Happy Birthday to me

Last night, I went to my sister's house for the birthday surprise. She took my cell phone and said, "You are going to lock yourself into Dad's bathroom (he has a garden tub) and soak in the tub for as long as you want."

Dad interjected, "As long as you want... but be out by 8:00, since that is my bedtime."

I looked at her.

She looked a little worried.

"Isn't that what you asked for?"

Eyebrow raise.

"Saturday you said that what you wanted for your birthday was to be locked in a closet and left alone for a couple of hours. Would you rather have the closet?" she asked with genuine concern.

"Oh! No, the bathroom sounds great."

"Will you be able to relax?"

In my father's bathtub? Ummm....

"Yeah.."

"You have soothing bubble bath, sugar scrub, shampoo & conditioner... Paul made strawberries and cream (real homemade whipped cream)... and here is the soothing tea."

Paul said, "As soon as you get settled, we'll come in and sing happy birthday."

I'm afraid there are no pictures, although it was lovely. I wish you all could have been there... or not.

I soaked and read and thought and read and soaked for an hour and a half. I thoroughly enjoyed the Bath & Bodyworks Eucalyptus & Peppermint stuff. I read three chapters of The Circle of Quilters by Jennifer Chiaverini. And I thought about how perfectly thoughtful this gift was.

Ellen could have given me the bubble bath et al and sent me home, where it would probably have gathered dust in the closet until "the perfect time." Instead, I was forced to relax and enjoy myself. And I did. It takes a special friend and sister to know that about me. What can I say?
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Yesterday I mentioned that my youthful birthdays were disappointments because I expected too much. I once asked my mother why I didn't have birthday parties with friends like everyone else and she showed me a picture of my third or fourth birthday party. There are five or six girls in pretty party dresses and big smiles. Then there is me. I am in a pretty party dress. I am surrounded by friends I still remember. I have balloons and cake and presents. And I am crying.

When I first heard that, I felt very guilty. Not only had I ruined my birthdays, I had kept my siblings from having parties. And they might not have cried at their parties.

Later I realized I was probably overwrought. I was three, for Pete's sake. But I carried the habit of getting overwrought on my birthday for many years.

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When I turned 18, I spent most of the day working myself into a tizzy. My friends Margaret and Vicky were going to take me out, since back then 18 was the legal drinking age. I worked myself up so much I almost cancelled, but Mom told me that I would hurt their feelings and I needed to get a grip. Fortunately, I did.

Because Margaret and Vicky didn't take me out, they threw me a surprise birthday party. With people. Other people. I would never have imagined that people would have come to my birthday party. (I may have had issues, ok?)
Since I had a couple ten bad years after that, I don't know if it was a turning point, but it was a point of change. I could have a great birthday, I could have great friends, I could have fun. It was spectacular, special, and memorable. I am sure I have never thanked them enough. (Hey Margaret! Thank you sooooooo much. Tell Vicky, too.)
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Today, I worked really hard in the morning, but everyone in my office said Happy Birthday. My boss took us to lunch at Ruby Tuesdays (try the crab cake dinner). Bob joined us. They bought me balloons and a cake and two African Violets, because I have a reputation for succeeding in keeping them blooming. (Bright, indirect light. Ours is a northern facing window with a large western facing window close by. I'm not good with plants. Really.) I enjoyed this morning and the lunch more than I can say.

This afternoon, I went to St. Michael's, where I was again inundated with good birthday wishes. And don't get me started on the Facebook birthday wishes. I feel the love.

My daughter in love is making a cake for me, and the boys are picking up Chinese food. (If it's good enough for Jesus' birthday, it's good enough for me.) Bob and I are drinking a beer in honor of the "Beer Summit" at the White House. The kids are on their way back with the food and more beer. Tomorrow is my day off, and I may get to my to-do list. Or not.
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And, I'm 49 years old. As my friend Courtney says, if you are going to lie about your age, lie old. If you tell people you are 30 and you are 40, they will say "Damn, what's she been smoking?" If you say you are 58 and you are 48, they say, "She looks good for her age."

Wednesday, Hump Day, My Birthday Eve

I am not one of those people who does not celebrate my birthday. I love birthdays. When I was a child, I expected so much from my birthdays that I was invariably disappointed. Then I learned to enjoy whatever comes, and many good things have come.

My husband has never forgotten my birthday. It isn't because he is really good with dates and always gives thoughtful surprise gifts. It is because I write "Kathy's Birthday" on the calendar. (I write every ones birthdays on the calendar. Mine has fireworks.) Then I say, do you know what I'd like for my birthday? And I tell him several things that would be nice. And sometimes he buys me something, but usually we go shopping together, which is a nice present in and of itself.

Birthdays in my family last at least a week. We have a family party with my siblings, my Dad, and some close friends on a weekend, usually close to the actual day. We eat a special meal, often on the actual day. On the actual day, the birthday girl or boy gets to say, "It's my birthday & you have to be nice to me" all day long. Then we'll have a celebration with Bob's family, usually a group celebration for people born within a month or two. It's all good.

Tonight, my sister is giving me a present. She said to come to her house, bring a good book, expect to spend two or three hours, and I won't be available by phone. That could be scary, but I think it will be wonderful. I'm trying not to speculate, so that I can enjoy the surprise and the "it" of the present.

And now, on my birthday eve, I'd better get to work. What are they thinking?

Sun and Thunder

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and it is thundering like the dwarfs bowling on the mountain. It's interesting, at least. I am thinking that I need to print out some things so I can work if the power goes out. I am also thinking that it is nap time.

I am working on some interesting projects right now... sort of reviewing every client to make sure everything is in order and to see if they are making too much money. No one ever thinks they make enough money to pay taxes, but that's because they make the money over the year, then pay the taxes in one lump. One of the things I'm supposed to do is make sure they are paying estimated taxes...

I just realized how utterly boring that paragraph is. If that's what I'm thinking about, I might as well get back to work. I would, too, but my stomach hurts and I'm trying to remember if I have any medicine around here. I won't go into details. Even I have that much discretion.

As I've whined, things are kind of tough right now, although I have a lot of hope for improvement. I just want to take a nap until things actually improve. I suppose that is too much to ask.

My minivan is in the shop --- warranty expired 1500 miles ago, which was early June, right before the trip to D. C. I guess you can't take a five year old minivan to D.C. twice in addition to the many many other miles and expect it not to have some problems. I'm beginning to think I can't afford travel.

I think we have a dollar in the bank, but we have food in the house and payday is Thursday. We also have a pretty good safety net, although I hate to use it. I suppose I shouldn't complain, since we are supporting two families right now. If Robert, Katy, and Joseph get jobs I'll feel absolutely loaded. I might even travel some more.

Oops, lightning. Better get back to my nap work.

It smells like Monday

I did far less than I wanted to do this weekend. But then, I did more than I expected to do.

The van is in the shop and I have reason to believe that its problems are mostly covered by warranty. The poor thing has been to D. C. twice since we got it, and we bought it used. I'm not really complaining, since it's my fault that we pushed it, but I'd like it to last until it's paid off. I think that is in 18 months. I could look it up, but I don't care that much.

Joseph and Mark are heading to Carowinds, our amusement park on the SC/NC border. Mark is hoping that he's tall enough to ride everything. He, Joseph, and my brother John will attempt to ride every scary ride at the park without throwing up or dislocating something. Good luck, fellas!

Bob has not dislocated something, but he did pull, pinch, or twist something and is now lying in bed looking very very sad. I'd have more sympathy if I hadn't just recovered from a sciatica attack, making it difficult for me to walk. He said, "why don't you get yourself some aspirin or something?" And then he bounced on the bed. Accidentally, I'm sure.

You can understand why I'm tempted to put the bottle of ibuprofen just out of his reach. But, no, I found it for him, got him water, and did not bounce on the bed on the way out. I did, however, announce that I was treating him much better than he deserved and reminded him that my birthday is this week.

I took a Facebook quiz (I love those things) that told me that my guardian angel is Ariel. And here, I thought Ariel was a little mermaid. So anyway, it has all sorts of cool and probably completely inaccurate things about Ariel being the guardian angel of divination and something about water sprites and healing animals. All very cool. And then, it says Ariel is associated with lions and if you see or hear lions Ariel is near.

Well, with what is probably a combination of the power of suggestion & the fact that I am a Leo, I am seeing and hearing lions all over the place. In the weirdest places, too. I can only hope that this FB quiz is better than the one that said I was Draco Malfoy. (I really don't want to explore that one.) And so, I am hoping the lions will inspire me and guide me, cause it's going to be a bumpy ride.

BFF: Reflections

Oh look, I haven't written anything in a week. Let me think, what have I been doing?

I've worked all week, which is a good thing. I've been fairly productive, which is a very good thing. I took Mark to the dentist on Thursday, which was not great, but what can we do?

Speaking of teeth, Mark's dentist has recommended a fluoride rinse. Aside from all the stuff about fluoride being a communist plot, it's generally thought to be a good thing for teeth. I read that children (me) used to get fluoride in the water (the communist plot) and their teeth were stronger than those who didn't. Now kids don't drink tap water as much, so they aren't getting the fluoride. Thus, the cavities & the fluoride rinse, capitalist plots to separate me from my money.

I also heard (on NPR, she says in her snooty voice) that chewing gum with xylitol can help prevent cavities. Kids in Scandinavia chew xylitol gum all the time. Being Scandinavians, they don't play with their gum in class or stick it under the desk or in their buddy's hair. So for Scandinavians, it's a good thing all around. Since other studies have shown that the action of chewing gum can increase problem solving ability (has to do with learning styles and mixing motion with thought and all that good stuff), I'm thinking we should encourage kids to chew sugarless gum in class. If we can prevent them from playing with it or sticking it under the desk or in their buddy's hair. What do y'all think?

I, personally, don't like gum. Maybe if I'd chewed it as a child I'd have better teeth and be able to chew gum without it sticking to my dental work (and the places I've yet to have dental work), but I didn't. I always here my mother or grandmother (a first grade teacher) saying, "you look like a cow chewing cud." Dang --- hurt my self-esteem AND my teeth. A two-fer. Oh well.

I wonder if chewing gum would keep people from grinding their teeth. You know, work it out during the day. You don't want to chew gum at night. I won't do that twice three times.

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SC Governor Mark Sanford & his family have gone on a European vacation. That's sweet. It's good to have a governor in touch with the people of SC. He suggested that all South Carolinians who are stressed out about unemployment, lack of health care, the high cost of education, or whatever should take some time off to explore Europe and get back in touch with their families. He said if they can't afford to go to Europe, they should kayak.

Fortunately for SC, the governor doesn't do anything. Unfortunately, he gets paid to do nothing. I'm not sure we can afford to keep him in the style to which he is accustomed.

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Good news: My son Mark will be attending Carolina School for Inquiry for 6th grade. The director and the board brainstormed (you should have seen the lightning!) and came up with a way to solve several staffing issues and have a 6th grade. I'm ecstatic. Mark is too, but he's still in his summer mode so you wouldn't know it to look at him.

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Yesterday at the dentist, the dental assistant told Mark he'd be getting "bubble gum gas" and he gave her a funny look. I thought he was going to say "do you mean nitrous oxide?" He didn't and later told me that he couldn't really understand her cute words but thought it would be smart-alecky to ask her to speak like an adult. Then we talked about how we hoped he did have bubble gum gas because it would be an improvement over his normal gas.

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Joseph (my middle son) is going to Midlands Tech this fall. I'm proud of him for going down and doing what he had to do to get enrolled. I hope we can find the money. He is going to MTC for a couple of years to get the basic classes at a lower price than the University of SC, taught by people with at least a master's degree, in smaller classes. Then he'll transfer to a university. This is a good thing.

I believe that people should go to college when they are good and ready to work at it and not party all night long. Unfortunately (sort of), a lot of people think I'm an idiot for not insisting my kids go straight to college. Some people fill out their kids' college applications. I'm not down with that. But even though I know we are right, it's a pain in the arse to listen to smug parents & not tell them I saw their kid picking up a hooker on Two Notch. Be a duck. Be a duck.

Anyway, I'm glad Joseph is going to school. I hope he finds a satisfying, challenging, fulfilling field. I hope the same for myself, of course. Life is a quilt, not a smoothly woven cloth. At least, mine is.

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It's 8 a.m. so the lawn guys are at work across the street. Today I find it inspiring rather than irritating. I have to get my minivan to the shop, drop off stuff for some clients, clean my house, plan meals, go grocery shopping, do some more accounting, figure out my flexible medical benefits plan so we can get some of the cash that's sitting in the account, crochet a blanket, and bake cookies. Then lunch. Just kidding. I've got two and a half days to get all that done. We'll see.

BFF: What's good

It has occurred to me (and perhaps to some of you) that I have been whining way too much. It has been said that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome is the definition of insanity. I say that whining about the same thing over and over again without doing something is the definition of irritating. And so, today, I am going to tell you about some of the really good things in my life.


This is a picture of a real live flower on my deck. Isn't it beautiful? The deck is pretty nice, too. And of course, I have a house, which is always a good thing.

This is a picture of my youngest son Mark and my lovely husband Bob. We were at my cousin Karla's house. Although some of my relatives are a pain in the arse, most of them are fun, funny, smart, and kind. Other things too, but I don't want to embarrass them.

This is a picture of my daughter in love Katy & my two grandsons at the beach. As you can see, I am blessed.

Thriday

As I peek through the broken slat in the mini-blind, I see gray and gray-green, which means it may rain. That's usually good news in South Carolina, since we seem to exist in a perpetual drought state. We can't figure out how one can be "below normal" for 20 years, but it works for the education system, why not the weather?

Speaking of education, the public charter school which I helped start and which my son has attended for the past three years was authorized to have 6th grade --- YAY! Unfortunately, the change came late in the year and there aren't enough students interested to have a 6th grade this year. There will be next year, but for now, I have to take care of my son.

First, I have signed up for him to take three days of advanced placement testing. That should help him build stamina for the bar exam. Aside from having to take a week from summer to do this, he isn't worried about the test. He is very bright, relatively relaxed, and confident.

Next, I have to get him transferred from the school to which he is zoned to another school. I am a big supporter of public education and will do everything I can to make sure that all children have an excellent public education that fits their temperament, interest, and learning style. I will not send my child to a middle school in which half the students haven't met the 'basic' level on the statewide test and where the schools answer is uniforms and more accelerated reader. I was wavering, until I got the AAP summer reading list from this school. It asked the kids to read one book from a list of eight. Of the eight, the most challenging was Charlotte's Web, and Mark read that in 3rd grade. This school is not succeeding, & I can't sacrifice my child on the altar of minimally adequate education.

Other than that, we are moving along, doing what we need to do, trying to get ahead. And now, i guess I'd better do what I need to do at work.

Wednesday, July 15

Half way through the week, half way through the month. About half way through the year. Half way through life? Who knows? I don't and I'm not asking.

Yesterday the wasp lay dead in the spider's web. She hadn't spun her web around it and so it just hung there. Today it is gone. Maybe she ate it, but I don't think they eat bugs that fast. Maybe it fell down to the bottom of the window sill and I can't see it. Let me look... ew, I probably ought to clean out that window sill. That's a veritable bug banquet.

Do people clean out the space between the window and the screen? I am not sure the window will open. We pretty much go from cold to a hot humidity that will mold your socks in minutes, so open windows aren't a big deal. It's too bad, really. I can only open my windows for a day in spring and a week in the fall.

I open my windows more than most people, because I don't have a pathological fear of burglars. I hope if they come in, they will clean up a little. My unwelcome intruders come in the kitchen door, usually without an invitation. I suppose that's a duh there. If they had an invitation, would they be unwelcome? Well, in some cases, yes. Like the obligatory invitation to a relative who is hyper-critical, hyper-controlling, and hyper-bitter. I try to remember that she is a sad bitter person and I am not. Then I smile in a way that she finds really irritating and nod as she complains about my family. And I say, "Don't you worry yourself about them. You just take care of yourself" in a really sincerely concerned voice. Sincerity is great. If you can fake that, you've got it made.

Things have gotten hairy lately, and although I am relatively well physically and Not Depressed, there is just so much stuff that my defenses are wearing thin. I wish it were literal, but I don't lose weight under stress. I add on padding. Or keep it the same. I suppose that's good for my body, or it would be if I were in steerage on a long journey across the ocean after surviving a famine or living in a frozen settlement somewhere between Mattapoisett and the Head of Saint Margaret's Bay. But no, I'm living in Columbia, South Carolina with four grocery stores within walking distance (not that I walk there) and natural heat almost all year long. Oh well.

Before the ancestral/genetically fat tirade, I was going to say that I am planning to sign up for a yoga class geared toward people with depression. My daughter in love is also interested. I think I can get over my aversion to herds of human beings long enough to get some benefit and help her out too.

I've gotten four beautiful tomatoes, a green pepper, and several banana peppers from my deck garden. I have learned that bigger pots will be better for next year. I need more herbs & they will fit in the medium to large pots I have. I really need want a claw-footed bathtub. That would make a cool planter for zucchini, squash, or cucumbers... whatever that is out there.

Sunday Morning Musings

There is a wasp in my window, apparently trapped between the glass and the screen. It has been there since yesterday. I am thinking that since it got in, it should be able to get out. Today there is a small spider trying to catch it for Sunday dinner, but the wasp just keeps pulling the web apart. I wonder how it got in. I wonder if it will get out. I wonder if the spider will have its dinner.

I have been working on my Facebook farm, sad as that is. I may go into the actual outdoors to work in my real garden. I have decided that I need bigger containers for my container garden. The squash had pretty flowers, but no fruit, which may be because the pot was too small. I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for large not ugly containers like washtubs and things.

My daughter in love has returned and we are all working to help each other. My son thinks the language of psychology rings false, but I told him that for some people (like me) it was very helpful. The terms were new but intuitively right. They give someone like me a safe way to express scary feelings. I don't know if that is true for Katy, but I think it may be.

I have three and a half blogs and a Facebook page, and I share pretty much everything with the world, but I am learning to only share my stories, not other people's. Unless they piss me off. And so I will try to respect Robert & Katy's privacy, sharing only what relates directly to me. As long as it's interesting, insightful, or fills the space.

It is time for me to get going in my real world. This is what I want to do this week, other than work:

1. get Mark tested for AAP & accepted in a middle school that doesn't teach Charlotte's Web or other books Mark read in 3rd grade in its 6th grade AAP class, in case CSI can't get enough kids to make up the 6th grade
2. find out if we can go to the yoga class for people with depression & go if we can
3. set up a scrapbooking group
4. get some yarn to make a shawl
5. plan my birthday party

Blog Fart Friday

Friday is the not working day, which means I have way more to do than hours in the day. And so, gentle readers, I am blogging and working on my Facebook Farm. How sad is that?

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I have three tomatoes that will be ready by the end of today. I have a few from the garden at my country accounting office. I'm thinking I need to get some fresh mozzarella, pick the basil and make a salad.

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My aunts Ann & Patty came by to visit at my Dad's house yesterday. It was a fun visit, and made me realize that I need to get out more. My niece the fair Roslyn & my son the merciful Mark gave us the U.S. citizenship test. Roslyn's father is applying for citizenship. I am proud to say that between the five of us, we got all of the questions right. Ann even know the number of members of the House of Representatives (435) although we accepted Paul's answer (too many) as correct as well.

Dad & Patty were on one team and Ann & I were on the other. Mark counted ties more often than not (thus the "merciful" title.) Dad & Patty had a disadvantage because Patty had to repeat the question to Dad. Since Dad's doctor (Dr. Quack) told him he doesn't have a hearing problem, we decided that all Duffys mumble and that is why none of us can hear each other.

The writers of the test used the clever trick of rewording the questions to trick you, sort of like on the Myers-Briggs assessment, but completely different. For instance, one question was "what document is the supreme law of the United States?" while another was "what is the Constitution?" And then, "How many branches of government are there?" followed by "Name the three branches of government."

We are a little concerned because we found out that the immigration officer can pick questions randomly to ask Paul. This reminds me of the old literacy requirement for voting. An illiterate white farmer would be asked to read & explain something simple while a black farmer would be asked to explain complicated arcane language that even James Madison didn't really understand. I just hope the officer doesn't decide she doesn't like Paul. Which is a possibility because, God love him, he's the orneriest Irishman that ever walked the face of this earth. Fortunately, he knows U. S. history and civics extremely well, so he probably could explain the arcane and complicated parts of the Constitution. It might take awhile...

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In other news, what's with the rich white people in Philadelphia? When I was six, I was not invited to swim at a neighbors house because her mother was afraid I'd bring my friend the maid's daughter, and (as she actual TOLD my mother) she couldn't bear to look out and see her children in the pool with little colored children. Of course, this was 1966, and even then we knew she was white trash. (Sorry Mom, I know I shouldn't call names.)

Things have improved and it would be disrespectful to those who sacrificed to make the changes to say otherwise, but don't sit down yet. We've got a long way to go. It's time for people of different colors and cultures to sit down and tell each other the truth as we know it. Then laugh it off, work it out, and pass the sweet ice tea (make mine Budweiser.)

Yeah, yeah, I know that's simplistic. It's blog-fart Friday. I'll work on a more reasoned post for the Matriarch's Corner. Maybe.

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OK, my to-do list is calling me. Off I go... don't try to stop me... I'm going now...

Thriday

Today is Thriday, which means I don't work tomorrow. Unless I decide to go in to escape the mess of work at home.

Today I work a half day in the country, then go to a meeting at the school, then go to the church to finish up. My boss will theoretically be at the country office today, which means I won't be able to break to tend my Facebook Farm or throw out a cute blog. Oh well. I'll catch up later. Since I'm only working a few hours, I can probably stand to work straight through. I may walk around the garden and get some more tomatoes and maybe some okra.




This is our family at Manassas. Do you think I can get one of those cannons for my yard? Maybe it will keep away Building inspector Odie, the City of Columbia official who has taken a personal interest in the house my son & his family live in. Before we moved out & had the house renovated, he offered Bob a fraction of the value for the house, after suggesting he could have it condemned. He has never said anything in front of witnesses, and what can we say if he comes by every week to measure the length of the grass and files a citation which is technically correct? So we keep on mowing, and have the shortest grass in the 'hood. I'll take pictures. Maybe I should send them to the mayor and ask him to get Building Inspector Odie off our back.

Off to work.

Why is this baby laughing?

OK, so I didn't get a lot of sleep last night and it was mostly due to that baby. He thinks that just because he is cute and smiles whenever he sees me that it's OK for him to wake up in the middle of the night and yell until I come get him. I have no idea how the others slept through the yelling --- it wasn't crying, just sort of fussing in order to get attention. I went downstairs where he and his brother and father are camped out while their house is being renovated and their mommy/wife is in the hospital. Daddy and brother and Uncle Mark were sleeping while baby Brendon crawled all over them yelling. I am not kidding.

Brendon fell asleep soon after I brought him to bed with Bob and me, snuggled like a small epileptic octopus between the two of us. He slept like a squirmy log for all of three hours, maybe. Then he woke up again. And so did I. I love 5 a.m. At least I got some computer time before I had to go to work.

Bedtime will come early tonight. I hope it lasts all night this time. Because that baby is cute, but he ain't that cute.

The Summer Grind

If I have lead anyone to believe that I have nothing to do at work except work my Facebook Farm, then I have misled you. I have a good bit to do. Most of it is tedious and depressing right now, but maybe that's just me.

I woke up yesterday morning with a grade A headache. I think it might have been (be) a migraine of some sort, but although my doctor labeled my headaches migraines, they don't fit the models I've read about. This one was mostly on the right side of my head. It hurt to sit up and it hurt more to lie down. I took a shower, which helped while I was in the shower. I took aspirin, which helped until I got up again. Although the major pain dimmed, I still feel as if my head is full of very heavy steel wool. And once in a while, it feels as if someone is pulling pieces out through the back of my neck. And of course, there is the nail in the head feeling.

But it really doesn't hurt that much, so I am up and about today. That is not to say I am working very hard. I completed a payroll this morning (mine was included so you can see my incentive there.) I got into a battle of wits with the Wachovia bank website and lost. They tell me they are sending me an e-mail to authenticate my computer, but I didn't see it in the hour I waited.

This afternoon at my other job, I have completed three months of bookkeeping for a very small company. I have also had a lovely conversation with the 80-something year old lady from next door who brought me blueberries she had picked and told me about her life now and in the past. Although my boss may not feel that was time well-spent, I beg to differ. I also got a standing invitation to pick my own blueberries.

In addition to that, I've had conversations about the sucky economy, theory of small business, and how hard it is to come home from vacation with several other clients. I think that should count for something.

Maybe I should open a tea shop so that I can work while I sit and talk to customers. I'll have to hire a waitstaff, of course, because I spill things. I suppose I can keep my own books. If I get tired of talking to people (and you know I will), I can go back to the kitchen and cook or count inventory. Now all I need is a boatload of money and I'm off.

In the mean time, I suppose I ought to earn my meager wages. Or not. I wonder if my grapes are ready?

Looking out from Sunday

I am torn between writing more everyday even if it makes Twitter seem insightful & only writing when I have something important and interesting to say. And being torn, I'm stuck in between. So I'm not writing everyday and when I do write, I make Twitter seem insightful. Oh well.

I'm not sure what insights I have right now, except something about having too many people in a house and rats becoming cannibals. I'm sure I've made it clear how much I love my sons. They are wonderful, and I hope they will take care of me when I am really really old, assuming I make it through this week. Unfortunately, right now I need to show some love to the boys by telling them to get their a$$es out of bed and doing something does not involve drinking beer on my carport all night long.

Times are tough and they need to be tougher. I am really tired of hearing them say they can't find a job, then list jobs they won't take. Although I agree they can't be pizza delivery guys because our insurance won't cover it, I don't see why they are too big for bag boys. I tell them they don't need a career but a J-O-B.

This is my problem only in so far as I have chosen to let them stay in my house and eat my food. And starting today, anyone who stays in my house and eats my food is going to do some serious work for it. That includes the damn cats. No not really. The cats are for decoration and to scare off my sister-in-law who murdered witches in her previous life and is therefore terrified of cats.

I made that up too. She isn't afraid of the cats. While we were in Washington and my son & daughter in love were here, she arrived unannounced, told the kids we had something of hers (cat crates on the carport --- two of which were ours) and went through my entire house, closets, bedrooms, and cupboards. She declared our house disgusting, which may be true, but who the hell is she to walk into our house like that? And if you are wondering why a woman who hates cats (I didn't make that up) is collecting cat crates, she has taken it upon herself to borrow crates and give them to people who she believes need to get their cats fixed. As noble as that might seem, be reminded that we didn't ask for her help. Ever. Frankly, this is going to put a damper of future family gatherings, since Bob and I can't think of anything nice to say so we are not speaking to her.

My daughter in love is in the hospital and we would appreciate any prayers, kind thoughts, and well wishes. The babies are babies. My son is trying to man-up, but I'm doing a Yoda here and saying, there is no try only do.

And so I sit with a minor migraine on Sunday morning, intermittently cleaning my disgusting house, writing my boring blogs, and checking on the price for small apartments in Santa Fe.

This week I intend to

• clean my disgusting house
• make life difficult for my lovely sons so that they will get J.O.B.s
• cleanse myself of anger toward my sister-in-law (suggestions welcome.)

Don't bring me down...

Things are sort of overwhelming right now, and as I sit and try to write, I can't think of anything clever or cute. I don't want to write about the overwhelming things because for the most part they aren't about me. It's not my story to tell, and in an atypical act of discretion I'm not going to tell it.

I have been thinking about writing stuff. I've been playing with ideas, but I can't really get over the part about killing off people who irritate me to come up with an actual story. I'm thinking that I may just need to write something every day and see what comes of it.

I am in such an overwhelmingly crappy mood, I think I might as well dive into the plastic bags that represent a year's worth of records for a store that has just closed. Wish me well, and I'll try to think of something uplifting, clever, or at least mildly amusing to post later on.