The Captain and the Diva

I've gone and moved

2008-04-17T22:30:00.002-04:00

here.

I'm not completely happy yet but it is what it is so update your links and I'll see you all there!

I'm not afraid to go BACK to prison*

2008-04-17T21:02:00.003-04:00

It has been unseasonably warm here the past couple of days. In fact, my daughter's school lifted the "no shorts until after April vacation" ban. They are being allowed to wear shorts tomorrow. The Diva announced this to me immediately upon getting into the car this afternoon and quickly followed up with "I need to shave my legs. They are disgusting."

The Diva is 12. I have discouraged her from shaving for as long as I could. I mean, let's face it ladies. We all know what a pain it really is and the newness wears off quickly. I knew I wasn't going to discourage her for one more summer though.

This evening it was time for the big lesson. I told The Postman we were ~~stealing~~ borrowing his shaving cream. I rarely use it (and ~~steal~~ borrow his when I need it) so I don't have any.

Him: Why don't you just show her how to use the electric razor?

Me: Because it doesn't work as well. It doesn't leave the skin as smooth.

Him: What does it matter? NO ONE is going to be touching her legs.

Me: How very "stepfather with a shotgun" of you.

Sometimes the smallest, silliest things remind me why I love that man so much.

The troubles of adolescence eventually all go away - it's just like a really long, bad cold. ~Dawn Ruelas

* 5 points to whoever knows who said that!

Rosie is abusive?

2008-04-10T20:04:00.004-04:00

Have you read about this yet? Have you seen all the pictures?

Admittedly, I have only seen one picture and the headline that accompanied it. It's a picture of Rosie O'Donnell with her oldest son. She has a stern look on her face and she has a hold on her son - I believe she is holding on to his t-shirt. He is back to, so his face is not visible. The headline reads "Abusive Rosie bullies son, 12."

Man oh man.

I am guessing these "journalists" are not parents. Because let me just tell you, as the mother of a 12 year old girl, if they are using these pictures as evidence of abuse, I know about 500 parents who "abuse" their children. Fortunately for them, they do not have paparazzi there to capture every.single.moment. of their lives.

My daughter makes me so angry sometimes that I need to leave the room or ask her to leave the room. She can be rude, mean, selfish, and nasty. She is 12. She has hormones raging through her body, and she has no idea that the world doesn't revolve around her. I remind her, that's one of my jobs as a parent. Does that make me a bully? No. I think it makes me a great mom. My children are learning respect, self control, and common courtesy. Sometimes I need to be stern to get their attention.

My daughter - in fits of self-absorption - has turned to walk away as I am in the middle of speaking to her. You better believe she does not get away with that. Have I ever grabbed her t-shirt as Rosie appears to be doing in that picture? I don't know for sure, but I bet I have. I may have even grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away.

For a magazine to publish those pictures with that headline accompanying it is shameful, irresponsible, and more damaging to that boy than anything his parents could do. His friends are going to see and read that. His teachers, community members, and well...the entire free world are also going to see it. One of my children's fears is that, if necessary, I will reprimand them in front of their friends, my friends, or our family. It is mortifying to them. Now that poor boy has his picture splashed on the front of a magazine so the entire world can see him being reprimanded by his mother.

Bullying? No. Not by his mother anyway - but by a big corporation that will sacrifice the well being of a child in exchange for a few bucks.

I never had a policy; I have just tried to do my very best each and every day. ~Abraham Lincoln

Another example of why I'm cool like that

2008-04-08T13:26:00.002-04:00

The Red Sox Ring ceremony is on right now.

I'm crying like a baby.

'Nuff said.

We know we're idiots, we know we're cowboys, but we also know we're world champions.

~Upon sweeping the Cardinals in the 2004 World Series
10/27/04
Johnny David Damon
Boston Red Sox
CF

It's my day!

2008-04-04T07:54:00.002-04:00

Better Days*

And you ask me what I want this year

And I try to make this kind and clear

Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings

And designer love and empty things

Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words

And sing out loud

Cause everyone is forgiven now

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I need someplace simple where we could live

And something only you can give

And thats faith and trust and peace while we're alive

And the one poor child who saved this world

And there's 10 million more who probably could

If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them

So take these words

And sing out loud

Cause everyone is forgiven now

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I wish everyone was loved tonight

And somehow stop this endless fight

Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words

And sing out loud

Cause everyone is forgiven now

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

~ Johnny Rzeznik/The Goo Goo Dolls

*Not a personal wish for better days, mine are pretty good and I am truly blessed. More of a wish for better days for all of us.

I'm off on another 365 days around the sun!

So I beat him with the clothes basket

2008-04-03T19:25:00.004-04:00

Just yesterday I read about this phenomenon, here. Karly is funny - you'll be glad you clicked on that link.

This evening, right after supper, I took the towels out of the dryer. I folded them and placed them on the washer to put away later because both bathrooms were occupied at the time. Soon after, I saw the Postman walk by with a pile of clothes.

Just a few minutes ago, I went to the laundry room to look for something else and saw ~~my neat pile of folded towels~~ a heap of what used to be perfectly folded, crisp clean towels. In his eagerness to put his clothes in the washer (ALL of them. Not sorted.), he just pushed aside the pile of towels I folded.

Me: Did you seriously just push the towels aside rather than carry them to the bathroom?

Him: They weren't ours, were they?

Me: Seriously?

And for any of you that dare say I should be happy he put his clothes in the washer, I will also beat you with the clothes basket.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. ~Erma Bombeck

1910

2008-04-03T08:21:00.002-04:00

My grandmother turns 98 years old today.

98 freakin' years old.

She was alive for WWI. How crazy is that?

One of my grandmother's favorite stories was about where she was when she found out President Kennedy had been shot. She was on an escalator (although I am not sure where), and was so stunned that she forgot to step off and got her heel caught.

My grandparents retired fairly young, and moved from New Jersey to Virginia. They had an active retirement filled with much traveling, golf (my grandfather) and tennis (my grandmother). I spent two weeks with them every summer and remember how grown up I felt being allowed to hang out at the pool at the country club while they played their respective sports. Even better was getting dressed up to go to dinner at "the club".

We celebrated her 85th birthday at the country club, but by then she had all but given up tennis. They were still members, but mostly it was just a place for them to be social and visit with friends rather than be physically active.

I would like to say that my grandmother has her wits about her, but the truth is, she does not. She would not know me if I walked in today - in fact, she might ask one of her nurses who the new girl is. She is comfortable and cared for. She gets her hair done and her nails done. Hopefully, in some part of her brain, she has memories of her travels, her cocktail parties, and her friends and family.

Happy birthday, Gram!

Soon I will be an old, white-haired lady, into whose lap someone places a baby, saying, "Smile, Grandma!" - I, who myself so recently was photographed on my grandmother's lap. ~Liv Ullmann

Ms. Fix-It

2008-04-01T11:14:00.003-04:00

The other night we had a mishap with the space heater.

Because the Postman loves me so much, he bought me a space heater to put by my desk because I am always ~~bitching about being~~ cold.

When I turned it off the other night, I apparently didn't turn it off completely. (I think it malfunctioned and now I'm scared of it.) After a few minutes the smoke alarm near my desk started going off. We quickly figured out the problem and as the Postman went to work on turning the heater completely off, I yanked the smoke alarm off the wall since the kids were already in bed and there was no imminent danger. Being the diligent human/parent that I am, I put the alarm on the bureau in our bedroom. Just until the next morning.

Except that the next morning? I was too lazy to pull out the step stool and climb up there to put the smoke alarm back on the wall.

So when I heard it beeping, I obligingly ~~got the step stool~~ pulled the battery out of it.

When it continued beeping (apparently some sort of signal that it is not currently hard wired since I'm holding it in my hand), I shoved it under a pile of clothes in the Postman's closet.

At least the ones in the kitchen and near the kid's bedrooms are on the wall and working. I think. I would have to get the step stool to check.

What is right is often forgotten by what is convenient. ~Bodie Thoene, Warsaw Requiem

I've been waiting for this

2008-03-31T19:29:00.004-04:00

A co-worker had us laughing with a story about her 4 year old asking was E.D. is. You know...from the Viagra commercials? At the time, I had wondered why my kids had never asked.

It finally happened. And I was ready.

The Captain, while watching tv yesterday: "Mom, what is an erection?"

Me: "Postman! Come in here, the Captain has a question for you!"

I am nothing if not prepared.

Sex is God's joke on human beings. ~Bette Davis

Catching up

2008-03-29T20:18:00.003-04:00

Well, as I think I mentioned in my last brief post, the Postman's father is home. Too much happened to try to recap it all here but here are some high (or low) lights:

- Spent 4 days in ICU
- Spent 6 days in Respiratory SCU
- Spent 2 days in a regular room on the respiratory floor
- Doctors don't know what was wrong. They gave him a broad spectrum antibiotic that seemed to be working. He felt better and the congestion in his lungs was breaking up.
- Right before they moved him to the regular room they said although he FELT better, he wasn't GETTING better. Um, what? Based on CT scan comparisons and bronchoscopy comparisons, there was no actual change in his lungs.
- 2 days later they sent him home - not knowing what was causing the breathing difficulty (beyond his already known COPD), and after stating he wasn't getting better.

So that's kind of where we are. He's home, and although he feels better, he has to follow up with a respiratory specialist closer to home to try and track this and at least keep him status quo if not improved.

On a happier note, the Diva competed in a Dressage competition today and placed 2nd in one category and 3rd in the other category she was in. This was the first time she competed in Dressage, so it was quite an accomplishment!

I am looking forward to a quieter week - no driving 90 miles to the hospital. I can catch up on my work, my housework, and time with the Postman and the kids.

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend!

The essential joy of being with horses is that it brings us in contact with the rare elements of grace, beauty, spirit, and fire. ~Sharon Ralls Lemon

Hi! Here I am!

2008-03-28T21:53:00.003-04:00

It's been a long couple of weeks.

P-Man's dad just came home from the hospital yesterday afternoon. Everyone is exhausted, but relieved he is home.

More on everything later this weekend, hopefully!

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. ~Jane Austen

These five words in my head...

2008-03-19T19:48:00.003-04:00

Scream, are we having fun yet?*

I am exhausted. Worked in the office and drove home in bad weather.

No real update on P-Man's father. They started a broad spectrum antibiotic yesterday and he seems to be doing better today so that is really good news. They may move his care down a level in the next 24 hours. He would be out of ICU, in a private room, with his own dedicated nurse still. One thing that bothers me is that they still don't know what they are treating. The antibiotic seems like it might be working - but working on WHAT? How do they know they treated it completely? How do they know for sure it's gone? How do they know he won't relapse? I hate the unknown. As thankful as I am that he's feeling better, I am still asking for answers.

This has all just really wiped me out. I had a mini meltdown last night, complete with tears, mostly because I am tired. I am trying so hard to keep everything flowing smoothly - keeping our house running as normally as possible, doing my part to take care of P-Man's mom, and keeping things on an even keel for him.

I am counting down the minutes to 9:00 so I can tuck the kids in and then head to bed myself!

Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

*Thanks, Nickelback!

I am SO not as cool as I thought as was

2008-03-18T12:38:00.003-04:00

How is it that the Postman's mother - and even worse, my mother! - are hipper than I am?

My daughter and I watch Dancing With the Stars. I know it's a bit on the cheesy side, so I refer to it as one of my guilty pleasures. On the other hand, it is nice to be interested in the same show as my daughter. I can only take so much of Hannah Montana before my brain seizes up. So this dancing show we watch together. My mother, and P's mom watch it also.

Yesterday, during our 90 mile (one way) car ride, P's mom and I were talking about the show as the new season started last night. She was the first to tell me that Julianne, an adorable dancer on the show (and my favorite!), has released a song with a whole album to follow soon. How did I not know this? I proclaim to be a huge music lover, yet this little tidbit escaped me.

To make matters worse...I spoke with my mother last night and she gave me the same information. Um, what? My mother doesn't even listen to music all that much. How on earth did she know this before I did? I am such a loser.

We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. ~Japanese Proverb

And I just really can't think of a title right now...

2008-03-18T09:22:00.002-04:00

I missed St. Paddy's Day. It really blew right by and I didn't even realize it until last night when my son told me the Leprechauns were due to visit. Yeah...a few years back, I had the BRILLIANT idea to have the Leprechauns bring them some token trinkets. We're not even Irish, so I don't know what the hell I was thinking and now I have to come up with some trinkets at 9:00PM. Luckily I had a few things stashed away for the Easter Baskets, so I used those.

The reason I am so scatter brained is because the Postman's father is in the hospital again. After being home for roughly 48 hours, we went screaming back on Sunday morning because his oxygen had dropped so low. The decision was made to transfer him to a much bigger (and thus better?) medical facility about 90 miles from here. He went Sunday night by ambulance (sirens and everything!). Each of us kids is now taking a day and driving his mom to that facility. My day was yesterday, so in all the hubbub I just forgot about the green holiday.

It's very frustrating, this medical situation. So far they can tell us what is NOT wrong. 90% chance it is not cancer. It is not pneumonia. It is not a blood clot. Dude can't breathe though. Literally...sitting up to eat dropped his oxygen so much and he got so exhausted from just the effort of bringing the food to his mouth and chewing that they took away the solids and started making him milkshakes with protein powder in them for extra calories. Was that a run on sentence right there? He is in ICU, so he is obviously being monitored very well. That is reassuring for the Postman's mom...and the rest of us, too.

Hopefully we'll get some more news soon.

Caring is the essence of nursing. ~Jean Watson

Saving on electricity

2008-03-15T20:59:00.002-04:00

At dinner tonight, the Postman noticed the Diva's bedroom light was on. We are trying to instill a "turn off all things unnecessary" rule in our house but it is definitely an uphill battle for us. The Diva will head to her bathroom from the living room...and turn on the kitchen light as she passes through...then the hallway light...then her bedroom light...and finally the actual bathroom light. Yes, she will turn on all those lights just to pass through those areas.

So when he noticed the light on, he asked her to get up and go turn it off. I asked if her brother's light was also on (since she was already up), and at that my son's friend, Mas, says "No, I turned it off when we left his room. At our house, we turn off all the lights when we leave a room."

Me: "How on earth did your mom and step-dad accomplish that?"

Mas: "Hmmm...well, they beat us."

Postman: "Sweet. We can do that."

I expect our electric bill will be SIGNIFICANTLY lower next month.

Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light? ~Maurice Freehill

The one where I had a whole afternoon to myself!

2008-03-15T15:34:00.002-04:00

The Diva has been at the barn since 8:30 this morning, the Postman worked, and the Captain has a friend over.

Do you all know what this means? Barring the occasional chore (like switching the laundry over, or stirring the meatball sauce), I have been doing nothing but surfing blogs this afternoon. ALL afternoon.

And I found some cool stuff! Like that nifty Tax Relief Swap button over there at the top right of the page. I think I linked there from here but I am not sure. Like I said, ALL afternoon. Many links. Many blogs.

Anyway, give it a click! It seems like a lot of fun. More than the anticipation of receiving something in the mail, I LOVE the idea of coming up with a little care package to send off!

Happy Saturday!

Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. ~Bill Watterson

My biggest problem today

2008-03-14T20:52:00.002-04:00

Yeah. So.

I got my hair cut. Like 3 inches or so...not a huge difference. But still. This morning my hair was below my shoulders, and now it is swinging just above my shoulders. Not drastic, but noticeable, dammit!

Unless you live in my house.

I bet if dinner didn't make it on the table they'd notice THAT.

Or if laundry didn't get done for 3 or 4 days - THAT would be noticed.

Or if I didn't have cash in my wallet. THAT would definitely be noticed.

Jackasses. All of 'em.

How can I control my life when I can't control my hair? ~Author Unknown

School rules

2008-03-11T08:17:00.002-04:00

So the Diva cam home from school early yesterday with a headache and a tummy ache. She actually gets quite a few headaches for a 12 year old and we're working on figuring out why.

Our school has a rule prohibiting drugs of any kind. That includes Ty*lenol and Ibuprofen. If a child needs Ty*lenol or Ibuprofen or even their inhaler, they must call their parents/guardian to come administer the stuff. I found out there's a way around this, which is nice for children with chronic conditions or those that must take medication during the day (Rit*alin, for example). Their parent/guardian fills out paperwork describing the specifics of the medication, purpose, dose, etc. The school nurse then faxes this info to the child's doctor and IF THE DOCTOR SAYS IT'S OK, the nurse keeps the medication in her office and the child goes to her to have their medication administered. So, if I want my daughter to have an Ibuprofen, without me delivering it to her, that's the route I have to take.

Seems like a bit much for an Ad*vil, no?

Usually the Diva calls me and I dutifully deliver the Ibuprofen to her. She knows about trying to self soothe before leaping for the drugs...hydrate, rest (if possible), quiet (if possible). At school it can be hard to accomplish this so more often than not, I will bring her an ibuprofen.

As I may have mentioned, I work from home for a hospital that's about 2 hours away. I used to drive there two to three times per month, but that has substantially decreased lately. Because I could not bring her medication if she needed it on those days, I gave her a tiny pill bottle to put in her book bag with TWO otc strength ibuprofen in it, just in case she needed it. When I did this, I knew I was making a mistake. No, not that I was giving it to her...but that the pill bottle I chose to use was a little Ty*lenol bottle. With ibuprofen in it. In my defense, I figured it was better than an apothecary style medicine bottle with NO label on it. Doesn't matter now...turns out the Diva would have gotten in trouble either way.

When she called me to tell me she didn't feel well, she was near tears. It turns out, for whatever reason, instead of calling me yesterday she decided to take one of the ibuprofen that she had in her bag. When she didn't feel better after an hour, she decided she wanted to come home. She went to the office to call me and they instructed her that she needed to see the nurse before she could call home. While with the nurse, it came up that the Diva had already taken an ibuprofen. It seems that having contraband ibuprofen is on the same level as having a dime bag. The nurse went up one side of my daughter and down the other, and there was even mention of the fact that my daughter could be suspended for this infraction.

WTF???

I haven't yet decided how I'm going to handle this. I understand rules are rules. But seriously, does anyone else think the nurse went just a little too far with this? I really would appreciate feedback on this one folks, because I am stuck somewhere between understanding policy and indignation at how my child was treated.

I don't know. I never smoked AstroTurf. ~Tug McGraw, when asked if he preferred grass or artificial turf, 1974

Ike Turner shops at Sam's and other stories

2008-03-09T20:53:00.002-04:00

The other day was our bi-weekly Sam's excursion. While we were waiting our turn to check out, we (and everyone else within 3 lanes of us) witnessed the guy in the next lane over from us picking up a bag of Ghiradelli chocolate chips from his cart and yelling at his wife "What the hell is this?!". She mumbled something that apparently was halfway acceptable and he threw the bag on the conveyor belt. He kept muttering, though, and his wife and two children (yeah...not bad enough he treats her like that at all...but in front of their children and in public. He's a prize.)walked away toward the exit to wait for him there I guess. He then asked the cashier how much they were, and although I didn't hear her answer he says to her "Jesus Christ - I'm paying that much for her ass to get even fatter?". I told the Postman if he EVER talked to me or about me that way I'd be gone so quick he wouldn't even see my dust. Jackass. Why, why, why do people stay in relationships like that? It's sad.

Shifting gears: The Diva had an orthodontist appointment this past week. She's already had one round of orthodontia, now we're looking at about 2 more years. On the window sill of the room we were in, there were several models of braces that are available. The technician picked up the invisible ones (the kind worn on the inside of the teeth) and said "Miley Cyrus wears these - they are the Cadillac of braces." The Postman said I should have asked her to show us the Yugo model next since that was most likely the one we would go with. He always comes up with the good responses.

Shift again: The Captain has developed a new talent. He can imitate people. Well, cartoon characters and one human. But still...impressive for 9! The best part is he does them really, really well. It's kind of cool.

Shift: One of the fundrasiers for the Diva's class trip was tonight - a spaghetti supper. I've been dreading it all week. An evening with the Stepfords. I even dreamed about it last night. I dreamed all the Stepfords showed up in pink ballgowns and tiaras. I was pissed off at first that I didn't know that was expected...then I realized it was fine because the patrons would easily be able to tell the normal people from the Stepfords - as though it wasn't already painfully obvious. Thank goddess my friend J and her daughter were on set up duty with me and the Diva! We kept each other grounded.

Lastly, and most importantly: The Postman's father is back in the hospital. They are doing a lung biopsy tomorrow. One doctor thinks, based on a CT scan, that it is lung cancer. The other doctor involved thinks it is just an infection or bacteria. In addition to the biopsy, they are going to scrape some mucus out (I know - gross!) to culture so they can definitively say it is one or the other. Please do whatever you do (pray, good thoughts, positive energy sent our way, etc.) tomorrow for us. I, and our family, would appreciate it!

Bad is never good until worse happens. ~Danish Proverb

From away

2008-03-02T18:44:00.006-05:00

Mainers have this quirky little way about them. They distrust nearly everyone, especially if you are From Away.

From Away means exactly what you think it would. You are not from here. Being that Maine's motto is Vacationland, we have more than a few visitors and tourists roaming our beaches and snow mobile trails each year. From Away is used to describe them.

However, it has also come to be a label for anyone who moves into a town from anywhere else. I, for example, have lived in Maine since I was two years old. Although I did move away for about three months in my early twenties, the rest of my life has been here. I have lived in a few towns on the southern coast, and kept the same circle of friends and the same job regardless of the town I lived in. Perhaps that's why being From Away never seemed to pertain to me. Oh, I had heard about it, and read about it, and maybe even thought it myself as I weaved around twenty out of state plates on my way to work each morning, but I never really experienced it first hand.

This last move I made was the farthest I have ever moved, and the first move I made with both kids in school. We moved form the southern coast to the central farm part of the state. In our former community, I was semi-involved in their schools - volunteering for field trips and providing snacks for parties. I was able to attend most special events, but working a 40 hour office job didn't allow for much more than that. I wanted to do more but couldn't.

With this move came the opportunity to work from home and a decrease in hours. I am able to contribute more in my children's classrooms, and I am able to help out with various fund raising projects that I couldn't before.

As I have written about here, I am part of a committee responsible for planning a 6th grade end of year trip. Our group has gone from an original 11 members, to a die hard 4 or 5. I am not surprised at all with the diminishing numbers, that tends to happen in every group. What I am surprised about is how the 4 other members (none of whom are From Away), make it perfectly clear that I am not an accepted part of the group. Regardless of how many ideas I bring to the table, how much I say "I'll do it", or how much I help. I've come to realize though, that this happens in almost every group setting. Whoever doesn't fall into what is accepted as the norm of the group is marked as an outsider.

Mainers have just labeled it - but not correctly. I mean, really, how many people are raised and live in the same town their whole lives? So nearly everyone is potentially From Away. But it's easier and more acceptable to say that a person isn't trusted because they are From Away (we don't know them yet) rather than because they are loud, or fat, or gay, or single, or another race. So groups such as the committee I'm involved with struggle along with only a handful of members because for a lot of people, it is not worth the hassle of remaining just to be made to feel inferior.

It took being "From Away" for me to realize that it has nothing to do with that at all.

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill

Quiet time

2008-02-29T20:30:00.002-05:00

The Postman's dad is in the hospital. He has COPD, and a normal cold that you or I can easily fight off can wreak havoc with his breathing. He's on some heavy duty IV antibiotics and should be home Sunday or Monday.

I went to visit him today, and we had a very nice time together. I honestly don't think I've ever sat and talked just with him for any significant amount of time. I stayed for about an hour and we talked about different jobs he's had, some memories of the Postman when he was small, he pointed out different things we could see from his hospital room window. He told me about his doctor, and why he's considering changing primary care physicians. Small talk, really...but at the same time it was nice. There were no awkward silences or weird pauses, and unfortunate as it was that it had to take place in a hospital room, I am glad I had the opportunity to have that time with him.

We can do no great things, only small things with great love. ~Mother Teresa

Quickie

2008-02-28T07:36:00.001-05:00

No, not that kind.

School vacation, snow days, and a child not feeling well have not left me enough time to keep up here - obviously!

Hopefully I'll be back soon!

For disappearing acts, it's hard to beat what happens to the eight hours supposedly left after eight of sleep and eight of work. ~Doug Larson

Shopaholic

2008-02-20T19:51:00.002-05:00

No, not me. The Postman.

I used to think I liked to shop. It turns out I don't.

The Postman is that unusual male who really likes shopping. He likes to walk through stores, just browsing and looking at the merchandise. When we go to Sam's Club or the grocery store together, he strolls up and down every single aisle. Me, I like to be in and out as quickly as possible. Get what I need and get out. So this has been somewhat of a compromise in our relationship. I try to only grocery shop during the week when he is at work, and he's caught on to that little trick. However, Sam's is about 1/2 an hour away and we usually go every other week after we've dropped the kids off with their dad. So in exchange for going to the grocery store without him, I endure aisle after aisle at Sam's. That's the compromise.

He also researches every major purchase he makes. In Consumer Reports. Online. In the stores. Talking with friends/coworkers/his brother. Sometimes (and he knows this), it makes me want to take away all his access to the outside world and scream "Just buy it already!"

This is how I spent a good part of last weekend:

Saturday: Bi-weekly trip to Sam's. Today is the day. He's going to buy the TV of his dreams. Except they don't have one in stock. So we walk around and around and around the TVs. As if one will magically appear. Finally, he's done looking/sulking, and we go on with our shopping (actual items we NEED). When our cart is full, we head toward the check out. Except...what's this?...He's headed BACK over to the TVs. What the...? And around he goes. Looking at all of them again. At this point I tell him I am going to go stand on line at the registers. He starts sulking more and follows me over. I tell him he is welcome to keep looking while I check out, but I really don't think it is going to appear. Now he starts POUTING, and says he was looking at other ones instead. AFTER he has researched THIS ONE incessantly and has decided it is the best one for us. Please tell me we are not going to start the process all over again just because they don't have the tv today. They WILL have them, he just needs patience. It's already been a several month process for god's sake, what's another week or two?

When we get home, he gets online. I wasn't sure what he was doing until he asked if I would go with him to the OTHER Sam's Club (about an hour away) on Sunday - because they have them in stock! I said I would but he'd have to feed me first.

Sunday: We get up and hit the road fairly early. After a stop for breakfast, we arrive at Sam's. He spots the tv he wants immediately, we load it on to a cart, and head for the checkout. This is a new record! I am more than thrilled! Until we get to the checkout. P-Man whips out the debit card and runs it through the machine. It rejects. There is a daily limit on how much you can use your debit card for. Duh. Although we knew that, it didn't even occur to us. But that's ok he says to the clerk, just run it through as a credit card. Except that Sam's doesn't take Visa credit cards. Um, what?

I seriously thought he might cry now. So we head out to the car to brainstorm. I count my cash, he counts his cash. I know what our limits are on ATM withdrawals, and I'm adding it all together trying to avoid what I know his suggestion will be. It's not even close. There's no way to scrape it all together. We drive home ( an hour) to get the checkbook and drive back to Sam's (another freakin' hour - because we need to have this tv NOW!). So much for getting up early so as to not waste the whole day on this little adventure. Heh.

But he is so happy with his new tv. I can't tell you how many times I've heard "Honey, c'mere...look at this!" (Although between you and me...I don't really see all that much of a difference....). And I realize that really, in the whole scheme of things, if that's all I have to complain about, then I'm a very lucky woman.

I can't complain, but sometimes I still do. ~Joe Walsh

Can you hear me now?

2008-02-14T11:57:00.002-05:00

The Postman helped me set up my new Bluetooth headset for my cell phone yesterday. (Let's be clear - I could have done it...the box came from UPS and I set it on my desk because I had too much going on and just didn't feel like opneing it and dealing with ir right then. But, there was a NEW ELECTRONIC TOY in the house and he couldn't help himself....)

Here is our conversation:

Him: I got it all set up. Let's try it out. (He calls my cell as I tuck the thing behind my ear)
Him: Can you hear me? (after I answer the phone but don't say anything)
Me: You're standing two feet away from me.
Him: (HUGE eyeroll as he walks through the house away from me) Can you hear me now? (he asks from our bathroom.)
Me: Yup. Thanks. (click the phone off)

Um, seriously? Why did I get the eyeroll? I'm not the moron that called from two feet away.

So, ironically....Happy Valentine's Day!

When love is not madness, it is not love. ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Gratefulness

2008-02-12T08:27:00.000-05:00

I've been kinda in my mid-winter funk lately so I decided to write a few things I'm thankful for to remind myself that it ain't all so bad. Here we go!

1. My kids
2. The Postman
3. Hot coffee
4. Spaceheaters
5. Tax returns
6. Fleece socks and blankets (anyone see a trend? It's cold here today!)
7. Vaseline Intensive Care Cocoa Butter Oil Gel
8. Yummy smelling shower gel
9. Washers and dryers
10. Crockpots
11. My friend Jen who "prettifies" me
12. Heart Shaped frosted sugar cookies
13. The library
14. Allergy medication
15. Someone that plows our driveway for us
16. Being able to work from home
17. iPods
18. Freedom
19. Sunny days (even if they are COLD!)
20. Swiffer vacuums

Gratitude is the memory of the heart. ~Jean Baptiste Massieu, translated from French

Pieces of me

2008-02-09T12:46:00.000-05:00

Marie Tasy, executive director of New Jersey Right to Life, said she and a coalition of other opponents would continue to fight the legislation. "This is not a compassionate choice at all."

Good afternoon,

I ran across this quote on nj.com this morning while I was searching for articles regarding opening records for New Jersey adoptees.

I am writing to ask for some clarification. What exactly is not "a compassionate choice at all"? The choice of allowing adoptees the right to know their heritage and medical history? I find it amazing that an organization, such as yours, can make broad based conclusions such as that. Your mission, dedication to protecting and fostering human life, apparently ends with birth.

I am a 38 year old woman who was adopted in New Jersey in 1969. Over the last 38 years of my life, I have been fortunate enough to be relatively healthy. I get migraines, I have difficult monthly cycles, I am very near sighted. I also have a thyroid condition. All of these issues are easily managed with the help of physicians, medications, and contact lenses. They are not life threatening nor earth shattering illnesses.

In 1998, my son was born with a thyroid condition more serious than my own. His father and I spent several anxious weeks with specialists, watching our tiny newborn son go through blood draw after blood draw to figure out what was wrong with him. I was urged time and time again to find out my medical history - the doctors were sure with my history of thyroid illness that something genetic was occurring. Eventually, his condition was diagnosed, even without a medical history. We were lucky.

What right do you have to tell me I can't know my medical history? What right do you have to tell my children they can't know their medical history? Organizations struggled so hard to bring me into this world (RIGHT TO LIFE! ABORTION IS MURDER!), handed me an "amended" birth certificate, and now say "Sorry, you can't know any of your history".

The bill presented in the New Jersey legislature has conditions that allow for birth mothers to retain their anonymity. Yes, they will have to provide a medical history in lieu of an original birth certificate being issued. Is that really so much to ask? I for one, (along with many others, I am sure), would be happy just to have that piece of history. I would like to know what I might face, medically, in the future. I also want my children to have access to that same information.

I know you are worried about the birth mothers who bore children out of violent circumstances then gave them up for adoption. They want to forget that period of their life. I would be interested to know what the exact percentage is of children adopted under those conditions. Because, truly, being born in 1969...after the 1968 Summer of Love, Woodstock, and thousands of young men being shipped off to Vietnam, I doubt I, or too many others, were born of violent circumstance. Maybe those birth mothers regret that time in their life, but that does not mean I should be denied my rights now.

I have a right to life. Just no rights beyond that.

Sincerely,

NJ adoptee, 1969

My friends rock

2008-02-07T10:39:00.000-05:00

I am not good at keeping in touch. I want to be better at it, and I have no excuse for not being better at it but the fact still remains that I'm not good at communicationg with friends. Yet, when I need them , for whatever reason, there they are. This is the text that went on the other day with a friend I haven't spoken to in probably 10 months.

Me: Hey...did we ever eat @ Kelly's diner in Somerville with Tamara? Weird ? I know - humor me.

Her: Um...likely, yes. I think you mean Tamarleigh.

Yeah...so I got her friends name wrong, but the point is that at 11:00PM when I absolutely had to know if we ate at that particular diner (that's the OCD shining through), she answered like we had just gotten off the phone a few minutes before. It's nice to have friends like that...friends that understand and accept.

You can always tell a real friend: when you've made a fool of yourself he doesn't feel you've done a permanent job. ~Laurence J. Peter

Frosty Eyes

2008-01-24T19:38:00.000-05:00

Hockey has begun again.

The Captain came off the ice tonight and his eyes were damp - probably from watering because it was so cold. His eyelashes had frost on them. As his eyes watered, it froze on his eyelashes.

Someday, when he's choosing my nursing home, I hope he looks back on his youth and remembers that his mom (who abhors the cold), stood out there every Tuesday and Thursday night supporting him. In the cold. It better be a really nice nursing home.

Don't go through life without goals. ~Hockey Saying

Momma's Boy

2008-01-17T19:52:00.000-05:00

In the car on the way to the barn today, the Diva was talking about horses (as usual!). She was telling us how a colt will just follow it's mother around for several months after it's birth. She said if you need to move the colt and the mother, the colt will never need a lead rope, it will just follow wherever you take it's mom. (I don't know if this is true since she knows WAY more about the horse world than I do - but it sounds reasonable and she usually knows what she is talking about when it comes to horses).

It was quiet for a minute, then the Captain said (in all seriousness) "That's just like me!" It was quite the funny moment coming from my mini-me.

You are my sonshine. ~Author Unknown

Deja Vu

2008-01-14T09:56:00.001-05:00

Now the Diva has whatever the Captain had a few days ago.

The only difference is there were no dogs in her line of fire.

Keep your fingers crossed that it stops with her and doesn't continue on through the rest of the household.

It is sometimes as dangerous to be run into by a microbe as by a trolley car. ~J.J. Walsh

Pre-snow

2008-01-13T12:38:00.000-05:00

To the mother in Walmart:

When there is a snow storm coming (again) and there are 10,000 people in Walmart because we might be snowed in for three months, it is probably not a good idea to let your toddler steer your shopping cart through the store.

If you do, however, insist on letting her do this, do NOT throw dirty glances at everyone YOUR toddler runs into with the cart.

Thank you.

Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit

2008-01-10T00:58:00.000-05:00

I don't know who to attribute that to, but it's the punchline to this joke: How do rednecks start a fairy tale? I've always wanted to use it but never had an opportunity. Until now. Because really - y'all ain't gonna believe this shit.

Disclaimer: This is a story about vomit. It is detailed. If it will make you queasy or light-headed, PLEASE NAVIGATE AWAY FROM THIS PAGE. NOW.

I do not handle vomit well at all. My children's father is some sort of vomit super hero...I have actually witnessed him cupping his hands below our daughter's chin when she has announced she is going to be sick. As if he is going to catch whatever might come up. The mere thought of that makes ME queasy. I would be one of those people who would have navigated away when I read the disclaimer.

As stated in my earlier post, my son stayed home from school today because of an upset tummy. That boy can will himself not to throw up. Honestly, he can. The first time that child threw up was right before Christmas last year. He was 8 years old before that ever happened to him and it affected him in a deep negative manner.

His first wave of nausea came around 7:30 this morning during his shower. He called for me and I went in to the bathroom where I found him kneeling in front of the toilet, heaving. Just the motion - no sound, no vomit. He didn't want to go to school because he was afraid he might be sick there, so he hung out on the couch all day. Occasionally he would go in to the bathroom and call for me and we would repeat the scenario from this morning. He took sips of ginger ale and had a bit of chicken soup for lunch.

Dinner rolled around. We had a yummy mozzarella chicken so I cooked plain noodles to put it over, also knowing he might want something to eat. He said he was hungry so he did indeed have just a small plate of plain noodles. About 2 hours later he wanted some more plain noodles so I got him a small bowl. Then he wanted a fruit ice. No problem...and I'm happy that he wants to try to eat something.

Off and on through the day I would ask him how he was feeling and he would say he wasn't feeling too bad but he wasn't feeling great either. He carried a bucket with him everywhere...every trip to the bathroom (just in case he needed it on the way)...it was next to him on the couch, he put it on a chair next to him when he played on the computer for a bit. You get the idea.

Bedtime rolled around. He pulled his trashcan to the edge of his bed and placed the bucket on it so it was RIGHT THERE NEXT TO HIM.

P-Man and I watched some tv then started to get ready for bed ourselves. He headed outside with the dogs, I fed the cats and looked in on the kids who were both sound asleep. I went in to my bathroom and was in the process of washing my face when I heard the first whimper. This was no less than 2 minutes after I verified that both kids were fast asleep. I stopped what I was doing for a moment and said "Captain?" No reply. Thinking the dogs must have made the sound when they came into the bedroom, I ignored it. Then I heard it again and it was the unmistakable sound of my child whimpering. I open the door to see...vomit. Lots of it. On my bedroom floor. It took me a few seconds to realize it was still coming. With no god damned bucket in sight. In my panic to get him to the toilet, the next wave leaves a trail through my bathroom, even in the heating vent. By the time he gets to the toilet, he's done. Fantastic. The kid can actually will himself not to throw up for 14 hours while he is awake. Apparently he has not mastered controlling his will while he is asleep.

I turn on the shower and get him in there since it was, literally, everywhere. As he was in the shower, P-Man and I started the clean up process. (Thank god for him. I can honestly say I do not expect him to help with this part of the step-parenting. I mean, really...cleaning up vomit?)

I think we've done a pretty good job. I don't smell it in the bedroom or the bathroom. My son is again camped out on the couch (with the bucket once again next to him.), and I tell P-Man that I am going to stay out here with him until he's ready for bed. So I bring a quilt out and start to settle in when I smell P-Man's cologne. I assume it means he is trying to cover up a bad smell so I go back into our bedroom to ask him and he says he smelled something when he walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom.

We look all over and don't see anything that might be causing the smell. We've obviously missed something, but neither of us see where.

Until I see this:

That is our Hairless Chinese Crested. Complete with jammies...'cause, well, he's hairless. Except for those few scraggly tufts on his head and ears...and the end of his tail. He looks a bit like a troll doll but that's a post from another time.

Anyway, I see Harry (original, no?) perched proudly on our bed. Except that his hair is...well...sort of wet-ish and slicked down on the side of his head.

"Why is Harry's head all wet?" I ask P-Man. I already know, without a doubt, why.

"What do you mean, his head is wet?" P-Man responds.

In my head: "Oh no, oh no, no no no, oh please NO."

I bend forward to take a sniff as does P-Man. Oh. My. God. The Captain threw up on the dog.

So here we are at 2:00 AM. Clean bedroom, clean bathroom, clean dog. The captain fell asleep quickly on the couch and since I don't want to just leave him out here in the living room, here I am as well.

The fun never ends. But I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive. ~Gilda Radner (even when they've been thrown up on)

Is this a problem?

2008-01-09T14:28:00.000-05:00

My son is home with me today - an upset tummy kept him home.

He was settled on the couch playing with some matchbox cars when he said "Mom, do you know what all the rescue vehicles are doing?" When I replied that I did not, he informed me that they were boxing in all the photographers so Britney could get away.

I swear I don't know how he knows about all of that. Are the 3rd graders passing around copies of The Star and The National Enquirer at recess?

We can't quite decide if the world is growing worse, or if the reporters are just working harder. ~The Houghton Line, November 1965

Are these really necessary?

2008-01-06T19:30:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's because she's becoming more aware of her surroundings, or maybe it's because she is now 12 and thus allowed to sit in the front seat of the car. Probably a combination of the two. Anyway, the other day, The Diva spotted these on a big ol' 4x4 truck in front of us.

Her: "What is that hanging off that truck?"

Me: (having already spotted them and begun praying she doesn't ask what they are) *blink* *blink* "What?"

Her: "That thing hanging off the back of that guys truck. That! That hangy thingy!"

Me: "Look! The lights are still on the tree in the town square!"

Her: "Mom."

Me: "Okay, okay...it is supposed to be a scrotum. Do you know what a scrotum is?"

Her: "Yes. Why does he need that on his truck?"

Me: "Good question."

So now I ask...are these really necessary? Maybe I should design some sort of breast that I can put over the headlights on my little SUV.

I'm no prude, but I guess I have a problem with having to explain to my 12 year old why someone would want that hanging off the back of their vehicle. I tried to not use words like Redneck, I really did.

Don't worry, it only seems kinky the first time. ~Author Unknown

Balance

2008-01-02T20:09:00.001-05:00

I have been reading on quite a few blogs about the concept of choosing a word to focus on through the year.

Although I am a couple of days late posting this, I have decided on my word.

BALANCE

I want to achieve balance in many areas of my life, but mostly between work and home life.

Working from home actually makes this hard. The line between work and home is quite often blurred. Sometimes too much time is spent working just because "I can". It is not the same as leaving the office at 4:00PM with your work left on your desk to welcome you the next morning. My work is all right here, accessible at any time - day or night.

Internal balance as well. Working to become more centered and balanced is important to me.

So, BALANCE it is.

Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right. ~Oprah Winfrey

Dude. Seriously.

2008-01-02T19:41:00.000-05:00

Um, yeah. It snowed again yesterday. Like 15 inches or some such shit. (For those of you who have read 100 things about Tekfan...I wasn't kidding when I said I do not enjoy snow after Christmas).

The kiddos didn't have school today...and after we dug out and the weather cleared, we took a trip to WalMart for another tote to store Christmas decorations in. (Side note: Just how did we collect that much more Christmas stuff this year that warrants another whole tote - that is almost fully filled?!). Anyway, at intersections, I couldn't see past the ginormous snow banks to look for oncoming traffic. Much more of this and we will be tunneling to the grocery store until March or April.

So now all the decorations are packed away and the long winter months loom ahead. I need to make me some cash so I can spend weekends here:

That's actually P-Town, on the cape - which is no better weather wise than where I am, but it will have to do as an example of what warm weather looks like. And where I'd like to be.

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours." ~Robert Byrne

ESP

2007-12-31T21:05:00.001-05:00

My kids came home today after spending the weekend with their dad.

My son didn't look like himself to me. He insisted he felt all right, but I insisted on taking his temperature anyway. While it was only low grade, he did indeed have a fever. My daughter kept asking how I knew, and I just said I could tell by looking at him. Only another parent can understand this, I'm sure.

I prefer to think I am gifted in the area of ESP.

Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole one. ~E.B. White

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A day in the life

2007-12-30T21:52:00.000-05:00

There was a pile of leftover Christmas gifts on a small table. I decided to take care of them - throw out the boxes and trash, and put away whatever items were left, including a thermometer that needed it's batteries activated.

I took the thermometer in to the kitchen and set it on the counter. I went to the bottom "junk" drawer to find the little tiny screwdrivers. Asked P-Man if he knew where they were. While he was thinking, I decided to empty the junk drawer to see if I could find them. Once the drawer was empty I decided to throw away the "real" junk and organize the rest of it. Then I had to do the other drawers - which included the silverware and cooking utensil drawers - which entailed filling and running the dishwasher.

Then P-Man located the screwdrivers (in a completely different cabinet) and we proceeded to activate and hang the thermometer.

2 hours after starting the process.

And I wonder why I don't get more accomplished every day.

Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned. ~Peter Marshall

A bunch of hot air

2007-12-27T22:03:00.000-05:00

My children have never used, or apparently even seen one of these:

P-Man has been talking about hot air popped corn for some time. He is not a fan of microwave popcorn, and corn popped on the stove, in oil, just didn't hold the same appeal for him as the air popped. So we gave him one of these for Christmas.

Tonight he used it, and the kids reacted in the same way I imagine they'd act if a space ship landed on the front lawn. They were jostling each other for viewing position and laughing hysterically when the popping started.

It amused me, horrified me, and made me feel really old all at the same time.

There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff

Love

2007-12-26T19:51:00.000-05:00

This piece originally appeared on Joe.My.God. It is fantastic, and although maybe a day or two late, I wanted to post it here.

Dance Of The Sugar Plum Lesbians

Grand Central Terminal functions as the mechanical heart of midtown New York City, pumping out several thousand workers and tourists on one beat, then sucking in several thousand more on the next.

The rhythms of the terminal are fascinating.

Beat. Four thousand, inbound from New Haven.

Beat. Three thousand, outbound to Westchester.

Worlds collide on the main floor.The tourists gawk up at the gloriously ornate ceiling and uselessly flash their digital cameras at objects hundreds of feet away.

The commuters rush up to the track displays to determine their track number, then dart across the terminal floor, dodging the milling tourists, heads down, like running backs heading for the end zone.

It's mesmerizing. It's majestic.

And sometimes, like tonight, it's magical.

I'm walking through the massive main room just as the holiday laser show begins on the ceiling. To the tune of Take The "A" Train, the laser depicts two trains arriving from different directions. The trains stop opposite each other, and a reindeer leaps out of each one and crosses over to the opposite train.

The laser traces the outline of one of the zodiac constellations painted on the ceiling, and the Cancer crab leaps to life and becomes the Crab Conductor, waddling down the center aisle of the car, punching the reindeers' ticket stubs with his claws.

I move over to the edge of the room, near the entrance for Track 25, so I can watch the reaction to the show.

As usual, I'm more entertained by watching the audience than by watching the actual show.At the ticket windows, standing in front of signs that say "Harlem Line" or "Hudson Line", commuters tilt their heads painfully back to view the show directly overhead. The tourists cluster in delighted circles, holding each others' elbows for balance as they nearly bend over backwards.

Some people move to the edges of the great hall, as I have, to remove themselves from the traffic flow while they watch. Among those that come to join me on the perimeter of the room is a lesbian couple. They stand quite close to me, the taller woman behind the shorter one, with her arms wrapped around her, supporting her a bit, as they both lean back on the marble wall.

The shorter woman is stout, with a large firm chest. Her hair is short and brushed back into what might have once been called a ducktail. She has an ornate tattoo on her left forearm, and she has a leather wallet protruding from the rear pocket of her jeans, attached to her leather belt by a short silver chain. She has more than a passing resemblence to Tony Danza, her big boobs nothwithstanding, so naturally (in my head) I name her Toni.

Toni's girlfriend is blond, her short ponytail dangles just above her collar. She is wearing long Christmas tree earrings which nearly brush her shoulders. Her lanky, sinewy limbs are bound in a tight running outfit, over which she is wearing a school athletic jacket. I imagine that she might be a coach at Yale or Harvard, perhaps a girls lacrosse coach, or maybe track and field.

Coach is squeezing Toni tightly and they bounce together to the music a bit. Coach looks over at me and catches me smiling. She nudges Toni, who looks over at me too, and we all grin goofily at each other for a moment.

Overhead, a new show begins. The familiar opening notes of Tchaikovsky's Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairies ring out as the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building sprout arms, bow to each other, and begin waltzing across the ceiling.

I look around the room and it's as if time was frozen for just a second, every person stopped in mid-stride, eyes cast upward, mouths open in silent joy.

Toni pushes away from Coach, turns around and delivers her a bow as deep and as elegant as the one just depicted overheard.

"Madame, may I please have this dance?" she asks Coach.

Coach looks around a bit awkwardly, "You are TOO much!" And she giggles.

"Madame, I must insist!" says Toni, as she takes Coach's hands into hers.

Coach relents and she and Toni begin a beautful, slow waltz, moving in half-time to the music. As you might have guessed already, Toni leads.

As they dance, their eyes remain locked on each other. Toni is giving Coach an intense look, her lips tightly curled into a satisfied smile. Coach is grinning from ear to ear, and again she giggles.

All around Coach and Toni, the tourists, the businessmen, the students, the conductors, even the guy with a broom, they're all watching. Some are expressionless, but more are smiling, and some of them...some of them are frantically fussing with their cameras, eager to capture this magical New York Moment.

Serendipity prevails, the tune ends, and Toni dips Coach backwards with a dramatic upsweep of her free arm as a firestorm of camera flashes erupt around them. Toni pulls Coach up and close to her, and they hug. There's another camera flash, and the crowd begins to move along.

Then.

"Hey, look!"

The laser show is being concluded with giant sprigs of mistletoe appearing over our heads. This time, it's Coach who bends down and plants a long tender kiss on Toni's non-lipsticked mouth. There's another flash of cameras from the delighted audience.

Toni takes Coach's hand, and they begin to move off towards the exit.

"Oh, don't stop!" says a disappointed woman, still rummaging for her camera.

Toni looks back over her shoulder and says, "I never will."

The mechanical heart of New York City, Grand Central Terminal, beats again, but this time I hear a different rhythm. This time I hear a double beat.

I hope I have given proper credit and linked appropriately.

Boxing Day

2007-12-26T19:42:00.000-05:00

We took so much cardboard to the dump today, I can see why it is called Boxing Day. Oh, wait...I don't live in Canada...and that's not REALLY what Boxing Day is. But still, we took a ton.

Our Christmas was really good. When I put my kids to bed last night, I asked each of them what their favorite part of the day was, and The Captain in all of his charm said "Spending the day with our family." God, I love that kid!

We were all home together again today and spent the day relaxing, playing games, and making crafts. After the trip to the dump (and the side trip to WalMart to get some 1/2 off Christmas stuff for next year!).

364 days until Christmas! Don't you just hate people like me?

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. ~Norman Vincent Peale

Hey Good Lookin'

2007-12-26T18:56:00.000-05:00

The Diva's horse was very funny during her riding lesson on Monday. They have put a mirror up at the far end of the ring, and her horse had not been used in the ring since the mirror went up.

Sometimes my daughter has a hard time getting her horse to actually stay in the ring while they are riding. Not Monday. Her horse was VERY interested in the hunka hunka new horse that he kept seeing every time he approached the far end of the ring. It was hilarious.

They would ride toward that end, his ears would start to twitch, and he would head straight for the good lookin' horse in the mirror. She would steer him away and he would go fairly willingly, with just the tiniest backward glance at the new kid.

Narcissistic bastard.

Horses and children, I often think, have a lot of the good sense there is in the world. ~Josephine Demott Robinson

Wii Wii Wii all the way...

2007-12-23T08:12:00.001-05:00

Santa is bringing a Wii for Christmas this year.

This weekend, my children went to their father's house to celebrate Christmas with him and his family. They called me yesterday morning to tell me what their father had gotten them. A Wii.

The conversation took place on my cell phone as P-Man and I were out doing errands.

"Hi Mom! Guess what Dad got us for Christmas?!"

"What , honey?"

"A Wii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"A Wii?" (with slightly less enthusiasm now) as I look over at P-Man who mouths the word FUCK. Yeah, my thoughts exactly.

I love Christmas. I was so excited to give them the Wii. We planned ahead, knowing they might be in short supply again this year, and we've had it hidden at P-Man's mother's house since late September or so. Excitement? Not so much now. I will probably hear something like "How come Santa didn't know Dad already got us one?".

Well, because Santa and Dad don't communicate well. Oh, we get along ok - we don't fight. But we don't go out of our way to keep each other informed either. In my defense, I have tried over the years but it's rather like banging my head against a brick wall. Since that gets old after a while, I have stopped. So I am mad at myself for not trying harder, and I am mad at him for not trying at all. Both of the kids also want Nintendo DS games systems. If we had communicated better, one of us could have gotten the Wii and one of us could have gotten the Nintendos.

I was pretty upset and P-Man tried so hard to make me feel better. When we got home he immediately got online ato see if there were any available Nintendos - supposedly there are some in stock at our local Walmart. He wanted to go purchase them right away, but I said no. Can you even imagine? Two Wiis, Nintendo's, AND iPods for each of them? Plus...all the "smaller" gifts and clothes, etc. No way. I wanted to return the Wii and get the Nintendos but he still wants to keep the Wii for all of us here. So we're leaving it as it is. Two Wiis - one at each house.

Now I know that in the whole scheme of things, this is a pretty good problem to have. We are so very fortunate to have the means to provide these types of things for our kids. There are kids who want a Wii and won't get one because there aren't any available. There are kids who won't get anything for Christmas. There are kids who are cold and hungry, right here in our country as I sit and type this in my warm house with my hot coffee on my desk. I know this.

But I'm still a little disappointed and some of the excitement is gone.

Open your presents at Christmastime but be thankful year round for the gifts you receive. ~Lorinda Ruth Lowen

Something new

2007-12-20T12:02:00.000-05:00

Hey it's snowing here! Again. Clearly we're going to have a white Christmas so enough already.

I've been mulling over this post a little, because I'm not sure exactly how to word it.

I've been spending some time in my son's classroom this week. I really like most of the kids in there. Most. One little girl though. Oh. My. God. If I wouldn't be arrested and then probably sued, I would slap the living daylights out of her.

I am not a violent person. I rarely even kill bugs. That's mostly because I won't go near a lot of them, so that doesn't really prove my point so you'll have to just trust me on this one. I'm not violent. But I would like to shake her until her teeth rattle around in her head.

She is the mouthiest, brattiest, meanest, know-it-all little monster I have ever met. Ever.

There are tables in my son's classroom, as opposed to individual desks. Five children per table. There are five girls at the table the brat child sits at. That would be problem number one. Never, never put 5 females together without some sort of buffer, like a male. I don't care if they are 8 or 87. It doesn't work.

Project # 1. Snow scenes made with rice. First they pencil sketched a snow scene, then used glue to adhere white rice. Brat child drew a character from a video game (I don't know which one, or how it was considered snowy) then proceeded to ERASE THE DRAWINGS OF EVERY OTHER GIRL AT THE TABLE. Because they weren't good enough. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied that she has taken 3 years of art lessons and she was going to draw each other girl's picture for her because "they will look better that way." Since I couldn't respond with "Look here, shit head, leave them alone to do their own pictures", I said "Well, since these are going to be gifts for your parents, maybe they would like TO MAKE THEIR OWN." One little girl whispered thank you and said they had been trying to tell her that.

Project # 2. Work in teams to assemble a foam elf door hanger to give as gifts to other teachers in the school. They had a bag of materials and an instruction sheet, as well as the already done example hanging on the white board to go by. That group of girls was the last one done, mostly because the brat child would disassemble anything that any other child had done, and do it again on her own because "it looked better that way". After the elves were assembled, they were responsible for cleaning up their areas. She started to walk away because "another group needs her help". I told her she needed to help her group clean up before she decided to go "help" anyone else.

Project #3. A Picture find. Sort of like a "Where's Waldo?" with a list of items that needed to be located. A couple of the girls at her table had their hands up so I went over to see what they needed. They asked what a menorah is. As I was explaining it to them, the shit head actually told the teacher on me! "She's helping them, Mr. H" I give the man credit, he did not laugh at her (or kill her). He replied "That is what Mrs. T is here for, to help us with our projects." As I circulated around the room, I noticed her circling items on the papers belonging to some of the other girls at the table. The teacher also noticed and called her out on it.

Project #4. Scale drawings. Working in groups of two, the children had to take a section of a smaller drawing and transfer it on to a bigger piece of paper. Theoretically (!) when they put the large pieces together on the bulletin board, they will all match up and look exactly like the smaller picture. They did individual practice sheets before attempting the larger picture. Again, she was erasing everyone else's papers and DOING IT OVER FOR THEM! Again, I went over and said "Brat child (*name changed for privacy), they are not going to learn how to do this if you do it for them." The girl whose paper she was currently redoing said "That's what I keep telling her - she won't listen!".

My major my freshman year of college was Elementary Education. Funds were low, so I didn't return to college the next year - I found a job in a daycare. When I did return to college, I changed my major. After just one year of working with children, I knew that was not the job for me. I know some of you will say there is a difference...but not enough for me to ever even consider teaching. Thank God/Goddess there are people, like Mr. H., who are willing to take on the challenge - and are good at it.

Me? I'd be locked up in jail or in an asylum by now.

There are three good reasons to be a teacher - June, July, and August. ~Author Unknown

Ramdom thoughts Sunday

2007-12-16T17:23:00.000-05:00

The Diva got her first ribbon for a show yesterday. It was a combination school/show and there were no placements, just participation ribbons. But still, she had to make it through the jump course cleanly to get a ribbon, and she did it! It has become an ornament on the tree - front and
center!

I stopped in at Walmart yesterday. I'm looking for a cheap tea kettle. The place was mobbed. I strolled through, nonchalantly, smug in my knowledge that not only am I done with shopping, I am done with wrapping. Yay, me! (Anyone who wants to can call me a bitch now).

We are in the middle of another snow storm.

The Year Without a Santa Clause is on again. Go Heat Misers!

I am on my second Bloody Mary. Yum.

My son says I am the best mom in the world because I made some of his favorite foods today. French toast, bruschetta, and corn chowder. Not all at once.

Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind. ~Mary Ellen Chase

Are you sure this isn't Monday?

2007-12-14T13:12:00.000-05:00

Today started out bad, bad, bad.

It snowed - again - last night. We got about 4 or 5 more inches. School was not delayed or cancelled so I had two grumpy kids wondering why there was school when there was so much snow on the ground.

After they left, I decided to head out to do some errands. I wanted to brush off the car and get it started so it could warm up a little before I left. I could not find my keys anywhere. My keys are ALWAYS in the same place...along with my wallet and my phone. Those are the only three things I always take with me when I leave the house. Wallet? Check. Phone? Check. Keys? Nope.

I had to think about the last time I had my keys....Tuesday evening. Riding lessons. Ok...I got us home...so the keys are somewhere in this house. I replayed the events of the evening - stopped to take off boots in mudroom/laundry room; put dusty barn smelling coat in washer; threw away empty coffee cup. The obvious place to start was the mudroom. After I didn't find them there, the next thought was that I was going to have to go through the trash. I donned my latex gloves and ripped open the bag. There was my coffee cup from that night - no keys though. I checked under furniture and appliances (we have a cat who likes to take things and make them her own...but her normal M.O. is legos and beads...so I didn't really think she had taken the keys....). No keys...but several crumpled pieces of paper, two crinkle toys, 14 legos, and 23 beads were located.

I decided that I still needed to get on with my day, so I took the spare that P-Man keeps with his things.

I went to the redemption center with our returnable cans...and scanned the table as the guy counted up my returns...thinking maybe they keys had fallen in there. No such luck.

To get to my next stop, I needed to pass the Ford garage so I decided to swing in and see what the process is for getting a new key and fob made. They could do it today at 2:00, it will take about 20 minutes, and it will cost me about $60. Holy crap! I made the appointment and said "I'm going to keep looking so you may hear from me later, cancelling this!"

As I got in the car, P-Man called - like he usually does - to see how my day was going. I said "I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this but I'm going to ask just in case I'm wrong. Do you happen to know where my keys are?"

Crickets.

"Um, check my leather coat pocket."

"WHAT?"

"Um, yeah. I used your keys when we went to The Diva's concert the other night. I might have forgotten to put them back."

"Are you kidding me? Do you know what I've been through this morning?!!"

His response was that I should have called him first to see if he knew where they were before spending all that time looking. Here's the problem with that:

1. I refuse to be that kind of woman who calls her significant other the minute something goes wrong.

2. Tell me again why you even had my keys? And why I should automatically think that maybe you know where they are? Because you have your own stupid keys.

They were in his coat pocket, by the way.

Sometimes the best man for the job isn't. ~Author Unknown

Juice Hoppin' Bastards

2007-12-13T19:17:00.000-05:00

I can't take credit for that title - it's from my friend, L-Weed.

George Mitchell's report is out - all 409 pages of it.

"I urge the (Major League Baseball) Commissioner to forego imposing baseball's rules on performance enhancing substances, except in those cases where he determines that necessary to maintain the integrity of the game," the report said.

"There need to be consequences as a result of wrongdoing," Conte said about the Mitchell report. "This report favors those who control the money in the world of baseball." (Victor Conte, BALCO owner/Adam Tanner, Reuters)

There's not much more I can say about this. I am very disappointed that it appears no sanctions will be imposed. At the very least, perhaps some of them have hurt their chances of getting into the hall of fame. Although I do not particularly care for Roger Clemens (loved him while he was in Boston...then he wanted to go home to Texas...via Toronto...via New York. Lame.), I do believe he has earned himself a spot in the hall of fame. Until I saw his name on that list. How can a player be inducted with the knowledge that his performance was enhanced?

Oh...and...one would think that Eric Gagne could have pitched a little better in Boston this year if he had really been juiced. Go figure.

Baseball is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of ten and be considered a good performer. ~Ted Williams

Ebenezer Scrooge

2007-12-12T09:36:00.000-05:00

We were in the car the other day singing the heat miser/cold miser song. My son asked what a miser is, so I explained that it was someone who is stingy and unhappy. "Like Scrooge", I said. "Ebenezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol". At this point my daughter piped up with "Dad watches that all the time!".

"He does?", I responded (thinking: 1. That doesn't sound like her father, and 2. Just how many times is it on tv?). "Yeah", she said. "He LOVES the three scrooges!"

Do you know just how mad a 12 year old gets when you laugh at something she says? So I explained the difference between a scrooge and a stooge and assured her it was ok to be funny, even if it is unintentional.

But I still giggle when I think about it.

"Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!" ~ Charles Dickens

Coach purse give-away

2007-12-11T20:29:00.000-05:00

Awesome, no? Head on over and you might be the proud new owner of a Coach purse by Christmas! Keeping my fingers crossed!

12 Years Old

2007-12-10T20:45:00.000-05:00

The Diva is 12 years old today. One more year until she's a teenager.

On a snowy Sunday afternoon in 1995 at 1:51 in the afternoon, my little girl entered the world. I did not see her for several hours since I was completely knocked out for a semi-emergency c-section after almost 46 hours of induced labor. That's not a typo - 46 hours. When I did finally see her I remember saying "This is the first person I've ever met who is truly related to me!" (I'm adopted).

We went home 3 days later...and two days after that she was back in the hospital due to dehydration. It was, and remains, the worst day of my life. Holding her little body on a gurney in the hospital while attempt after attempt was made to get a needle into her tiny, dehydrated veins. I was so upset that I had to step away after several attempts and let her father hold her for a bit. I remember at least 4 different people trying...and then hearing them say if they did not succeed with one more attempt, they would have to try her little head. Thankfully, the last attempt was successful...the needle was in and fluids were running into her tiny little body. They wrapped her arm in a splint to keep the needle in place. We had a fantastic pediatrician who ran test after test. Finally he came to us and said "Your little girl is perfectly healthy - she's just too stubborn to eat!" Here we are 12 years later, and she's as stubborn as that day!

The picture is of her with her new hunt cap. And one of her purple frosted purple cake.

Happy Birthday, Miss Thing! I love you!

A little girl is sugar and spice and everything nice - especially when she's taking a nap. ~Author Unknown

Fire Water

2007-12-09T20:26:00.001-05:00

P-Man and I went to a Christmas party/Open House at my friend J's house last night. A drink was offered when we arrived, and P-Man and I are fairly social so we each had one. Then I had a shot of Fire Water. Then I had another shot of Fire Water. Luckily P-man stopped at one beer and he was driving us home. I am not a big drinker, never was. I like a glass of wine on occasion but that's about where it ends. Oh, there was my early twenties....sowing my wild oats and all. But overall, I've never been a big drinker. So a mixed drink and two shots is a lot for me. We had a nice time though.

Today we visited with P-Man's parents for a bit. I came away not feeling great about the visit, and it's something that has been bothering me for awhile. I ma not sure what I am going to do, how I'm going to do it, or even IF I will do it.

P-Man was an only child for 5 years before his brother came along. His brother is a giant baby. He is babied by his mother and his wife. No one disputes this, so I am not bashing anyone with that statement. Their mother told me once in conversation that the reason she babies the brother is because she didn't want him when she was pregnant and after he was first born. It was her and P-Man for 5 years and she was happy and wanted it to stay that way. Then came baby brother. And after not wanting him, she felt guilty and then started overcompensating. And P-Man got sort of pushed to the side as she overcompensated her feelings for baby brother. She told me during that conversation that she thought P-Man resented her. I didn't really know how to respond because I don't know if he does or not. BUT - she continues to baby the brother...AND she is mean to P-Man.

Baby brother has been sick - with a cold - for over a week. He hasn't gone to work and to hear his mother tell it, he is pretty near death. Well, Brother LOVES his computer...he has his computer room and P-Man and I sometimes laugh when we drive by (we all live on the same street) because the computer room light will be on, and his wife's car will be gone. They rarely do anything together and we find that a bit odd and humorous at the same time. Whatever works for them is how we look at it. But I digress. Anyway...Friday night we were out and as we drove up the street toward home P-Man said "T's computer room light is on..." and as we drove by the house and the driveway became visible, I continued "...and C's car is gone!" The same thing happened last night when we came home from the Christmas party.

So today, I asked if their mom if T was still sick because I noticed his car was in the driveway all week long. His mom started telling us how sick he was and that he hadn't gotten out of bed all week. P-Man said "well at least he feels good enough to be on his computer" to which his mother replied "Shut up asshole, he hasn't been on it." P-Man said "Yes he has" and I agreed telling her that both nights we noticed his computer room light on. She didn't really respond to that, but it really bothered me that she felt the need to call P-Man an asshole just because he stated that T was well enough to be on his computer. If she really felt like P-Man resented her for how she treats him and his brother, then why would she continue to be that way? It was almost as though she was mad that P-Man implied that T wasn't as sick as she was trying to make him out to be.

I looked at P-Man and slid my hand into his, and we left not long after that. It makes me so angry that P-Man would do anything, ANYTHING for his parents...yet his mother treats him like that. I almost think that his mother resents him for being so independent and not needing her like his brother did/does. It's crazy and I don't know how much longer I can sit by and say nothing. I have decided that I will not say anything to her in her own home...but if a conversation like that takes place here I will kindly ask her to not talk that way about ANYONE while in our home.

I didn't really mean for this to be a big bitch session; I didn't intend for the blog to be about such personal issues. But, I do feel somewhat better after - writing is cathartic!

On a lighter note, the Diva's birthday is tomorrow. Unfortunately it is a travel day for work, but I am planning a short day in the office so I can be home for dinner. Someone at the office is not happy about that, but I will not miss dinner with my family on my daughter's special day!

Family is just accident.... They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are. ~Marsha Norman

The Postman sleeps

2007-12-06T20:54:00.000-05:00

Last night, as almost every night, I read for a bit before bed. P-Man will sometimes roll over and go to sleep even though I'm still reading. Last night I looked over at him sleeping and felt an overwhelming sense of love and security that made my eyes well up just a bit. He lays on one side with his arm outstretched and he holds on to one of the wrought iron scrolls on our headboard. Every night, that's the position he falls asleep in.

I need to remember those moments when I am speaking and he has no idea I am talking, much less to him.

Sort of like how a mother looks in on her sleeping child, looking so angelic, after being a complete monster all day long.

When love is not madness, it is not love. ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Falling

2007-12-04T19:15:00.000-05:00

The Diva had her riding lesson tonight. She fell off her horse. I wasn't there when it happened, but apparently her horse got too close to the wall (in an indoor ring - it is Maine in December after all) and The Diva in her attempt to steer him away, lost her balance and fell. She didn't hurt anything (well, she did bend a fingernail back and it bled slightly), she didn't cry (although I'm told her eyes did well up a tad), and she got right back on the horse. I am proud of her.

When her instructor saw me come back in, she came right over to tell me what happened. I thought the worst at first - her horse can be temperamental. He thinks he's smarter than his rider and he knows when he can take advantage of his rider. He's almost bucked a couple of times when she's been on him, so I immediately thought that's what happened until her instructor said "No - she just lost her balance and fell."

It finally stopped snowing this morning. School was delayed two hours. That's probably a good thing - if this early season storm is any indication of the winter ahead of us, we'll be using more than the allotted 5 snow days so saving them when we can is good planning!

Riding: The art of keeping a horse between you and the ground. ~Author Unknown

Still Snowing

2007-12-03T19:49:00.000-05:00

It is still snowing here tonight. I am guessing it started around 3:00 or 4:00 AM based on the amount on the ground when we woke up. That means it's been snowing 14 or 15 hours. Nonstop. It varies in intensity but has not stopped all day. According to the forecast, it is supposed to continue through tomorrow or tomorrow night. I am starting to think there will be no school again tomorrow - or at least a delay. We shall see what the morning brings.

Speaking of no school, we had a very stress-free day here which was quite lovely. I managed to get quite a bit of work done; The Captain helped me shovel the deck and part of the dog pen and we took the two big dogs outside to play - our hound dog LOVES the snow!; the kids wrapped their presents for The Postman; they made ornaments for their teachers and grandparents (involving putting paint into clear glass ball ornaments and swirling it around to get a sort of tie dye effect); they baked a treat in The Diva's Ea*sy Ba*ke Oven; they watched Spider*man 3 (while I worked); and now they are watching Ru*dolph's Shiny New Year. It was so nice to have a day together without them being at each other's throats every 5 minutes.

Now I must go because one of my favorite Christmas shows is on: The Year With*out a San*ta Claus. Those little heat misers crack me up every year.

First Snow Day

2007-12-03T08:23:00.001-05:00

It is snowing here in the Northeast. School has been cancelled. We're expecting 10-20 inches (depending on which broadcast you believe) before it's all said and done.

My children, who can just barely make it out to the bus at 8:05, were bundled up in their snow attire and outside at about 8:10. They have already built the robotic scorpion my son received for his birthday, so I need to come up with some ideas to keep them entertained for the rest of the day. Oh, and I need to fit some work in also. Luckily the first of the month is not a crunch time for me.

The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches. ~e.e. cummings

9 years old

2007-12-02T20:52:00.000-05:00

My baby boy is 9 years old today. On a Wednesday morning in 1998, at 10:02 AM, my 10 pound baby boy entered the world. He was perfect.

When I was growing up and imagining myself as a mother, I always pictured girls in my future. When I found out I was having a boy, I was a bit nervous. How would I relate to a boy or connect with a boy? As soon as he was put in my arms, all my fears disappeared.

The picture is of him realizing the present he is opening is a new hockey helmet. He couldn't get the paper off fast enough!

Happy birthday, Little Man! I love you!

A birthday is just the first day of another 365 day trip around the sun. Enjoy the trip! ~ Author Unknown

100 things about Tekfan33

2007-11-30T12:25:00.000-05:00

1. I am adopted
2. The day my daughter was born I said "This is the first person I've ever known that is actually, truly related to me"
3. I did not enjoy being pregnant, but I loved that I was having a baby.
4. I've traveled as far east as Spain, and as far west as Hawaii
5. My children are little miniature versions of me. My son more than my daughter.
6. I start planning for Christmas in February - sometimes even earlier.
7. I like snowfalls through December. After that, I don't like them.
8. I must have coffee every morning.
9. I enjoy cooking and I am good at it.
10. As a child/adolescent, I was very insecure.
11. I am a voracious reader.
12. I don't read newspapers or watch local news. Any info I think I need I get online.
13. I do not like Valentine's Day.
14. I do not particularly like Halloween but I partake more now that I have children.
15. I do not like my birthday. Related to #1.
16. I am an Aries. A fire sign.
17. I have 4 tattoos.
18. I would like more.
19. One of my tattoos is the chinese symbol for fire. See #16.
20. I am a huge Red Sox fan.
21. If theory holds true and Jason Varitek manages a MLB team someday, I will also be a fan of that team.
22. I skipped my recent high school reunion.
23. I love almost every kind of music. I have music on constantly.
24. I am always cold.
25. People tease me about the way I sneeze.
26. My favorite color is very dark blue.
27. I am not a girly girl. My daughter is.
28. I do not like seafood of any kind.
29. I live in Maine - the lobster capital of the world.
30. I have OCD. It manifests itself in routine, organization, and schedules.
31. I am extremely nearsighted. My eye doctor "guesstimates" my eyesight to be 20/600 uncorrected. He says past a certain point, they can't actually be sure what it is. I am far past that point.
32. I hate wearing glasses. I wear my contacts all day every day and only put on my glasses right before bed.
33. I would like to have Lasik surgery but am wary - it's my EYES.
34. I have a very sensitive sense of smell. I sometimes drive people crazy with my constant comments on smells, especially bad ones.
35. Almost every perfume I've ever tried smells bad on me. I have found one I like and have used it exclusively for about 10 or 12 years.
36. It has become my signature scent and people recognize me by it, sometimes before they see me. It is not strong, just mine.
37. I have been in therapy. I recommend it.
38. I was married at 22.
39. I was divorced at 32.
40. My ex-husband is very angry at me but we try to get along for the sake of our children.
41. The dentist scares me.
42. I brush my teeth at least three times a day. Sometimes more.
43. I test at a high level of intelligence but that might surprise people who knew me in school.
44. In school I was an underachiever who was just biding her time until takeoff.
45. I try to be funny but my humor is sometimes seen as sarcasm. It could be.
46. I enjoy thunder storms.
47. I don't mind "falling back" and having darkness arrive earlier.
48. I love the ocean. I miss living near it.
49. I had never been to Disney World until I took my children when I was 34.
50. I love traveling and wish I had the finances and time to do more of it.
51. I dye my hair. It's a similar shade to my own only with a little more "oomph". I am covering the gray which appeared when I was just 29.
52. My hair is wavy at the bottom, which I hate.
53. My eyes seem to change color. The postman and each child all have different answers for what color my eyes are. I just say they are Hazel.
54. I work from home for a hospital about two hours away. I travel there about twice a month.
55. I oppose the war.
56. I support and respect our troops.
57. I have a thing for dolphins.
58. My children have been swimming with dolphins. I have not.
59. I drive a small SUV but wish I didn't have to. A sedan just wasn't big enough.
60. I used to own a mini-van. I cannot bring myself to do that again.
61. My toenails are always polished. Always.
62. I get my fingernails done at a salon. Seems to contradict # 27, doesn't it?
63. I love chocolate. Anything chocolate.
64. I am still a little bit afraid of the dark.
65. I have a friend who believes I'm of Greek heritage because she saw a child in Athens who was the spitting image of me. See #1.
66. Greece is on the list of places I'd like to visit.
67. I used to want to be a big city girl, living in New York.
68. I am glad I did not turn into that Big City Girl.
69. I am pro-choice.
70. I am fairly liberal, but have a few conservative beliefs also.
71. I am registered to vote as an Independent.
72. I am a proponent of equal rights.
73. I was raised Catholic but I no longer practice.
74. I do not claim to be any one particular religion.
75. I have a loud distinctive laugh. People either love it or hate it - there is no middle ground.
76. I am short.
77. I could not have any more children after my second child and I was ok with that.
78. I had a miscarriage on my daughter's second birthday. I don't think I will ever tell her.
79. I am easily bored.
80. I was first chair in the flute section my freshmen and sophomore year of HS. I quit band my junior year. See #44.
81. I don't remember any of the finger positions on a flute.
82. The TV show Will and Grace made me laugh out loud, even when I was watching alone. I have several seasons on DVD.
83. I am addicted to chapstick. They are in my car, in the bathroom, on the nightstand, in my coat pockets, and on my desk. There might be one in a cabinet in the kitchen.
84. I am careful when I speak. Words cannot be taken back once they are out there.
85. We have 4 dogs.
86. We have 2 cats.
87. I have ruled there are to be absolutely no more pets. Not even a fish.
88. I can be a clean freak. See # 30.
89. It's hard to be a clean freak with a yellow lab who sheds. Alot.
90. The yellow lab is my favorite dog. His name is Jake.
91. I love glitter. I'm like a fish.
92. It really bothers my mother that I live with a man out of wedlock. See # 73. She says it doesn't, but I know it does.
93. Snakes terrify me. Even pictures or on TV.
94. Not fond of spiders either.
95. I have bad dreams or nightmares probably an average of 2 or 3 times a week.
96. I drink too much diet soda and not enough water.
97. I am not too crafty although I want to be and I try.
98. I curse too much - but I try not to in front of my kids.
99. I have only worked for two organizations my entire adult life. One for 9 years and the other going on 11 years.
100.I am blessed.

Princesses and Legos

2007-11-29T20:52:00.000-05:00

Every year my office adopts a family at Christmas time. Yesterday we received their wish lists. Every year I tear up when I read their lists. This year we have a mom and three children in one family, and we also requested a single older person. There was a note on the older lady's list stating she was quite needy but reluctant to ask for help. She listed things such as V-8 juice, coffee, and cat food. Both adults asked for help with utilities, heating oil, and/or grocery store gift cards.

I am so very blessed. I know this. I know this on a subconscious level - but it is good to have a reminder to bring it to the forefront of my mind once in a while.

Today I had some time to sort and wrap presents. I have wrapped only for the kids and the postman so far and I estimate that I've wrapped 40 gifts...with maybe 20 or so left to go. Granted, some are very inexpensive trinkets...but some are a bit costly. I am so very lucky that I could afford to get those things for them. Don't get me wrong....I am not what anyone would consider wealthy. I worry about money. But even so, I am able to provide for my children. How my heart breaks for mothers who may not be able to say the same. I wish I could buy everything on their lists and pay their utilities for the next year. My last conscious thought last night was "Maybe I'll win the Powerball tonight and then I can take care of all the items on the lists." (The fact that I didn't actually buy a ticket was sort of inconsequential in my mind - the postman always buys one and he has assured me he will share).

Tonight the kids and I headed out to purchase some of the items. I like my children to be involved so that on some level they might understand that they too are blessed. We got some clothes, lipgloss, legos, and play princess jewelry for the kids and we got cat food, coffee, paper towels, and V-8 for the older woman. I really wish I knew her size so I could buy her a sweater or some slippers or something cozy. Something useful besides just the basic needs she listed. We also bought cat food paper towels and bleach for the local animal shelter.

I love this part of the holiday season - the help, however small, that I am able to provide to others.

The habit of giving only enhances the desire to give. ~ Walt Whitman

Decorating

2007-11-28T08:16:00.000-05:00

Decorating begins today. I have put a few things out here and there...but today I am venturing out to put the lights and garland on the deck and the wreaths on the doors. This weekend I will put up the tree so the kids can decorate it.

I am in a pretty big funk. I generally love this time of year. I love giving, I love being charitable, I love the lights and the glitter and the feeling of togetherness. But something isn't quite right this year and I don't know what it is. Something feels "off".

I am bothered by the fact that I am bothered. I have my health as do my children and the postman. We have a nice home, we have what we need and a lot of what we want. Maybe it's the feeling of dread and doom...when things are going well we start to wonder when it will end. I'm not sure that it is....like I've said, I can't place my finger on what it is. I hope I snap out of it soon so I can enjoy the season.

I love Christmas and I really got in to the spirit of it - early on in the year usually. Maybe June, July, perhaps May or April, I would begin to talk about what we would do on Christmas. ~ Zooey Deschanel

9 Days

2007-11-18T19:41:00.000-05:00

I don't know how so much time has passed between posts...I apologize for the lapse.

I have been beyond busy...work, home, kids...it's all been crazy lately. I have a cold, which is not surprising given my schedule the last few weeks. I've been working extra - not only from home - I have driven in to the office on several occasions. My children have been busy with activities, we've been preparing for the holidays.

I am looking forward to this holiday season. I am almost done with shopping so all that is left is decorating, wrapping, and cooking - activities that I truly enjoy!

Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence. ~ Erma Bombeck

Gifted and Talented

2007-11-09T21:08:00.000-05:00

We had parent/teacher conferences today. My daughter's teacher wants to have her tested for the Gifted and Talented program at her school.

Both kids got glowing comments as far as their behavior and social skills - I am very happy to hear that because right now they are both getting ready for bed after being yelled at for wrestling...which ended, as it invariably does, with one of them in tears.

I am an only child, so I am the first to admit that I don't have any experience to draw from when it comes to sibling relationships. Man! Do these two fight! Daily. Multiple times daily. They know exactly how to push each other's buttons...from swinging their book bags at each other or kicking dirt at each other while waiting for the bus to arguments over who sits where when they watch tv together. It makes me insane. I wonder if I get so annoyed because part of me thinks I am not raising them properly. When I truly think about that it doesn't quite make sense though - in school they seem to be models of citizenship. In fact, my son earned the citizenship award for his school last year. So why are they so awful to each other? Is it because it is "safe"? They know I will love them no matter how much they argue, or they know they will always have each other even when their dad and I are gone? Whatever the reason, I do wish that we could go one day, at least once in a while, without a Battle Royale.

If you don't understand how a woman could both love her sister dearly and want to wring her neck at the same time, then you were probably an only child. ~Linda Sunshine

Sailboats and broken hearts

2007-11-07T08:41:00.000-05:00

I had a dream last night that the postman had a beautiful sailboat that he never told me about because he had spent a good deal of time on it with his former wife and wanted to keep those memories private.

Hm.

I don't like dreams that put me in a bad mood right upon waking. I know how ridiculous that is.

I know why I had the dream...or at least partly why. I have a dear friend who is having her heart broken. For privacy, I won't reveal too many details. She told me yesterday that she is involved in a relationship that most likely will not work and they are at the point where they are realizing that unlikelihood. Still, even with that rational realization, her heart breaks for what might have been. My heart broke for her as she told me.

The one good thing that may come from this is that she will realize just how beautiful she is - inside and out (what a cliche!) and that there is someone who fits perfectly.

Love is like a puzzle. When you're in love, all the pieces fit but when your heart gets broken, it takes a while to get everything back together. ~Author Unknown

Momma Bears

2007-10-30T09:47:00.000-04:00

My son and his friend, S, are apparently being bullied at school.

S's mother called me last night to discuss. We decided to tag team the teacher and the principal this morning to see what they were going to do about it. Nothing liking facing two angry momma bears first thing in the AM. I like both of them, and we had good conversations. Mr. H (the teacher) will address his class today, and Mrs. W (the principal) will be meeting with the involved parties as a group to try to weed out the situation. She said I can expect a call later today or tomorrow with information on what was discussed and how she is handling the situation.

Today is a busy day. Halloween party, riding lessons, 6th grade trip meeting. Oh, and it's the end of the month which is an important and busy time in my line of work. I have done well so far this morning - laundry is almost caught up, household chores done, dinner in the crock pot. I have been working steadily since I got home from my meeting at school, and am just taking this quick break to update the blog.

The art of mothering is to teach the art of living to children. ~ Elain Heffner

Game 4

2007-10-28T20:34:00.000-04:00

World Series game 4

Colorado.

8:00PM EST

Red Sox 4, Rockies 3!

RED SOX WIN THE 2007 WORLD SERIES, SWEEPING THE COLORADO ROCKIES IN 4 GAMES!

Damn Tooth Fairy

2007-10-27T21:14:00.001-04:00

My son lost a tooth yesterday.

The tooth fairy didn't come last night.

I walked out of the bedroom this morning and the first thing I heard was "The tooth fairy forgot me!". Right behind him my daughter was standing with her hands on her hips glaring at me accusingly (she is in on the secrets of the adult world - since the Christmas before last) "Yeah...the tooth fairy FORGOT him." This is the girl who would sell her little brother to a band of gypsies for enough money to buy a pack of gum and a tube of lip gloss. But factor in the fact that Mom screwed up and she is on his side faster than you can say "therapy".

I stood there trying to figure out what to do or say and just as quick as she accused, it was my daughter who came to my rescue. "When he lost a tooth at Dad's house, the fairy came during the day." That's right....the tooth fairy also failed at dad's house (of course, at the time, I was thinking to myself "What parent forgets to play tooth fairy?". Heh. Karma, anyone?)

Later in the day, the tooth fairy made her delivery, complete with a note explaining that there was an emergency meeting with Santa (a la The Escape Claus), because the elves were threatening to strike and Santa needed help coming up with ideas to keep them happy. Luckily, they all came up with some fantastic ideas, and the elves are happy little campers once again. Christmas is saved! But the meeting put the Tooth Fairy WAY behind schedule.

I really think the Captain is on the verge of questioning Santa, the Tooth Fairy, etc. I so want it to last longer - the magic of childhood. One more Christmas of believing...one more tooth...one more Easter...I hope it's not asking too much.

Children still cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality until about 8. That is why they believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and monsters under the bed. ~ Daphne White

Game 3

2007-10-27T15:15:00.001-04:00

World Series Game 3.

Colorado.

8:00PM EST.

Red Sox 10. Rockies 5.

Red Sox lead series 3 games to zero.

Mazes and hayrides and trips, oh my!

2007-10-26T21:16:00.000-04:00

This evening we went to the Haunted Hayride sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. The Postman's sister-in-law joined us since I was thinking that maybe the Captain would decide he did not want to go on the ride after all. With another adult, the Diva could still go on the hayride and the Captain and I could wait. He was brave though, and we all went on together.

It was a pretty good ride. It was made up of "scenes" sponsored by local businesses and individuals. Not too scary, just a wee bit frightening for the little ones. (Although the last scene, featuring clowns looking like "It" I could have done without!)

The highlight of the evening, however, was....*THE PORT*A*POTTY*MAZE*.

You read that correctly. One of the local businesses decided that making a port*a* potty maze was a pretty darn good idea. Only in Maine. Let me state right now that they were all unused - or at least clean! There must have been 100 or more all grouped into a maze pattern. It was not too easy to find our way out and after several minutes we were laughing hysterically at the idea that we were stuck in a maze of PORT*A*POTTIES.

As we were walking back toward our car, I was looking at something that my son was pointing at, not paying attention, and stepped right into a crack in the pavement. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Luckily, since it is chilly out tonight, I had on leather gloves so I did not scrape up my palms. I got up, laughed about it and kept walking. As we were getting in the car, my daughter whispered "Are you ok?" and I whispered back "Yeah - I'm just embarrassed!". I hope maybe it was a small lesson for her - that something embarrassing CAN happen, WILL happen, and it is survivable. She tends to get so easily upset when she is embarrassed by something she has done. As I sit here writing this my back and knees are achy so I will be taking some Advil before bed. Have I mentioned I am not the most graceful person to walk the earth?

All in all, a good day/evening. Tomorrow we are having our own little family World Series party complete with streamers (red and white), balloons (blue), hot dogs, nachos, a baseball cake, and Shirley Temples for the kids. (Not sure how Shirley Temples made the list of "Ballpark food" - but the kiddos associate them with special occasions and this definitely qualifies!).

Grace is gone ~ Dave Matthews

Game 2

2007-10-25T17:40:00.000-04:00

World Series Game 2

Fenway.

8:00PM.

Red Sox, 2. Rockies, 1.

Sox lead series 2-0.

On to Colorado!

Whine or wine

2007-10-25T17:11:00.000-04:00

The Diva stayed after school today. Nothing unusual in that. Her teacher stays every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to help students. It's basically an after school study hall. The Diva adores her teacher so she stays quite a bit, even though she doesn't require any extra help.

3:20 rolls around. The Postman is home already - it was a fairly good day for him. The Captain is going to get off the bus at 3:30 ish. I give Postman a kiss, ask him if he needs anything, and head out the door to get my daughter. 3:40-ish...we head up the road to our house...and no Postman's car in the drive. Hmmmmm, odd. We enter the house and find the cat house - which is usually on the counter (she lives on the counters due to the dogs) on the floor about 3 0r 4 feet from the counter. Again, odd. I call out. No answer. I call Postman's cell. Right to voice mail. I go next door to his parents house...they tell me my son got off the bus and is in the house. No, he's not. "Call T, he'll answer". No he won't - tried that. Back to the house. At this point my daughter is starting to hyperventilate, sure that something is wrong. I asked her to check her brother's room to see if his bookpack is there. She informs me it is and all his homework is all over the floor. The dogs are all accounted for and seem fine. I look in the spot where T keeps his keys and phone and his phone is still there.

Ok. By all accounts, it looks to me as if they have rushed out of there for some reason. I grab both phones and my keys and tell H to get in the car. We drive to the hospital (which is 1/3 mile from our house) and cruise the parking lot. As she's sobbing I am telling her she is not helping. As we pull out of the parking lot, headed to the animal clinic next - my cell rings. By the ring, I can tell it's coming from home. "Where the F*** are you?" is my greeting. I hear a laugh..."I just ran to the bank, hon". I hung up and said to H "I cannot talk to him right now".

So we head home and there they are...the two of them...standing in the driveway playing with their new R/C helicopter. Jackasses. We got out of the car and walked into the house without so much as a peep.

A few minutes later they walk in and T says "You can't possibly be mad at me for going to the bank!"

No. You're right. I CAN be mad at you for going to the bank and not leaving a note or calling my cell to let me know! H still hasn't talked to either of them.

So here is where I admit that I am a bit high strung at times. BUT...my kid and SO were missing and like I mentioned...by all accounts it appeared as though something was wrong.

I am on my second glass of wine.

The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck

Update: The Postman has informed me that if anything were actually seriously wrong, he would have called me. He thinks this is the funniest thing that has happened in our house in a long time.

Sox vs. Rox

2007-10-24T10:40:00.000-04:00

World Series Game #1.

Fenway.

8:00PM.

Sox 13, Rox 1. Beckett rocked and the Sox offense was en fuego!

Sox lead series 1-0

$55 Muffins

2007-10-24T10:04:00.001-04:00

Last night I attended a planning meeting for the 6th grade day trip that my daughter will go on in the spring. There were 11 parents/guardians in attendance - the same ones that attend all of the meetings and events.

Raising money for this trip is going to fall to the 11 parents at this meeting(and whoever is brave enough to attend future meetings), that was made clear from the get go. It is also up to the 11, to a point, to decide where the trip will be. We tossed around some ideas and came up with rough costs. At this point, one mother stated that she would rather just pay for the trip for her child outright. None of this fundraising business. Let me just state right now that I could not agree more. I do not need $55 worth of candles or wrapping paper or candy. Let me write my check for $55 and off my daughter goes on the trip. However. There are parents who can not make that same gesture. It's a fact. $55 (and that is the cost if we stay in Maine for the day - double that if we decide to venture out of state) will be a hardship for some families. How do we ensure those children attend this trip?

Cricket, cricket. Blink, blink.

"Well," the one mother finally responded "we can then do fundraisers for the kids who can't afford to pay." To which her friend sitting next to her replied "Yeah...like a bake sale! And we can charge $55 per muffin - I'll make them really big!"

While I understand this was an attempt at humor, I was outraged. Is it a joke that there are families in our community who will not be able to afford this trip for their children? Are we so smug in our own security that it makes it ok for us to laugh at others who are not?

My knee jerk reaction was to bid adieu to the parents in attendance and be on my way. I have learned though, that silence is acceptance. I will not be silent. I will attend, I will plan, I will make sure we have enough money for every child to go on the trip, whether their family can afford it or not. And I will do it with grace and tact and humor when appropriate.

Men show their characters in nothing more clearly than in what they think laughable. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Again

2007-10-23T13:40:00.000-04:00

I'm back. Again.

This blogging thing weighs on me at times - I know, all 11 posts I've made so far. I really do want to keep up with it. Almost daily I think "I could blog about this!". Yet another part of me thinks....well, why would anyone care what I have to say? But as I read back over the very few posts I've made, I smiled at some of the things I wrote. Much like reading over an old journals (which I don't keep either). I love the art of writing, even if I don't do it well. So here we go again.

I sit here today, right now, fully coiffed and made up. Generally this is not the case. I work from home and consider it a victory to be showered and in fresh clothing before the rest of the family arrives home in the afternoon. Those fresh clothes might be sweats or even the jammies I plan to wear to bed that night. I see no point in getting all made up and doing my hair. I know some of you might make the argument that I should try a little harder for the Postman. He might like to see me all gussied up when he gets home at the end of the day. I say that the Postman has seen me at my very worst. The Postman also loves me for reasons that are way more important than blush, eyeliner and hairspray. I sit here today made up for my daughter.

Yesterday I was in the middle of cleaning when the phone rang. It was the Diva asking me to bring her some Advil. She had a headache - and her school does not allow them to carry medications, much less self medicate. I was a mess. I told her I would finish up as fast as I could, hop in the shower and be there before her lunch period ended. I did exactly that. I walked in to the lunchroom with 5 minutes to spare and wet hair. She was mortified. I was hurt that she was mortified. How could she not realize the choice I made to skip drying my hair so that I could get the Advil to her quicker? But I know the answer. She's 11. It matters what her friends think. I remember. Do I agree?....well of course not. I'm 38 now. I have learned what is really important. But I still remember what it was like to be 11.

She is bringing a friend home with her on the bus today. So my hair is dried and sprayed, my cheeks are rosy and my lashes are fuller and thicker. There are also brownies in the oven. June Cleaver lives.

Setting a good example for children takes all the fun out of middle age. ~ William Feather

Another year

2007-04-11T11:41:00.001-04:00

I am another year older. It actually happened a few days ago. I don't know how I feel about getting older. I say the number in my head and it seems unbelieveable. I still feel 21...maybe 25. I still love the tattoos I got when I was younger and I still consider things like belly piercings. My daughter would probably be mortified if she knew I was considering getting my belly button pierced.

The Red Sox had their opening day at Fenway yesterday. I love when they win their home opener.

There is still, unbelievably, snow on the ground. And, another storm is predicted for tomorrow promising another 6 inches. It is mid-April, enough already!

This time of year is always difficult for me, although it usually gets easier after my birthday passes. I think the weather we are having is causing my blues to continue. The Postman and I are going away for a few days next week while the kids are with their dad. Maybe that will help bring me out of my funk.

That's all for now.

I'm going home, to the place where I belong. Where your love has always been enough for me. ~ Daughtry

20 years

2007-02-06T08:56:00.000-05:00

I recently received information regarding my twenty year high school reunion.

I'm not sure if I will go or not. Although I stay in touch with a few friends from my childhood and youth, I'm not sure I want to revisit that period in my life - albeit 20 years later. Teenage angst can be brutal, particularly if there are other issues in play. I was insecure, foolish, hyper, and loud. I begged for attention and usually got it in all the wrong places. Wisdom has come with age, and my fair share of therapy. I would love the chance to see some of my "friends" from that time - see how they have changed and show them how I have. Yet I don't trust that any of them have changed enough to see the change in me. Therein lies the rub.

It also somewhat irritates me that I even care what they think of me all these years later. I think that implies that I am not over the insecurities that I have tried so hard to overcome. When the Postman saw the envelope in the mail, he said "We're busy that day!" without even knowing the date.

Perhaps he's right.

There's a big world out there. Bigger than prom, bigger than high school, and it won't matter if you were the prom queen or quarterback of the football team, or the biggest nerd. Find out who you are and try not to be afraid of it. ~ Anonymous

What's Agway?

2007-02-03T13:50:00.000-05:00

We got about 5 inches of snowfall last night...but that didn't deter us from being at the (outdoor) rink at 9:00am for hockey. The fact that it snowed means the air was probably warmer than it was on Wednesday night, but there was quite a wind this morning. AND, I got stuck in the unplowed parking lot at the rink. Yay me.

Since hockey runs for an hour and a half on Saturday, I told my son I would be leaving for a few minutes to do an errand. I asked my daughter if she wanted to go with me to Agway. "What's Agway?" she asked. "The feed store." (among other things), I responded. She agreed to go and off we went.

As we drove, however, I thought about her question. A year ago we lived in a relatively urban area. About an hour from Boston, and 45 minutes from Portland. Almost anything we needed was just a few minutes drive into New Hampshire. Barnes and Noble was a mere 8 minutes from our house. Now the closest B and N is about 1/2 hour away. We now do alot of browsing and buying online. Even so, with everything available to us before, there is so much we aren't familiar with.

Today I learned more about hockey. I learned why the blades need sharpening, I learned about sock garters, and I learned that I don't get his skates tied tight enough. Hmmmm...the first two I can work with and I know what to do and what we need. The last one? All I can say is the Postman might need to be in charge of tying skates from now on!

Education is the movement from darkness to light. ~ Allan Bloom

$75,000 per minute

2007-02-02T08:27:00.000-05:00

That's the profit Exxon Mobil Corp made every minute of 2006. Profit. While consumers are rejoicing when gas prices fall below $2.00 per gallon, some executives at Exxon Mobil Corp. can expect their bonuses to exceed 5 millon dollars. Read that again. Their bonuses. That is in addition to their yearly salaries. When is enough too much?

Capitalism is founded on greed and envy ~ Charles Long

February 1st

2007-02-01T08:08:00.000-05:00

Normally this is a tough time of year for me. I find the months after Christmas to be dark, cold, and depressing. They then lead right into the period before my birthday which, for reasons I do not wish to discuss yet, I despise. It has nothing to do with getting older - although that's the premise I hide behind. I think probably only one person knows the true reason.

Anyway.

I am so easily irritated these days. The Diva is in full Diva mode. She honestly has no idea that there are 3 other people living in this house and that the world does not revolve simply around her and her desires. I was discussing the situation with the Postman last night, wondering when that all might change and he replied "Not until she's about thirty." God help me.

Beyond these four walls, it seems the world has gone mad. Or madder. The big news of the week: Tyra has gained weight. Seriously? There are so many problems with making that the issue of the week. There is a war going on in Iraq. There are peace rallies taking place in Washington. But Tyra gained some weight folks. Don't get me wrong: I am beyond pleased that she is fighting back. It's high time someone like her stood up and said "It's ok!" But...I still can't fathom that's what made big headlines this week. Is it because we have become so numb to everything else that's going on that we needed a diversion such as this? Side note: If I looked like Tyra does, I would be thrilled! She looks fabulous. And she's intelligent to boot.

It's time to get moving. Volunteering at school today and running errands after that. It's a balmy 8 degrees F this morning so it shouldn't be too bad.

This is a youth-oriented society, and the joke is on them because youth is a disease from which we all recover.—Dorothy Fuldheim

-8.6 F

2007-01-30T09:08:00.000-05:00

That was the temperature this fine morning when the Captain and the Diva went out for the bus. Welcome to January in Maine. No one should really complain about the cold - thus far it has been a fairly mild winter. So mild, in fact, that the first night of rec hockey was last night. The outdoor rink was not able to freeze properly until now due to the mild weather.

I am so not cut out to be a hockey mom. With my luck, this is the sport that will become the Captain's passion and we will be out there every day, every winter, from now until he goes to college. Even the high school varsity team uses that rink to practice on, so there is no reprieve in sight. The Captain seemed to love it and enjoy himself...so it may be in my best interest to stock up on thermal underwear and wool socks. I also have a lot to learn as I have never been a great follower of ice hockey. Luckily for me, I got my hands on the "Parent's Introduction to Youth Hockey" pamphlet from a rack in the dressing room.

The captain did very well - surprisingly well - during this first attempt at hockey. Although he was on his butt alot, he was also on his feet alot and was even able to handle the puck when it came his way.

Tomorrow night the Diva will go to her first figure skating lesson. I hope her results are as good as the Captain's. She gets very, very annoyed when her little brother does something better or quicker than she does. I didn't realize just how annoyed until very recently when she had to come up with a list of writing prompts. The subject was something along the lines of "Ten worst moments in your life". Number one on her list was "My brother learned how to ride a two wheel bike before I did."

Two days left in the month. I should be working, not blogging. Unfortunately, all the turmoil in the office lately has taken it's toll mentally and I just can't muster up the motivation I need to stay focused. That's from someone who works from home - I can't even imagine what life in the office must be like right now.

Hockey is a tough game. ~ Bobby Orr

iStJ

2007-01-23T09:07:00.000-05:00

Introverted
Sensing
Thinking
Judging

iStJs are often called inspectors. They have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty. Punctuation is a watchword of the iStJ. The person by whom others set their clocks is likely to be an iStJ.

They are easily frustrated by the inconsistencies of others, especially when the second parties don't keep their commitments. But they usually keep their feelings to themselves unless they are asked. And when asked, they don't mince words. Truth wins out over tact.

Famous iStJs:
George Washington
Andrew Johnson
Benjamin Harrison
Herbert Hoover
George H. W. Bush
Evander Holyfield

Fictional iStJs:
Joe Friday
Eeyore
Cliff (the Postman on Cheers)

It's a good day when I am likened to Geroge Washington, Evander Holyfield, and Eeyore all in the same personality test.

"A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference. Or so the say." said Eeyore

Snowday

2007-01-19T08:13:00.000-05:00

Well here we are...again. The snow has forced the cancellation of school today. First time this school year - not bad considering it's January 19th.

It's January now...I kept up with the blog, for what? 7 whole posts spanning a week or two? Let's try this again.

I often feel like there is so much I have to say, but not the appropriate forum. I guess I still struggle with that the most in relation to blogging. Do I really want all of it out there in cyberspace for anyone to read and comment on?

What has happened since my last blog? School started. My work at home status became permament. The Red Sox did not make the playoffs. The Patriots did - so far. The Democrats took over. The holidays came and went. My children swam with dolphins in Florida. Each day we have settled in more and more in our new lives.

So here we go...another try.

Starstruck

2006-08-27T08:30:00.000-04:00

The Postman and I took the Captain and the Diva to a Red Sox game last week. Not just any Red Sox game; it was against the Yankees. Baseball's longest standing, fiercest rivalry. We are a Red Sox family, through and through. We have the jerseys that say "I support two teams...the Red Sox and whoever beats the Yankees." I refer to Bucky Dent as "Bucky f***ing Dent". I rarely utter the name Buckner.

So we left Maine in the wee hours of the morning to make the trek to Revere to ride the T into the city. I in my Tek jersey, the Captain in his Tek t-shirt, the Diva in her Papi shirt, and the Postman in a Sox t-shirt with no allegiance to any specific player (he's a Mirabelli fan....sigh). We arrived at Fenway and were happily making our way to our seats. As we walked through the concourse, I passed Bobby Abreau. (Side note: I don't have a specific dislike for BA...he was just recently traded to the Yanks and hasn't had time to truly piss me off. Plus, he was the Homerun Derby champ last year. So it was a tad exciting to see him strolling through the crowd.) I yelled to the Postman who was a few steps ahead of me and the Captain. The Postman turned to look but didn't see him. He might even have questioned whether it really was Bobby Abreau or not. Until...he turned back around to keep walking then turned back to say "Here comes Jorge Posada." (Side note # 2: I dislike George more than any other Yankee player. Nothing personal. Maybe because he's a catcher and so is Tek...I dunno. A-Rod is a close second on my dislike list what with getting all up in Tek's face.) However, upon hearing the news that Jorge was heading toward us, I leaned down close to my son's ear, told him who Jorge was, and pointed him out. To his credit, Jorge gave my son a little nod when he saw us looking at him. I straightened up to continue on our way...and was literally smack dab in front of Derek Jeter. About a foot away. "Oh my God, it's Derek Jeter!" was the most intelligent thing I came up with to say. He gave a slight smirk and kept walking. I'm sure his thought was "Stupid, hick Red Sox fans." Needless to say...the Postman has not let me forget about my excitement over seeing three Yankees players up close. I try to pass it of as regard for their status as athletes regardless of what team they play for, but that has not cut it with him. In his book, I am now a Derek Jeter fan. So I had to boo extra loudly every time he was anounced during the game...hehehe.

State of the Nation

2006-08-02T12:14:00.000-04:00

Red Sox nation, that is.

http://mlb.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/news/article.jsp?ymd=20060801&content_id=1587773&vkey=news_bos&fext=.jsp&c_id=bos

Ok...so I'm not gonna lie. He is easy on the eyes. But beyond that...there is no catcher better prepared for a game, no catcher that can gear up the pitching staff like he can. Admittedly, I am one of those rabid Sox fans. Even more than that, I am a rabid Tek fan. Have been since the beginning; I'm not one of those female bandwagoners that just jumped on a few years ago when he started to make a name for himself in Boston, so don't even go there with me. And this RSF cannot fathom the Sox making it into the post season with Tek being out for the next 4 to 6 weeks. I hope I am overreacting. I am apt to do that at times. Just ask the Postman.

"I think there are only three things America will be known for 2,000 years from now when they study this civilization: the Constitution, jazz music, and baseball." ~ Gerald Early

2006-07-29T18:01:00.000-04:00

1. What is your favorite word? I love you (I know, I know...it's really three words)
2. What is your least favorite word? never
3. What turns you on, creatively, spiritually or emotionally? compassion
4. What turns you off? thinking only inside the box
5. What is your favorite curse word? fuck - and very creatively, I might add!
6. What sound or noise do you love? the ocean, my children's voices
7. What sound or noise do you hate? my children crying
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? ASL interpretor
9. What profession would you not like to do? nurse
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? You belong here? Let me double check my list...

I not only use all the brains I have, but all that I can borrow ~ Woodrow Wilson

When is the 1st day of school?

2006-07-28T20:35:00.000-04:00

Today I was wishing school would begin. Seriously. The funniest part about that is that the Captain and the Diva have been in daycamp all week from 8:30-2:30! So, as of this moment, we have been together for about 6 hours today (morning time doesn't really count - everyone is usually too busy to get on anyone else's nerves. Notice I said usually.) The current argument is about notebooks. When we moved, all the art supplies got put in one big box...paper, scissors, crayons, markers, glue sticks, etc., etc. Since the Diva has a desk in her room, I made the mistake of telling her she could store all the art supplies in her desk but that she had to share them with the Captain. Apparently, she heard as far as putting them in her desk...and that made them hers.

The Postman is hiding in the bedroom watching a Clapton concert on DVD. In 22 minutes I will join him. 9:00 pm...summertime magical hour...I will have to start weaning them back to 8:30. 9:00 is too late for the school year.

I think people that have a brother or sister don't relaize how lucky they are. Sure, they fight alot, but to know that there's always somebody there, somebody that's family. ~ Trey Parker and Matt Stone

Smarty Pants Mom

2006-07-23T08:58:00.000-04:00

Nothing like a little quiz to enlighten a Sunday morning: Are You a Slacker Mom?

Your quiz results make you a Smarty Pants Mom. Smart parents like you have smart kids. They need plenty of intellectual stimulation and you provide them with all they need, plus lots of love. You know how to help them with algebra homework, and you are superior at kissing boo-boos.

I can't wait to tell The Diva that I'm a Smarty Pants Mom! I think I'll follow it up with "Neener, neener! Told you I was smart!". I'm pretty sure when she rolls her eyes at me this time, they'll get stuck in the recesses of her head.

When The Diva was 6 she asked me how babies are made. I responded that we should take a trip to the library and pick out some books to read about the creation of life. She said she didn't want to. She wanted me to tell her in my own words. I responded again that I really thought we should read a book together. She looked me square in the eye and said "You don't know how it happens, do you?" I lost all credibilty at that exact moment.

I leave you with this:

Raising children is part joy and part guerilla warfare. ~ Ed Asner

What you "should" do...

2006-07-21T13:28:00.000-04:00

Man, I hate that phrase. I completely dislike it when someone takes it completely upon themselves to tell me what I should do. If I ask for your opinion...then great, lay it on me. Or if I'm complaining about a situation and you're tired of hearing it, then tell me what I should do and then tell me to shut up. (Whether I take the advice is a completely different matter, but if I am complaining about something, I guess y'all have the right to say "then do something about it!" But I digress...)

I took my car to the garage yesterday. Not quite yet 8k miles but there's a shake in the steering column when I step on the brakes. Rotors, right? Well...at 9:20 (after the car has been taken for a test drive), the mechanic tells me that he might feel a little shake...but not really. I insist that there is one so he goes back into the garage, leaving me in the little waiting room off to the side (not bad digs...leather couches and all...). I had a book, I was happy to sit and read. The Postman called at about 10:40.

Him: "Where are you?"
Me: "At the garage."
Him: "Still? What did they say?"
Me: "That they couldn't really feel the shake but they are still looking at it and working on it."
Him: "What are they doing to it?"
Me: "I don't know. He hasn't come back out since our initial conversation."
Him: "Well, what you SHOULD do is go ask them what they are doing and why it is taking so long."
Me: "No, what I SHOULD do is sit here and wait and not be a pain in the ass to the person who is caring for my car. If you want to ask questions like that, you bring the car in next time. That's not my style."

Needless to say, that was pretty much the end of our conversation. Don't get me wrong...I am not at all passive and I will speak up if the situation warrants. However, being that I know very little about cars, I need a mechanic that won't take advantage of the situation. Since that was my very first visit to that particular garage, I don't think being rude and irritating was really the best route to take.

So this morning:

Him: "What you SHOULD do is take the car out on the highway today to see how it runs."

I'll let you know when that happens!

First post...background history...

2006-07-20T14:03:00.000-04:00

So this is it. My blog. I resisted for a long time...lurking on other blog sites, reading about other people's lives. So I thought I'd give it a whirl. I think most of it is coming from boredom. Until recently, I was a single mom, working full time. Now I am still a single mom...although that's not quite true as I do live with my significant other (known here as The Postman)...and I work part time from a home office...and my kids are spending a good part of the summer with their father. So that leaves me with a significant amount of free time on my hands.

I'm not sure what the plan is going forward. Will I blog every day? Will I use the space as a journal/personal diary and allow complete strangers into that very private space? Or will I just write about the daily grind? I haven't figured that all out...I am blessed with the ability to see the humor and ridiculousness of almost any situation so I'm sure that will come into play quite a bit!

For now...I leave you with this...the Captain and his summer 'do.