Sorry I haven't been 'round lately. This business of preparing to go on vacation without the kids is a full time job. Rides, sitters, meals, not to mention all the many things on my list that I feel compelled to do before I leave - things that I haven't bothered with for six months. Something about going on vacation inspires me to clean my plate so I can start anew when I return.
So I am off to ski with Jimmy Carter. Well, I'm guessing at 81 he won't be skiing, but we'll see.
I tried watching the state of the Bush Union tonight, so JC and I can have something to talk about. However, after 30 minutes of retoric from the Bush, I had to turn it off before I became ill. That's just not cool before vacation.
At least he paid tribute to Coretta Scott King. Now I can say that I applauded him.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
Well This Is It Now
Rob keeps waking me.
He has become my alarm clock, of sorts. For the past week,without fail, he has roused me from the fog of dreamland, crooning his moving lyrics.
It is deeply flattering to have this amazing, gifted, hot singer some ten years my junior lavish me with his sultry - dripping with sex appeal, voice. (Didn't I mention he is hot?) Normally I wouldn't complain, but out of all the dittys in his repertoire, he keeps singing the same one over and over.
Well this is it now
Everybody get down
This is all I can take
This is how a heart breaks
It's starting to make me feel a little insecure about our relationship.
Guess I'll have to put my son's CD player on shuffle. Then maybe RT can stir me with:
Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same
He has become my alarm clock, of sorts. For the past week,without fail, he has roused me from the fog of dreamland, crooning his moving lyrics.
It is deeply flattering to have this amazing, gifted, hot singer some ten years my junior lavish me with his sultry - dripping with sex appeal, voice. (Didn't I mention he is hot?) Normally I wouldn't complain, but out of all the dittys in his repertoire, he keeps singing the same one over and over.
Well this is it now
Everybody get down
This is all I can take
This is how a heart breaks
It's starting to make me feel a little insecure about our relationship.
Guess I'll have to put my son's CD player on shuffle. Then maybe RT can stir me with:
Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Covergirl
"What are you doing?", my friend Susan asked as I paraded through the rounders at K-Mart trying not to broadcast my entire phone conversation.
"Just Christmas shopping", I replied.
"Do you have some time before you pick up the boys from school?"
Hmmm, a loaded question. Not very quick on my feet, I replied "Yes". What am I getting into?
"We just need to just take a few pictures of you trying on pants."
Huh? Susan's husband is a photographer but I didn't know anything about his work. This image came to my mind - me wriggling my bum into a pair of jeans while the camera clicked furiously focusing on my better half. Kind of erotic and sexy, so I headed right over to the studio.
Boy was I disappointed. They needed someone to model old lady jeans. You know the kind. Elastic waist, and full legs. Comfort over fashion. Check that. Comfort, no fashion. I even had to hike them up right underneath my breasts, just like my grandma did, to get them to look right. My only consolation was they had to pin the material back from my legs as they were swimming in old lady hell. And, oh yeah, these were only waist down photos, so I'd be incognito.
This is humiliating. My first and last modeling job, I thought. Then they handed me a check. I thought this was just a favor for a friend. I had no idea I would get paid.
"Call me, on the line. Call me, call me, any, anytime" I sang, in my best Blondie impersonation, skipping out the door.
Look for my "work" in the Sunday sales flyers. I'll be the one with the forty year old legs in the gunny sack pants. I'm sure you'll be able to tell the difference.
"Just Christmas shopping", I replied.
"Do you have some time before you pick up the boys from school?"
Hmmm, a loaded question. Not very quick on my feet, I replied "Yes". What am I getting into?
"We just need to just take a few pictures of you trying on pants."
Huh? Susan's husband is a photographer but I didn't know anything about his work. This image came to my mind - me wriggling my bum into a pair of jeans while the camera clicked furiously focusing on my better half. Kind of erotic and sexy, so I headed right over to the studio.
Boy was I disappointed. They needed someone to model old lady jeans. You know the kind. Elastic waist, and full legs. Comfort over fashion. Check that. Comfort, no fashion. I even had to hike them up right underneath my breasts, just like my grandma did, to get them to look right. My only consolation was they had to pin the material back from my legs as they were swimming in old lady hell. And, oh yeah, these were only waist down photos, so I'd be incognito.
This is humiliating. My first and last modeling job, I thought. Then they handed me a check. I thought this was just a favor for a friend. I had no idea I would get paid.
"Call me, on the line. Call me, call me, any, anytime" I sang, in my best Blondie impersonation, skipping out the door.
Look for my "work" in the Sunday sales flyers. I'll be the one with the forty year old legs in the gunny sack pants. I'm sure you'll be able to tell the difference.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Computer Whores
My boys live to play on the computer, so much so that they ask incessantly until they are given permission. I have long realized the carrot value of this privilege. They can easily lose the privilege for bad behavior, which my youngest frequently does. I can also get them to perform chores- whether it be homework, piano practice or getting ready for bed - before they get a shot at their favorite "eye candy", cartoon network games.
But this week a light went on and I had a brilliant idea; Add some real chores. It's working like a charm so far. My oldest has been cleaning the bathroom sink, unloading the dishwasher, etc. My youngest has yet to lift a finger. He's been suspended from the computer since I started this.
Next week I'm adding a new chore- cleaning the toilet. The honeymoon could be over soon.
But this week a light went on and I had a brilliant idea; Add some real chores. It's working like a charm so far. My oldest has been cleaning the bathroom sink, unloading the dishwasher, etc. My youngest has yet to lift a finger. He's been suspended from the computer since I started this.
Next week I'm adding a new chore- cleaning the toilet. The honeymoon could be over soon.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Mustache Quandary
I don't have a problem with some extra hair. I frequently let my arm pit and leg hair grow "out", mostly out of laziness. I wouldn't consider myself vain. I don't wear make-up that often but I prefer to keep the facial hair to minimum. Mustaches aren't generally considered attractive on women.
I used to bleach my mustache but dark or light, a mustache is still a mustache, so I began plucking, occasionally. Chalk it up to hormones but over the last several years the intervals between plucks have shortened; now the mustache hairs are coming on like Homer Simpson's beard. I pluck them. They reappear, quickly. And more coarse. At this rate, I will soon be tickling my husband with my stubble instead of my tongue.(If you just took a dive into the gutter, come back up because I'm talking about kissing.)
Guess I'm going to have to go the waxing route until I can cough up some money for electrolysis and get this permanently removed.
I used to bleach my mustache but dark or light, a mustache is still a mustache, so I began plucking, occasionally. Chalk it up to hormones but over the last several years the intervals between plucks have shortened; now the mustache hairs are coming on like Homer Simpson's beard. I pluck them. They reappear, quickly. And more coarse. At this rate, I will soon be tickling my husband with my stubble instead of my tongue.(If you just took a dive into the gutter, come back up because I'm talking about kissing.)
Guess I'm going to have to go the waxing route until I can cough up some money for electrolysis and get this permanently removed.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Crimson Waves
Excited about his visit I scurried around trying to pick-up the mess in the house. I didn't want him to think we lived like slobs. Yesterday he called, finally, after a week of waiting; he was ready to meet.
The door bell rang. I glanced at my watch. Ugh! He's fifteen minutes early! I felt a warm sensation in my pants. Damn, I ran through my tampon - again. Superb timing.
I opened the door breathless and flustered; I couldn't even remember his name. I tried to keep the dog from jumping on his jewels while simultaneously trying to Kaegel back the flow of things. He graciously saved me and introduced himself. As I extended my hand, the dog jumped again. He winced. His jewels were hit. Great first impression.
Embarrassed, I showed him in and we began to talk about what I needed from him. But it's hard to concentrate when your blood flow is elsewhere. Damn, I really need him, but I need the bathroom too. His phone rang and he answered. Saved by the bell, I excused myself.
Upon returning, I was better able to focus on my needs and we had a lovely conversation about the demolition and renovation of my kitchen.
The door bell rang. I glanced at my watch. Ugh! He's fifteen minutes early! I felt a warm sensation in my pants. Damn, I ran through my tampon - again. Superb timing.
I opened the door breathless and flustered; I couldn't even remember his name. I tried to keep the dog from jumping on his jewels while simultaneously trying to Kaegel back the flow of things. He graciously saved me and introduced himself. As I extended my hand, the dog jumped again. He winced. His jewels were hit. Great first impression.
Embarrassed, I showed him in and we began to talk about what I needed from him. But it's hard to concentrate when your blood flow is elsewhere. Damn, I really need him, but I need the bathroom too. His phone rang and he answered. Saved by the bell, I excused myself.
Upon returning, I was better able to focus on my needs and we had a lovely conversation about the demolition and renovation of my kitchen.
Friday, December 23, 2005
C-I-L
There is an Eddie Murphy skit from SNL that keeps ringing through my head. I think he was making fun of Mr. Rogers neighborhood. He's saying "Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord. C-I-L my landlord."
My MIL has decided that she has "too much to do" and isn't coming today, even though she had plans to make bread and buckeyes (peanut butter balls dipped in chocolate) with my two children today. They are disappointed as well as wired and tired. My DH, on the heels of 5 day out-of-town convention that included last weekend, has to work all weekend. Wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't the one who makes the schedule AND he scheduled himself to work last Christmas day too.
The house is a mess, there's baking to be done, gifts to wrap, grocery list to make, dog to wash AND me to bathe. Where's the joy?
C-I-L my family.
At least the Christmas cards are in the mail.
My MIL has decided that she has "too much to do" and isn't coming today, even though she had plans to make bread and buckeyes (peanut butter balls dipped in chocolate) with my two children today. They are disappointed as well as wired and tired. My DH, on the heels of 5 day out-of-town convention that included last weekend, has to work all weekend. Wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't the one who makes the schedule AND he scheduled himself to work last Christmas day too.
The house is a mess, there's baking to be done, gifts to wrap, grocery list to make, dog to wash AND me to bathe. Where's the joy?
C-I-L my family.
At least the Christmas cards are in the mail.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
B4B - My Sunshine, JG
This was a post that was inspired by a post at www.Edgymama.com a couple of weeks ago. I am way past the deadline (and hardly articulate enough to compete) but I wanted to post it anyway. The contest was to write about someone you have chosen to be a part of your family....
She showed up at my door,zucchini bread in hand, shortly after we moved in. Several months later, she was back again to welcome our newest son home from the hospital. It wasn't long before I was at her door holding my offering of soup and condolences for the death of her husband - good southerners always bring food for the grieving.
Those were difficult days for me: new town, new baby, few friends, absent husband, and it was winter. Plus I had a two year old experiencing the same. I was grieving my old life. Multiply that by a thousand and that is what she must have been feeling.
She became a favorite of my 2 year-old. He loved going to visit her and I was so drawn to her, I encouraged frequent visits. I can't even imagine the unbearable pain she carried, her partner gone from this life, but she always welcomed us, no matter what she was doing or feeling. She literally was my sunshine during that first winter, as I was depressed. She offered to keep my son occasionally, but I usually declined as I didn't want to burden her, even though she was the one offering. I couldn't just take her offer at face value, a product of my relationship with my passive mother. My mom would make such gestures out of obligation or pity and then complain about them later. I have spent a lot of my life trying to read between the lines, enabling this behavior.
She later joked with me, that I was afraid to leave my son with her; she knows the truth now. The first time I left my boys with her I attended a mom's get together across town. When I returned, she informed me that she had fed my 7 month old peanut butter and honey, two no-no's before the first birthday. He was fine, but she was so embarrassed that she swore me to secrecy. However, it wasn't long before she was joking about the time she tried to kill my son. I trust her implicitly with my children, despite the murder attempt. She has rescued me, countless times, when I needed child care, not the least of which was a midnight call to watch one son while we took the other to the emergency room. She was at our house within 5 minutes.
Beyond loving and caring for my boys, she has become a dear friend, although I often feel it is one sided - she listening to my less than succinct monologues of religion and spirituality woes, child rearing issues, broken friendships, mother-in-law angst, dealing with death- the list goes on and on. She never fails to really listen, without judgment. She always has so much to offer, especially in acceptance and advice, but she never gives me the impression that she feels burdened to "solve" my problem. It is a gift she has and I have asked her to share it often.
Over the last six years we have enjoyed lots together, just as girlfriends should - pedicures, concerts, lunches, laughs, hikes, games night, etc. It didn't seem like a normal week if I didn't see her several times. We always felt at ease to drop in on one another, unannounced, although I was at her door more often. I would be treated to a beer or glass of wine, while my boys were treated to bubble gum. Sometimes I would bring her dinner, one my family refused to eat, and she would rave about how wonderful it was. I'm not convinced she was that enamored of my cooking skills; she knew how much I needed affirmation.
We moved across town 8 months ago, and we don't see each other as often. We both are busy with our "work". She spends countless hours doing community work but she just added something else to her plate: her first grandchild. Now she is traveling 500 miles one way, to share her love with the babe. Its beautiful to hear the joy in her voice, see the glow on her face, during this stage of her life.
I'm glad she has shared her life and love with us. We are better for it.
She showed up at my door,zucchini bread in hand, shortly after we moved in. Several months later, she was back again to welcome our newest son home from the hospital. It wasn't long before I was at her door holding my offering of soup and condolences for the death of her husband - good southerners always bring food for the grieving.
Those were difficult days for me: new town, new baby, few friends, absent husband, and it was winter. Plus I had a two year old experiencing the same. I was grieving my old life. Multiply that by a thousand and that is what she must have been feeling.
She became a favorite of my 2 year-old. He loved going to visit her and I was so drawn to her, I encouraged frequent visits. I can't even imagine the unbearable pain she carried, her partner gone from this life, but she always welcomed us, no matter what she was doing or feeling. She literally was my sunshine during that first winter, as I was depressed. She offered to keep my son occasionally, but I usually declined as I didn't want to burden her, even though she was the one offering. I couldn't just take her offer at face value, a product of my relationship with my passive mother. My mom would make such gestures out of obligation or pity and then complain about them later. I have spent a lot of my life trying to read between the lines, enabling this behavior.
She later joked with me, that I was afraid to leave my son with her; she knows the truth now. The first time I left my boys with her I attended a mom's get together across town. When I returned, she informed me that she had fed my 7 month old peanut butter and honey, two no-no's before the first birthday. He was fine, but she was so embarrassed that she swore me to secrecy. However, it wasn't long before she was joking about the time she tried to kill my son. I trust her implicitly with my children, despite the murder attempt. She has rescued me, countless times, when I needed child care, not the least of which was a midnight call to watch one son while we took the other to the emergency room. She was at our house within 5 minutes.
Beyond loving and caring for my boys, she has become a dear friend, although I often feel it is one sided - she listening to my less than succinct monologues of religion and spirituality woes, child rearing issues, broken friendships, mother-in-law angst, dealing with death- the list goes on and on. She never fails to really listen, without judgment. She always has so much to offer, especially in acceptance and advice, but she never gives me the impression that she feels burdened to "solve" my problem. It is a gift she has and I have asked her to share it often.
Over the last six years we have enjoyed lots together, just as girlfriends should - pedicures, concerts, lunches, laughs, hikes, games night, etc. It didn't seem like a normal week if I didn't see her several times. We always felt at ease to drop in on one another, unannounced, although I was at her door more often. I would be treated to a beer or glass of wine, while my boys were treated to bubble gum. Sometimes I would bring her dinner, one my family refused to eat, and she would rave about how wonderful it was. I'm not convinced she was that enamored of my cooking skills; she knew how much I needed affirmation.
We moved across town 8 months ago, and we don't see each other as often. We both are busy with our "work". She spends countless hours doing community work but she just added something else to her plate: her first grandchild. Now she is traveling 500 miles one way, to share her love with the babe. Its beautiful to hear the joy in her voice, see the glow on her face, during this stage of her life.
I'm glad she has shared her life and love with us. We are better for it.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Meet John Edwards
This weekend we visited some friends in Chapel Hill. My DH had a conference in the area on Friday so I yanked the kids from school and took them with. I thought the Moorehead Planetarium would be a good gig for our Friday education, only when I decided to leave I discovered that my DH had take off with the keys to the van. So we hung out and the kids played with our friends Xbox or something like it. They thought that a better gig anyway, and I was able to catch up with my friend Vanessa.
DH showed up in the late afternoon and we geared up for the neighborhood Christmas Caroling event. I can sing fairly well, so I was looking forward to this. Vanessa put me in charge of the singing. Hardly difficult - we just have to sing a few tunes from this Caroling book.
Our first stop? John Edwards' house. No joke. He is living in this community in CH as he has a position at UNC-CH. The lights were on, and i mean EVERY light, and no one was home. We moved on to the next house, noting as we passed JE's house that his garage doors were even up. Maybe he thought our singing less that desirable?
We didn't care. We had a few drinks on board and we were happy. Oh, wait, that was later. Anyway, we went to the next house and proceeded to sing as we rang the bell. A family trickled to the door to hear our humble tunes. I kept my head down watching the children sing. When I looked up there was John Edwards, smile as big as Texas, joining our caroling, along with his wife and small children. Rock on Senator Edwards. I wish i could call you Vice President.
We finished our diddys and moved on as we sang "We Wish You A Merry Christmas". I soooooo wanted to sing, "We wish you were Vice President. We wish you were Vice President. We wish you were Vice President but Dick Vader is".... Oh, and by the way Mr. Edwards, your wasting eletricity next door.
DH showed up in the late afternoon and we geared up for the neighborhood Christmas Caroling event. I can sing fairly well, so I was looking forward to this. Vanessa put me in charge of the singing. Hardly difficult - we just have to sing a few tunes from this Caroling book.
Our first stop? John Edwards' house. No joke. He is living in this community in CH as he has a position at UNC-CH. The lights were on, and i mean EVERY light, and no one was home. We moved on to the next house, noting as we passed JE's house that his garage doors were even up. Maybe he thought our singing less that desirable?
We didn't care. We had a few drinks on board and we were happy. Oh, wait, that was later. Anyway, we went to the next house and proceeded to sing as we rang the bell. A family trickled to the door to hear our humble tunes. I kept my head down watching the children sing. When I looked up there was John Edwards, smile as big as Texas, joining our caroling, along with his wife and small children. Rock on Senator Edwards. I wish i could call you Vice President.
We finished our diddys and moved on as we sang "We Wish You A Merry Christmas". I soooooo wanted to sing, "We wish you were Vice President. We wish you were Vice President. We wish you were Vice President but Dick Vader is".... Oh, and by the way Mr. Edwards, your wasting eletricity next door.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Guilty Pleasures
1. Chips and sour cream and onion dip.
2. The Apprentice. I'm just waiting for someone to ask the Donald "What the hell are you thinking with that ridiculous comb over?"
3. Naps
4. Seeing my son's friend E get hit by another friend for his smart mouth. I know, I know - this is BAD.
5. Reading ASHVEGAS' lewd comments to other bloggers. OMG!
6. Sam's club. Loved going there, despite my disdain for Walmart. The guilt outweighs the pleasure here, so I haven't been in some time.
7. Massages - only the ones i pay for.
There are more so I'll be back. And Yours?
2. The Apprentice. I'm just waiting for someone to ask the Donald "What the hell are you thinking with that ridiculous comb over?"
3. Naps
4. Seeing my son's friend E get hit by another friend for his smart mouth. I know, I know - this is BAD.
5. Reading ASHVEGAS' lewd comments to other bloggers. OMG!
6. Sam's club. Loved going there, despite my disdain for Walmart. The guilt outweighs the pleasure here, so I haven't been in some time.
7. Massages - only the ones i pay for.
There are more so I'll be back. And Yours?
Monday, November 28, 2005
1985
My just turned six year old likes the song 1985. I'm not sure who sings it but I'm guessing that some day 10 years from now they'll have a segment on VH1's one hit wonder groups. Anyway, it's hilarious to hear his him sing his interpretation of the song.
He sings "Cici, Madonna, way before your mama there was tu tu and Blondie and shu shu shu shu she TV" when actually it's "Springsteen, Madonna, way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie and music still on MTV."
He's been asking me what does cici sing? It's Springsteen, i say. Pink Cadillac.
When I was in high school I had a girlfriend who thought Billy Idol's song, Eyes Without A Face, was Hows About A Date? No joke.
Everyone gets the words mixed up on a song at some point in their singing to the radio career. What was yours?
He sings "Cici, Madonna, way before your mama there was tu tu and Blondie and shu shu shu shu she TV" when actually it's "Springsteen, Madonna, way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie and music still on MTV."
He's been asking me what does cici sing? It's Springsteen, i say. Pink Cadillac.
When I was in high school I had a girlfriend who thought Billy Idol's song, Eyes Without A Face, was Hows About A Date? No joke.
Everyone gets the words mixed up on a song at some point in their singing to the radio career. What was yours?
Friday, November 25, 2005
Hospitality?
My neighbors were over yesterday for a wonderfully fun Thanksgiving gathering that included 5 adults and seven kids. Near the end of our enchanted evening my neighbor, Trent, diapers and wipes in hand, asked "Where can I change Liv's diaper?".
"Your house", I replied.
"Your house", I replied.
Monday, November 21, 2005
At this moment...
Favorite sounds are:
1. Legos being foraged through in the lego drawers; my kids are being quiet and engaging their minds at the same time.
2. The puppy running through the house.
3. My sons' feet as they hit the floor first thing in the morning.
4. My boys telling me "I love you, Mom".
5. My Jack making up songs while he playing.
6. Hearty, uninhibited laughter, especially from children; it's contagious
7. My Graham, practicing the Piano
8. The Dixie Chicks singing "God Speed"
9. Silence
Favorite smells:
1. Fresh cut Christmas tree
2. Hot Apple Cider
3. The summer air just before a thunderstorm
4. Burning wood emanating from a chimney in the winter
Favorite touches:
1. My boys' hands inside mine.
2. Hugs, from anyone i know and love.
3. Back rubs
4. Foot rubs
5. From my DH - but i won't go there.
Favorite tastes:
1. Chocolate Sin from the Chocolate Fetish
2. Open face portobello Mushroom sandwich from The Corner Kitchen
3. Tofu Scramble from The Early Girl Eatery
4. Vegetable Plate (with a biscuit of course) from Tupelo Honey
5. Highland Gaelic Ale, draught of course, from Barleys Taproom
Favorite sights:
1. My children's smiles
2. The trees that line Kimberly Ave during Autumn
3. Old friends at my door
4. Old friends at their door
5. A starry sky on a clear night
6. The blue ridge mountains at sunset
I'm grateful
1. To be alive
2. For my voice, no matter it's lack of articulation
3. For my family
4. For my friends, who have had to endure me droning on about MIL. There is ALWAYS a story!
5. For Asheville. I can't imagine living anywhere else.
6. For my bum. Thanks to tennis it looks pretty good in my jeans:)
1. Legos being foraged through in the lego drawers; my kids are being quiet and engaging their minds at the same time.
2. The puppy running through the house.
3. My sons' feet as they hit the floor first thing in the morning.
4. My boys telling me "I love you, Mom".
5. My Jack making up songs while he playing.
6. Hearty, uninhibited laughter, especially from children; it's contagious
7. My Graham, practicing the Piano
8. The Dixie Chicks singing "God Speed"
9. Silence
Favorite smells:
1. Fresh cut Christmas tree
2. Hot Apple Cider
3. The summer air just before a thunderstorm
4. Burning wood emanating from a chimney in the winter
Favorite touches:
1. My boys' hands inside mine.
2. Hugs, from anyone i know and love.
3. Back rubs
4. Foot rubs
5. From my DH - but i won't go there.
Favorite tastes:
1. Chocolate Sin from the Chocolate Fetish
2. Open face portobello Mushroom sandwich from The Corner Kitchen
3. Tofu Scramble from The Early Girl Eatery
4. Vegetable Plate (with a biscuit of course) from Tupelo Honey
5. Highland Gaelic Ale, draught of course, from Barleys Taproom
Favorite sights:
1. My children's smiles
2. The trees that line Kimberly Ave during Autumn
3. Old friends at my door
4. Old friends at their door
5. A starry sky on a clear night
6. The blue ridge mountains at sunset
I'm grateful
1. To be alive
2. For my voice, no matter it's lack of articulation
3. For my family
4. For my friends, who have had to endure me droning on about MIL. There is ALWAYS a story!
5. For Asheville. I can't imagine living anywhere else.
6. For my bum. Thanks to tennis it looks pretty good in my jeans:)
Sunday, November 20, 2005
She Brought Flowers
"Congratulations!" my new friend, Karen, said as she handed me a dozen pink roses. She droppng her son at my son's 6th birthday party; I didn't understand. "It's Lili's idea" she said. I was confused. The only Lili, I knew - barely, had died of pancreatic cancer almost two weeks ago. She recognized that I was lost and went on to say that at Lili's memorial service last week (the one that I missed because I was out of town for a team tennis tournament) someone stood up to tell of Lili giving flowers to the mom when she dropped her son at a birthday party. How beautiful, I thought. Her legacy lives on. It brought tears to my eyes. I was celebrating my son's birthday, one that Lili's own son couldn't attend as he was away for an out of town memorial service. It just didn't seem right. But then I moved on. I "stayed in the moment" of the birthday celebration, soaking it all in. Her husband, just weeks ago, had sent out an email encouraging us all to do the same. So I did.
After the memorial service, we (all of us who volunteered to help this family) received this email from a hospice worker:
Dear Tiffiny and Lili's Team,
You all are magnificent! It was very moving to hear your tributes to Lili..and to see your demonstration of love in action. I only got to know her near the very end and once the team had formed, chose to remain in the background and not overwhelm the family with another stranger. When I met her, I was (of course) struck by her enormous eyes and great physical beauty. When I heard you speak of her, I realized what a remarkable spirit she was/is and why so many of you came together to help her and to celebrate her. It is apparent what a shocking loss you are all experiencing and it is also very clear what a gift Lili was to each of you.
Your team moved with such coordinated grace, making sure that all of her needs were met... and that the boys were lovingly cared for throughout this time. You formed a community that nurtured each of you as well as the family. That was apparent during the service on Saturday...your tenderness toward each other is a wonderful legacy. Throughout your lives, you will remember this journey - walking with each other, holding Lili. Even though it was very difficult and painful, you held her through her dark nights and stayed faithful to the end. You have amazing courage and deep abiding love.
I thank you for coming together. It was so inspiring to walk in the room for our first meeting and see 30 people there! You all are GREAT!! You did this as if you have always done it, as if you have always known how to come together as a community to care for one of your own. You have much to teach the world.
If there is ever anything I can do to support you all, please call me.
Thanks for being on the journey with me, too.
Bright blessings,
Lynn
She was only 34 years old but so many learned so much from her and her illness, including me. I'm grateful our paths crossed, even though ever so briefly. I am better for it.
After the memorial service, we (all of us who volunteered to help this family) received this email from a hospice worker:
Dear Tiffiny and Lili's Team,
You all are magnificent! It was very moving to hear your tributes to Lili..and to see your demonstration of love in action. I only got to know her near the very end and once the team had formed, chose to remain in the background and not overwhelm the family with another stranger. When I met her, I was (of course) struck by her enormous eyes and great physical beauty. When I heard you speak of her, I realized what a remarkable spirit she was/is and why so many of you came together to help her and to celebrate her. It is apparent what a shocking loss you are all experiencing and it is also very clear what a gift Lili was to each of you.
Your team moved with such coordinated grace, making sure that all of her needs were met... and that the boys were lovingly cared for throughout this time. You formed a community that nurtured each of you as well as the family. That was apparent during the service on Saturday...your tenderness toward each other is a wonderful legacy. Throughout your lives, you will remember this journey - walking with each other, holding Lili. Even though it was very difficult and painful, you held her through her dark nights and stayed faithful to the end. You have amazing courage and deep abiding love.
I thank you for coming together. It was so inspiring to walk in the room for our first meeting and see 30 people there! You all are GREAT!! You did this as if you have always done it, as if you have always known how to come together as a community to care for one of your own. You have much to teach the world.
If there is ever anything I can do to support you all, please call me.
Thanks for being on the journey with me, too.
Bright blessings,
Lynn
She was only 34 years old but so many learned so much from her and her illness, including me. I'm grateful our paths crossed, even though ever so briefly. I am better for it.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Gouchos and Prairie Skirts and Ruffles, Oh My!
Last night I attended a dinner/auction to benefit a local AIDS organization in town. I always skip these events as the cost of the tickets, babysitter plus buying "something to wear" is prohibitive - to me anyway because I'm cheap. However, some good friends treated us to the event, so I only had to shoulder two out of three expenses.
On Thursday I hit an upscale department store for an outfit. I'm not a fashion Diva by any means. I prefer my jeans, button up shirt and my mules to just about anything else, however somewhere between entering the store and taking my next breath it hit me. Oh Todo, I thought, we're not in Asheville anymore. Gouchos and prairie Skirts and Ruffles, oh my! Gouchos and prairie and Ruffles, OH MY!!
Off to see the Wizard, and quick, before the wicked department store turns me into Laura Ingles Wilder or Grandma.
I decided to wear what was in my closet instead, so I only had to pay for the sitter. Told you I was cheap.
On Thursday I hit an upscale department store for an outfit. I'm not a fashion Diva by any means. I prefer my jeans, button up shirt and my mules to just about anything else, however somewhere between entering the store and taking my next breath it hit me. Oh Todo, I thought, we're not in Asheville anymore. Gouchos and prairie Skirts and Ruffles, oh my! Gouchos and prairie and Ruffles, OH MY!!
Off to see the Wizard, and quick, before the wicked department store turns me into Laura Ingles Wilder or Grandma.
I decided to wear what was in my closet instead, so I only had to pay for the sitter. Told you I was cheap.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
My First Bra
I was 11, in sixth grade, when my mom bought me first bra, a training bra. Why the word training? Not sure, it's not as if wearing a bra could actually cause your body to wake up and say "Hey, there's a bra out there. Time to grow some breasts to fill it!" Believe me, this did NOT happen. As a matter of fact, I was the southeastern president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee until I had my first child, and then they kicked me out. Mammary madness.
To be sure I didn't need a bra yet but I was at an age where I was trying to shake my tomboy image - I wanted to stop looking like a boy. Yes, I did look like a boy. My mom cut my hair in the same bowl cut she gave my three brothers. I wore mostly Toughskins - remember those from Sears? - and only wore a skirt, not a dress, to church.
I wore that bra right out of the store, like most would only wear a new pair of shoes. Cue Donna Summer because I thought I was hot stuff in my Toughskins and new bra that showed through my cowboy scene t-shirt. My mom and I got into her car at the strip mall. Our next door neighbor walked by with her 14 year old son and my mom got out to speak to them. Here's my chance to be noticed, I thought. I hopped right out and puffed out my chest like a peacock. I don't know why I thought he would notice and even if he did, surely I didn't want him to say, "Hey kid, nice bra", because there were clearly no boobs behind it.
I wore that bra for sixth months straight. It never occurred to me that it should be washed occasionally. Besides, it was evident that my breasts needed more training.
To be sure I didn't need a bra yet but I was at an age where I was trying to shake my tomboy image - I wanted to stop looking like a boy. Yes, I did look like a boy. My mom cut my hair in the same bowl cut she gave my three brothers. I wore mostly Toughskins - remember those from Sears? - and only wore a skirt, not a dress, to church.
I wore that bra right out of the store, like most would only wear a new pair of shoes. Cue Donna Summer because I thought I was hot stuff in my Toughskins and new bra that showed through my cowboy scene t-shirt. My mom and I got into her car at the strip mall. Our next door neighbor walked by with her 14 year old son and my mom got out to speak to them. Here's my chance to be noticed, I thought. I hopped right out and puffed out my chest like a peacock. I don't know why I thought he would notice and even if he did, surely I didn't want him to say, "Hey kid, nice bra", because there were clearly no boobs behind it.
I wore that bra for sixth months straight. It never occurred to me that it should be washed occasionally. Besides, it was evident that my breasts needed more training.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Halloween's Haunt
It was our first Halloween in our "new" home. My neighbors told me to expect 20 or so children. I ran out of my 40 (bags of popcorn) treats within 30 minutes. Luckily, a new(er than me) neighbor came to the rescue with some candy.
My 5 year old almost lost his trick-or-treating privileges, actually he did lose them - for about 15 minutes. He was hitting his older brother and I told him "If it happens again, you will lose your trick-or-treating privileges and I'm not kidding." Didn't take him long to cross that boundary and then he was off to his room yelling and crying. After the crying stopped, I let up, and told him he was just going to miss the first 30 minutes. So he did, with much protest. But finally he relaxed and became a "door man" for the visitors yelling "Popcorn, get your popcorn here". I left him alone on the porch while I finished cleaning the kitchen, still pitching "Popcorn", like he was a baseball stadium vendor. When I returned, I found him telling a couple of kids "only one per family" to which I gently pointed out,"Everyone can have one". No telling how many families he had already rationed. Bet they are thinking,"Great, the new neighbors are cheap." Guess I have him to thank that my treats lasted 30 minutes.
My oldest once lost Easter Egg hunting privileges for hitting his brother. Today my friend, LeeAnne, told me when her daughter was 5, she lost her trick-or-treating privileges for 30 minutes too. It's good to know that I'm not alone here (ie misery loves company). What is it about the Holidays that brings out the worst in (most) kid's behavior?
My 5 year old almost lost his trick-or-treating privileges, actually he did lose them - for about 15 minutes. He was hitting his older brother and I told him "If it happens again, you will lose your trick-or-treating privileges and I'm not kidding." Didn't take him long to cross that boundary and then he was off to his room yelling and crying. After the crying stopped, I let up, and told him he was just going to miss the first 30 minutes. So he did, with much protest. But finally he relaxed and became a "door man" for the visitors yelling "Popcorn, get your popcorn here". I left him alone on the porch while I finished cleaning the kitchen, still pitching "Popcorn", like he was a baseball stadium vendor. When I returned, I found him telling a couple of kids "only one per family" to which I gently pointed out,"Everyone can have one". No telling how many families he had already rationed. Bet they are thinking,"Great, the new neighbors are cheap." Guess I have him to thank that my treats lasted 30 minutes.
My oldest once lost Easter Egg hunting privileges for hitting his brother. Today my friend, LeeAnne, told me when her daughter was 5, she lost her trick-or-treating privileges for 30 minutes too. It's good to know that I'm not alone here (ie misery loves company). What is it about the Holidays that brings out the worst in (most) kid's behavior?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Honey, Grab the Vacuum, I'm in the Mood!
Last night, I zoned out on a reality TV show, Wife Swap. Sadly it's not the first time. This show, along with the Nanny show make my kids and Husband (and, ah hem, me:)) look like dreams, so I actually enjoy watching them occasionally.
This particular episode had the farm mom from Kentucky swap with the city girl from I don't know where, but it didn't matter, as ABC, no doubt picked a woman who personifies the stereotypical city girl -she dresses hip, parties and has fun. The Kentucky mom was a stereotype too- dowdy, selfless, conservative and boring. I realize the networks are doing all of us girls an injustice by perpetuating these stereotypes, including this southern, liberal, loud, halter top wearing, not so selfless girl. However, I was reading between the lines in this episode, so hear me out.
They portrayed the city girl as a "diva" whose husband did all the chores and the farm girl as the selfless one who worked her bottom off, along with her children, keeping the farm in order while the husband was absent.
Of course, the VERY UPTIGHT farm girl couldn't believe that the city husband did most of the chores and didn't "have control" of his woman. I've got a news flash for you sister: City Husband "Gets More" From Doing Chores. He WAS in control and getting EXACTLY what he wanted: Good lovin.
It's no secret that men who do more household chores "get more" in return. There is scientific proof - somewhere, that says it's true. But me and my girlfriends don't need science; we have our own proof. So boys, grab the toilet brushes and vacuums and get to work. We think it is SOOO sexy.
This particular episode had the farm mom from Kentucky swap with the city girl from I don't know where, but it didn't matter, as ABC, no doubt picked a woman who personifies the stereotypical city girl -she dresses hip, parties and has fun. The Kentucky mom was a stereotype too- dowdy, selfless, conservative and boring. I realize the networks are doing all of us girls an injustice by perpetuating these stereotypes, including this southern, liberal, loud, halter top wearing, not so selfless girl. However, I was reading between the lines in this episode, so hear me out.
They portrayed the city girl as a "diva" whose husband did all the chores and the farm girl as the selfless one who worked her bottom off, along with her children, keeping the farm in order while the husband was absent.
Of course, the VERY UPTIGHT farm girl couldn't believe that the city husband did most of the chores and didn't "have control" of his woman. I've got a news flash for you sister: City Husband "Gets More" From Doing Chores. He WAS in control and getting EXACTLY what he wanted: Good lovin.
It's no secret that men who do more household chores "get more" in return. There is scientific proof - somewhere, that says it's true. But me and my girlfriends don't need science; we have our own proof. So boys, grab the toilet brushes and vacuums and get to work. We think it is SOOO sexy.
Good Life
It's a nasty, cold, windy, rainy day here; something we haven't had in quite some time. But it has been so unbelievably gorgeous and warm here that when days like these blow in, it's good to embrace them. Time to get some indoor chores done, ones I just couldn't bring myself to do, not while the Indian Summer was still glowing outside my door.
We are just minutes from the Blue Ridge Parkway and a plethora of hiking choices. Outside of the parkway, there are many other hiking, biking, rafting, camping, festival, museum, craft, music, restaurant (insert your passion here) choices within an hour's drive, if not closer.
Honestly, although I haven't had the opportunity to travel much in my life, I can't believe there is a better place to live. One could make a compelling argument that my opinion is skewed by where I come from. I grew up in a small military town of around 100,000 people, the commerce driven by 19 and 20 year old males. It is anchored by chain restaurants, bars, movie theatres, and a big mall. Nothing wrong with it, if that's what you like. Certainly, there are many, many towns and cities like it across the U.S. But once I tasted the originality of this eclectic town, I knew I was "home".
It's the first place I have lived where being a vegetarian not only is common (and not a side freak show at the circus), but accepted. Many of the (original) restaurants have vegy choices beyond a salad and soup with chicken stock (yes, I have had many people ask of my vegetarian lifestyle "Do you eat chicken?" "No, you bone head, chicken IS meat" - at least that what I said on the inside).
My sons go to the most amazing (to me) public elementary school. There are plenty in town with (those damn) test scores as good (or better) as this school. The draw is way beyond that. There is an palpable energy there that just can't be contrived. The student population is economically and culturally diverse. The school community is deeply involved in the welfare of each child. Most impressive is that students learn by "hands on" experience. Certainly, I would have benefited greatly from learning this way, instead of having my butt in a seat for 6 hours.
Well, it's stopped raining, no chores have been tackled and the puppy is whining (another blog) to get outside. I can file tomorrow (it's been on the list for six months anyway, what's another day?). C'mon Patch, let's go find the sun.
We are just minutes from the Blue Ridge Parkway and a plethora of hiking choices. Outside of the parkway, there are many other hiking, biking, rafting, camping, festival, museum, craft, music, restaurant (insert your passion here) choices within an hour's drive, if not closer.
Honestly, although I haven't had the opportunity to travel much in my life, I can't believe there is a better place to live. One could make a compelling argument that my opinion is skewed by where I come from. I grew up in a small military town of around 100,000 people, the commerce driven by 19 and 20 year old males. It is anchored by chain restaurants, bars, movie theatres, and a big mall. Nothing wrong with it, if that's what you like. Certainly, there are many, many towns and cities like it across the U.S. But once I tasted the originality of this eclectic town, I knew I was "home".
It's the first place I have lived where being a vegetarian not only is common (and not a side freak show at the circus), but accepted. Many of the (original) restaurants have vegy choices beyond a salad and soup with chicken stock (yes, I have had many people ask of my vegetarian lifestyle "Do you eat chicken?" "No, you bone head, chicken IS meat" - at least that what I said on the inside).
My sons go to the most amazing (to me) public elementary school. There are plenty in town with (those damn) test scores as good (or better) as this school. The draw is way beyond that. There is an palpable energy there that just can't be contrived. The student population is economically and culturally diverse. The school community is deeply involved in the welfare of each child. Most impressive is that students learn by "hands on" experience. Certainly, I would have benefited greatly from learning this way, instead of having my butt in a seat for 6 hours.
Well, it's stopped raining, no chores have been tackled and the puppy is whining (another blog) to get outside. I can file tomorrow (it's been on the list for six months anyway, what's another day?). C'mon Patch, let's go find the sun.
Pocket Treasures
In the past couple of days the temperature here has dipped into the 30's overnight, initiating the clothes exchange in the closet: shorts away, fall is here to stay. Each fall as I make the clothes transition, I discover little forgotten treasures in my various coat pockets. Messages, if you will, from my life six months ago.
I suppose that I am giving my self away, in that I'm not one who washes all my winter wears before "putting them away" for the spring. In this southern mountain town, Spring doesn't grace us with her warmth, at least consitently, until Mid May. By then, though, i just want to soak up the sun, and leave winter, dirty, in the closet.
So far my treasures have been: a pair of sunglasses (hmmm, I lose them so often that I'm sure I didn't miss them long), five dollar bill (woo hoo! I always like a little unexpected cash windfall), candy trash (this must of been from my boys, handing off their trash to me as if I am the trash can), and a receipt from The Early Girl Eatery (favorite lunch spot in town).
What pocket treasures have you discovered this fall?
I suppose that I am giving my self away, in that I'm not one who washes all my winter wears before "putting them away" for the spring. In this southern mountain town, Spring doesn't grace us with her warmth, at least consitently, until Mid May. By then, though, i just want to soak up the sun, and leave winter, dirty, in the closet.
So far my treasures have been: a pair of sunglasses (hmmm, I lose them so often that I'm sure I didn't miss them long), five dollar bill (woo hoo! I always like a little unexpected cash windfall), candy trash (this must of been from my boys, handing off their trash to me as if I am the trash can), and a receipt from The Early Girl Eatery (favorite lunch spot in town).
What pocket treasures have you discovered this fall?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
