friend's place in Gerton. Thirteen showed, including one brave girl. Did I mention there were mud fights?

I get all weepy and sentimental when his birthday comes round. He was born pretty sick. His APGAR scores were in the toilet. I can honestly say, I didn't give a flying flip. I had been pushing him out for over two hours and was so exhausted that it didn't register things were bad. They cleaned him up a bit and whisked him away, in a very calm fashion, to check his breathing. Me? I'm still reeling from all that "natural childbirth" pain I signed up for in my birth plan.

Can somebody please give me some drugs now? A shot of tequila? A pill? Anyone? Finally I got a shot in my expanded hinnie. Big target. Damn that was good stuff and I drifted off to la-la land. But the boy, yet unnamed, was struggling to breathe. Pneumonia. He lay sleeping under an oxygen hood, turned up to its max. Before the beautiful narcotics sent me spinning, the DH said we should pray for the boy. Pray. Serious bizniz for the scientist who has difficulty believing anything he can't touch. And for the first time, I felt the gravity of the situation. Then I slept, despite my concern. Exhaustion + childbirth + drugs = dreamland.

At midnight (he was born at 9:23 am), his breathing improved and his oxygen was turned down. Whew! He was the biggest kid in the NICU. I hung with him for two days then the insurance company sent me packing, leaving my beautiful baby boy behind. Dude, if it happened today, I wouldn't take that bull shit. I'd have insisted on staying with him. But the nurses at Durham Regional Hospital rocked. They called me when nursing time came round and I was up there in ten minutes. He was home a week later.

Now I look at him and can't believe I have the privelege to be his mother. How can I deserve him? If you ever meet him, you'll understand.

The party lasted 5 hours, the mud fight a little less than 2. They were 15 minutes into the mud fight when one kid, Jacob, seemed to be struggling with a clot of mud packed in his ear. I watched from the pavilion as a couple of other kids tried to help. One genius filled up his Super Soaker with STREAM WATER and commenced "soaking" Jacob's ear. I'm thinking ear infection. Gross. But it seemed to temporarily resolve the issue and worked for the duration of the party, so who am I to judge? I bet his mother had to deal with it later.

A dozen memorable years I have been blessed. Thank you God.

Really

2008-11-04T23:27:00.004-05:00

Whew! I still don't believe it's true. The DH is asleep. He stayed up too late watching football last night. What a choice. Football or History. Football. History. Really. So here I sit, watching by my lonesome, doing the best I can not to scream that someone made a last second catch for the touchdown to win the game.

At 9:30 pm the Brainiac headed for the pillow and left me with his electoral map to color in blue or red- his homework. He also left me with strict instructions to wake him when I knew who was president. And to make sure he really heard me. I just returned from his room. "G", I whispered. He stirred and I said in my most restrained voice, "Obama won. He's the next President." He lifted his head of the pillow and asked, "Is it projected or did he really win?" I think he must have been awake. I responded, "Projected, but McCain is just about to concede the election to Obama AND Obama won Florida, Ohio and..." "OK, OK, I get it," he huffed and rolled over to get away from me. He is 11 after all.

Just before McCain conceded I switched to Fox to watch the coverage. They were so somber that you would have thought they were covering a funeral.

I just received an email from Obama. He is headed to Grant Park to speak. I can't wait to watch it.

This is history. And I am witnessing it. Really.

Happy Halloween

2008-10-31T21:45:00.003-04:00

Go Obama. Thanks to my neighbor, Amy, fellow Obama supporter, for taking this photo of my pumpkin. My camera is MIA.

Coach

2008-10-30T22:33:00.003-04:00

The Firecracker is playing soccer and flag football this fall. Football is a new sport to him but he has excelled. It helps that the most of the other kids are 6 and he's almost 9.

At Monday's football practice the coach asked DH to coach tonight's game. DH couldn't but he volunteered me. Nice.

Stop laughing. I do have some experience with flag football. I played one season when I was 9 or 10. The only girl on any of the teams. I distinctly remember my team sucked. But I had a few moves to impress the boys. Football moves.

So I showed up tonight with 6 plays that the FC drew out for me. Sounded like a good plan, but I could barely remember the kids names so the plays were out of the question. I let them all take turns being the running back. "OK, Caden, your are the running back. Where do you want to start? Left, right or middle?" It worked pretty well but my little FC wasn't happy that he didn't get as much bill time. He was part of both the touchdowns, though. He ran one, and threw the pass for the other.

They lost 18-15. I think. They lost anyway. I couldn't wait for it to be over. I made me totally anxious.

After the game the coach's wife remarked, "He would be proud." Before the game began, upon finding out I was coaching, she exclaimed, "She's coaching!"

My sentiment exactly.

Driving, Ms. Sassy

2008-10-15T14:46:00.004-04:00

I have several elderly neighbors living round me. One is 85 and totally together. She has a pacemaker and is taking Coumadin but doesn't let it slow her down. She is very active in her church and a big reader - we trade books. I loan her the saucy ones, like The Other Boleyn Girl. She loans me the intellectual ones, 1776 and From Palestine to Peace. I haven't read either. Yet. But this isn't about her.

There is an elderly couple that lives on my street. A long retired social worker, she is sassy and stubborn. Retired from the CIA, he has enchanted us on several occasions with his beautiful rendition of some German song he learned long ago, but now is vacant and obedient. We love them - my family and our neighbors. A couple of years ago, their old-lady-ride Oldsmobile bit the dust and she bought a VW Passat. I'm not sure of her reasoning but she sure differentiates herself from other old ladies in our town. If one ever comes up on an Oldsmobile in this town, it is a safe bet there is a perfectly quoiffed older lady behind the wheel.

She shouldn't be driving. Not only because her diminutive stature impedes her view over the steering wheel, but because she doesn't have the metal facilities to operate a vehicle safely. One such indication is that she has repeatedly told different neighbors that her mother is visiting and driving her crazy. Of course, Mom is dead. On Sunday, she backed out of her driveway and hit a car parked on the street curb. Not a big deal. Except she left the scene. She was headed to Ingles to buy something for our neighborhood block party. She showed but didn't know any of us. She became agitated with me, called me rude and said I shouldn't speak with strangers like that. Sigh. We were all alarmed and saddened by her diminished mental state. I vowed to call her daughter who lives in another state.

However, last Spring, three neighbors, including me and my other elderly neighbor, separately called her daughter to express our concern. She dismissed it. She has been trying to get them to move to a retirement community in her home town but without success so she said she would get them some "help". I haven't seen any evidence of help, but even so, she shouldn't be driving. Many neighbors have witnessed her erratic driving on Merrimon Ave.

Yesterday, instead of calling her daughter again and waiting another six months for "help" to appear, I called Adult Social Services. I spoke with the agent for over an hour reporting what I know, which apparently isn't much; there were many questions I couldn't answer, filling me with doubt about my judgement. But earlier today I saw the County issued vehicle parked in their driveway. My guilt and sadness for subjecting her to the indignity of social services questioning her ability to care for herself and her husband is tempered by relief that maybe soon she will cease driving and the roads will be a little safer.

My Bumper

2008-10-09T22:32:00.003-04:00

On Saturday I was across the street visiting with my neighbor on her front porch when we noticed this woman walking by. She didn't appear to be out for exercise, as she was dressed too nicely. We figured she must be taking a break from the tennis tourney going on at the Country Club that is practically a stone's throw from my house. My van was parked in my driveway, the bumper facing out and she stopped to survery my stickers -Well behaved women rarely make history and Another Mama for Obama and It will be a fine day when the schools have all the money that they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber and Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty or safety. After apparantly reading them all, she remained still and gazed at my house. I wondered what she was thinking? The rancher house doesn't match the veiws espoused on my bumper?

Mama Bear

2008-10-08T21:06:00.000-04:00

The Brainiac decided at age 11, to take up baseball for the first time this past spring. I was worried that he would be relegated to the bench, considering his lack of experience and skill. But we/he lucked out with a coach who was very supportive of all the kids and played all the kids equally despite their skill level. B even got a chance to play the infield a few times, as all the kids did. It was a very pleasant introduction to baseball.
B ejoyed playing so much he decided to sign up for Fall Ball, which is a differnt league than Spring Ball. It's not the same supportive environment. His team has ten players. Nine are needed in the field each game. The season is half over and B has spent half the time on the bench, swapping playing left field with another kid while all the others get to play the whole game. All get to bat regardless of their playing time on the field, so it's not about getting the best bats in and out. The good ol boys who are coaching the team are too lazy to rotate the kids in and out. So they have chosen to just swap B out with this other kid. The team, The Hillbilly Astros (I kid you not) is getting their asses waxed just about every game, so it's not about winning the title, etc. And even though he isn't a great player, he's just as good as the other outfielders.
B decides to take issue with this and we encourage him to speak with the head coach. After a recent game he approached the coach and told him that he wants more playing time. And the coach agrees. Then the B says, I won't be here for the next two games. He joked with the B- you ask for more playing time, then you say you aren't going to be here! We were proud of him for taking up for himself and felt like the issue was resolved.
We hit the road for Atlanta and missed the two weekend games. When the B showed for the first game back, we both realized that either the head coach had forgotten the previous conversation, or he just didn't give a flip. So when B took his place on the bench after his only inning playing, I approached the the coach and asked if he remembered the conversation he had with B about playing him more. He looked around as if I must be talking to someone else, then muttered, "I'll work on that." But he only played two out of four innings before the game was called because they were losing by so much.
It was my instinct to call out the coach for being so short sighted or lazy or just plain cruel but since I had a couple of days to think it through (and didn't have the coach's number), I settled down. The B said he would like to quit if the coaches weren't going to play him more and I supported it- he's not having fun and it wouldn't hurt anyone. But I thought he should give them one more chance. Show up for one more game. Give him the benefit of doubt -blah, blah, blah. Deep in my heart, I didn't believe they would but I was trying to fake thinking the best of these folks.
When we arrived on Saturday, we walked in with one of the assistant coaches who saw B but didn't even acknowlege him. Not a good sign. But to my surprise, they played him 4 out of 5 innings. In the outfield, of course, where he saw zero action. But he played.
At game's end, we encouraged B to thank the assistant coach for playing him more. He smiled, embraced him the way most men do only in the context of athletic endeavors, half hugging hugging, half pushing and said, "Aint nuttin against ya. I don't pay attention to all that suff."
Well, I'll take it. You can't write the script for these things.

Joe Six Pack?

2008-10-02T21:10:00.008-04:00

What in the Sam Hill? I'm watching the Vice Presidential Debate while trying to multi task and blog about something within my realm of expertise- my children. But Sarah stopped me in my tracks. Joe Six Pack? Sheez!

She is totally ignorant to important issues. In her interview with Katie Couric she made cheerleader Katie look like the class president. Surely everyone watching gritted a collective cringe when she couldn't name one news outlet that she referenced to keep herself informed. Sheez! I can't profess to being more knowledgeable than her, however I'm not running for second in command in this country. I CAN name a few news outlets.

But she seems to be holding her own. So is Biden.

I'm watching CNN. There is some "uncommitted Ohio Voters" graph running across the screen, a green line for the men and a orange line for the women. But I don't know what the hell it represents. Maybe Sarah can tell me how to read that.

Gas Crunch

2008-09-30T10:38:00.005-04:00

The worst is over "they" say with the gas crisis in Asheville. We have been short for over two weeks now and it got really messy last Wednesday. The lines of cars waiting for gas were ridiculous - 3 and 4 hours long.
We were supposed to leave for Atlanta on Friday afternoon for the DH's class reunion. I wasn't about to sit in line for hours to go a leisure trip. The thought of it nauseated me. In fact, anytime I was out in the last two weeks, which wasn't often, I become anxious and sick just passing the gas stations with lines. Then there were the tales of people behaving badly - cutting in line, taking advantage of the gap in cars created by a driver, already out of gas, pushing his car to the pump. It really brings out the worst in some people. I know it is a small minority and I am thankful for that, but I guess I'd just rather not witness people behaving like the world was ending.
I avoided the lines and panic until Friday when I struck out to fill up so we could make the Atlanta trip. I ended up at Sam's, a place I don't shop anymore since watching the movie, The High Cost of Low Prices, a not-so-flattering documentary about Wal-Mart. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. But once I became informed, even though I didn't really shop at Wal-Mart, I had to break it off with my man Sam. He had provided me savings on wine, tires, a six pack of sports bras, and large quantities of chips but sometimes that's just not enough for a girl, so we parted. He didn't even seem to notice.
But I came crawling back on Friday. Sam had an orderly line inside his parking lot with three attendants directing traffic. I waited 5 minutes. No nausea. No anxiety. Just a twinge of guilt.
The compromise was worth it. Atlanta, the reunion and the break from the soccer mom routine was just the call for me.

Hurry Up and Wait

2008-09-29T22:24:00.001-04:00

The geeks at the local computer repair shop have held my hard drive captive for OVER a month now, tyring to pry it's contents from it's bones. It melted down in August and I surrender it to their expertise just after Labor Day. I have the old machine back with a new hard drive, but all my files for work, charitable work, pictures, finances, etc are locked down on that old dying drive. YIKES!(Of course, backing up now seems like a REALLY good idea). I keep calling to check on it because, well, they don't call me and the always polite young man on the other end promises to call back, but never does. I don't want to complain, lest I piss someone off and I never get my files back. Yesterday, I did receive a call back. They have the part they need to hopefully retrieve the information. I had to approve the charges before he could try.

He'll work on it and call me back. (Sigh)

Customer Service at Ingles?

2008-09-16T08:07:00.010-04:00

What is up with the folks over at my neighborhood Ingles? I shopped there on Sunday afternoon, a time I don't normally shop, and the surly teenagers who seem to run the place, despite the visible adult managers roaming round pretending to be in charge, were actually polite and courteous. Two different young male employees asked if they could help me find something. When the second one asked, I thought my head might spin off. Up until now, I have never encountered a teenager there who was anything more than disinterested. Typically, when I find myself in the teenager's line I am subjected to their conversation about someones date last night. Once, I came upon an empty line where the attendant couldn't be bothered to pause her conversation to ask for my advantage card. She just kept blabbing on to the bag "boy" while she scanned my groceries. I had to interrupt her to get my 78 cent discount on my fakin' bacon.

Now I will say that there are some fine, friendly and efficient older folks working there. If I shop during the weekdays, I will seek them out. Mike is one of them. He dresses as a woman every Halloween. Not that I have ever seen that, but I have somehow gleaned it from having a conversation with him -Hmmm, there's a novel idea: a conversation with your customer. There is another older gentleman, Floyd, that often bags for Mike. He will use my cloth bags without question(or an audible sigh). Last week, just after I arrived, I did a 180 to hop back home to get my advantage card; there was more than 78 cents at stake. On my way out I mentioned it to the night manager who was out having a smoke. He said that any of the cashiers can find my number by my address - something they had never volunteered to do before- and he snuffed out his ciggy and ran in to retrieve my number for me.

I have to give props to one affable young man I have had the pleasure of interacting with lately. He works in the deli, where ordinarily I feel like I've interrupted a druggie from getting his fix. "Can I help you?" is what comes out of their mouths but their body language screams, What do you want?

When I was in high school, I worked at a Chick-fil-a for two years. The expectation was to be kind and courteous to the customer. If I had behaved any differently, I would have been canned.

This is big. Customer serviced at Ingles. I wonder what happened? Did the expectations from management change? Or was it anomaly for Sunday afternoon shopping? Perhaps now that the economy is sour, management has some leverage to get people to expend a little energy to keep their jobs.

Whatever the reason, I like it!

Drug Talk

2008-06-21T21:10:00.003-04:00

Last week, I was driving my firecracker and his friend from church to their All Star practice when I realized that his friend, who is 8 years old, was talking to my FC about Pot. We had just passed a store called the Octopus Garden and he was explaining to FC that the store sold Marijuana paraphernalia. FC had never heard of this, so his friend, in the most matter-of-fact way, began to explain what Pot/Marijuana/ Weed is. That's right, he knew all the terms. I managed to add that it is illegal to grow, sell or smoke pot. FC asked why people smoke Pot. I explained that it made people feel funny. His friend added that it made people feel like they were in another world. Then he said that people who smoke it aren't very smart. Setting me up for the follow up question from FC.

Mom, do you know anyone who has ever smoked Pot? (I guess he figures I know lots of no-so-smart people).

Yes.

Who?

Me.

Why did you smoke it?

Because she felt peer pressure, his 8 year old friend answered.

That was a good enough answer for me.

I went on to warn of all the brain cells that are lost when you smoke pot. I have no idea if this is true, but I believed it when I was a teenager. I guess I figured my brain cells needed a little room to move about.

I thought this conversation was years away. But it really was as natural as talking about the College Baseball World Series.

Off the Map

2008-06-20T20:28:00.000-04:00

The longer I stay away, the more I feel I need to explain my absence. I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm really explaining it to myself. Life got busy at the end of the school year. My brainiac graduated from 5Th grade and both the boys were playing baseball so we spent most of our spare time happily watching our boys participate and most of our money at Jersey Mikes.

We spent a week at the beach with our boys plus 2; they each brought a friend. Sounded like a good idea in theory but it made me nervous to be responsible for two other precious lives while I watched the waves pummel and toss them in the angry sea. I gave them the rip tide speech every day.

If you get caught in a rip-tide swim parallel to the shore until you swim out of it. Whatever you do...

We know, we know, they said rolling their eyes for effect, you told us yesterday.

I'm more than a little nervous around water and kids.

When I was 4 or 5, my father hurled me up on his shoulders and waded into the ocean. It wasn't long before a nasty wave knocked us about and I was separated from him, tumbling in the foam and water. I had no idea how to swim. I was at the end of breath (which was probably 5 seconds) when my dad plucked me from the waves, dramatically saving my life. At least that is how I remember it.

Fast forward 30 years. My boys were 2 and 5 years old. We were swimming at an Asheville pool over Memorial Day weekend. I guess I heard the man's voice first - Lifeguard, help me. She's not breathing. I looked up to see a man in the middle of the pool holding a limp girl. The teenage lifeguard seemed to freeze and moved off of his stand at a snail's pace. The first responder, was another dad at the pool. My husband assisted. We cleared the pool and everyone became eerily quiet, except my two year old who wanted a snack. We watched the two responders work on the girl for what seemed inordinately long while her Dad stood over them, his hands clasped towards the sky in prayer. My boys and I said prayers also. Finally, the girl lurched and water came pouring from her tiny body. She lived.

Later my husband told me it was the first time that the first responder had done CPR. And that the girl had no femoral pulse. She was gone. Thank goodness for their quick response.

So swimming at the ocean with 4 boys wasn't my idea of relaxation. But they seemed to enjoy it. And we all came home in one piece.

Away

2008-05-23T21:06:00.002-04:00

Yeah, I've been away for a while. But I have thought about coming here, A LOT. There's a lot going on here, mostly good but let me start with this.

My boys had duel well appointments with the Pediatrician yesterday. My oldest is about to embark upon middle school and my youngest is headed for 3rd grade. They are two and 1/2 years apart but only 1 & 1/2 pounds apart. My youngest, the Firecracker, is 8 and weighs 65 pounds. He had gained 1 pound and 2 & 1/2 inches since last year. Finally, with some sleep, the growth hormone has kicked in!

My basset hound weighs 66 pounds. They are all hanging in there together.

But that's not the point.

They both were due for vaccinations which much to my husband's chagrin, I question. But after a lengthy discussion with our Doc, I decided to get a couple for the Brainiac and one for the FC.

FC was adamant he wasn't going to get a shot.

It reminded me of the time when I was 8. Some friends told tales of getting their tetanus shot and how many nurses "had to hold them down." I was determined to have at least that many hold me down, so I would have a story to tell - it never occurred to me to lie to my friends instead of causing pain and drama to all involved. So I pitched a fit. I bet my mother thought, WTF? It took two nurses and my mom to hold me down.

FC was headed in that direction but I somehow coerced him into may lap and before he knew it, the shot was over. Really not a big deal. I'm just glad they are well.

Passed Out

2008-05-04T20:57:00.005-04:00

The Brainiac turned 11 on Friday and had a big weekend. Friday night he attended an Obama Rally, where Gladys Knight sang and Michelle Obama spoke. When we arrived, he discovered many of his friends were there and they played at the back of the quad while the many introductory speeches droned on. When Michelle finally took stage, they found a tree to perch in and listened for a while.

Saturday he had a soccer game, a baseball game and 7 boys sleep over. They were asleep by 10:30 last night but they hit the ground running this morning, racing down to dam up the creek that inspired a mud fight yesterday evening. The last boy dispersed at noon so he had a little down time before he went to practice baseball. At 6:45 this evening, we found him passed out.

I think it's safe to say it was a good weekend.

After tending to 8 boys for 24 hours in a two bed room cabin, I'm ready for my bed too. Nighty night.

Brainiac Baseball

2008-05-02T10:06:00.005-04:00

My brainiac, who is 11 today, has decided to try baseball for the first time. I was a little weary of it, considering his lack of skill set for the sport. Surely all the other kids would be so far ahead of him that he would feel inferior and spend all his time pining the bench in the dugout.

Not so. There are plenty at his level, though thankfully there are some who are more advanced so the game actually looks like baseball. And his coach is a sweetheart. He even played B at third base one inning during their first game yesterday.

His first bat found him with a full count, the bases loaded and two outs. He struck out. I would have been crushed had it been me. But it didn't bother him. Partly because he just doesn't take on that kind of pressure. Partly because he doesn't quite get the game yet.

His second (and last)bat he was beamed by a pitch. A hard pitch. Stunned, tears streaming down his face, he walked to first, trying to shake it off. Lucky for him the very next pitch was a passed ball and he was sent to steal second. Safe. Still reeling, he rubbed his arm but the next pitch passed the catcher again and he was sent to third. Safe. Two pitches later, another passed pitch and he was headed for home. As he closed in on the plate, I heard his coach yell, "Slide." At this point, I'm thinking, he doesn't know how to slide, but then he hit the dirt, one foot gliding over the plate. Safe again.

His team won 7-6 in the bottom of the last inning. Of course, we pointed out that his run was critical in that win! The best part to him, though, was the reception he received after scoring the run. Lots of high fives and folks slapping his helmet.

I think he's going to like this game.

Crack TV

2008-05-01T16:20:00.004-04:00

I've been a fan of American Idol since the beginning. No, I'm not bragging. It's a sad state of affairs. At least it's better than Rock of Love. And yeah, I have watched of few episodes of that train wreck. Kind of like watching a cat fight in high school.

But back to Idol. Seven years ago, when I ran across it, flipping channels, I was hooked from the beginning. I couldn't wait until the next week to get my fix - see the whole spectacle over again. It is fundamentally flawed as a talent contest because it is NOT a talent contest. It's a popularity contest. And to ever make it in front of Paula Abdul, Randy Jackson and Simon Cowell, you first have to pass through a preliminary round with Fox talent judges. You only move past them if you are so absolutely terrible that you are laughable and will be good entertainment, or you have a decent voice AND a story -your Dad's in prison, your a single parent, your husband's face is tattooed, your a total goody two shoes and you've never seen a R movie, your a chick who rides a Harley, etc. It makes for good TV ratings you see.

But still, these kids - OK some of them aren't kids anymore - don't care. They want a chance to show their stuff. Can't blame them for giving it a shot. Two of the most, if not THE most talented performers have already been voted off this season- Karly and Michael. Coincidentally, neither are originally from America. Perhaps that hurt them. Surely, they would land on their feet. I'd buy their albums. If I had any money.

Of the four that are left, one stands head and shoulders above the rest.

First, let me digress and say that it was time that Brooke got booted from the show. She had a decent voice and did a good job of picking songs that complimented her narrow range but she doesn't have the goods to make it in the industry, unless she perhaps breaks free as a singer/songwriter. I think her wholesome girl, golly gee, act was wearing a little thin. I'm not saying she wasn't genuinely wholesome but it finally lost it's luster to the folks, the viewers, that are voting. Now I love me some crack TV, but I'm proud to say I never, ever, not even once, voted. I feel like that has kept me from falling over the edge and never finding my way back.

Ok, back to the one that stands out. David Cook. He's da bomb, as Randy Jackson would say. He can sing and perform and play the guitar and rearrange the song to suit his style. I'm not sure how he got through the preliminary rounds though, as he doesn't seem to have a "story". Of the other three, one can flat out sing; David A. But I'm so over him. He's the same every week. He just sings, always nailing the song and knocking the judges socks off, but he doesn't perform. He'd be so boring in this age of Videos. Then there is Syesha, who has a decent voice but is an incredible performer. She could get a record deal though, if someone else picks her songs. Last is the John Travolta look-a-like, Jason. A little bit of James Taylor mixed with Bob Marley. He's likable but so incredibly mellow. I think it would be hard to fit him in a specific music genre.

Now I dig the competition, but I really dig Simon's candid critique of the contestants. Most of the time I agree with him. I wouldn't be so blatant, but I love that he is. Someone has to balance Paula who apparently has more than soda in her Coke cup. She has difficulty articulating her thoughts almost every time she speaks. And on this week's show she started critiquing Jason's second song when he hadn't even sung it yet. Huh?

But Paula has inspired me.

To get bangs cut. She has good hair.

Campaign Slogans

2008-04-29T08:40:00.003-04:00

In a recent conversation with some friends we remarked that sound bytes and catchy slogans really seem to work and grab the attention of American Voters - remember Bush 2 with 'compassionate conservative'?

Anyway I was reminded of my bid for Senior Class Vice President of Pine Forest Senior High School in the early eighties. My slogans were:

Fred is Dead, so vote Tracey for VP

and

My Aunt Myrtle Wears a Tight Girdle so vote..

There was another, but I can't remember it.

I won. Shocking, eh?

Nite Out: Barack The Vote

2008-04-18T07:52:00.009-04:00

Despite being sick and lame, I made it off the couch last night to go see Arrested Development, Bela Fleck and Abigail Washburn at Barack the Vote at the Orange Peel. It's only a spring cold but it still knocked me on my bum and I was this close to canceling. Lucky for me, I was carpooling two friends who didn't know each other and I felt responsible for getting them to the gig.

We parked just North of the Peel and as we walked past the City Bakery, some folks were advertising that Arrested Development was inside. We ducked in and they were there indeed, not eating a snack but all lined up sitting against a wall and behind tables, ready to sign autographs. My two friends had barely heard of Arrested Development and I had not heard of their music since the nineties and "Tennessee" so I didn't know the lead singer from the drummer. But they were terribly gracious folks, bantering with us as we moved along receiving each autograph on our newly purchased CDs. We thanked them for their obvious pro bono work; our tickets were $5 each. They told us they had done two other gigs like this for Obama; one in Columbia and one in Atlanta where they are from.

We moseyed on down to the Peel and lingered outside for a while, signing up for Obama yard signs. Then we filed inside for a beer which temporarily quelled my cold symptoms. Being a politically charged event, the atmosphere was lively and energetic. A few people took the stage to speak, including an older distinguished looking woman who gives "hugs for Obama" near Pack Square every Friday night. She captured the crowd with her genuine enthusiasm, warmth and sincerity - once she learned that the microphone had to stay in front of her mouth, and not swing side to side like a pendulum. She spoke to the lot of us as if we were all 18, voting in our first election but we didn't care. We got where she was coming from. Our Mayor, Terry Bellamy, also gave an impassioned speech. I've never seen her so animated, but I've only seen her at the City Council meetings.

I had never heard Abigail Washburn or Bela Fleck. Together with Ben Sollee on cello and a fiddle player (who was absent) they make up the Sparrow Quartet. They were amazing but being an acustic gig they were partially drowned out by many in the crowd who were talking.

Arrested Development was fantastic and engaging. I was bummed when they wrapped up their set around 11pm but in reality I needed to get home before I turned into a pumpkin. So we weaved our way up Biltmore Ave, my friend, Susan, stopping to intervene in an argument between two drunk young men. "Hugs for Obama," she said. That sentiment wasn't as appealing to these two but I think the shock from her intervention style stopped their arguing, temporarily at least.

I bussed my friends back to their abodes and came on home to nurse the cold. I'm glad I made it off the couch, even if I have to pay for it today.

Mr Curbie

2008-04-15T08:26:00.004-04:00

Today is trash and recycling day in my hood. There was a time, back when the babes were in diapers that missing the trash folks was such bad news that I would load up the trash in my van and chase the trash truck through my neighborhood rather than be with the stinky mess for another week.

These days, the trash isn't the problem; its the recycling that is mammoth. We fill up four bins, half of it mixed paper. So this morning while parked in front of the computer, I heard the familiar clanking of glass and metal and realized that the Curbie dude, was on my street. Early. Still in my red velour snowflake pajama bottoms, hair askew and teeth not brushed, I slipped into my Carolina blue fluff Crocs, a Christmas gift from my brother, and hustled out the back door to my recycling pile. I grabbed one bin and hastened to catch Curbie four houses down. When Curbie caught sight of me, he said chuckling, "Girl, where'd you come from?" Graciously taking my bin from me, he volunteered to back up and get the rest. I huffed it back, as fast as any woman could in backless shoes, and in a feat not much unlike those who lift up two thousand pounds of a burning vehicle to save some one's life, I heaved two of those hefty bins, brimming with cereal boxes, newspapers and junk mail and shuffled to the street to meet Curbie. I watched as he unloaded them, waiting to thank him for his kindness. He then turned to me, stacking my bins on the ground next to me and said, "There's one thing I need you to do." And before I could say anything, he said with a sincere smile, "Give me a good morning hug," wrapping his arms around me in paternalistic manner.

What a sweetie, Mr Curbie.

Good Day

2008-04-03T22:13:00.003-04:00

The day started with a run with the hound dog. Really more like a drag. I ran less than 2 miles in 25 minutes. Still its something. The girl scout cookies are still hanging around like a spare tire round my middle.

After the run, I huffed it over to Obama's HQ to volunteer registering voters. My friend and I were sent to Greenlife, where we registered 3 voters in a half hour. Those Greenlife folks are civic minded - all registered. Bob, the sweet shopping cart man, asked me if I was cold. yes. I was under dressed -why would I believe the weather folks? They have been totally wrong the last two days. Bob offered to fetch a coat from his car. What a sweetie. And the patrons of Greenlife were kind and courteous too. More than a few thanked us for what we were doing. We had an odd encounter with a well groomed, nice looking white man, about 50 years old. We asked him if he had registered. He replied that he couldn't because he was a convicted felon, all the while looking me straight in the eye and speaking loud enough for folks who were lingering to hear. We had been told that convicted felons can register as long as they have completed their parole and probation. So I began to tell him that when he interjected, I killed someone. Someone who was trying to get me to register to vote. Then he grinned and walked away. Nice joke, dude. Really.

After that we went to UNC-A to help. We met a young woman, Lauren, who is working her bootie off registering voters. She had 187 done in just one week.

Later in the day, I picked up some boys for soccer practice across town. I had 4, ten-year-olds in my van and sheesh was the smell funky. Somebody has hit puberty. The boys began talking about the cool Bud Lite commercials that have played during the NCAA tourney. I must say, the cavemen ones are pretty hilarious. And the "dude" ones too. Clever. Obviously very effective in capturing the 10 year old audience, too. YIKES!

Now, I'm readying myself for the visit with the rodent for the next 3 days. Not my idea of vacation but its what the DH wants to do. At least the weather will be favorable and the boys are old enough to ride some roller coasters this time.

Basketball and Botox

2008-03-30T10:51:00.006-04:00

The Tarheel men's basketball team had the late game last night, playing Louisville in what amounted to a second half nail bitter - for me, anyway. The Tarheels played a brilliant first half, beating the full court press and running their fast break offense. The Tarheels seemingly in control, the conversation in our living room turned to Louisville coach, Rick Pitino's obvious use of Botox or cosmetic surgery. We even guessed then googled the ages of Williams (57) and Pitino (55).

Pitino obviously spent half time coaching rather than changing his suit and coiffing his hair, as he did during half time of their game vs Georgetown earlier in the season (which, btw, they won and Pitino later admitted- after first saying at the post game interview that he had spilled Diet Coke on his suit- that he changed from his Benny Hinn-white suit-get up because his blue boxers were starting to show through from butt sweat. Dude, TMI. I liked the Diet Coke story better.), and brought his boys back from an 12 point half-time deficit to a tie with about 10 minutes left to go.

Pitino seemed to have made an adjustment in strategy at half time, and his Cardinals came back and made basket after basket with the "give" - to their big man Padgett at the top of the key - and "go" to any player finding a hole in the Carolina defense. But in the end, Lawson and Hansbrough stepped in up for the Heels; Lawson weaving through the Cardinals' full court press with grace and ease, rendering it totally ineffective (back-up Quinton Thomas didn't fare so well). And Hansbrough, well, being Hansbrough, playing with intensity and confidence to the buzzer's blare.

Now for the final four. We have a conflict though. We have tickets to visit the Mouse in Florida next weekend. Personally I'd rather be watching hoops that trudging through crowds of crabby parents and overstimulated kids, but since we have already laid down the money, we best be out in the mayhem.

Hurl,Trot and Hack

2008-03-28T09:38:00.004-04:00

The Spring Break train not only brought snow but a gaggle of viruses that are roosting in our home. The Brainiac was down all day Sunday with a fever, then he hurled. The Firecracker woke up Tuesday with a severe case of the trots. Then early Thursday morning, while sleeping over at a friend's house, the B woke up to discover he had the trots, and they had, um, already trotted, if you know what I mean. Poor guy, he was up in the middle of the night trying to clean himself and the bed he was sleeping in without disturbing anyone. (I know, I konw. TMI) Now he has a head cold and cough to go with it.

Luckily, the adults have dodged the viruses, and we have largely enjoyed our vacation in Asheville, though we have done nothing resembling tourist activites, except eat a few take out dinners. The weather shaped up and we have been soaking it in - gardening, playing baseball, soccer and tennis, walking the dog. Of course, we watched college hoops on the tube.

Tomorrow brings rain and cooler weather, if you believe the weather folks round here, so I'm going to hit the trail with the hound dog while I have a chance.

Spring Break

2008-03-24T11:30:00.004-04:00

Well it doesn't feel much like Spring Break here, mostly because it's 32 degrees with snow fluries supposedly turning to rain this afternoon. We were headed to the beach but decided to save some dough and stay here. It is supposed to warm up this week, so we have plans to enjoy Asheville like tourists AND get a few things done round the homestead.

Easter was a bit messy at our house - the Brainiac had a stomach bug. I didn't sleep well last night, half listening for the inevitable trips to hug the toilet, not just from the B. I always expect that it's just a matter of time before the rest of us fall like dominoes and make our path to toilet. But so far, we are all well, inlcluding B, who has recovered enought to play Nerf football with his little bro.

Speaking of.. here's the Firecracker with his best Tyler Hansbrough impression.

Cuba and Tourism

2008-03-23T21:29:00.000-04:00

At the end of Cuba trip, we spent some time exploring in Havana. We visited this Jesus statue,a tourist attraction that overlooked the water.

Some folks in my group spent time speaking with a young, English speaking tour guide. He shared the history of the statue; it was commissioned by Batista's wife in 1957, several years before The Revolution. Batista was the corrupt Cuban dictator eventually ousted by Castro. It arrived from Italy in 67 pieces of marble. After further conversation with this man, they found out that he used to be school teacher but left his job to make more money being a tour guide working strictly for tips.

The average Cuban makes about $25 US dollars a month. Although they have free health care, housing, electricity, and food rations, this isn't much money. A tour guide can earn more than a typical day's pay with just one tip, presuming it is one CUC, the Cuban tourism Peso, basically equivalent to one US dollar. The CUC is worth much more that the national Peso that citizens use. So this young man left his secure teaching job to make more money telling the story of the Jesus statue. He wanted more money and apparently, according to him, others in similar respectable jobs including doctors and lawyers, have left their careers to become bellhops, waiters, etc to cash in on the tourist Peso and the financial boost it can provide.

The Tourism industry is something relatively new to Cuba. The government began promoting it in an effort to assist their ailing economy which was suffering greatly from the ongoing US Embargo and the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, who until the collapse, had been their primary trade partner for almost 30 years.

When Castro took over the government in 1959, he essentially leveled the playing field with Socialized programs. He wiped out poverty by providing food rations for everyone. He closed the schools for 6 months and sent youth out to the rural areas to educate everyone to read and write. As a result, Cuba's literacy is better than the US. He provided housing, health care and jobs for everyone. Free enterprise and capitolism aren't part of the economic culture. There is seemingly no way to prosper financially. However, the tourism industry is providing some with the opportunity to advance financially. No doubt tourism has helped the Cuban economy but the two Peso system has altered the way some Cuban's view the Socialist system and what it does and doesn't provide.

We spent many hours traveling across the Island and every time we stopped to use a public restroom, whether at a gas station, restaurant or public park, there was someone attending it for tips. The attendant usually sat outside of the restroom, sometimes handing us toilet paper. Typically, the restrooms weren't clean. Most didn't have toilet seats - presumably another trade victim; it must be cost prohibitive to import, though I never asked anyone specifically. Still, we tipped, grateful to have somewhere private to do our bizness. Certainly bathroom attendant isn't the coveted tourism job, but it is a job, nonetheless.

I must say that we didn't witness any homelessness nor begging, sans the many stray, diseased dogs politely hovering round our dinner table at most open air restaurants, hoping for a scrap or two. And crime is very minimal. Coupled with the beautiful countryside and warm Cuban people, it unquestionably adds to the allure of Cuba as a desirable tourist destination.

Unless, of course, you are American, and prohibited from going there by your government.

Cuban Agriculture

2008-03-21T07:59:00.000-04:00

Finally something about Cuba, though I can't take credit for the photos. My friend, Marc, took them.

While in Cuba, we witnessed and learned of their nationally supported organic farming model. This was developed in response to loss of trade and support for their commercial agriculture model, due to the ongoing US Embargo and diminishing trade relations with the Soviet Union after the fall of the Soviet bloc. I found a paper by, Peter Rosset, on the Internet that explains it better than I. His words are in italics.

Because of the US Embargo in 1961, Cuba developed a relationship with the Soviet Union and heavily relied on them for trade. Cuba depended upon its socialist trading partners for petroleum, industrial equipment and supplies, fertilizer and pesticides, and foodstuffs. In the late 1980's relations became strained with the Soviet Union and imports/exports suffered greatly.

Cuban agriculture was based on large-scale, capital-intensive mono-culture, more similar in many ways to the Central Valley of California than to the typical Latin American small-scale farm. More than 90 percent of fertilizers and pesticides, or the ingredients to make them were imported from abroad. This demonstrates the degree of dependency exhibited by this style of farming, and the vulnerability of the island's economy to international market forces. When trade relations with the socialist bloc collapsed, pesticides and fertilizers virtually disappeared, and the availability of petroleum for agriculture dropped by half. Food imports also fell by more than a half. Suddenly, an agricultural system almost as modern and industrialized as that of California was faced with a three-pronged challenge: to essentially double food production while more than halving inputs - and at the same time maintaining export crop production so as not to further erode the country's desperate foreign exchange position.

Cuba moved to an alternative model of agriculture, one that promotes ecologically sustainable production by replacing the dependence on heavy farm machinery and chemical inputs with animal traction, crop and pasture rotation, soil conservation, organic soil inputs, biological pest control, and biofertilizers and biopesticides.

Our culinary experience in Cuba included eating only fresh fruits and vegetables: pineapple, guava, papaya, tomato, cabbage, cucumbers, green beans, onions, plantains, bananas, oranges - all grown on the island. The chicken was fresh not frozen, eh hum, it was just killed that day. My Brainiac loved "Cuban chicken" and the "chef" who made it for him. The eggs we had for breakfast each morning were especially fresh but all the butter and salt added while cooking probably enhanced the flavor just a bit. Of course, rice and beans were a staple at every meal - cooked in oil with salt and garlic added - and very tasty. Cuban food isn't spicy; spices are imports and if they were readily available or affordable, it wasn't evident.

We spent one day visiting the rural area outside of Camaguey. It was here that we saw the farm laborers bagging the rice. Below is a picture of the finished product.

Notice that this is on a blacktop road. Before the rice was scooped into the large sacks, it was occupying about 1/3 the width of the road and extended about 1/4 mile. That is where they dried the rice. Interesting.

We spent 5 days with our sister congregation in Camaguey, eating most of our meals with them. The last night we were there, they wanted to treat us to a "special meal". These people were so gracious and considerate that they wanted to share with us foods they didn't normally eat as the cost was prohibitive; fruit cocktail and canned tuna. The fruit cocktail consisted of fruits that weren't grown in Cuba. And surprisingly fish isn't something they eat much of either. It was the only time we were offered fish in our 10 days there. Camaguey isn't on the water, but it seems like fresh fish would be more affordable and common considering the proximity to the water. I never inquired. Perhaps it's the transportation involved to get fresh fish inland. A question for next trip, I guess.

Welcome Back, Lawson

2008-03-17T14:05:00.004-04:00

Much of the weekend was spent watching ACC hoops and my favorite basketball sons, the Tarheels. It's been an interesting season in Chapel Hill. The Heels' amazing point guard, Ty Lawson, was out for six or so games with a sprained ankle giving the once spastic Quinton Thomas a chance to mature into a leader and have a positiv minutes while on the court. Since Lawson's return a few weeks ago, he hasn't been a hundred percent. But yesterday, even though coach Williams said he's still not fully whole, he made things happen. It was good to see him back. Dude, he is so exciting to watch. Sometimes it seems as if he just hits some turbo charge button, takes off and blazes past everyone on the court like they are standing still.

Sometime mid-way through the second half I started singing the Welcome Back Kotter tune each time Lawson worked some of his magic, making the layups look so easy, and dishing the ball off for one of his 8 assists. My Firecracker was annoyed. I was happy.

Welcome back. Welcome back. Welcome baaack.

Enjoy the Ride

2008-03-16T09:51:00.004-04:00

There are miles of things on my list. Not the least of which is creating a power point presentation - something I'm never done- on Cuba for a talk I am giving to the "Fun Bunch" at my neighbor's church on Tuesday morning. YIKES! And the ever present taxes. And all I have to do is gather the information for my accountant but that takes hours.

But of course the minute I sit down for blog moment, the boys are in need. The Brainiac is packing for his 3 day class trip to Camp Greenville, but he needs help. I effectively put him off for a moment but the FC came in from shooting hoops and wants to get on the computer. Typically, this is when I make them do a chore; it is their ticket to ride. But what I need done requires a little supervision and I am unwilling to be interrupted, so I yield, telling the FC that he will have to afterwards, knowing full well that he won't be as cooperative.

The book fair was at the boy's school this past week. They both came home with the flyer and had books in mind to purchase. Unfortunately, the Brainiac had no money - spent it all last weekend on a game for his Nintendo DS. It was the first game he had bought for his DS since purchasing the DS just before he and I left for Cuba in January ( subsequently, he was invited to three birthday parties in which he only showed with a handmade card- no money left for gifts). Anyway, the Firecracker has plenty of money saved despite his Webkinz obsession. (Luckily, he has found a supplier, St Joseph's gift shop, where he can buy one get one free.) In a generous moment, the FC gave the Brainiac money to buy the books he wanted, no strings attached. Then FC bought three chapter books, including Diary of a Wimpy Kid, despite the fact that he only reads for homework, and then only for the twenty minutes required, not a moment more. Well, the Wimpy Kid facilitated the proverbial 'turning of the corner'. He read it out loud to me, then took it to bed to read. The next day he apparently read it on the way to school (DH said - I'm going to have to impose a 'no reading' in the car rule, so the boys will talk to me.) during free time at school, and on the bus ride home. This morning he woke at 6 am and read. He is so proud of himself. ME TOO. Me too.

As a parent, I am mindful to avoid comparing the boys in front of them; they are competitive enough as it is. In private, of course, I do. I can't help it. When the Brainiac was in second grade (as FC is now), he blazed through all the Magic Treehouse series, as well as Chronicles of Narnia. It didn't seem especially advanced to me, as he had many friends who were reading similar books at a similar pace. But now it seems clear that indeed he and his friends were advanced and the FC seems to be advancing at a normal rate.

I'll take it. The past three years with this bright, high energy, passionate child had been a challenging journey. It is good to see him in a place where he can channel his energy and passion positively, control his behavior, and become excited about learning.

I know this parenting gig is like a roller coaster ride -sometimes you are laboriously climbing the hill wondering if it will ever end, and sometimes it's all downhill and you are incredulous that you scored a ticket for this killer ride.

For now, I'll enjoy the ride.

Basketball and Butt

2008-03-12T10:14:00.003-04:00

I shot hoops yesterday with the Firecracker. Of course, we can't just shoot, we have to play a game. One in which the rules of the game don't apply to him. He travels, double dribbles and fouls the crap out of me. He can score a three pointer. I can't. The game was close - the lead changing back and forth, when I blazed past him for a rebound. He blurted out, "Chubby butt", regarding the appearance of my back side. There's no edit button on this kid. Stunned, I stammered for a few seconds then said, "That's booming butt." And don't you forget it kid. Then I raced by him for a lay-up. Too bad I don't have the ups to dunk. That was the exclamation mark that I needed.

Friday Night

2008-03-07T19:43:00.004-05:00

It's Friday night. Good week. Only one sick day this week, and that was just half a day. I'm 100 pages away from finishing my book club book, Their Eyes Were Watching God. Not bad, except that we meet tomorrow afternoon and there is no time tomorrow to read it. Rio, is coming over later tonight to sleep over. She is in town for a friend's birthday party. So why am I blogging instead of reading? Procrastination, I suppose. In a moment.

Last night, my friend Erin invited me to see this very cool Irish folk band, Lúnasa, at Diana Wortham. Her boss laid the tix on her yesterday morning, so I was her last minute date. I did consider staying home to read the book, but decided it lame to pass up free tix to live music. It was a good decision.

The boys are having a slam dunk contest on the Nerf basketball goal in the FC's room. My DH foolishly agreed to judge it. I can hear him giving scores right now. This can't end well. Someone will be crying before it's over. Even if the scores are tied!

Tomorrow the DH is working, so I'm carting the boys around to their activities. Lucky for me the soccer has already been canceled due to all the rain today. However it doesn't solve the problem of overlapping activities and only one parent. FC's basketball game starts at 10 am in Woodfin. Brainiac's Super Saturday, Physics is Phun class at UNC-A at 10:30. He knows one kid in his class and he won't be going tomorrow.

Time out. FC is yelling because he crashed during the dunking contest. Told you it wouldn't end well.

Back to Super Saturdays. Last semester, another mom and I coerced our boys into taking Chemistry. I told B, Nico signed up for Chemistry and she told Nico that B had signed up for the same. Not a lie - I did sign him up, he just didn't request it. They both were jonsing to take something lame but it was more important to be in class together. They loved the class so we worked our magic again this year to get them into Physics. Clever and creative parenting don't you think?

OK the dunk contest is over. The boys are in front of the TV, watching basketball.

Back to my book.

Stranger In My House

2008-03-06T07:38:00.002-05:00

Yesterday as I was getting ready to leave my house, my hound dog, Patch, began incessantly barking at something in my storage room in my garage. Sometime in the past week he was in the same spot doing the same thing but the FC flushed him out.

Yesterday, I investigated the commotion, and found a scared young cat curled up on a moving pad on a shelve just out of the dog's reach. Probably my neighbor's, I thought, so I gently scooped him(?) up and released him in our yard, Patch hot on his heels. Basically he scampered around our house, Patch wildly barking behind him, and tried to seek cover from where he came. I scooped him again and took him across the street to my neighbor's yard, where he would be safe from Patch and would be able to seek his home. To my surprise, he darted right back across to our driveway, past the momentarily stunned dog who had to be thinking you're going to give me another shot at you? But Patch was soon in hot pursuit, his mournful hound dog bark leading the way. They both disappeared in the garage.

At this moment, I received a phone call from my DH. I think there might be a cat living in our garage, he said. What gave you that impression, I asked, not divulging my discovery. There have been paw prints on my car since Monday and this morning, after all that rain on Tuesday, I had fresh prints on the windshield.

Hmmmm. Well, I didn't have time to ponder, I was going to be late for my meeting. Patch was hoovering around the front of the van, waiting for the cat to emerge from underneath. I backed out and watched in amusement as the hound dog sniffed and searched for the cat. He looked like a cartoon character, nose to ground, in total disbelief that the cat wasn't there. It just disappeared! I began to wonder if the kitty was in my engine somehow. But I was late, so I headed off. I left the garage door cracked so the kitty and dog could get in/out.

When I returned home, I couldn't find the kitty anywhere. Neither could the dog, which was probably an indication it was gone. But about 4 hours later, when my DH arrived home, he found him underneath my van. Hmmm, I wonder if he was hanging out in my engine the whole time?

So we fed the poor beast. He's actually kind of cute, as cats go. But I'm not a cat lover. I guess I should post some pictures round the neighborhood, though it has no collar. I'm afraid it is just a stray.

Last Week

2008-03-03T07:58:00.007-05:00

Last week was nutty, mostly in good way. One sick day and two snow days (why don't these ever collide?) left me behind on some things and out off the Yoga mat but I managed to get in some tennis which kept me sane.

Tuesday came and went without incident: no drunk call from the retirement community. Wednesday and Thursday were snow days. The boys did a little sledding and a lot of bickering.

On Thursday I saw Moonlight and Magnolias at the NC Stage Company, a professional theatre here in Asheville. It was quite a hilarious comedy, based on true events, about writing the screenplay for Gone with the Wind.

My parents were in for the weekend for the first time in a year and a half. Its a haul up here from the Fayetteville and they are busy folks - my dad still works, they are enjoying 4 or 5 cruises/year, and there are 10 other grandchildren that live in the ville.

But before they arrived Friday night, we entertained my Mother-in-law's former neighbors, a couple from Winston. We went out for a nice dinner, at the Corner Kitchen in Biltmore Village. Right off the bat, my MIL ordered a glass of wine. My husband went behind her back and canceled it. When the meal arrived with no wine, my MIL refused to eat her meal if she couldn't have wine and left the dining room to sit outside and sulk on the front porch. Oy Vey! We have a third child on our hands. On a good note, she already has another kitty named Sissy. We were disappointed she didn't wait for us to help - we thought an adult cat would be easier, but she seems happy to have that hole filled. Who cares if the kitty rips up all her new upholstered furniture??

My folks got to see the Firecracker play basketball - he scored 20 out of 26 points for his team while we yelled directions from the sideline, "Harly (or Nathan or Trenton) is open", trying to get him to pass the ball. And he did, eventually, but the kids couldn't handle it.

We had a lovely time hanging with my folks. The boys spent most of Sunday outside in the glorious sun chasing around a little white ball with a tiny metal stick, while my mom and I hung out at the homestead. The FC completed his day of outdoor activity with an hour of baseball at Jones Park with some neighbors, then later an hour of shooting hoops outside. Exhaustion makes for good sleep; something I was craving despite my inactivity. My folks slept in our comfy bed and we took the hard as a rock futon bed. I guess I need to address my guest sleeping arrangements.

Boys and Bathrooms

2008-03-01T17:11:00.001-05:00

The Brainiac has racked up a tab, payable to Firecracker. They share a bathroom between their rooms. B locks both doors when he uses it, but forgets to unlock his brother's side when he is finished. This has caused strife for almost three years now, so I told B he had to pay his brother a dollar every time he forgets to unlock it. Rather quickly, he ran up a tab of $5. In a clever move, B brokered a secret deal to barter his debt away. He would build some Lego ships for the FC. I'm not sure how it all went down, but when I paid them their allowances on Thursday, the FC wanted his money. B then hurled the "deal" ships on the floor, breaking them into many pieces. I reacted by taking away his play date - the one I was about to take him to. But after considering it, I decided to skip the torture of leaving him home to seethe and aggravate his brother (and me) all day, and sent him away. Instead, he wasn't able to attend a birthday party the next day. I backed off that one too, allowing him to go an hour late, after a load of chores at home. Not so consistent, I know, but he did come home complaining that he missed the best part of the party, so the desired effect was achieved.

Puberty

2008-02-26T19:53:00.002-05:00

The Brainiac came home with a note from his teach today. They are doing a talk on puberty and we are invited to attend. Not something, I necessarily intended to discuss with him, but during dinner, he wouldn't cease his incessant banter about Weird Al, so I changed the subject to puberty. Lesser of two evils? You decide.

My husband took the ball and ran with it and gave a pretty good explanation to our boys. So good, in fact, that I became a little nauseated. Some things shouldn't be discussed at the dinner table. The Braniac looked a little embarrassed discussing testosterone and pubic hair. The Firecracker was just laughing and answering "sexy" to the question, "what changes happen to girls during puberty?"

Perhaps, this discussion should have been exclusive to the Brainiac. Hindsight is 20/20, they say.

Rain, Rain

2008-02-26T08:16:00.009-05:00

It is raining like crazy this morning. Of course, we need it. We always need it. This morning I was telling my boys about a recent news article, buried on the back page of the local paper, that spoke of the drought being perpetual. It will never end.

Back in September of 04, we had two Hurricanes come through our fair city within 8 days of each other. First Frances, then Ivan. Round here it was called the hundred year flood.

The only road out of our neighborhood, one that runs along the banks of the Swannanoa River, was flooded. The power was out. School was out. We couldn't drink the water. Word got around that a neighbor's Mom was missing, presumed dead by the local authorities. They found her car in the middle of River Road, door standing open, flooded with water. She was found around 4pm, safe on top of a truck in the lot of a business along the road. She had left for work at dawn, driving her car right into the flooded road.

A couple of other neighbors decided to hike out around our flooded road to check out things. Just as they were emerging from the 2 mile walk in the woods, one stepped on a wasps' nest, allowing a direct tunnel up to his groin where he was stung multiple times. Stepping out onto the road, he collapsed into Anaphylactic shock. Luckily there was a group of people nearby, surveying the damage to their river houses. One happened to be a nurse, and one had a truck. They piled in the truck and headed for the VA hospital upon the nurse's urging- it was closer than Mission, our city hospital, and my neighbor seemed critical. My neighbor survived but the doctor at the VA said he wouldn't have made it had they decided to go Mission.

The next morning a rainbow appeared over this lucky man's house.

'nother sick day

2008-02-25T10:54:00.005-05:00

The Brainiac is home "sick" today. He woke up with a sore throat. He did some passive whining aimed at securing his day off. I nipped that in the bud. If you don't feel well enough to go to school, just say so. I trust your judgment. So, he's home.
Hmmm. He has already spent some time working on his AIG (Gifted class) project, playing legos and watching Youtube with me. We were comparing Weird Al videos with the ones they were intended to spoof. Not so sick. But, hey, everyone needs a mental health day every once in a while.
Last week I sent the Firecracker to school, no so well, because he wanted to go. He did spend two days at home pretty sick. And Friday he came home from school and took a nap. Go figure.

Super Tuesday

2008-02-24T12:29:00.004-05:00

I often speak of life's challenges as waves. A wave can't last forever, eventually it crashes on the shore and recedes into the dark water of the ocean to form again. My wave of status quo- everything seems quite normal here - crashed on Friday. I've only been riding it for a week or so, but I enjoyed it while it lasted. Still the crash wasn't too bad. My mother-in-law's kitty died and she was beside herself with grief. She lives 30 minutes away in a retirement community that she chose last fall based on the fact they allow kittys. She didn't weigh anything else in her decision which is regrettable as the food is southern through and through - fried or overcooked, and virtually everyone there is in a wheelchair or walker. It's depressing. To me anyway. She's 72 and mobile but needs some supervision as she has some dementia.
On Friday afternoon, as my DH settled down for a nap on his afternoon off, he received a call from the Retirement Community that the kitty had died; my MIL wouldn't let anyone take the kitty from her, and was demanding an autopsy. The kitty wasn't that old, maybe 3 or 4. My husband took off to console her and brought her home to hang with us for a while. While here, she asked for a glass of wine. I politely refused. She has been sober since the fall- by that I mean Autumn and the time she fell down, drunk, and broke her hip. They can't stop her from buying alcohol on the weekly trips to the grocery store. In fact, once she was well enough to walk again, she made the trip and bought some. We conspired with the management and told her if she was going to drink, we couldn't stop her but it was either the bottle or the kitty. You can't take care of a kitty when you are drunk.
She chose the kitty. But with the kitty done, I'm afraid the bottle will be back. They go grocery shopping on Tuesday. I'm sure to hear about it if she does buy it. She can down one of those mega bottles in a couple of hours. Gives new meaning to Super Tuesday, eh?

Just Another Day

2008-02-21T09:37:00.005-05:00

The Firecracker is home sick today for the second time this week. Nasty cold, I guess. Or maybe just a mild version of the flu. He had the mist. I suppose I should be doing something productive like my taxes or perhaps working on one of the many unfinished projects about the house. Like sanding and staining the stairs. We ripped the carpet up a year and a half ago. I don't know what I have been waiting for. Inspiration, perhaps? No, more like forethought because I have to purchase wood putty to plug the holes, rent a sander and pick out the stain. But it needs to get done. Along with finishing painting the basement (from this summer). Finish painting my son's room - just the corners remain (from two years ago). Hooks up inside the pantry door, coat closet and the boys' rooms. What else? Paint the mantel (it has been a different color than the rest of the living room for over a year), the stairwell (this one may be for hired help as it's tricky) and the wall in my bathroom where the cheap mirror needs to come down. Then there's always my website for my business. I had some friends get it started six months ago, using software that allowed me to be the webmaster. I haven’t touched it since. YIKES!

You just can't ever get it all done. And in the past six or eight months I have begun subscribing to taking care of myself first. Ok, maybe it is second or third - but it isn't last. This means making Yoga once or twice a week as well as playing a little tennis. This translated into low stress Holidays. I wish it translated into flab off the belly, but that's going to require some work. And throwing out the Girl Scout cookies. I ate through the "Thank You" ones in a couple of days. My Brainiac came home yesterday looking for them. Who ate them all, he wailed. I dunno, must have been your Dad. You know he has a sweet tooth. Damn those Girl Scout Cookies. It takes 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer to burn off four of those suckers. Lucky for me, I don't like the other two flavors I purchased: Thin mints - that's like squirting toothpaste onto a chocolate cookie - gross. And some cinnamon thingies. However, I did order from two other sources who have yet to deliver their goods. How can you say no to sweet little entrepreneurial girls? Maybe my best plan is to never let the boys see them, then secretly drop them in their classrooms for a fun snack.

Cuba Reflection

2008-02-18T09:08:00.002-05:00

Last night, I gave a "reflection" about my Cuba travels at my Church. It was good to have a deadline to make me get something on paper. Here it is. I sang the song lyrics that are quoted. Probably not a good decision but I think it kept people engaged.

It was Friday night. 10 o’clock. 8 days into our travels in Cuba. M, a college student from our congregation, the Braniac and I were bunking together at the Martin Luther King Center in Havana. We were in a dorm like setting with each room having two sets of bunk beds. Our suitemates – the ones we shared a bathroom with – were Cuba women. We turned out the lights, exhausted from days of traveling, including 5 days with our sister church, conversing and fellowshipping with these faithful and generous people. I was almost asleep, when loud guitar music startled me from dream land. Someone’s radio, I thought! No, wait. Not a radio, but guitar music, live, coming from our suitemates' room! It was quite stirring and lively but not exactly what I wanted to hear at this particular moment. “Pssst, M,” I whispered, “How do you say your music is lovely but I’m trying to sleep in Spanish?” And M said through muffled giggles, trying not to wake the Brainiac, "Por Favor la musica es muy bonita pero quieremos dormir."

I thought I’d wait for a few moments before I drug out of bed to ask. It wasn’t difficult to wait; I had spent this last week learning to live in the waiting, drinking it in and embracing it. For waiting was something we found ourselves doing quite often. Waiting for someone to arrive or for someone to lead us to our next destination or for dinner to begin. We even jokingly changed the words to Marcharemos, (a song that we often sang in church in Spanish and English, that our sister congregation also knew) to Esperamos – (we are waiting). The waiting, lingering, was a gift to me. To slow down, to live in the moment, not thinking about what my next move or task was. I didn’t have any. Surely the folks from our sister chuch had things they had left in wait, to spend time with us, but I never knew it. They were just as present as we were.

Our first night in Camaguey, I found myself trying to explain to a congregant in our sister chuch what a nursing home is – in Spanish. Don’t ask me how I got there. I desperately scanned the room for help from our Spanish speaking Circle, but they were deeply engaged in other conversations, so I waited. I leaned in to the awkwardness of the wait and after much stuttering I said, "Las Casa de abeulos" – home of grandparents. It was the best I could come up with. Yet she got it – I think.

I’m certain I was the most naïve traveler, over the age of 10, in this group. Collectively, my fellow travelers had been to Korea, Guatemala, India, Burma, Honduras, and Romania to name a few. I had been to London. Far from the third world country of Cuba that I thought I was traveling to.

But third world was not the Cuba I encountered. Certainly, before signing up for this trip, I knew little of Cuba besides what had been spoon fed to me by the “history” books and the US Media. There’s a line from a song by John Mayer, “Waiting for the World to Change” that says “When you trust your television, what you get is what you got. Cause when they own the information, they can bend it all they want. That’s why we’re waiting, waiting for the World to change.” True for me in more ways than one.

I had read some before arriving so I did have some better information to draw from. But to witness it with my own eyes and ears was powerful – people living with enough to eat, housing, education and health care – something our country can’t provide to all of our citizens. Not a land of milk and honey by any means; I found myself moved to tears by the many malnourished stray dogs. We were told not to touch them; they were so filthy and carried diseases. This was difficult for me. I just wanted to lean over and give them a little love.

Then there is the government. We had some intimate, intense conversations with a few folks we encountered there. They are waiting. Waiting for change in their government but most don’t see hope that it will. One day, I had on t-shirt that dons the date 1-20-09, the date we inaugurate a new president here in the US. After explaining what it meant, the proprietor of our inn in Camaguey said, “We don’t have a date like that. We don’t have a date for hope.” Another time, someone speaking about hope for change said, “our only hope is in Jesus”. These were stirring conversations – ones I will never forget.

So, there I lay, on my bunk bed in the Martin Luther King Center, waiting for the beautiful guitar music to cease. After all, trying to ask graciously, in my broken Spanish, made me a little nervous. So I breathed in the music and the wait and a few minutes later, it stopped. I found out the next morning, one of the Spanish speakers paid a visit and asked if they wouldn't mind closing their door. And they obliged.

Since returning home, I have found myself dreaming of the day that we will host some of our sister church members here in the US. What would we cook for them? What sights would we share? For now we will have to wait and hope for our government to change. Until then, I’m glad that our congregation has chosen this partnership, this journey, with these faithful people.

Got Flu?

2008-02-18T08:23:00.004-05:00

My Wild Child is home with a sore throat today. After breakfast this morning, he took some advil and went back to sleep. This kid just doesn't slow down. He's in constant motion, so I'm fearful of the flu. It's running rampant through his school. He did have the flu mist but apparently there is one strain that isn't covered in that vaccine. We'll see. I think I need to change the WC's blog nickname, even though he doesn't know about it. It doesn't quite fit him anymore. He is definitely a ball of energy. Maybe firecracker? Or Cracker Jack? Hmm, I'll have to think on that one.

Sick Day

2008-01-25T13:19:00.001-05:00

I can't remember the last time I was sick. Ok, maybe I do. It was the Noro virus around Valentine's Day 2004. I got up to hug the toilet but passed out before I made it. My DH, heard me hit the floor, came to my side to flip me over, so I wouldn't aspirate while I threw up, unconscious. Today is nothing like that. Just a cold that my Chinese herbs haven't been able to knock out. I've been laying low, watching the replay of the Australian Open Men's semi-finals, Federer v Djokovic match.

I've spent the last week easing my re-entry into the U.S after a 10 day trip to Cuba, something my other travel companions most likely didn't have the luxury of doing. They had to get back to their jobs and the work left on their desks. I don't have any clients that needed me at their homes, though I am doing some work from home for a few.

While in Cuba, I was totally unplugged- no email, no phone calls home and no TV, though most people in Cuba had them. I had to trust that things at home were fine. In the weeks before my departure, I spent hours lining up after school care for my WC in my absence. I would like to say that I made casseroles and planned a menu so my DH and WC were well-fed, but I can't even do that when I am present, so I left them to their own devices, hoping that they could just survive until I returned. I never imagined that I would come home to hear that the two of them had a blast while the Brainiac and I were in Cuba. But, in fact, that is what happened. I barely got a hug from my WC upon my return; he recognized that the party was over. My DH said, "Caring for one child is easy!" They went to a college hoops game, to the park, to see the Chipmunk's movie- thank God i missed that!- and had friends over to watch Heels hoops and soccer.

The biggest shock, though, was to come home to a spotless kitchen and relatively clean bathrooms. He had even wiped the insidious mold off of the bathroom ceiling. In addition, he hung some pictures and did some de-cluttering, putting some things away. Of course, I'm thinking, I should go away more often! And I've noticed, since my return, my DH's attention to cleaning up after dinner and keeping the house picked-up. Somebody pinch me!

A few days ago, I spoke with one of my friends who was on the trip, a mom, who also left one of her children and spouse behind to "survive" without her. She experienced the same phenomenon. Her house was clean when she returned. And since arriving, she has noticed an increased contribution from her mate too. Go figure.

I have many thoughts and tales from my Cuba trip. They are racing around in my head - some are in an old fashioned journal that I kept on the trip. I'm waiting for the the thoughts and words to collide and explode so I miraculously become articulate and can convey my experience there. I realize that isn't likely to happen, though, much to my disappointment. I'll give it a shot, though, real soon. For now a nap and the end of the tennis match.

Hasta Luego, mis amigos.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-25T18:54:00.001-05:00

I'm a little over stimulated and pretty exhausted it was a fun and relaxed Christmas, despite that fact that yesterday I was still trying to get my Christmas Cards together and mailed, and I hadn't wrapped a single gift. The cards are in the mail - most of them anyway. I even had some help from my Brainiac. He put the address labels on - I finally figured out how to do that this year. Turns out my labels outnumbered my cards, so I had to make some strategic cuts from my address list to include everyone that I REALLY wanted to.

The gifts were haphazardly wrapped last night, as I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. No bows. No ribbons. Sometimes a gift tag. No one seemed to care this morning.

I still have some gifts left to wrap for my families Christmas down in the Ville. But we won't head there until Friday.

B and I are headed for a trip to Cuba on January 10th. I just can't seem to wrap my arms around it all until the Holidays are over. We do have our immunizations and passports in order. It's more about leaving the DH and the WC behind and taken care of.

Christmas and the Tooth Fairy

2007-12-25T18:43:00.000-05:00

The WC twisted his front tooth from his mouth yesterday, leaving a gaping hole in it's wake. Now it seems as if the other front tooth has been inspired, and is just hours from pulling up its roots too. So, Santa and the Tooth Fairy made visits to our house last night.

Both of my boys have taken to leaving notes to the TF, asking her to leave the tooth - but of course they expect money. Fortunately, the tooth fairy is an agreeable girl and has granted them their requests.

Last night, my WC left the typical note asking the TF to leave the tooth behind. She complied, but also wrote something in return. Apparently, she ran into Santa as she came to our house AND it was the first time she had met him. I suppose not many kids lose their tooth on Christmas Eve. I can't recall ever hearing any of my friends talking about it growing up.

Cool, dude. Merry Christmas!

Random Happenings in the Restless World

2007-12-03T20:21:00.000-05:00

On Friday night, some girlfriends and I spent some time sipping yummy wine offerings from Sante in the Grove Arcade in town. One of the owners is my Yoga instructor at One Center Yoga on Coxe Street. Very cool place. It is a retail wine store and bar, so you can chose any bottle and just pay a small corkage fee to pop it open there. A lot cheaper than any other bar or restaurant in town, where the mark up is far more.

Saturday found the DH and I at the Stoney Knob in Weaverville for dinner and then at a play, My Name Is Rachel Corie, at Mars Hill College. The play was intense and provocative- about a young woman who lived in the Gaza strip, working with a non-violent student movement. Tragically, she lost her life when a bulldozer presumably headed for Palestinian houses, ran her down as she tried to intervene. This play was a part of Mars Hill College's Difficult Dialog series. Very cool stuff from Mars Hill. They had a panel discussion with the audience after the play but we couldn't stay as we had to get the sitter home. Darn!

Sunday was lazy as it should be. I slept until 9:30 - quite unusual for me. We all went to church at 5:00 pm - first Sunday in advent - and good stuff. I jetted down to some friends' party in Hendersonville for a few hours, then made a quick stop at Target and Ingles.

Today, I hosted the Western NC AIDS Project Fundraising Committee at my house. We always meet at WNCAP but this was our after event wrap-up meeting, so I thought it would be fun to have them here for a light supper. And yes, it was fun but this afternoon, when I was preparing soup and salad for three hours, I kept musing, what was I thinking? Really, though, these are some of the best people I have EVER worked with. They totally rock and are so committed to this organization. And they were kind enough to compliment my Butternut Squash Soup and my Asparagus Soup. I have some leftover to eat the rest of the week. Fat chance my family will indulge in something so healthy.

Cap'n Crunch

2007-11-27T21:04:00.001-05:00

Patch, the smelly hound dog, has a new friend of late. A stray dog I named Rascal. Rascal has been coming round for at least a year now. He appears for a couple of days, then we don't see him for weeks or months. He and Patch love to play together but he won't let humans anywhere near him. Poor fella.

Last month, I began feeding him. And guess what? He kept coming back around. He even started to let me get close to him and I actually touched him once, though he immediately recoiled and backed away. But I kept feeding him, hoping eventually he would begin to trust. A week or so into his 'stay' at our abode, we ran out of dog food. I asked DH to pick up some and he came home with Kibbles and Bits instead of Iams. I chided him for getting Cap'n Crunch instead of Corn Flakes, but Rascal and Patch didn't seem to mind. Patch and Rascal blazed through the Cap'n at top speed, however we re-filled the dog food bin with Iams.

That's when Rascal disappeard again. He came back briefly, checking if the Cap'n had returned. Disatisfied, he took off again and has only made one appearance since. And that was only a trot down our street, never even looking once in our direction, taunting us for our bad taste in food.

Guess he must be "gettin' some" somewhere else. Isn't that a typical male?

Pelvic Thrust for Thankgsiving

2007-11-26T07:44:00.000-05:00

Sans the early childhood years,Thanksgiving has always been my favorite Holiday and as the years wax on, the others continue to pale in comparison. Maybe i relish it more every year, as Christmas madness and consumerism has consumed all of December and has eaten around the Thanksgiving Holiday to consume most of November.

For the third year running, we stayed in town for T Day, entertaining friends and neighbors. Being a vegetarian, I always assign the dead bird job to someone else. Everyone brought a few dishes, making it easier on all. We had sixteen at our house on Thursday, including 4 teenagers.

After we ate a marvelous meal, we settled down for a game of Cranium. We split up the elderly couple in their mid eighties, putting them on different teams. We did the same with the teenagers, one for each team. My team consisted of my elderly neighbor, who isn't quite all there, the teenage girl from across the street and my ten year old (who was watching TV in the other room). Mid way through the game, we drew a "play all" where a person from every team acts out a specific word and tries to get their teammates to guess it first. Two of the teenagers were the actors, including my team-mate. When "go" was shouted, my team-mate, this sweet, shy, 14- year old girl started thrusting her hips forwards and backwards. In addition, her hands were at her hips, fists gripped tightly, as if she were helping her hips along. In other words, a Pelvic Thrust.

Embarrassed and confused, I looked back at the other team and saw their teenage player taking off his shirt. Finally, I was put out of my misery, as the third team guessed the word - reproduce. I can't even begin to describe here the charade their player used to convey the word. I hadn't seen that gesture since high school. Thank goodness my boys were watching grown men violently slam each other to the ground - on TV. A lot more appropriate than our game.

My Weekend and More

2007-11-20T08:16:00.001-05:00

I survived the WC's sleepover. My friend, Erin, dropped by to bring WC a gift and then graciously stayed, cooked us dinner while the kids noshed on Dominoes, grapes and carrots. Turns out grapes are good for "FOOD FIGHT"; I nipped that one in the bud pretty quickly, but not before I video taped it.

When it was time to bunk down, several boys decided they were homesick and their Moms came to get them. I was tempted to take more "orders" for homesickness. Anyone else homesick, miss your mom or just want to sleep in your own bed? Anyone? Anyone? It sure would make things easier in the am. But it worked out fine. They were asleep by 10pm and slept through until 6:30am. Not bad.

On Sunday, the boys and I met some friends in Gerton for a picnic and some tennis. We tried the WC's new Aerobie in a big field there. The boys played tennis against one another. The WC came back from 2-5 down to 6-5 up, when the Brainiac threw his racquet, upset that he couldn't "finish him off." YIKES! Uncharacteristic behavior for the B, although several weeks ago, he did rage about the house when he received his first ever "B" on his report card. I asked him to sit off to the side, to which he spat, "Shut-up". Double YIKES! Then he said it two more times for good measure, just in case my friends on the court didn't hear it. Oh, boy. I couldn't help but think- Get ready for the teenage years, and more of the same. Of course, he lost his game boy for the first three days of Thanksgiving Break; one day for each Shut-Up. Fair, I think.

When we returned home, I asked the WC to get his chores done, or he would have to pay me $10 to do so. "OK," he said, "I'll pay you." Not really the desired effect, but now I didn't have to pay him his allowance for the last two weeks (I was behind by a month, though) AND I sterilized the boy's bathroom, which needed to happen anyway, since we are having guests for T Day. It was horribly nasty, even though they "clean it" every week.

Monday brought a phone call from the Vice Principal at WC's school. In his classroom, during reading, he had showed his manhood (under the table) to a girl across from him. Apparently, she asked so he showed. Triple YIKES! We had a conference after school yesterday, but he is home with me today, suspended. At the beginning of the school year, I blogged that it was just a matter of time before he was suspended again. However, I recently started to believe that he would make it through the year without a suspension, which was the WC's goal. I never would have imagined it would have been for anything other than getting angry and loosing control. He's matured a lot a year. He is sleeping better, as his apnea has been resolved. He is handling his emotions much better with the help of therapy, regular exercise and the many carrots that I dangle in front of him. His remarkable teacher has gone above and beyond to help.

The silver lining here is that the WC was terribly embarrassed and shortly after his exposure occurred, he told his teacher he had "made a bad choice." His flash episode happened in the morning and he remained at school the rest of the day without incident - a big deal for him. And he cried and cried yesterday afternoon when he realized he had been suspended. He didn't make his goal. Bummer.

Well the WC and I have to hit the madness at the Grocery Store. No Yoga class for me today. Perhaps tomorrow.

WC Took These Today

2007-11-15T21:19:00.000-05:00

Death of a Cupcake

2007-11-15T20:41:00.000-05:00

The WC's birthday is tomorrow. Eight big ones. He has invited 8 boys over for football, pizza, cake and Shrek the Third. And how could I forget - a sleepover. We did it last year with no problems. The lights were out at 9:00 and most were asleep by 9:30. But I'm doing it solo this year. The DH has to work.

In addition to agreeing to the boy fest at my abode, I signed on to bring cupcakes to his class, tomorrow. The WC didn't ask. I just got a wild hair or something. Cupcakes are easy, right? I have never been one for presentation, but these don't even look edible.

I effed them up - BAD! I think I was supposed to let them cool before I moved them but because I filled them too full they spilled over their tops and bled into one another so they looked like a sheet cake when I took them out. I thought I'd never get them apart if I let them cool. Well, they are apart, by God. Now, I just have to mount the icing to hide the mess. The kids won't care. Right?

I had a similar cooking debacle last year when I tried to make a Gingerbread house with the WC's class. I spent at least two hours preparing the night before. Cutting the dough using templates that I gleaned off the Internet for the "easiest" Gingerbread house ever. That should have tipped me off. When I got to school with my carefully baked pieces, none of them fit together. I spent the better part of an hour and a half scrapping the pieces, desperately tyring to get the damn walls to meet, while the restless kids watched (and played under the table) in the student kitchen. Finally, I got the four walls to meet enough and "glued" them together with Royal Icing. Great lesson, I thought. Perseverance prevails. Then my house of shame met an inadvertent elbow from a hyper kid and the walls they crumbled down. I wanted to cry. Really. But instead we slathered the pieces of the house with the (can I tell you how nasty this stuff tasted? But it is what everyone uses to "glue" their gingerbread houses) icing, Skittles and M&M's and the kids happily ate my house. Sugar is sugar, right?

I hope that sentiment is prevalent tomorrow. Luckily, the boy's REAL birthday cake is coming from the local Sister's McMullen bakery.

Out of Gas

2007-11-14T08:34:00.001-05:00

Last Thursday evening, on the way to a tennis tournament in Winston-Salem , I spotted a parked mini-van on the shoulder of I-40 East. Just as I was passing, I caught sight of a woman standing in front, wildly waving her arms. In the seconds it took to process and then decide I wanted to help her, I was too far down the interstate. I took the next exit and looped back around. I should have asked my friend and tennis mate, Sara, if it was OK, but she was along for the ride now.

Sara reported the stranded vehicle to Highway Patrol on her mobile. It took us about ten minutes to get back to stranded vehicle. We pulled up beside the driver's side and a young woman rolled her window down and started thanking us effusively. She had run out of gas. Sara told her we had called the Highway Patrol, which produced a strong wailed objection from her drunk passenger. UH, OH. They didn't want the cops involved. Then the driver, swore she was "straight", as in sober. Their boyfriends were already walking toward the next exit, but I told her I wouldn't pick them up. So we made room in the back seat and drove her to the next exit for gas. She didn't smell like she had been drinking, but her hyper behavior, including talking almost non-stop the entire time she was in my van, led me to believe she wasn't "straight" at all. But maybe she was just nervous getting in a mini-van with two strangers.

Starla,(that was her name) seemed harmless, though. We heard about her divorce and her two kids. She told us about a trip to Fayetteville AK where the supermarkets have "buggies where you put a quarter in to get it, then when you are done you put your buggy back and you get your quarter back! Isn't that the neatest thing you ever heard of? If ever I move from Wilkesboro, that is where I am going." Sara and I tried to hold it together. It was an amusing story but also a bit sad. I told her they had carts like those at airports. "Really?" she exclaimed.

She told us she and her friends were on their way to Gastonia. I asked if she meant Greensboro, because she was going the wrong way to Gastonia. Maybe when we get back to my van, you can look at a map and show us how to get there, she said. Oh boy, I thought. Luckily, the State Trooper was already on the scene, the drunk passenger in his front seat. Starla hopped out of our van to greet the young trooper. Leaning into the trooper's car, she chirped, "How ya doin' my name is Starla and I'm straight, I promise I'm straight." The poor trooper looked like he didn't know what had hit him. Starla never even turned around to close the door. We drove away, van reeking with gas fumes, thankful that Starla was someone else's problem.

Wedding Grace

2007-11-02T09:06:00.000-04:00

Last month, the boys and I attended a family wedding in North Georgia. My boys had never been to a wedding, so they didn't know any better to object. It was an absolutely gorgeous day for a wedding; the drive down was pleasant until I had a sinking feeling that I had left the wild child's dress pants and shoes behind. My boys had packed their own suitcases but I didn't double check if the dress clothes made it in. The Wild Child's didn't. Not to worry, our motel was on the Mall of Georgia exit. Running a little short on time, I skidded into the Comfort Suites, dropped the boys and scooted up to Marshals. 20 minutes and $25 later, I returned with a pair of pants and shoes. The shoes didn't fit - no wides at Marshalls - so we were stuck with this gnarly pair of Nike sandals. Did I mention that he packed himself? Seven shirts, no socks, no underwear, no dress clothes or shoes and seven Webkinz. He did remember his toothbrush.

Really, though, no big deal, as the wedding was outdoors on the Rockin' H Ranch. Turns out he was more appropriately dressed than most. We trudged through grassy fields to the wedding site - clearly not a place for dress shoes or heels.

The wedding was very sweet- the bride gorgeous and gushing; the groom handsome and nervous. It was a big cousin fest for my boys. Some of their first cousins had come from NC. I was surprised at how excited they were to meet their second and third cousins, especially my WC. During the ceremony, WC kept asking, "Which ones are my cousins?" In addition, he ripped a loud fart during the prayer. I opened my eyes, turned my head to find him still cocked up on one butt cheek. He glanced at me and said in a voice loud enough to reach the Minister's ears, "What?" I heard muffled giggling. Behind me, my adolescent nieces were trying to hold it together, their hands cupped over their mouths, bellies shaking softly.

After the ceremony, the reception commenced under a tent with a dance floor. The WC disappeared with his 1st cousins to the horse ring where he played all night in the dirt and hay. He appeared at the reception long enough to catch the garter then we headed off to dark pasture to find our van. The Brainiac had just finished saying, "If I ever get married, I want a wedding like this one", when he stepped in a load of manure. That sentiment was short lived.

Me and The Mad Scientist

2007-11-01T20:50:00.001-04:00

My baseball player had already jetted with some friends who came round a bit earlier.

My Life, Lately

2007-10-05T09:32:00.000-04:00

I haven't felt much like writing lately. I desire to be funny but my humor seems to be buried under more prominent emotions, mostly resentment and anger. My dear friends (thank the Maker for girlfriends) have been excessively patient, listening to my garrulous monologues about the latest antics of my Mother-in-Law. She's an alcoholic, but not self professed or recovering. Until recently, she was a functional alcoholic AND until recently, my DH, his sister and I have all reasoned and rationalized her alcoholic behaviors, just like good co-dependents do.
But in the last year, she spiraled into a dark hole, precipitated by the death of her best friend, really her only friend. We tried to let her ride that wave of depression to the shore, but she remained at sea, clinging to her bottle and cigarettes, drowning in sorrow and loneliness. After months of trying to convince my MIL to get help or move to a home, my sister-in-law, who is dealing with her own substance abuse demons, rescued my MIL and had her admitted to the hospital. My MIL then spent a sober 10 days with us until we could get her into an assisted living close to us, only agreeing to do it because the doctors insisted.
We breathed a collective sigh of relief. She was in a safe place, where her kitty was welcome and she got three balanced meals a day. Unfortunately, they can't stop her from buying or drinking alcohol, and the home takes the residents for a weekly shopping trip to Ingles. She has been twice. And twice, hours after returning to the home, she has been falling down drunk. Literally. We received calls both times. The second time, they reported she had fallen and broken her hip. She's been at the hospital since Tuesday night and I haven't been to see her. I've called her once. I have no sympathy for her, and I feel terrible but its the truth and I can't pretend otherwise. Her marriage to alcohol has affected our family for a long time, but it is deeper than I realized. We have been kidding ourselves.
My boys are asking provocative, appropriate questions about alcohol. We've had some healthy -I hope - conversations. After explaining to my WC that Grandam broke her hip because she had too much to drink, lost her balance and fell, he asked, "Mom has that ever happened to you?" Oh, dear, I thought this conversation was years away, my WC is only 7. But I'm glad he's not afraid to ask the uncomfortable questions. So I told him the truth; yes, I had but it was long ago, and obviously not a good idea. Both of my boys are sensitive about how much I drink, especially if we are out without DH (he doesn't drink). WC is afraid for me to drive after one beer with dinner. Now I'm sensitive to it. Maybe I shouldn't have a drink in front of them anymore but then doesn't that make it taboo? Or maybe I should just give it up altogether for the health of our family.
I'm confused, angry and resentful. Surely my DH, who has lived with this much longer, is ten times worse. I'm going to my first Al-Anon meeting today. Luckily, I have a dear friend who is already going, so I'm not alone. I'm desperately looking for some insight and wisdom. I hope I find some.

Heinie Hygiene

2007-10-05T08:58:00.000-04:00

At my house, we run through toilet like OJ running from the law. Our collective colons are pumping just find. A couple of weeks ago, I found myself, compromised on my toilet, realizing too late that the tissue roll was empty. I dug the other empty rolls out of the trash, carefully plying the wispy remains of paper off the rolls. It would have to do, I thought, until I could buy some more.
First, I had a doctor's appointment. Just the dermatologist. Surely, my bum would not come into play; the doctor was checking out a suspicious spot on my face. The visit was moving along nicely, the spot nothing to be concerned about, when to my horror, the Physician's Assistant asked if she could look at my bum. More precisely, in between my butt cheeks. "Not today," was what I should have said, but instead, I stupidly gave her permission. She took a peek, but thankfully didn't comment on my heinie hygiene.
I left there, my tail between my legs, and sped to Target for two mega packs of TP. Never again.

George Bush Imitation - Global Warming

2007-09-12T21:49:00.001-04:00

Crying Shame

2007-08-29T07:58:00.000-04:00

Procrastinating...

2007-08-28T09:21:00.001-04:00

The list is long but I have been sidetracked, which unfortunately is quite easy. This pic was taken by my friend's Dad, Henk. The WC doesn't miss a day playing baseball, even at the beach.

More VERY Cool Summer Pics

2007-08-23T18:08:00.001-04:00

I didn't take them, though.

Humor

2007-08-23T09:47:00.000-04:00

I received this over email this morning. Good for a chuckle. And mostly true.
The Husband Store:

A store that sells new husbands has just opened in New York City , where a woman may go to choose a husband.
Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:

1. You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the product increases as the shopper ascends the flights.

2. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 -
These men Have Jobs.

The second floor sign reads:
Floor 2 –
These men Have Jobs and Love Kids.

The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 –
These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking.

"Wow," she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going. She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 4 –
These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework
"Oh, mercy me!" she exclaims, "I can hardly stand it. Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 5 –
These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous, Help with Housework, and have a Strong Romantic Streak .

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes on to the sixth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6 –

You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store. To avoid gender bias charges, the store's owner also opened a New Wives store just across the street.

The first floor has wives that love sex.

The second floor has wives that love sex and have money.

The third through sixth floors have never been visited.

Cool Summer Pic

2007-08-16T07:40:00.001-04:00

Not A Moment Too Soon

2007-08-15T19:39:00.000-04:00

School started today and I was ready for the break. My boys and I had an amazing start to summer with a month long trip out West. But back home with all the summer funds having been siphoned out West, things got a little, shall we say, restless. In addition, my Sister-In-Law came for an unexpected five week stay at the same time our former exhange student came to visit for two weeks. Couple that with trying to help my deeply depressed Mother-In-Law, and my business, Get Your Move On, taking off - well its been a little chaotic. Oh, and I forgot about my gig as a volunteer chair for WNCAP's annual fall fundraiser, Raise Your Hand. I'm glad for a little solace, even if I spent it all working today. It feels good. Until the wild child gets suspended from school for losing control. Its bound to happen, its just a matter of time.

And another

2007-08-09T12:43:00.000-04:00

Me: How many women with PMS does it to take to screw in a light bulb?

You: How many?

Me: 6

You: Why?

Me in my most irritated voice: It just does, OK?

Another Joke

2007-08-09T12:42:00.000-04:00

Why do they call it PMS?

Because Mad Cow was already taken.

Golf Jokes

2007-08-07T21:13:00.000-04:00

My Dad loves to tell jokes - anytime, anywhere, but especially on the golf course. Here is one that i really liked. I hope I don't mess it up.

A man is walking along a not-so-deserted Island when he comes across a Genie bottle and pops off the top. Out pops a Genie in a plum of smoke but instead of being grateful, the Genie barks, "Oh for goodness sake, you are the 11th person this month to come across me. I'm tired of granting wishes, so I'm only going to grant you one wish, so make it good."

The man thinks for a moment then says, "I would like a bridge built from the west coast of California all the way to Hawaii".

The Genie responded, "Man, do you realize how long that will take, how many resources that will require? Not to mention how difficult it would be to build the underwater infrastructure to support such a bridge? That's asking WAY too much. You need to come up with another wish, something less difficult."

So the man thought for a while and then he said, "I have been divorced twice and am currently single. I'd really like to understand women and be able to provide what they need."

Without hesitation the Genie said, "Do you want that bridge with two lanes or four?"

My Golfing Days

2007-08-07T20:53:00.000-04:00

I spent last weekend visiting my parents in Fayetteville NC. My boys always enjoy catching up with their cousins, especially my wild child. Last year I committed to playing in a "Father-Son" Golf Tourney with my Dad. As I have said in the past, I really stink at golf but since I committed so early, I knew I would have plenty of opportunities to practice. That was the plan anyway. In the end, all I could manage was hitting the driving range twice last week. And I practiced putting once. Not nearly enough to be competitive, although I did hit a few good shots in the beginning of the tourney and one of the other players asked me if I had played for the local high school team. Ha! I begged his patience, and my game went south a couple of holes later. At one point, I reminded my clearly, frustrated father, "Remember this is for fun." "I am having fun, he huffed, not even trying to feign happiness. Together we shot a 99 in an alternate shot format. Not so great, but there were others in our flight who shot higher. Granted one of the players may have been a 5 year old, but still we weren't last. My Dad drove the golf cart at one speed - floored. Now, golf carts don't go that fast but, sweet Jesus, I had to hold on for dear life, as he hit every bump imaginable. It was definitely an adventure. We laughed about all our bad shots - but that wasn't until the next day.

I think my Dad wants me to play with him again next year, not because I'm any good, but because my 3 brothers are all playing with their sons now. Guess I'll have a year to get some practice in. Hmm, wonder if that will happen?

Ho Hum

2007-07-28T08:06:00.000-04:00

Our former exchange student, Juan, has left the building. He spent two weeks lounging with us - I'm afraid we didn't do anything terribly exciting. It was fun catching up with him. We did manage to take hime to the beach one weekend and out to Skinny Dip Falls (on the Blue Ridge Parkway) one day. Other than that, he was just like another family member, fending for himself. He has an international driver's license, so he says, but I had no plans to let him drive - after all he is twenty two and his frontal lobe isn't done yet. My husband thought differently, and while I was gone last weekend he let him drive the mini van to the grocery store to buy some Cheetos for his friends back in Bogota. His reson for driving should have been enough to just say no, but DH gave Juan the keys. Turns out he made it there and back safely. But when he tried to pull the van in our very tight garage, he made intimate contact with the side of the garage. Judging from the 6 foot scrape down the side of my van, he was going at top speed. My husband said that Juan felt "really bad". Yeah, but what about you, honey, for giving him the keys? Oh well, the new scrape goes with the old ones on the front bumper where I have hit the garage on a few occasions.

Exchange Student

2007-07-10T08:13:00.000-04:00

Our exchange student from 5 years ago, Juan, is visiting for two weeks. The DH was working on Saturday, so the boys and I went to greet him. He arrived safely, even a little early. A lot different than 5 years ago. This was three weeks before 9/11 so we waited as the passengers filed off the plane and into the terminal. I was ther with out DH again. The boys were acting like 4 and 1 year old, because they were and I was ready to get them back into a controlled environment - the car. But as the last passengers rolled past us, it became clear that Juan wasn't on this flight. After a few calls at a pay phone (this was pre-cell phone for me), while my boys played on the luggage roller, we headed back home. Later that night, I returned to bring Juan home. In his broken English he explained he had missed his flight in Atlanta. I felt for him, being in a foreign country, trying to navigate the flight schedules and the sprawling, frenetic Atlanta airport. It's unnerving enough for a native, at least the first time you encounter it. Many months later, we learned the truth. He was in Atlanta with time to spare to catch his connecting flight, but spent too much time browsing the duty free store, arriving at his gate too late.

We're Back

2007-07-05T08:34:00.000-04:00

We arrived late Sunday night, after an 11 hour drive from Columbia, MO, dropping DH at the Lincoln, NE airport the previous day (where he was delayed for two hours and late for his connecting flight). We intended to spend one more night on the road but I bribed the boys with a promise of seeing Ratatouille this week; we hardly ever go to the movies.
The vacation was fantastic but nothing spectacular to report. Yellowstone was fun for us all, although we did the mainstream stuff with the rest of the travelers. I had visions of hikes to less popular places, but we trudged along with the masses to see Old Faithful, waterfalls, geysers and hot springs. Seeing the wildlife was a treat too. We had plans to spend a couple of days in the Grand Teton National Park, but ended up spending time in and around Driggs, Idaho. It was a break we all needed from the crowds of Yellowstone. Two of our evenings in Driggs were spent at a local baseball field playing baseball with the boys, at WC's insistence. Of course, the wrangling with the field mouse provided entertainment (we caught another before we left). We drove all day Friday through WY, which was a treat in itself, the landscape was beautiful to behold.
Our first day back, the WC asked, "Mom, what are we going to do today?" "Nothing," I replied. The entertainment portion of your summer is over. Of course I have things to "do" (including watching Wimbledon) and I am determined to make them "do" a chore every day. I started on Tuesday but missed yesterday. Oh, well, it was a holiday yesterday. We'll start again today.
More from the river later but Nadal is making his comeback.

San Juan River Pictures

2007-06-28T20:42:00.001-04:00

The put in point, Mexican Hat, UT. Our campsite after the second night. It was too hot to sleep in tents or away from the river. View from the top after hiking up a canyon.

Unfortunatley, these are the best of my pictures. The camera quit two days in. It objected to the sand in its orafices.

Night Visitor and the Wooden Spoons

2007-06-27T19:06:00.000-04:00

I've been trying to catch up on our road travels in chronological order, but I'm skipping ahead. We are currently in Driggs,ID staying in a 2 Bedroom cabin on six private acres in the middle of freakin' nowhere. It is about an hour from Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons and the closest we could get without selling an organ to pay for it. We arrived last night in Driggs, population 1,100 and hit this fantastic supermarket, which is no doubt supported by the tourists coming in to ski, canoe, kayak, bike and hike. We found our new digs quaint and well equipped. The kitchen is new, with nice appliances, always something that impresses me. We fed the boys dinner, played some cards,watched the sunset across the valley, sent the boys to bed and we followed suit shortly there after - to our own private bedroom! We haven't had private sleeping quarters since Santa Fe so we spent a few minutes "putting out" before we happily passed out.
Hours later, I was rudely awakened by a blinding white light and some mumbled mutterings from my DH as he rounded the bed toward the living room/kitchen. Did you say field mouse?, I asked. Yeah, he said. There is one stuck in a trap and the other is rumbling around in the Rice Krispies. Still too asleep to be concerned, I propped up on one elbow and peered out of the bedroom door where DH was standing just beyond it, naked, with two wooden salad spoons in his hands, ready to wrangle the wild west field mice. He finally discerned that there was only one mouse, and it was making a snap, krackle, pop sound trying to free himself from his sticky trap. So, DH bravely scooted, with the help of the wooden spoons and a few nervous twitches, the tarred varmint to the door and shoved him out into the brisk night air to meet his fate. (Me? I'm still in bed. After all, it only takes one person to wrangle a trapped mouse.)In the morning the poor guy was still alive, so deeming it a humane trap, DH wrestled him free, with much effort and the help of the same wooden salad spoons and released him back into the field. Only he was so damned sticky, he stuck to himself. I called the owner of the cabin and that's when I learned the trap wasn't humane at all. It was a one-time-use trap. It's the only time we will use the wooden salad spoons, too.

River Trip

2007-06-25T21:14:00.000-04:00

This year's river trip, included something we didn't get much of last year - sleep! We had sleeping mats. Though they were cheap ones, they were better than last year's - we forgot to bring them! We had a fantastic time on the San Juan River, putting in at Mexican Hat, UT and taking out (not "putting out" as I kept repeating until my friend, Matt, corrected me with chuckle. Putting out is not a river term; it belongs in another arena) at Clay Hills Crossing, UT. The weather was hot but agreeable - we didn't have to endure a sudden rain storm. We all were better prepared for the sun and heat this year, with lots of sunscreen (we ran out last year) and ridiculously expensive SPF long sleeve sun shirts. Man, they were well worth it. I wore mine the entire time the sun was beating on us.
The rapids were milder, class I and II with just one class III that the DH and I did together in a Duckie, an inflatable two person kayak. About half way through the rapid he clocked my head (thank God for helmets) with his paddle. I was through the rapid before I realized he wasn't in the boat anymore. Turns out, he was being tossed from the boat as he pummeled my nogin.
I spent a lot of time paddling a Duckie this trip. I also got to successfully guide one of the big rafts through a small rapid. In addition, I guided the same raft, and my friend, Beth, who was riding in front, into a bed of Tamarisks on the bank.
The boys had a blast. Their biggest issue was using the Groover to eliminate their waste. We all peed in the river, which was a hell of a lot easier for the males, but we grooved on an ammunition box, adorned with a toilet lid. I must admit, I didn't readily hop on the Groover myself, with out being moved beyond will. Since hitting land, we have all spent time happily grooving on a modern toilet, without the company of a pack of flies or groovy stench.
We had two amazing hikes on our last two days; both at our campsites. One was at Slickhorn. We hike up the canyon about a mile to a pool of water in cased in small canyon of it's on. The kids (and adults)jumped off a cliff into a pool of water below. I missed most of the fun as WC was having a "moment" because he forgot his life jacket back at camp and didn't want to borrow someone Else's. I took a time-out, hiked back down to camp and took a break in the shade of our camp table.
The other hike was in a canyon - I'll have to find the name - on Navajo land. It was absolutely stunning to walk through this canyon. I can't describe how amazing this place was but i hope to have some pictures to post soon. My camera took on some sand and stopped working but other's took pictures. More later....

Last Day in Santa Fe

2007-06-25T20:43:00.000-04:00

Our last day in Santa Fe was a week ago, Saturday. We had Internet problems at our adobe and then of course we spent a week on a river (more later) but I'm trying to catch up. I'm having trouble uploading the pictures so words will have to do.
I was enjoying my coffee on the great front porch when a presumed neighbor (we ran into him later - he was just passing through to the market) stuck his head in and told me about the farmer's market just up the street from our digs. We had fun strolling around and talking to the local farmers. We bought some local honey and shared a fresh baked sweet roll. We then walked back into town had some Pizza (for the third time this week, UGH!) at Rooftop Pizza. With calories to burn we cruised the many vendors at an arts festival on the Plaza. The boys had fun with some balloon creations and I bought a few gifts, including ones for a fall wedding and Christmas. I convinced the boys to go into the Fine Arts Museum, since I already had a pass and it didn't cost us anything more. We blazed through at top speed, maybe 13 minutes in all, my WC stopping to touch a few things that he shouldn't have. We then took a bus across town for another museum. The boys were toast by then, but were good sports. We skated through the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture, caught the bus back home and spent the rest of the afternoon taking it easy, but of course I had to throw the baseball with the WC.

Day Trip

2007-06-15T21:34:00.000-04:00

We took a day trip today with the intention of making a loop and stopping in 5 or 6 different places but made it only to two of them. We stopped first at San Ildefonso Pueblo, a village known for it's fine pottery. It was founded in the 1300's and was quite small. We spoke with a local potter who was eager to share her story with us. The pottery is made without using a wheel or firing in a kiln AND was terribly expensive. The potter we spoke with said that the rest of her family was in Santa Fe trying to sell at "the street market" on the Plaza. Apparently, there are only about 25 spots where you can sell your crafts and each day 800 or so artists draw numbers to determine who sells that day. If you draw a blank, then you come home.

We then moved on to Bandalier National Monument for a look at ancestral pueblo ruins. The boys and I had fun crawling in the cliff dwellings there.

We met several people who had friends/family in Asheville. We also met one couple who had been on the road for over three weeks and were making their way back home to Charlottesville,VA. We all enjoyed meeting/speaking with other folks. There is something about these kind of public environments where folks are relaxed and moving slower, that lends itself to striking conversations with strangers. In one of the cliff dwellings, we met a family of four from Cincinatti with two older boys, all headed to a scout camp close by. In our five minute conversation, the mom urged me twice to get the boys in scouts. The boys have never expressed an interest but I didn't feel comfortable sharing with this stranger that I don't encourage scouts as they are exclusive, in that they don't allow gay members.
We then tried to hit a Science Museum in Los Alamos but gave up rather easily when we couldn't find it. It was creepy there. A very sterile, secure town, where World War II's secret Manhattan Project created the first atomic bombs. The boys were ready to go home so we headed back. They passed out for a nap and when we arrived home my Wildchild was ready to throw the baseball as we did yesterday. First, I tried, in vain, to take a little snooze, but the WC kept checking on me to throw. Oh well. Sleep will be good tonight.
We finished off our day with a walk into town for some ice-cream but had to hurry back so the WC could watch the Tarheels play in the college baseball series.

Slow Day

2007-06-14T19:16:00.000-04:00

We rose early but didn't get out until 10 this morning. We can walk to the Plaza from our digs. It's about 1/2 mile. We hit the Visitors Bureau where I learned I can get a pass for 5 museums for $15 (the boys get in free)- what a deal. So we first visited the Governors Palace History Museum, but we had to pass through the Plaza where there was a very surreal Flag Day celebration going on, complete with a two bit band playing all the patriotic 'favorites' and a woman dressed as Betsy Ross handing out programs. It seemed like a scene out of a movie. When they started singing the national anthem, the Wildchild said, "Let's go!" Then we walked on to the Post Office (we had to mail Pop his Father's Day card), the t-shirt shop where the proprietor had 5 children, ranging in age from 1 - 11, running around (the boys spent their money here, Brainiac on a t-shirt for his Dad for FD and Wildchild, one for himself), the Five and Dime for a looksie, and then to a wood-fired Pizza Joint (where I got a local micro brew). By this the boys were "tired of walking" - UGH!. So we headed home for a delicious nap. I slept 2 hours, the boys a little less. Now, we are lazing around, the boys happily playing gameboys - I hate them but they sure are quiet:). Their dinner, which they are excited about, is double noodle canned soup and applesauce. Go figure.
I feel guilty not busting my bum to "go", since we hoofed it out here to "see" this beautiful country but the slow day sure has been nice. I'm still holding out hope for a little car ride for a spectacular sunset. However, hanging out on this very cool partially enclosed, private porch, reading a book or doing a little Yoga (I brought my mat) sounds enchanting.
Well, the soup's on. See you later.

Santa Fe, Finally

2007-06-13T23:50:00.000-04:00

Today proved more pleasant. The water park was the call and the Brainiac and I saved the best ride for last (the wild child backed out at the last minute). I looked like a big toilet bowl and we dropped -in a two person inter tube -from one side of a U shaped bowl to the other side. When i say dropped, I'm not exaggerating too much. I wasn't prepared for my stomach to be left at the top of the bowl while the rest of me sped down and to the other side. It took several hours for my stomach to recover.

Our digs here in Santa Fe are nice. Got it at VRBO.com and it is an adobe apartment of sorts. It's not far from the Plaza, so we can walk to town tomorrow. So far our travels have been about driving and sleeping accommodations. Though today, it was a treat to drive across New Mexico and view the cloud formations as well as the storms off to the North. Can't wait to explore tomorrow and Friday with my boys.

Notes from the Road

2007-06-13T09:24:00.000-04:00

We embarked upon our trip "out west" on Monday, leaving later than planned (no shock), with plans to be in Santa Fe by Wednesday night. We spent Monday night in Memphis in a dive we got for a "deal" at Priceline.com. The pool was filthy - my boys were in for a few minutes before they discovered the cigarette butt and trash at the deep end, the very slow Internet was an extra charge and they didn't have extra pillows. What kind of motel doesn't have extra pillows? Still, my boys rolled with the punches. We'll get a better place for tomorrow, I said.....

Well, it was worse. I used Hotwire.com for the first time. Days Inn in Okey City. When we arrived, the curt attendant said we have reserved a smoking queen room. A queen won't do I said - never mind the smoking, which I knew was a risk as you can't request it at Hotwire. She gave us the keys to a double smoking room, no non-smoking available. The smoke billowed out when we opened the door. It smells like Grandma's house, the Wild Child said. Yeah, and we don't stay at her house either. So we left, the boys salivating as we passed the TWO pools, and went down the street the Sleep Inn. Non-smoking available but the pool was under renovation. Bless my boys, they said it was OK. They had a hard time going to sleep though - their second full day of sitting in a car without exercise. But this morning they were excited to find fresh waffles at the breakfast bar.

So we have 530 miles to Santa Fe, most of it interstate but will be stopping in Amarillo to hit a water park. They need it and frankly, so do I!

Some other random thoughts from our trip:

Driving through Nashville, I heard a new (to me as i don't listen to it much) country song where the guy's pick up line was, "I want to check you for ticks" and something about you never know where those ticks might hide. Pretty hilarious but, no doubt, some lame drunk in a bar somewhere has used it already. I wonder how long his face stung, after he uttered it?

Will my boys EVER learn to chew with their mouths shut? My DH hasn't, so I'm a little concerned.

I'm listening to Freakonomics on CD, when i can. Interesting stuff. i also got to listen to All Things Considered for two days in a row, as we have been on the road during that time.

I must get the boys packed so we can hit the water park in 4 hours. Now if I can just find something to use as a towel....

The Sweet Escpae

2007-05-31T17:53:00.000-04:00

The Wild Child, age 7, has decide he really digs Gwen Sefani's, The Sweet Escape. Yesterday, he was on deck warming up for his turn at bat during his baseball game, taking mean swings at the imaginary pitch while he sang "If I could be sweet, I know I've been a real bad girl"...

Meanwhile the Brainiac, age 10, went to swim team practice - something new for him - and was demoted to the younger age group, so now he's with the 8 year olds. The tears welled up and over his eyes last night as he told me of his humiliation. Poor guy. Maybe he'll smoke his Piano Performance in the Talent Show at his school tonight and that will be some consolation. He's head and shoulders above other kid's his age. You can't be good at everything, I told him. I couldn't come up with anything better.

The Summer Vaca

2007-05-29T22:04:00.000-04:00

For the past 4 months I have been planning our vacation "Out West". Where to stay, what to do, etc. We leave on June 11Th and return sometime in early July. The boys and I are traveling out I-40 West to Albuquerque, only 1500 miles from here. I can't wait to show them the Santa Fe, Taos and surrounding areas. Then we head up to UT to get on the San Juan River for 6 days. After that, we are off to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons for a week. When we return, we will receive a two week visit from our Colombian exchange student, who left 5 years ago. The summer is already packed!

Skid Marks

2007-05-18T08:29:00.000-04:00

Last week before my Mother-in-Law came for a brief visit, I cleaned the nasty basement, something that goes weeks without being touched. She slept on a bed in the basement, along with the dog kennel, the fooze ball table, and two couches. BTW, we did offer her one of the boys' bedrooms but being the martyr that she is, she refused and then complained the whole weekend about not sleeping well. But I digress.
In cleaning the bathroom, I emptied the trash to find a pair of boy's underwear, clearly not my sons', smeared with skid marks from holding off the inevitable too long. As I threw them out for good, I pondered whose they might be. Ah, ha! My braniac had a soccer team, pizza party here a few weeks back. Apparently, some boy thought it better to dispose of the evidence rather than explain it to his parent. Clever!
Had I been as clever I would have taken them to soccer practice yesterday, held them high above my head (pre-washed of course) and shouted, "Does anyone recognize these?" I'm sure the kid wouldn't claim them, put perhaps his embarrased Mother would have.

Peace for Mother's Day

2007-05-13T09:19:00.000-04:00

I've been a Mom for 10 years now, but I didn't know the origin of the day until now. I feel like an idiot for being so ignorant, that it's not just another trumped up day created by greeting card companies or retailers (although it has been hijacked by them). At the same time, I feel a sense of pride to be a sister in Motherhood with women from history who took a stand in the name a peace.

Live

2007-05-02T08:57:00.000-04:00

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather my sparks should burn out in a blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than asleep and permanent as a planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Jack London

Dining Out For Life

2007-04-26T15:23:00.000-04:00

If you live in Asheville and can swing it, eat out tonight at one of the 90 participating restaurants who have generously agreed to give 20% of their proceeds to the Western North Carolina AIDS Project (WNCAP), an organization that supports folks living with HIV and AIDS, and educates the public on prevention of this terrible disease. I am ambassador at The Jerusalem Garden, which means I'll be hanging there all night welcoming and thanking those who come out to support this cause. To find particpating restaurants, go to wncap.org and follow the links.

Hunting Island, SC

2007-04-25T09:21:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures from our Spring Break in Hunting Island State Park, SC. What a glorious, pristine place. We biked on trails through the woods on the island, caught crabs, built drip castles, explored the lighthouse, made fish print t-shirts, listened to an alligator talk and saw lots of wildlife, including deer and beavers.

Ball, Meet Windshield

2007-04-24T14:08:00.000-04:00

Baseball season is here and my wild child has been out practicing his "pop ups". On Saturday, one made a hard left turn and smashed the windshield of a book club friend's car. YIKES! I thought this baseball gig would be an inexpensive sport. Wrong!

Right On, Mr. Iacocca

2007-04-16T12:58:00.000-04:00

Am I the only guy in this country who's fed up with what's happening? Where the hell is our outrage? We should be screaming bloody murder. We've got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we've got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can't even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, "Stay the course."
Stay the course? You've got to be kidding. This is America, not the damned Titanic. I'll give you a sound bite: Throw the bums out!
You might think I'm getting senile, that I've gone off my rocker, and maybe I have. But someone has to speak up. I hardly recognize this country anymore. The President of the United States is given a free pass to ignore the Constitution, tap our phones, and lead us to war on a pack of lies. Congress responds to record deficits by passing a huge tax cut for the wealthy (thanks, but I don't need it). The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we're fiddling in Iraq, the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving pom-poms instead of asking hard questions. That's not the promise of America my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for. I've had enough. How about you? I'll go a step further. You can't call yourself a patriot if you're not outraged. This is a fight I'm ready and willing to have. - Lee Iacocca, Where Have All The Leaders Gone?

Slice of Heaven

2007-04-02T07:58:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning, after the Brainianc's soccer match, I trekked half way across the state to meet some old friends in Chapel Hill, stomping the old grounds where we spent 4 years playing and studying. The five of us had dinner at Elaine's on West Franklin - fantastic place. Then we kicked it on over to one of our favorite past haunts, He's Not Here, a bar with "blue cups" of draught and an outdoor courtyard.

The kid who checked our IDs looked like Ashton Kutcher. OK, he didn't really check our IDs. He took one look at our purses and he just knew we were over 30. That's what we discerned anyway. It couldn't have been the wrinkles and pot bellies, swollen from months and years of incubating our offspring. After a round of free drinks (yes, I imbibed this weekend, falling off the Lenten Wagon) from a married dude who was without his wife and his wedding ring (when we toasted to his wife, it killed any notions he had), we parked it at a picnic table in the courtyard, chatting it up with Ashton, in between his ID gig. I swear the place was exactly the same, except for a new bright "He's Not Here" sign in the courtyard. Same nasty carpet inside. Same ratty picnic benches outside.

We swaggered "home" to the Carolina Inn around midnight and crawled in bed, just four of us now, as one went back home to Durham. All night, the drinks and food combusted in my gut, asking for a way out. If only I had been home in my own bed, I could have let the gases flow with no worries, but in consideration of my bed mate and friend of 30 years, I abstained.

But last night, home in my own bed, I let go of my inhibitions.

Sock Monkey

2007-03-30T19:53:00.000-04:00

Seen above the record shop on Lexington.

Eating Low

2007-03-26T07:52:00.000-04:00

I have been a non-meat eater for 13 years now. I haven't had pork or beef in 20 years. I have difficulty defining it as vegetarian because I occasionally, 3 or 4 times a year, eat fish. I have had several meat eaters point out that I'm "not really a vegetarian" since I eat fish. You have to love meat eaters, educating the public on the finer points of being a vegetarian!

My diet choice is born from a summer I spent as a counselor at Camp Rockfish in Eastern NC, after my Freshman year in college. The Director of the camp, was passionate but not pushy about eating "low on the food chain" to preserve the environment. Pigs and Cows are "high" on the food chain, requiring a disproportionate amount of natural resources for the small amount of food it produces. Turkey and Chicken are lower on the chain, requiring less resources.

In late 2006, The United Nations Food & Agriculture Organization reported that Livestock production is responsible for more climate change gasses than all the motor vehicles in the world. In total, it is responsible for 18 percent of human induced greenhouse gas emissions. It is also a major source of land and water degradation.

In addition, PETA reports that growing all the crops to feed farmed animals requires massive amounts of water and land—in fact, nearly half of the water and 80 percent of the agricultural land in the United States are used to raise animals for food. Our taste for meat is also taking a toll on our supply of fuel and other nonrenewable resources—about one-third of the used in America each year is consumed by the farmed animal industry.

Stopping meat consumption seems like one of the most affordable ways folks can impact and slow global warming. I wonder why more folks don't do it?

Light Days

2007-03-22T07:53:00.000-04:00

New uses for panty liners. I wonder how this kid felt after his Mom peeled them off. I bet this is his last close encounter with femine products.

Enjoy the Ride

2007-03-15T08:48:00.000-04:00

Here are my boys just before heading off to school for Wacky Hair Day. Things are pretty steady at my parenting gig, so I'm just enjoying the ride, as I know there will eventually be a bump in the road ahead. I just don't know when and where, so I try to live in the moment. Trite, I know, but it's a good place to be.

I recently realized I have stopped expecting the school to call and ask me to come and get my wild child. It's evident he's getting more sleep- he's cooperative instead of combative, he's grown since his surgery, the growth hormone must have kicked in, and he's really accelerated his reading. Big Exhale!

Now if I could only get the dopey dog to cooperate.

HOW BOUT THEM HEELS?

2007-03-11T19:16:00.000-04:00

ACC Champs

You have to love NC State and Sidney Lowe. Wow, I really thought they would be out of gas today. They showed some real spirit. Costner is a great player - just a freshman. I think Lowe did an excellent job coaching them. My DH thinks that the way the team plays is a result of the previous coach's, Sendek recruiting. Certainly, that's how it was with Matt Doherty, the previous Tarheel coach. Time will tell.

ACC Hoops

2007-03-09T14:04:00.000-05:00

I am little bleary eyed today. I stayed up until 1:30 this morning watching ACC hoops. (And no, I didn't have any sauce, though it sure goes good with basketball). I was able to catch a part of each of the four games yesterday. In each one, the underdog won. Love it - as long as it isn't my Heels getting showed up. The last game was unbelievable, won in double overtime. I haven't read the stats on the gig but both teams (Wake Forest and GA Tech) were shooting the lights out. It was really fun to watch. My husband and our friend Blake nodded off in the second overtime and i had to remain composed every time someone threw down another three. I didn't want to wake them, after all they had to work (for pay)today.

Even though that last game was thrilling, the Duke loss to NC State earlier in the evening was a guilty pleasure to embrace. During the game, the camera kept panning to Duke's Henderson, sitting in the stands because of his suspension for clocking UNC's Hansbrough with his elbow during their match on Sunday. Can't say I felt bad for him - he got what he deserved. Now I don't think he meant to break Hansbrough nose, but I think he intentionally lost control and this was the result. But Henderson's a kid and kids make stupid decisions, after all his frontal lobe isn't done cooking yet. I'm sure he'll learn from it.

I hear a lot of folks talking about Coach K's "class" (uh, how he has so much of it) so I just don't understand his comment after it was all said and done. Instead of blaming Henderson for a stupid decision, he implied that it was Coach Williams' fault for leaving Hansbrough in the game with a 12 point lead and 14 seconds left (Hello, coach Kommercial, you can't come out of the game when you're on the foul line. And where were your starters, sans the ones who hadn't fouled out? Yeah, that's what I thought. When it's Duke V UNC, nobody stops playing until the buzzer sounds, not even you). Yeah, real class, Coach K. See you in the commercials.

Lent and Things

2007-02-21T20:03:00.000-05:00

I gave up the sauce again for Lent this year. Hands down winner among the things I could stand to do without. Last year I tried to give up TV (and junk food?) along with the nightly wine. Bad decision. I can do without TV but not during March Madness. I made it most of the way through Lent before I gave in to watching my Tarheels play hoops. I think God understands. There's only so much Woody Durham, the radio "Voice of the Tarheels", a girl can endure in a six week period.

Patch, the adolescent Basset Hound, a.k.a. Houdini for his late breaking ability to jump his fence and case the neighborhood, had the runs yesterday and today. It was like having a baby in the house. Three times I washed his kennel bedding, twice I cleaned the poo out of his kennel, once bathed his nasty coat - in our bathtub, which required of course more cleaning. Makes me grateful that my two human children are old enough to have the good sense to make it to the toilet and wipe their own bums.

Back Home

2007-02-20T20:04:00.000-05:00

I spent the weekend with my man in not-so-sunny St Petersburg FL, but no worries, as we were alone and my boys were having a blast with my parents in Fayetteville; a girl couldn't ask for much more. Since I had to run my boys the 4&1/2 hours to "the ville", I flew out of their tiny airport to Atlanta and then on to Tampa. Fayetteville being a military town, my flight to Atlanta was full of fresh face military youngsters, some donning fatigues, on their way to family and friends. From talking to my aisle mate, I gathered that most were on a short leave before they return to the battle grounds in Iraq.

My aisle mate was on his way to see his "wifey", in KC. I wanted so much to engage this articulate young man in a conversation regarding this absurd war but skirted it, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable - or was it me who didn't want to feel that? We did have a superficial conversation and I wished him well as he hoofed it off the plane in futile hopes of catching his connecting flight. I thought about him a lot over the weekend. I thought i should have done something, said something to show my appreciation for what i presume to be dedication and loyalty to his job, although, in truth, i don't know that. Didn't matter. I still should have said something. My insecurity paralyzed me.

On both of my return flights, as well as in the Atlanta terminal, the Delta folks recognized the military personnel, announcing their presence and thanking them for their commitment to our country. It always ended in a resounding applause from the rest of us. Certainly, it was a nice sentiment but it rang hollow. I wonder if it did to any of them. Surely at least one of them wanted us to get off our collective bums and do more than politely applause them for risking their effing lives for this ridiculous war, contact our representatives to let them know, ENOUGH already. Not one more death. Bring our boys, girls, men, and women home.

20 Years

2007-02-13T09:55:00.000-05:00

He showed up at my third floor Avery dorm room (UNC-CH) dressed in a coat and tie. It was Valentine's Day, 1987. I immediately thought, I'm under dressed, no doubt, in stirrup leggings and an over sized sweater. I need to change, I said. No you don't, he said, you're dressed fine. We had only be dating 4 months so I had believed him when he told me he was taking me to a restaurant where he knew the owner, the kind of tale I would learn to suspect as time wore on.

After he pulled my roommate aside to let her in on the "secret", they convinced me that I didn't need to change. Holding hands, we were down one flight of stairs when he abruptly stopped and said, I forgot my wallet, and headed towards his suite to retrieve it, me in tow. The door opened and I was greeted by a dank candlelit room, aromatic with Chinese take-out (or was it the funk of of he and his two roommates?). He had his parent's china, borrowed from his last trip home, laid out over a cloth covered trunk. We ate and then slow danced to tunes played on his cassette player, taped from the radio earlier in the week. His roommates were sweet to accommodate him. Of course, they were boys with raging hormones, so I'm sure they were expecting reciprocation when they were in the same position.

I don't have any vivid recollection of any Valentine's Day after the first, apart from the one where he showed an hour late, his just-bought greeting card in hand, and found his carefully planned dinner(and me)cold. But this is our 20th together, something to celebrate. We have never felt the need to submit to the commercialism of the Day but have always done some little thing. We have said that we will save the celebration for this weekend, when we will be somewhere sunny and warm, without our boys. Perhaps, though, I'll find some way to mark our 20th VD together. I'll have to think on it, but if all else fails, I'll take a shower and we'll have sex on a school night - that's outside the norm. Sad but true.

My Job

2007-02-13T09:54:00.000-05:00

Someone sent this to me today...

POSITION :
Mother, Mom, Mama, Mommy, Momma, Ma

JOB DESCRIPTION:
Long term, team players needed, for challenging permanent work in an, often chaotic environment. Candidates must possess excellent communication and organizational skills and be willing to work variable hours, which will include evenings and weekends and frequent 24 hour shifts on call. Some overnight travel required, including trips to primitive camping sites on rainy weekends and endless sports tournaments in far away cities. Travel expenses not reimbursed. Extensive courier duties also required.

RESPONSIBILITIES:
The rest of your life. Must be willing to be hated, at least temporarily, until someone needs $5. Must be willing to bite tongue repeatedly. Also, must possess the physical stamina of a pack mule and be able to go from zero to 60 mph in three seconds flat in case, this time, the screams from the backyard are not someone just crying wolf. Must be willing to face stimulating technical challenges, such as small gadget repair, mysteriously sluggish toilets and stuck zippers. Must screen phone calls, maintain calendars and coordinate production of multiple homework projects. Must have ability to plan and organize social gatherings for clients of all ages and mental outlooks. Must be willing to be indispensable one minute, an embarrassment the next. Must handle assembly and product safety testing of a half million cheap, plastic toys, and battery operated devices. Must always hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. Must assume final, complete accountability for the quality of the end product. Responsibilities also include floor maintenance and janitorial work throughout the facility.

POSSIBILITY FOR ADVANCEMENT &PROMOTION:
Virtually none. Your job is to remain in the same position for years, without complaining, constantly retraining and updating your skills, so that those in your charge can ultimately surpass you

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE :
None required unfortunately. On-the-job training offered on a continually exhausting basis.

WAGES AND COMPENSATION:
Get this! You pay them! Offering frequent raises and bonuses. A balloon payment is due when they turn 18 because of the assumption that college will help them become financially independent. When you die, you give them whatever is left. The oddest thing about this reverse-salary scheme is that you actually enjoy it and wish you could only do more.

BENEFITS :
While no health or dental insurance, no pension, no tuition reimbursement, no paid holidays and no stock options are offered; this job supplies limitless opportunities for personal growth and free hugs for life if you play your cards right.

Things I Learned Today

2007-02-12T23:33:00.000-05:00

1. A Yoga mat can be washed in the washing machine with vinegar. You should throw in some towels with it.
2. A female Cardinal builds a nest, while the male gets food for her. (Sounds like humans).
3. Cardinals don't migrate south in the winter.
4. Cardinals are omnivores but they are partial to sunflower seeds and will seek them out of bird seed.
5. How to make Navratan Korma. Pretty good but not spicy enough for me.
5.5 Tomato Puree has onion, celery and bell peppers in it.
6. My youngest brother and his wife, who are in Guatemala, are one step closer to bringing their daughter home. Hopefully it will be within a week.
7. Patch's birthday is tomorrow- oops I thought it was the 15th. My youngest wants to know if we can invite two of his dog friends over, since it is his second birthday. Uh, no, because he's a dog.
8. It is $50-60 cab fare from the Tampa airport to our hotel in St Petersburg. YIKES!
9. The shuttle costs $22.
10. The folks at At Play With Sparky are nice but the dude who showed me around referred to dog owners as "parents". Uh, hello, these are dogs.
11. Dogs who board at Sparky's can play with other dogs for 12 hours.
11. Patch liked Sparky's and he will be staying there while we are away. He will be one worn out puppy when we return.

Time

2007-02-09T08:23:00.000-05:00

Last year, my Dad asked me to play in a "Father Son" Golf Tournament with him. For thirty plus years he has been participating in these with my brothers, and more recently with my husband, but I have never played with him, never been asked to play with him until now. I suck at golf, therefore I'm not very fond of criss crossing the golf course for five hours in the blazing humidity of an August day, chasing a minuscule ball with a tiny metal rod. There many more desirable things that I could do with my precious leisure time; a couple of tennis matches or five yoga classes or plucking my mustache.

Take a close look at most golf professionals, they are not the picture of health, sans Tiger Woods. Most have protruding guts and some even have man boobs. Golf doesn't lend itself to being a healthy workout, even if you walk.

The expense of the game is a whole other ball of wax. Clubs, shoes, balls, greens fees, more balls(because since I suck, I lose many) food/drinks and (if you are a 'real' golfer) cash for betting.

So last year, I begged off of the tournament, buying some time to practice some for this year's event.

And things change in a year's time.

Wednesday I trekked down and back to Fayetteville for a memorial service. Although it was a long day for me, it wasn't near as long as it was for my childhood friend, whose Dad just unexpectedly died. There were a fair amount of folks there my age, most who had already lost one or both parents. Most likely, that's what brought them there - they know how it feels to lose a parent and what it means to have your friends show their support.

I can't empathize; both my parents are living. But my Dad had a mini stroke last summer, making us all mindful that he won't be here forever.

Time to dust off my clubs and buy some balls. This year I'm looking forward to spending the time on the links with my Dad. It's the time that matters. Time others don't have.

Superbowl Halftime with Prince

2007-02-04T20:23:00.000-05:00

Watching Prince perform the halftime gig at the Susperbowl was nastolgic. Luckily for me, since my 9 year old was watching, he didnt't do anything erotic with the end of his guitar as he was famous for in his 80's concerts. I never saw him in concert but some of his songs are etched in my memory. Little Red Corvette, reminds me of my Junior Prom. And the whole Purple Rain soundtrack reminds me of my freshman year in college. As DH and I were trying to impress upon oldest boy how talented Price is, we googled songs written by Prince and came up with this list.

The legendary Prince has been known for several of his talents: funk-guitar playing, soulful falsetto singing, and micro-detailed song production. One talent that where he is often underrated and seldom-mentioned is his ability to write and produce songs for other artists. Prince has collaborated with a wide variety of yesterday and today’s artists to include Mavis Staples, No Doubt, Chuck D. of Public Enemy, Ani Di Franco, Kate Bush and Sheryl Crow. This top 10 list will reflect some of his more chart successful songs that he wrote, produced, or was heavily sampled upon.

10-Jungle Love- The Time /#20 Hot US 100. Drawing from the successful movie Purple Rain, This hit from longtime Prince associates The Time became a staple party song in the mid-80s. The time featured the self-obsessed Morris Day singing the lead while Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, who went on to become mega producers throughout the next two decades, laid down a solid foundation of new-wave party funk instrumentals.

09-I Feel For You- Chaka Khan /#14 US Charts. This was originally a Prince-performed song off of the 1979 self-titled album. He allowed Chaka Kahn to remake it in 1984, a remake featuring legendary rapper Melle Mel and super legendary musician Stevie Wonder on harmonica.

08-Love…Thy Will Be Done- Martika /#10 US Charts. Martika was an early-90’s pop chanteuse who originally had a hit with “Toy Soldiers” from her first album. On her second, Martika’s Kitchen, “Love” became a hit as well in the UK, reaching #9 on the British pop charts. Martika was one of the first pop stars to come out of the Disney show Kids, Inc.

07-Sugar Walls- Sheena Easton/ #9 US Charts. Prince wrote this song under the pseudonym Alexander Nevermind for this single on Sheena’s album “A Private Heaven”. Sheena Easton was also featured in the hit duet “U Got the Look” from Prince’s most critically-acclaimed work, Sign O’ The Times.

06-Yo Mister- Patti Labelle/ #6 on US RnB Charts. Patti Labelle had been a big fan of Prince for many years before he finally produced and wrote songs for her. This track, released in 1989, was featured on her Be Yourself album. That album reached the top-100 charts of that same year.

05-Stand Back- Stevie Nicks /#5 US Charts. Stevie Nicks often retells the story of listening to Little Red Corvette and calling up Prince to see if he could lend a hand in this song. Supposedly, Prince came into the studio, layed down tracks on the synthesizer for 20 minutes, and left without talking to Stevie Nicks ever again. Whatever he did to the song apparently worked!

04-A Love Bizarre- Sheila E. /#3 US Charts. Another hit song of the Romance 1600 album, it also features Prince singing background! He also co-wrote "Glamorous Life" on the album, another track that made the top 10 in the US. Sheila, daughter of famed percussionist Pete Escovedo, went on to do more solo albums and several future collaborations with Prince.

03-Pray- MC Hammer/#2 US Charts. This song was one of the few that featured a Prince song being majorly sampled. The “When Doves Cry” background featured heavily in MC Hammer’s hit about needing faith to survive in the world. He also sampled Prince’s “Soft and Wet” on another track of the wildly successful album Please Hammer Don’t Hurt Him.

02- Manic Monday- The Bangles- / #2 US Charts. The rumor is that while Prince was trying to court lead-singer Susanna Hoffs, he offered the The Bangles this song for their 1986 album Different Light. It was originally intended to be a duet sang with Apollonia of Apollonia 6, but the track never made it to her album.

01-Nothing Compares 2 U- Sinead O’ Connor /#1 US Charts. Probably one of the most successful songs written by Prince (to include ones he performed on himself!), this track became a huge career boost for the often-controversial Sinead. It reached-and stayed- #1 on the US, British, and Australian pop singles charts in 1990.

Joy and Sorrow

2007-02-03T20:37:00.000-05:00

My childhood friend's father died today. He'd been sick for a month, but none of us ever expected him to die. He's batttled various health issues for almost 30 years and always came out on top but not this time. When I spoke with my friend this afternoon, she said it was hard on her kids, their 'Popsie' gone. He lived in the same town with them and showered them with love and attention, making his passing even more significant and painful. I was reminded of this passage from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran.

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was often times filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes you spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous,
look deep into your heart and you shall find
it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful
look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth,
you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at you board, remember that the other is asleep upon you bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between you sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weight his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.