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.