Right On, Mr. Iacocca

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

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

Seen above the record shop on Lexington.

Eating Low

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Tennis Saves Me

Just out of college I took up the game of tennis and have been playing it for close to twenty years. I began playing in the United States Tennis Association leagues about 12 years ago. I am a middle of the road player, with a 3.5 rating, who enjoys the competition, exercise as well as the social aspect of the game.

Tennis is responsible for many of my friendships, especially here in Asheville. The game brings together people from different walks of life who I otherwise would have never met. Granted, you do have to have a little dough to afford the game, but compared to other sports it can be a fairly inexpensive sport if you chose to use public courts.

My tennis buddies aren't in the same station in life as me, and I really dig that. Some have children who are in college, some have grandchildren and some have no children. Some are single, some are widowed, some are retired. They all have rich stories, experiences and perspectives I genuinely enjoy hearing over a pitcher of beer at Jack of the Wood's - after a couple hours on the Aston Park courts. Even though I cherish friendships I have with parents who have kids the same age as mine, this is different. Our friendships aren't about our kids - although the conversation sometimes goes there. But in my tennis world, I'm not defined by my offspring. I'm me first, not someone's mom. There is something intensely satisfying about that I just can't put into words. We have rich conversations about books, politics (we are mostly on the same page here so we can 'go there'), social issues (one of my buds is a sociology professor), relationships and of course, tennis.

Our gatherings are NEVER without unabashed laughter. We gathered last weekend at my house to bid farewell to one of our home girls, who is moving to NH to be closer to her grandchildren while they are still young enough to dig her. We had a crowd for a while, but as the night wore on,, we dwindled to the usual suspects. My friend Kelly, pulled up, Dick In a Box on YouTube, a SNL video spoof on Justin Timberlake. We died laughing, but what was even more hilarious was that Kelly had apparently watched it enough to sing along with it.

My tennis game is nothing to write home about. I'm far from the best on my team, but I do make my presence known on the court, mostly by singing at the end of the point that I just blew. Something I say to myself to remind me of what I should have done differently like, "Get down", continues with "on it" and I'm singing "Get down on it. You got a feel it. Get dow ow on it".

My home girls just laugh and move along. My friend, Susan, keeps hoping that Gladys Knight, part time resident and tennis player in Asheville, will show up across the court from me and we can have a singing duel. Hmm, wonder who would win that battle - grammy winner with amazing voice or part time tennis player and wannabe Jennifer Nettles (Sugarland)? I don't think I'd win the face off in that category with Ms. Knight, but I'd be willing to give it a try.

Asheville Freecycle

I can't believe the crap I have gotten rid of through www.freecycle.org. OMG, when I was trying to move close to two years ago, I posted all kinds of stuff and got rid of it ALL! I didn't throw any of it away. I got rid of:

REALLY ugly couch with ripped cushions
REALLY dirty overstuffed chair and ottoman
broken VCR
OLD stair master
bunch o old tennis balls
open box of pre-finished wood flooring
Box o crap - half used bottles of perfume, candles, cologne
oak TV cabinet that had seen better days
OLD Mac computer

Then after i moved it got rid off.

Cheap metal blinds
chunks of concrete exhumed from my yard
old metal porch railing exhumed from my yard
Old single pane windows removed for more efficient ones.
empty shoe boxes
old magazines

If ABCCM or Habitat Home Store won't take it, I post it to freecycle and someone will save it from the landfill. Total win-win.

Now you do have to deal with the occasional no-show but usually there is someone waiting in line behind them. Only once have I been unable to unload something.

Love, LOVE, LOVE IT!

Virtual March On Washington

I wish I had made the the trip to DC last weekend to march for Peace but I'm lame. I am, however, participating in a much easier avenue to voice my opinion about escalating this ridiculously tragic war. I called my senators today to let them know how I feel. The curt folks on the other end didn't give me the impression they were taking notes. They are not instilling confidence that my voice was heard. But i did it.

You can participate also. http://pol.moveon.org/virtualmarch/ (Sorry but i am also lame at making this links look nice like all my other blogging buddies. Damn it, i need a tutor.)

Here We Snow Again?

School was called for snow today or for what might be snow. At 6:30 this morning the ground was perfectly clear, the skies yielding not a drop of precipitation. Hmmm, maybe they (who are they, anyway?) just know that we will be hammered in a couple of hours. It's 9:15 and still nothing. My boys are content, each playing independently, so how can I complain? I can't really. I'm not missing anything important.

Snow Day

The kids were out of school today due to an inch of snow and THANK GOD that our fine superintendent of schools didn't ring with a robo call, before dawn to inform our happily sleeping household.

My youngest managed to sled for a few brief moments in the single digit temps, though we spent more time getting his cold weather gear on and off. My oldest never even considered getting out. They spent most of their day playing Lego's and pretend warriors together, which is an anomaly.

I spent most of my day reading my book club's latest pick, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly. Very easy read, although I'll be surprised if more than one other person in the group actually gets through the whole thing. My book club peeps like the idea of a book club but can't actually follow through with the read. Now, they all have busy lives, some way busier than mine, but come on, you signed up for a book club, which implies that you would like to read and discuss a book. I just recently rejoined the club after a year and 1/2 hiatus. I am by no means a voracious reader so i really liked the idea of a deadline to keep me on task. However, after a while I became frustrated showing up excited but bleary eyed to discuss the novel I just finished reading at 2:30 that morning, to have one person (and sometimes no one) to discuss it with.

They swear to me that they are now reading the books. They have chosen less ambitious titles to help them accomplish this. Last month's was Blink. I doubt I would have ever read either of these on my own but I have enjoyed them both.

I'm reading The Other Boleyn Girl, on the side. I'm really digging it! In fact, my husband thinks it's a great book too, although he's never read a word. But he came home for lunch on Friday afternoon, and instead got afternoon delight. Later, he asked, "Where'd that come from?" "I was stirred by a hot love scene in my book," I confessed. "You should read more," he grinned.

Well, my boys need some calories before I chase them to their beds. No doubt, it won't be the finest nutrition, but they are easy to feed when my husband is working. Chicken noodle soup, cheese quesedillas and apples.

Wild Turkeys Meet Basset Hound

Patch had his first encounter with the North Asheville wild turkeys. He's sooo well behaved, huh? Didn't even try to take a bite. All that training time I have spent with him, has finally paid off. Now, if he would just be so kind to the human guests in our yard, things would be great. Rio and Edgy Mama know what I am talking about!

Horray for Donald Trump

Last fall I had a dream that I was involved in amorous relations with The Donald. A little perplexing, as I would much rather be dreaming of dancing in the sheets with Matthew McConaughey or Patrick Dempsey. But I have read that dreaming of sex with someone other than your mate doesn't mean what it does in the waking world; it means that your dream lover has an endearing or desirable quality that you want to possess. It is abundantly clear that I don't want to possess Donald's sense of style; I can't get past his train wreck comb over. I reluctantly concluded that I must have some deep seeded, unconcious love of his money or power. But alas, yesterday I discovered a different affinity for Trump.

You'd have to have been under a rock for the last few weeks not to have heard of Trump and Rosie O'Donnell's feud. It's quite hilarious to hear them go back and forth at each other, although in truth, you can't believe grown adults behave this way; Trump called Rosie a "fat pig" and a "slob". OUCH!

Yesterday, I saw some video footage at msn.com of an interview with Trump about the feud. It was during that interview that I realized what I like so much about him, what I want to possess, perhaps - his unapologeitc candor. Not about Rosie, but about our King, President Bush. He chuckled with indignation, that Bush had read 60 books last year. I missed this one, but apparently back in August, the Whitehouse in an attempt to shore up Bush's dismal approval ratings, released this info in a, no doubt, futile effort to make Bush appear intellectual. HA! And that's what Trump said. In addition, Trump thinks the Iraq war is ridiculous and believes it is perhaps the biggest mistake in American history.

You go, Donald! Maybe I'll see you in my dreams tonight!

Desolation Canyon

Here are a few Desolation Canyon Photos, 6 months later...

This is all of the kids in our crew crossing over the Greene River to the McPherson Ranch, where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid traded horses.

This is the McPherson Ranch, dilapidated and abandoned like someone was running from the law.



A tree at sunset on the edge of the ranch and the river.



Native American Petroglyphs

Me, after six days on river, with little sleep (accidentally left sleeping mat behind), matted hair, funky pits, and a sunblistered lip.

Asheville School Daze

Anticipating a delayed start of school because of last night's snow, we shut off our boys' alarm clocks last night so they could sleep in. At 6:27am this morning, the phone rang and rang rousing me from a saucy dream involving intoxication, the beach and a hot married man. Not surprisingly, I clumsily knocked the phone from its cradle and it skidded across the floor. Heart racing, I finally answered, assuming the news at the other end terrible, considering the time of morning. Perhaps my Dad had another mini stroke? My house was on fire? My mother-n-law fell out of bed again? No, it was our school superintendent, Robert Logan, calling with a recorded message to inform us that school had been delayed. Thanks an effing lot for waking up the whole house, Mr. Logan. And for interrupting the best dream I’ve had all year.

Fast forward to 2:30. Wednesday afternoon is the only time my boys don't regularly ride the bus. When I arrived to pick them up from school my oldest, the brainiaic, handed me a letter from the Central Office stating that because of low rider ship and lack of funding from the state, their bus route had been cut. Makes sense to me, it had maybe 20 kids on it. It's more economical to combine routes, right? So i read on to find out what bus would now be transporting them. To my shock and dismay, there was no alternative transportation planned.
Huh? Doesn't the school system have some legal obligation to transport all children to school? We are probably 5 or 6 miles from the school, so walking isn't a viable option. I just don't get it. If the state doesn't have the dough to get my kids to school, then the city needs to come up with it. Or perhaps the feds should so they can tout their slogan, "No Child Left Behind".
I have several calls into the Administrator for Transportation for the Asheville City Schools. Hmmmm, I wonder why he isn't answering his phone? When he does call back, I just have to remember not to shoot the messenger.

Wonder

If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.
Rachel Carson

The Jack Witch Project

My youngest likes to take pictures.


Mostly of the dog.
Unconventional angles...



this one is my favorite
I like these too.

Christmas Solace

In the midst of the Christmas chaos, I found sweet solace. I spent the better part of three days largely ignoring my husband's family and watching "old" movies of my children. I hadn't cataloged any of my tapes since my youngest was born 7 years ago. It was incredibly nostalgic but somewhat depressing as some of the taped events I couldn't even recall. I had forgotten that my mother had taught my youngest to call his older brother, Bubba. How could I forget such an idiotic yet endearing name?

Most of the footage was of Christmas, Birthday parties and vacations. Oddly enough, there was an inordinate amount of footage of my boys bathing. There is something about their little, nekked, chubby, bodies I just want to preserve. It is the epitome of innocence and lack of inhibition. (They watched the tapes with me and my oldest is quite embarrassed now). In one instance, my boys are bathing together. My youngest, who is about 18 months and so chubby he's never laid eyes on his manhood because his Buddha belly is blocking his vision, reaches over to my oldest and grabs his manhood, well, because it looks like something to play with. He's right, but you have to play with your own. Of course he eventually learned that but that's a whole different post.

Christmas Ivy

Eight days before Christmas, my husband had intimate relations with the English Ivy in our back yard, cutting the insidious vines away from the tall pines. He was proud of his accomplishment until he woke in the middle of the night, itching like mad. Apparently, Poison Ivy was sleeping with English Ivy and my husband caught the itch, even though he used protection - long sleeves and pants. Before the next morning was out, he had two steroid shots to ease the burning itch that consumed his entire body, including his face. That's how the itch appeared on the inside of my thigh- from the oil on his face. Now I know what you are thinking, but it didn't happen that way. Nope, I like to sleep with a pillow between my knees, thus the the raging red patch on my thigh.

Creamy Tooth Dip

Last weekend a bunch of my neighbors got together for a progressive dinner that began at my house. Our guests included a couple in their mid eighties and a twice widowed woman who is 83. Now normally someones age wouldn't be of significance but it just so happens that in this instance it is quite relevant.

Once everyone had arrived, we settled in our living room with appetizers and drinks. The widow made a creamy dip with vegetables that was parked in front of Mary, half of the couple in their eighties. We were all enjoying each other's company so no one noticed the conversation taking place between Mary and another much younger neighbor. But we all heard about later.

Apparently, Mary dipped a vegy in the creamy dip and then produced a tooth. She pulled it out of her mouth to survey it, popped it back to suck off the excess dip, and then pulled it out again. She then fished around her mouth, checking to see if she was missing a tooth. She told my neighbor it wasn't hers. Now my neighbor said it was clearly an old person's tooth. So did it come from the dip? It's a mystery but later when the widow asked me if I'd like to keep some of the dip, I politely declined.

The Joke

My nine year old came home from school the other day and shared this joke with me.

Sweet innocent boy: Mom, every time I ask you a question, you have to answer with "ketchup and liquor"

SIB: What is your favorite food?

Me: Ketchup and liquor

SIB: What is your favorite drink?

Me: Ketchup and liquor

SIB: What would you do if you saw Brittany Spears running down the street?

Me, stupidly answering the question: Ketchup and liquor

SIB: giggling waiting for me to burst into laughter - because I don't think he really gets it

Me: frowning with disgust, stunned and stammering, "Who told you that joke?" and then "Do you even know who Brittany Spears is?" (Did he also know that she just showed her beaver to God and everybody? YIKES!)

SIB: Yes, she is a singer.

Me: And a skank (ok, I didn't say it out loud)

Now, I'd much rather be addressing this same child's question at age five - "Just exactly how does the sperm get transported to the egg?" - than trying to delicately explain why this isn't appropriate. I bailed and told him he shouldn't be sharing that with kids younger than him.

He shared it with his best friend, who also, stupidly shared it with his mother.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

My six-year-old doesn't have an edit button; he utters what's on his mind. He and I were in a meeting on Monday afternoon with the Event Planner at a swanky resort in town. It's where the non-profit I volunteer with held our fundraiser last Saturday. My co-chair and I needed to meet with the planner to discuss a few bumps in the event's evening and since my son's surgery was happening in a day, I had to take her first opening and bring him with.

This event planner was quite condescending and busy blaming us for the snafus that happened despite the fact we were asking to come back for the next two years. It was considerably perplexing but I hadn't done this gig before so perhaps this is how people in this position behave.

My son was quite bored and behaving so, until he spied something interesting on the Planner's desk. I glanced and saw a cute Teddy Bear and said "That's a cute bear", but he shook his head, rose from his chair and pointed to the picture frame next to the Teddy. He pointed at the picture and blurted out,"I hate Charles Taylor (Hmm, I wonder where in the world he conceived that sentiment?)." I took a look and saw our planner standing next to our (now) former Congressman, eyes beaming with delight. I didn't know what to say, but luckily (for her) it didn't seem to break her arrogant stride.

We left, bewildered, but after processing it all, I couldn't help but draw some conclusions about her behavior based on her fondness for our corrupt Congressman.

Little Black Dress

For four months I've been volunteering with an organization in town, helping chair their fundraiser that happened on Saturday. The time spent organizing the event wasn't near as agonizing as trying to dress for it.

I have been receiving invitations for events like these for years, always opting to make a donation and skip the event. It's the way I save money - I don't have to spend money on a dress, shoes, and babysitter. And, oh, I don't have to stand around in high heels that are wrenching my toes while my back screams,"Sit down, please."

I abhor the whole dress up thing so much, that I just ignored it, hoping the dress up fairy would visit my closet and leave me something (not stunning, just something) decent to wear. Oh fairy, she came, but not with a dress. She sat on my shoulder on Monday morning, 5 days before the event, while I checked news on MSN. She directed me to click on an article, "How to dress like the stars", something I would normally sneer at. But I clicked. Then I clicked again to Overstock.com. Ten minutes later, I had a silk empire waist dress on it's way. But would it look like it did on the mannequin? Hell no - I knew the answer to the that question! But the bigger question, would it arrive on time? I had to leave that in my fairy's hands.

My fairy, came through, somewhat to my disappointment, and the dress hit my porch on Friday. Now I had to give it a try. If it looked crummy I could always send it back, right? I slipped into the sassy number and surveyed the look in the mirror. Immediately, I thought, too much belly not enough boobs. But that's a song I know well, I sing it almost daily.

Since the dress passed inspection, I had to address the accessories situation. For most girls, this would involve jewelry, perhaps make-up. For me it meant a bra and panty hose.

Since my DH was as work all weekend,I bribed my boys to hit Target on Saturday, hours before the event, and I bought a "corset bra", of course without trying it on - who has time for that with two boys in tow?- and some thigh high hose. I have to say the thigh high hose are pretty sexy. I was quite turned on myself, but I digress.

I hastily threw my accessories in the cart and made a stop in the Lego section before finding some eye shadow and nail polish to finish out the look.

I arrived home with hours to spare but farted them away and before I knew it was 4:00 and my oldest wanted to play Battleship. I have an hour, I thought, which is more than I need to get ready. Besides, I can play battleship and paint my nails at the same time. Never mind that this game requires one to pick up tiny pieces and place them in miniscule holes. At 4:30, I arose from my Battle and hit the shower, proud that my polish was still in tact. The shower wasn't as friendly as the battle ground and when I emerged from the steamy bathroom, I had three nails that needed to be re-done. I removed the polish, and continued to get ready, noting I could polish the mistakes before I left. But alas, my husband, then my sitter arrived and we had to bolt out the door at break neck speed. I swiped the polish and slammed the door. I'll just put it on in the car - there are only three nails.

Yes, and in hindsight, I should have just gone naked - as far as my nails go - but I tried to tidy up my mistakes and ended up dumping polish on my brand new silk dress. "F***",I griped when I realized my clumsiness. I quickly grabbed an empty envelope (what, that's not what you'd grab?) to dab up the polish. No luck. DH stopped the car (what else are you going to do with your wife screaming, f***, f***?) and grabbed a bottled water and blanket out of the trunk. Too late, the damage was done. Pink polish was dry on black silk. NIIIICE!!

Lucky for me that the event was sold out and so crowded that no one had a chance to notice my grace, or lack there of.

I guess there's no sending the dress back now?

Sleep Apnea

Dealing with my youngest son's behavior had depressed me, yet I didn't realize it, until his recent diagnosis. He had a handful of "meltdowns" at school in the last year. Totally losing control and becoming physical with the teachers and other adults in his vicinity.

I dread to hear my mobile ring. I race to answer it or listen to the message after I am too late. Perhaps it is school, asking me to come to get my angry, out of control child. It happened a month ago. I was in the shower. When I picked up my mobile, 10 minutes later, I had three messages; two from school, one from DH, who unfortunately had to leave work to go retrieve my raucous child because I had decided to take a shower for the first time in 4 days (perhaps another sign of depression, but hey, I do live in Asheville).

This summer, while in our travels to our trip out West, I slept next to my beautiful child, noticing the pause in his breathing pattern. When I returned, I contacted his Pediatrician, inquiring about this. Three months, two doctors visits, and one sleep study later, he has a name for his quick temper and constant fatigue - sleep apnea.

It's a relief to have a disorder to hang our hat on. He will have his tonsils and adenoids removed on Wednesday. The Ear Nose and Throat Doctor that we consulted this week said that 98% of children with sleep apnea have it resolved with this surgery. I sure as hell hope so. He was waking from deep sleep to light sleep 22/hour - the average is 2 to 3/hour! No freakin wonder he is tired and irritable.

Anyway, once he was diagnosed with Sleep Apnea last Friday, I realize what a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. There is an explanation for his behavior. I was in an incredible mood on Sunday - haven't felt like that in a while. But we saw the ENT on Wednesday, and even though I have scheduled the surgical resolution to his problem, it still weighs on me. It's hard to give your flesh and blood up to someone else's care, no matter how qualified he is. The weight is back. I hope it recedes on Thursday.

WTH?

I take leave for almost three months and what does my precious blog have to say about it. Nothing, you say? That's what I thought but I was WRONG. I came back and my bloggie has decide to announce my aging out of the 4th decade and into the 5th. YIKES! ...

On Thursday, I caught the beginning of the local news here in Asheville. The reporter was live where there had been two accidents in the last week at an intersection near a school. She reported that there were folks who thought there should be a "red light" placed at that intersection. Huh? Aren't they called traffic lights? Don't they have more than one color? But before I could finish dissing her, she said it again. Listen, sugar, those of us raised in the south, myself included, say these things in conversation, but don't you think you sound a little less intelligent when you choose that kind of language? Before I could finish my thought, she threw her gig back to the anchor who repeated "red light" in her synopsis. Did they really write that down?

I'll be back before I turn 41.

Full Monty

I'm back from Desolation Canyon, UT- the most incredible trip of my life. Ok, it is all relative in comparison to the places I have been, or should I say haven't been, BUT still it was an amazing trip.

For now, I'm still in recovery mode. We returned three nights ago, but I am still unpacking, cleaning, doing laundry and catching up on the "every day".

I will tell you this. In the spirit of the trip I thought it would be fun to have river names for everyone. It never really caught on, but I will say that my DH's river name was perhaps the best. We named him Monty- as in the "full Monty" because he unintentionally exposed himself to the one of our fellow campers, a teacher at our sons' school. She claimed she was "blind" after the incident. I'm just not sure which came first - the blindness or the full Monty.

Memories

My boys and I are about to embark on a trip out West. We leave Monday for UT, with stops/adventures along the way, where we will then spend 6 days on the Greene River in Desolation Canyon. Apparently, only 600 people per year raft this area.

I was speaking with some friends yesterday, who remarked that the memories from this trip will be something to last my boys a life time. When I was 12 and 14, my three brothers, parents and I made similar pilgrimages in an RV. One summer we went up North and one summer out West. I have vivid memories of these family vacations but most that I conjure up don't include appreciation for the landscape or history we encountered. Here are a few of my most memorable ones.

These were my formidable curling iron years. I never left the RV without my hair perfectly coifed and sprayed into my best Farah Faucett even if we were headed to the pool where my curls and spray would fall out the second my do touched the water. Once, I left my hot curling iron laying on the bench in the RV and my youngest brother unwittingly fried his bare foot on it. I don't want to go into family dynamics here, but let's just say I didn't win any points with my carelessness, however, my hair regiment was not shaken.

Once, we stopped at a Burger King to eat where I ate a milk shake and onion rings for dinner. A couple of hours later, the rings repeated themselves, over and over and my brothers couldn't pile out of the RV fast enough to gulp in some fresh air. Hey, a girl has to do whatever it takes to get a little solitude time.

Once, in the Grand Canyon, my Dad tried to wake us all at some ungodly hour, like 4 am, to see the sunrise. I didn't budge and I regret it.

From our Northward travels, I can only recall one city- Bar Harbor, Maine - and then that's all I remember, just the name. The highlight of this adventure was a stop at the Bass Outlet store. I was in preppie heaven. Discount Bass penny loafers and boat shoes. Honestly, that is ALL I remember from a two week trip. Discount shoes.

It is all ahead of us now, but I hope our trip makes for better memories for my boys. Barring anything terribly tragic, it will for me.

My Friday Night

My family was to play tennis tonight but a thunderstorm thwarted our plans and instead we perused Charter cable for a movie to watch. We settled on Super Baby Genius Two. After watching this incredibly stupid movie, I wondered how they could have ever decided to make a sequel.

Scott Baio starred as the Dad in this lame flick. I had a crush on him when I was twelve. I remember writing to his fan club and getting a pin up picture of him, along with a photo book in which I wrote silly things on each page like "My kind of guy". I know, I'm gagging too. Poor guy. This is what is left of his career.

At least he is still getting work and doesn't have to rob the cleaners because his career is in the toilet.

Letter From President Bush

President Bush wrote me on official White House letterhead.

Congratulations on receiving the President's Volunteer Service Award from the President's Council on Service and Civic Participation. Through service to others, you demonstrate the outstanding character of America and help strengthen our country.

In January 2002, I called on all Americans to dedicate at least two years- or 4,000 hours- over the course of their lives to serve others at home or abroad. I congratulate you and all Americans who have answered this call and have earned a bronze Award from the President's Council. Americans of all ages can serve others in countless ways, such as mentoring a child, caring for an elderly neighbor, teaching someone to read, cleaning parks, and creating safer neighborhoods.

My Administration encourages every American to help their communities and our country. Through the USA Freedom Corps and the President's Council, we are building a culture of service, citizenship, and responsibility in American that will last for decades to come. Americans continue to serve and are part of the changing America, one heart and one soul at a time. Your actions are part of this change. I urge you to continue serving your neighbors and earn a Silver or Gold Award. I also hope that you will ask your friends, family, and colleagues to join you in serving your community and our Nation.

May God bless you, and my God continue to bless America.

Sincerely,
George Bush

There are several things to note about this letter.

First, it reeks. Bush is taking credit for my volunteer work, because I "answered this call". He is so unbelievably full of himself. I have volunteered all of my adult life, as do most folks I know. C'mon Prez, we do it because we were caring, compassionate people before you became King. Really. We aren't motivated by a tiny, stinking, metal pin. Really.

Second, had I known that my hours were being tallied by the White House, I wouldn't have signed "in", which I only did about half the time, when I volunteered at my son's school.

Third, WTH? How much money is being wasted on this program? Do they really think they are motivating folks who weren't already volunteering, or do they just want to take credit for it? Never mind, I know the answer. I think our money could be better spent elsewhere.

Fourth, Bush sounds a bit like a feminist, or at least politically correct, in not attaching a gender to God. It would really be p.c. if he said "God bless the people of every nation." Really.

Sweet Solitude

My DH has taken my boys out of town. The house is mine for the weekend.

This just materialized in the last week, so I have felt a bit pressured to make the most of it because this has never happened. I have had girls' weekends away and vacations away from my house but I've never stayed home by myself.

There was a day, some twenty plus years ago, that I would have planned a raucous party, to take advantage of my parent's empty home.

This weekend I just want to enjoy the relative quiet with no agenda and know that I am in not in charge of anyone else.

Sweet Jesus, I deserve it.

Vonage Hell

Last Fall, I took the bait and joined "the revolution" at Vonage, an internet phone company. At $25/month for unlimited local and long distance, it was half the price of the big boys over at BellSouth. Since BS doesn't know a thing about customer service, I took Vonage's line and boy did they take me for a spin.

I wasn't able to keep my old phone number- that should have been the first red flag- but I didn't mind inconveniencing all my friends and family because I was teaching BellSouth a lesson for their unscrupulous business practice of slamming me over to their long distance without my permission - not that they cared until I took it up with the NC Attorney General.

Guess what? My new number was long distance to everyone in Asheville because Vonage didn't "have a contract" here and my exchange was out of Boone. At the time they had contracts in 90% of the markets in the US. It now stands at 99%, but Asheville still doesn't make it. I spent some time talking with the nice folks at Vonage who fell all over themselves to try to make it right, even giving me a toll free, but totally different number, free for 3 months. Of course, I didn't give it out to anyone; who wants to dial 10 digits to ask your neighbor for a cup of sugar? Still, I stayed with Vonage for 9 months,trying to wait out the contract.

Finally fed up, my DH signed us on with Charter's new phone service, which conveniently included an upgrade in cable just in time for The World Cup. So I called to set up cancellation of our Vonage service. After holding for (and I'm not joking) an hour and half, the polite representative on the end of the phone said I had to call on the day I wanted the service canceled. YIKES. So I called back a couple of weeks later. This time only a 55 minute wait. Woo hoo! The courteous rep told me since I was canceling within a year of my contract, that I had to pay a disconnect fee of forty bucks.

Surely, someone can waive that fee considering no one bothered to tell me I wouldn't have a local number?

No. I can't do it nor is there anyone else here who can.

I asked to speak to her supervisor. There wasn't one there.

Then give me his/her name and I call back.

I'm not allowed to do that. Company policy.

I have to hand it to her. She remained calm and polite, despite my increasing agitation with her inane answers.

What do you suggest I do?

She couldn't answer that.

I finally got her to give me the CEO's name and corporate address. A lot of good that will do.

I'm feeling a little deja vu. I had the same experience with BS, only their phone agents were nasty about it. I even wrote to their "escalation department" with no reply.

Guess I'll have to ask the Attorney General to intervene again. What a freaking pain in the ass. I have to do hours of work to get back what is rightfully mine. It absolutely isn't worth the time it takes to get back $40 ($34 from BS) but it is the principal of the issue. How many others don't have time, or just aren't capable of fighting these battles? How many seniors are out there getting fleeced?

Here's the thing. If Vonage had fair business practices, then I would be happy to give them another chance somewhere down the line, as eventually they will get a contract here. But it doesn't matter. I'm just one customer and my absence won't break the bank. It won't even make a little dent.

Doin' The Donald

I had a dream I was getting it on with Donald Trump AND I was enjoying it. Yeah, that's right. That's what I said. He was charming and a great kisser. But just as things were heating up on his double king bed, my boys interrupted by bursting in the room. I reluctantly left the Donald's side to show them their rooms which of course were up three flights and down two hallways. Before I could make it back down to finish things with Hottie Donnie, I moved on to another dream, but not before I caught myself thinking that all my past comments about his bad hair/comb over were going to be hard to explain to my new lover.

This is going nowhere so I'll move on to a drink and my book. Maybe tonight's dream lover will be attractive OR my age. Is that too much to ask the dream fairies?

Lefty Lost It

Dare I risk posting about something I know little about, again? Ahh what the hell. It always gets the most action, even if it is at my expense. Besides, golf isn't that difficult to understand. Playing the game well, at least for me, is a different story. Way too much time to think - a thinking man's (um women's) sport, although that could be called into question given some of the comments past and present players have made - Fuzzy Zoeller's racially charged comments about Tiger Woods and VJ Singh's sexist blurb about Annika Sorenstam come to mind. They could not have been thinking.

I dig watching Golf on a Sunday afternoon. I hate playing it. It's torture. Paying a hefty some of money for 5 hours of dragging your bag around, all the while sweating like a horse, and swatting away gnats like one too. Shelling out more money to the cart princess peddling beer, wearing a low cut number (hmmm, wonder who she's marketing to?) because beer enhances my bowling game, maybe it will help this. At the very least it will dull the boredom. Ok, maybe frustration is a better word because I suck at golf. The only count I've ever had on a hole that came close to par was the number of balls I lost. At the end of my round of "exercise" as my husband likes to sell it, after accounting for my beer intake, I've burned a net of 10 calories, smell like a wet dog, "out" 20 bucks in lost balls and exhausted because I took three times as many strokes as my comrades.

Sorry but I'd much rather spend that 5 hours playing a couple of tennis matches, where sweating is an indication of actual exercise.

Face it, you just don't see a lot golfers, especially Americans, who appear to be physically fit. In fact, many of them have man boobs, including Phil Mickelson and Colin Montgomery, who were in the running for the US Open trophy yesterday. I can't think of any sport, besides Sumo wrestling, where man jugs appear to be an indication of success. Phil has had an incredibly successful year, bringing with it a big payroll, which apparently, judging by the size of his expanding bust, enabled him to eat a little more.

Maybe that plays into his "likeable" factor - he seems like golf's favorite son. He looks like an average guy, lest you stand him by his gorgeous wife and beautiful children, who enjoys hotdogs and beer (and perhaps a few ho-hos?) like most other Americans. He wears his heart on his sleeve, looks like he might cry on the 18th after falling apart yesterday, and calls himself an "idiot" in the post game conference.

He lost it yesterday. I felt bad for him, but he sure makes that boring, frustrating game worth watching.

Exhale

Last night, at BlogAsheville's birthday gig at friend Edgymama's warm and lively home, I was crowned Biggest Slacker at BlogAsheville. Well deserved, I might add, but I've been called worse, and sadly it was by my beautiful six year old -STUPID IDIOT (redundant, I know, but considering his age, not bad. I rue the day when he replaces IDIOT with another 5 letter word).

Thus my absence from the blogger pages, at least I think it is the most probable cause. I've been consumed with managing my strong-willed child's antics at school. My consumption mostly consisted of helplessly holding my breath until school ended as I had difficulty finding a therapist who was "taking new patients". School ended two weeks ago and we have found a new therapist that understands him and assures me he won't grow up to be an ax murderer. In fact, she said kid's like him - bright, articulate, perceptive, sensitive and let's not forget strong willed - grow up to change the world. Big Exhale. It's good to breathe.....

The End

The lunch boxes are dying, their plastic flesh reeking of peanut butter, yogurt, grapes, sour milk and juice. I have done everything within my power to prolong their lives - they only need to hold out for four more weeks. Just hold on, I think, then you can go peacefully to the trash, knowing you helped nourish my kids for their school year.

Perhaps if had taken better care of them, they wouldn't be dying. Damn. Maybe if I didn't forget to unpack them at the end of the day, instead waiting until the next morning, when things had time to ferment.

I really meant to be better this year. I even got the boxes with the hard, plastic removable trays that were easy to wash. But still the leftover milk and honey found their way into the cracks and crevices of the interior, eating away at the boxes' guts.

Its only a matter of time. I hope they can hold out for just a little longer.

Jesus Emails

Forwarded emails don't normally bother me. It takes just a few seconds to discern the content and either delete or read. But I have a few friends, mostly my brothers, who fall victim to the "religious" email bully. The emails normally have some benign, sweet content to make you feel good, or lovely pictures of nature. But at the end of email is a not-so-cleverly written threat/ message that if you can't take the time to send this out then you must be ashamed of Jesus. It goes on the use a bible quote to support this.

I received one today that said "if you are not ashamed, send this message but only if you believe". Just in case you're stupid and didn't understand, it goes on to say, two lines later- "This is a simple test. If you love God and all the great things He has done for you, send this to everyone you know."

First of all God's not a he. Second, this is simple and I can't believe folks actually are bullied by this - it has to be the reason they send it, right? God's gonna be pissed if you don't send it, right? Surely, you'll go to Hell for being "ashamed".

UGH!

If only spirituality were as simple as pressing the forward button.

I find it curious that the friend that sent me this one (my brothers too), also sent an urban legend one about how evil Target is. She shops at Walmart. Don't you think God would be more pissed off that you support a company who saves you $3 while discriminating against women and minorities, bullying folks to work off the clock so they can keep their low paying job "with benefits" they can't afford?

Train

is coming to headline Belle Chere.

Is that better, Edgy?

Shit!

My youngest holds it forever. You can hear him farting across the house. It sounds like someone is shooting off a round from an automatic weapon. This an indication that he needs to "go", but he heeds no nudging from me.

Tonight when I ducked into the bathroom to check his bath progress, I was greeted by a pungent stank. Youngest was sitting in the tub, half cocked on one buttock, like he was trying to let one "go". "Get out of the tub and go to the bathroom," I pleaded, my nose watering from the smell. "Ok, Ok," he whined.

A few minutes later, he was yelling from the tub, "I'm all itchy."

"You probably used too much soap again. Stand up and turn on the shower."

"Nooooo," objected my strong willed child.

"Ok, then, get out!"

I proceeded to slather him with lotion to quell the itching and then helped him to bed.

When I returned to the scene of the crime, the smell was still quite acute. I took a couple of steps closer to find bits, MANY bits, of poop in the bathtub.

"****ing gross," I snarled. Then I hit the cleaning closet. Times like these call for drastic measures: Clorox.

This wouldn't be so dramatic if youngest was say, 3 years old. But he is 6. Six years old!!

I did give him a choice: Either you clean it up or you lose 10 compliments (our reward system for doing things right). He's no dummy. Earning 10 compliments is a lot easier than cleaning up shit. He went to bed.

It was only later I realized why he was itching. Shit!

Top 10 Reasons Not to have an Affair

1. might harm the kids
2. screw up your career (esp if you're a minister)
3. might catch an infectious disease
4. might get pregnant
5. can't fart at will any more
6. have to bathe everyday
7. have to shave legs and pits more often
8. would hate to break up Keith Urban and Nicole
9. could go against the grain of being a person of integrity
10. problem of where to hide all the new lingerie from hubby

(This list was generated by Restless Mama and Running Rio during the night of escape at Asheville Brew and View. We had to do something after Duke lost.)

Meet Patch

Destroyer of prescription glasses, my mobile phone, and Legos. Chewer of shoes, yoga blocks, solar yard lights, many piece of furniture, match box cars and anything in the recycling bin. Burier of 50 rawhide bones given so he won't chew on the above. Jewel Jumper - as in family jewels - to anyone who comes to our door.

It's like having a toddler added to the household, only we can lock him away without anyone calling DSS.

Now That's Showing Your Ass

Last month, while skiing in Colorado, we met some incredibly bright and interesting folks which was conducive to good conversation. And good conversation always includes interesting stories. Here is one I really enjoyed:

This particular story was told by Laura, a warm and genuine southern woman in her late fifties.

Years ago, Laura was skiing with a group led by a ski instructor. Her group included a woman who was significantly older than the rest, but was trying to keep up with the younger, more agile skiers.

After several days of ski instruction, the instructor decided the group was ready for the top of the mountain. After successfully negotiating the ride off the lift, the group gathered together before they tackled the mountain. The older woman, pulled the instructor aside and asked how long before they reached the bottom. Forty five minutes, he told her. She wouldn't last, she told him. She needed to use the facilities. He directed her to the trees between the slopes, and the rest of the group waited patiently. After a few moments, there was an audible yelp from the trees. Everyone looked up to see the woman, skiing backwards, with her ski pants bunched up around her ankles, her buttocks exposed to the elements and the entire skiing population within eye shot.

Eventually she regained control and was able to cover her chapped assets but was, of course, tremendously embarrassed. So much so, that the next day she was too horrified to face the slopes and skiers again; she opted for a quiet day of anonymity by the lodge fire, hoping to forget the previous day's events. There was a young man relaxing by the fire too. He bore a fresh cast from an apparent ski accident. Curious she struck up a conversation with him. What happened to your leg?, she asked.

Much to her chagrin, he relayed the events of the previous day. It seems that he was having a fantastic time skiing when he looked up to see a woman skiing backward and half naked down the ski slope. He was so shocked that he lost his focus and balance and fell to break his leg.

I'm not sure if she remained anonymous but forgetting the show of assets was impossible.

Your Business

Most men can't multi-task, but my amazing husband can. He can talk on the phone while, um, doing his business. As a matter of fact, I'd venture to say that its uncommon if he's doesn't "go" while having a phone conversation longer than 10 minutes. I have always thought this one of the lowest forms of multitasking, (right down there with clipping your fingernails or flossing your teeth while watching tv). Gross. Hang up and go. Some things aren't meant to be tasked together.

I remember reading years ago, before the mobile phone became common, that 17% of people will use the bathroom while talking on the phone. Recently, after an airport bathroom encounter with a woman on her mobile phone, multi-tasking in the next stall, I became curious; has that percentage changed?

I ran across this website on a google search.

www.quiltednorthern.com/fun/bathsecrets.html

If you thought the bathroom was used for just one purpose, think again! In addition to the bathroom reading done by 74 percent of respondents, the survey found 47 percent of people talk on the phone, 23 percent watch TV and 11 percent even eat in the bathroom. Ty Pennington plays the guitar on occasion while Aida Turtono is known to meditate.

Eating while in the bathroom? Double gross. And who is Aida Turtono, anyway?

What do you do while doing your business?

The Last Fall

Basketball wins. I mean the NCAA tournament wins. I could live without basketball until the tournament comes 'round. So my bid to give up alcohol, coffee and T.V. for Lent, skids into hell. But I'm in Heaven for the moment- basketball Heaven.

Check out this link that expresses my sentiments:



So I set myself up for a fall. I hope God understands. Its a humble, glaring reminder that I am not the one in control.

Got to go. Its time for tip off.

Four Dollars

Getting ready to go on vacation is a major event in my household. I always want to leave the house clean, laundry done, bills paid, and list done so I can relax while I'm gone. Leaving the kids behind, as my DH and I did last month to ski in CO, requires more. I spent weeks trying to nail down all the details, big and small, so I could feel good about leaving town. I created elaborate lists with contacts, phone numbers, instructions for meals, where the kids would land if school was canceled or they became sick, directions to martial arts, etc.

We left on a Wednesday morning, our boys farmed out to our many gracious friends and a capable babysitter. My parents arrived on Friday afternoon for the weekend shift. I left them local park directions, children's museum pass and directions, as well as directions to a few restaurants they may like. At least two years had passed since my Dad visited, so I wanted their visit, especially his, to be effortless.

When we returned, exhausted but rejuvenated from a "real" vacation, I was pleased to hear all my extra effort paid off. Even the directions to school, just in case, were beneficial; my youngest missed the bus once. Before I could finish patting myself on the back, my Dad broke in.

"Next time you go out of town, remember to leave your Ingles savings card. It could have saved me 4 dollars."

Sure thing, Dad. I'd be happy to spend the one minute it takes to get you your own card. I've two years to accomplish that, I thought. But before I could speak, Dad added.

"Luckily someone behind me let me use their card."

Some things are better left unsaid.

Thanks Dad. See you in a couple of years.

Fall From Grace

It hasn't even been two weeks since the beginning of Lent and I've fallen off the wagon. Or maybe I climbed on - the sin wagon.

Everyone has someone, something to blame. I'm no different.

On Thursday, I had a rather persistent sciatica problem affecting the left side of my body. Added to that, I hadn't slept much all week - I'd like to call it insomnia but it's not that dramatic. I decided there was only one thing that could cure what was ailing me, but since it was 9:00 am, I didn't think a pint of Gaelic Ale suitable, so I drove 'round to Port City Java a drink of a different sort. I swear the caffeine zapped my sciatica. I couldn't feel a thing. Nor could I speak. I called my friend, Edgymama, and zipped through a conversation at the speed of light, all the while sitting in the Mall parking lot. I sat in my van, in the parking lot, for an hour, caffeine coursing through my veins. I was digging life, in the mall parking lot. That's good stuff. I've got to get some more.

.......

On Monday, I went to see my physical therapist for my sciatica, which had subsided as long as I kept the C close by, but I needed to be sure. He's Eastern medicine mixed with Western medicine, so much of his treatment is non-conventional. He took one look at me and asked, "What happened?" I don't know, I said. After a quick once over, he found the problem: my colon was tight. He moved it around while asking, "Have you changed your diet?" "A bit", I replied, "but it's healthier." He couldn't figure it out, but he made his adjustments and I left feeling much lighter on my feet.

Later, I realized that something else had changed in my diet - no alcohol for Lent. That must be my problem, I thought. My colon is missing it's red wine. That's all it took.

Now, along with caffeine, I'm back on the wine wagon.

TV remains off, however, with the tournament starting this weekend, I'm going to have to give in, just for the basketball.

Top Ten Things I Learned About Being A Mom (That the Books Didn't Tell Me)

Obviously I am speaking from heterosexual point of view.

10. You become a full-fledged parent when you are baptized by your babe while changing her/his diaper.

9. Most new dads don't take charge, so when he asks, "How can I help?" Give him a list. If he doesn't ask, give it to him anyway. If he DOES take charge, be grateful. Thank God AND your man, because it is rare.

8. Take people up on their offers to help. Give them the list too. Hey, they asked, didn't they?

7. Forgetfulness comes with sleep deprivation which comes with parenthood. Don't worry it doesn't last forever, at least that's what they tell me. (But I can't remember who they are.)

6. Wine is not only good for milk letdown, it is also good for your sanity.

5. Leave the laundry and dishes, or better yet, put them on the list and get some sleep. Just be sure to brush your teeth by noon.

4. You WILL, no matter how foul you think it is now, eventually use the sniff test to check you baby's diaper for a poop deposit.

3. Being a parent is the most challenging, important and rewarding job you will ever have. The challenges never stop; they change in nature, so you can't spend a lot of time patting yourself on the back, as your babe will have already moved to the next chapter.

2. Privacy and modesty have left the building. Babies and children come with bathroom (and privacy) radar; they know you are trying to have a "private moment" and they will hunt you down with their piercing screams or with their incessant pleading at the bathroom door. This radar can sometimes interrupt intimate moments between you and your mate, but most new parents don't have to worry about that for the first 6 months as sleeps trumps intimacy. Sorry mates.

1. People like to say, "Once you have a kid, your life will never be the same", but what they often forget to tell you is - that is absolutely the best part about it!

March Madness

The big game, UNC v Duke, is now in progress and I am listening to it on a weak am radio signal. I like listening to Woody and the gang and have done so for many games this season as we don't have expanded cable, but sometimes you just want to see it on the big screen.

Not to be- today or for the next 5 & 1/2 weeks. I gave up T.V. for Lent. And Coffee. AND alcohol. My friends, including my friend in ministry, think I'm nuts. So far, I'm sane. Coffee has been my challenge so far but the withdrawal headaches have subsided.

Of course, I miss my daily glass of wine, but I figure I can make like my Catholic friends and have a drink on Sundays, if it comes to that.

As anticipated, I haven't missed TV - until now. What was I thinking? March Madness is just around the corner. I love March Madness. It is basketball at its best. Underdogs making stunning upsets. The favorite pulling off a victory with a last second shot. It's unpredictable, as it is COLLEGE basketball. The players are still kids, making kid's mistakes. I LOVE it. But I've cut myself off.

What have I done?

I think I need a drink. Is it Sunday yet?

To My Adoring Fan(s)

I'm in detox but I'll be back...

Apolo

Last night I watched Apolo Ohno win the Bronze medal in the Olympic 1000 meter short track.

Man does he have grace and poise. After a tough and fair race, one in which he appeared to have raced to the best of his ability, Andrea Joyce of NBC, cornered him to find out why he had failed to win the gold. She didn't come right out and ask it but she implied it over and over again in her short interview with Apollo.

What amazing grace this young man displayed in this woman's continuous peppering of questions to find out - what happened? Why didn't you win the Gold medal?

Apolo was clearly thrilled to have won the Bronze medal and concede the Gold and Silver to the Korean pair that beat him. He never wavered in his enthusiasm and wasn't apologetic for third place.

Good for him. You don't have to be first place to be a winner.

Now Chad Hedrick's comments about Shani Davis' win was another story. The man could take some tact lessons from Ohno.

Valentine Riddle

What do you get when you cross a menstruating woman in the middle of a kitchen renovation with two boxes of chocolates from the Chocolate Fetish?

hint: the answer is NOT Terri Hatcher

Grammys

Did you see Gwen Stefani? What was she thinking in that Bam-Bam get up? Or is it Pebbles?

My spouse said, "Looks like she met a man", referring to her blossoming mid section. I'm totally out of it here. Is she pregnant? Who's the daddy/ mommy?

Ok, I just got a peak, ok more like a view, of Terri Hatcher's bosoms on live television. She doesn't do it for me. Not enough meat on her the rest of her bones.

Kelly Clarkson--cute and really blonde. And a real woman with curves and flesh.

Keith Urban--Hot, sweaty and hoarse. Sing it baby!

When did Faith Hill learn to play the guitar? She doesn't sound good. Maybe too many things to think about with the guitar and all. I saw her on some (taped) special over the hoidays and she actually sounded really good. Oh well, as long as she's performing, Tim McGraw has to be close by. He rocks.

JC

Jimmy Carter, 81, did ski, and snow shoed, and ice fished. Amazing.

Duke v UNC

My boys looked good last night, especially the Freshman.

JJ Redick is unbelievable but I don't like his drama act. Falling down when no one has touched him, trying to draw the foul. No Oscar for him. Wonder where he gets his dramatic flare? There always seems to be one Duke player who likes to "act". Do they have special classes for the players? Or are they just taking a cue from the their dramatic coach K? When he is bitching about a "call", which is pretty much the entire game, he looks like a Chihuahua.

Feeling baited, Rio?

Bubble Burst

Five days with Jimmy, Rosalynn, and so many interesting, fun people.
Four nights without the kids.
Three days of skiing.
Two days of snow adventures - snowshoes and snowmobile.
One day of travel - without the kids.
8 hours of sleep every night.
2 hours of napping.
30 minutes of a joyful reunion with my children.
2 minutes to read the letter from my youngest's teacher that burst my vacation bubble.

Now today its off to:
30 minutes with the teacher and principal
1 hour with his pediatrician
countless hours with a psychiatrist to manage his impulse control.

Its good to be home.