The Amortization of Goodwill

Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

2012-01-10T07:11:00.000-05:00

26 years ago yesterday, my water broke in the check out line at Family Mart. This was the old days, so the clerk had already had about 10 price checks (when the price tag isn't on it --- no bar code!) and was going for a world record.

It wasn't a big flood, just a trickle, and since I was wearing a dress and blue furry knee socks, it wasn't really noticeable. I stepped aside and kind of contemplated... did my water break or did I pee myself? Definitely water broke...

Bob wrote a check, glancing at me nervously. I was 9 days over due, it was bound to happen sometime...

"I need to see two forms of ID," the clerk smacked through Bubblicious. Bob searched, found them, gave them to her.

Finally, we are loading the car.

"My water broke."

"Let's go directly to the hospital."

"No, let's go home and put up these groceries while I call the doctor."

The next day, Robert was born. He was beautiful.

He still is, of course. Over the years, I have held him and talked to him or mostly listened to him. I am constantly amazed at his insight, his loving heart, his strength.

He is a father himself, now, and the insight, love, and strength serve him well. I hope he finds his place soon, because I know it will be a great place. It's hell being a late bloomer... I still don't know what my place is... but wherever Robert goes and whatever Robert does, he is a well-loved and blessed child.

Happy Birthday Robert, I love you.

Copernicus Called

2012-01-02T05:23:00.000-05:00

... he said to tell you you're not the center of the universe.

Copernicus has to call a lot of people these days. Brides to be, new parents, the Kardasians. He's had me on speed-dial this holiday season, but it's not just me... see, I'm learning.

My son and his wife are lovely people, but they will not be on time. If Bob and I were Noah and wife, our population would be down by a third. Three hours later, knee deep in the big muddy, my son and his adorable family would be at the dock.

In my family, there are only three or four occasions a year that require precise timing. Christmas is one of them. This year, they finally showed up three hours late, after we were packing up and getting ready for the next stop on our Christmas tour. It was great to have the babies there at all.

Yesterday, New Year's day, they were making the collards. My son was two and a half hours late, and my husband had already gone to prepare for the Taize service at the church. Everyone who was eating had already eaten. There is a pot of collards going to waste somewhere. Bob is angry. I am angry.

But, we are also not without blame. We have allowed our son and his wife to treat us like this for the last four years. "They have to get the babies together. They are sick. They are under a lot of pressure."

Let's think about this. If I had "friends" who did this to me, would I continue to invite them to things? Would I continue to count on them? Of course not.

The fact that this is my son and his wife; people I love and cherish, parents of my darling grandchildren --- that means that I'll put up with a little more. It also means I need to take some responsibility here.

Retroactive parenting is a dangerous thing, especially if you are trying to parent other people's children as well as your own. If you blew it the first time, you don't get a do-over. However, teaching expectations in regard to yourself is essential for a responsible and maybe happy life.

And so, this is what Bob and I have to do.

We have to tell our son and his wife we are angry.
We have to tell them that if they don't want to do something with us to tell us, but don't back out at the last minute or be several hours late.
We have to follow through & the next time they are that late, they will find an empty table with nothing but dishes to wash.

I'm sure this will make me miserable for a while. Oh well, I can't feel too much worse than I do now.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T07:39:00.000-05:00

I welcomed in the New Year on Icelandic Time and possible Greenland's time, but was well asleep before Eastern Standard Time's stroke of midnight. The fireworks didn't wake me up then, although a barrage at about 1 am got me out of bed.

Happy New Year!

Amazingly, it is still the new year, even though I didn't see its birth. It's a little chilly out there, but will be in the 70s today.

And then there is today. Pretty much my last day of rest before tax seasons... at least the last day that doesn't involve unpleasant medical procedures.

Today I will go to church and be with a small group of my St Michael & All Angels family. Most will not be rising and shining, but they will be there in spirit. Bob is in charge of the music today and he's very excited. And since we're Episcopalians, we're still singing Christmas songs. The recessional will be Go Tell it on the Mountain. Is that a great song or what?

This afternoon, I'll cook a pork loin, collards, and hoppin' john at my sister's house. These are the ingredients for luck, health, and wealth in the new year. I'm not dead and I have a house, so I guess it works.

I'm doing something slightly different with the pork and hoppin' john this year. I'm using a good bit of rosemary. It's for remembrance and good taste, both of which we need. I have white field peas and black eyed peas. I'm using a mix of brown, basmati, and wild rice.

The collards are sauteed... not as little as spinach but not cooked half past death. Collards are hefty leaves... they do need some cooking, but if you cook them too much they look like what happens when the cat eats a lizard.

Perversely, even though I cook the pork, the collards and hoppin' john are vegan. I use olive oil instead of pork fat. I know it's sacrilege but I don't care. I'll be eating this hoppin' john all week.

Tonight we will go to the Taize service at St. Michael's. It is a contemplative service with quiet readings and quiet repetitive music, all in candle light. I usually start crying a little, but it helps me work things out.

Tomorrow is a bowl game (go Cocks), work in the morning until my boss gets antsy and wants to go prepare for the game, and house cleaning. Then the doors open on Tuesday to W-2s, e-verify, and soon... tax returns.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

If I win a whimsy:

2011-12-31T11:03:00.000-05:00

This is what I'd like.
http://www.artfire.com/ext/shop/product_view/walkinthewoodsllc/246725/winter_wheat___moon_brooch_-_handmade_jewelry/handmade/jewelry/brooches/other

Isn't it beautiful? I speaks to me.

What I Made Today: Win a Happy 2012 Whimsy!

2011-12-31T10:57:00.000-05:00

What I Made Today: Win a Happy 2012 Whimsy!

This is a great way to start the year... or any day.

New Year's Eve

2011-12-31T08:03:00.000-05:00

Oh look: it's New Year's Eve. Has this been a year or what?

I continue with the ragged tradition of setting out goals or intentions for my year. I also continue with my ragged tradition of keeping them in the back of my mind and not sweating them too much.

Last year, I lost 20 lbs. I'd like to say it was from healthy eating and exercise, and maybe the healthier eating was a big part of it. However, I am eating better food because I don't have much of an appetite. The doctors are checking me out, and I've given them strict instructions not to cure me until I lose 20 more lbs.

And so, number 1: Lose 20 lbs. Continue to eat good food: rainbows of fruits and veggies, whole grains, light white proteins... Continue to Eat the Angel Way, even more. I also intend to exercise the Angel way this year... move my body in ways that make me happy, stronger, more flexible, and more energetic.

Number 2: Become financially independent. Bob and I are writing a budget (although I haven't told him that yet.) We are going to stop wasting money on things that aren't important. I am going to SIMPLIFY.

Which leads to Number 3: Simplify my house. Purge, recycle, donate... why do I need three can openers? Because I couldn't find one and bought another. You can see how this ties to number 2.

Number 4: Continue on my spiritual journey to the center of my soul. That was supposed to sound poetic, but I think it sounded sort of pompous. (Number 4.5: sound less pompous.) What I mean is that I want to find out what I'm supposed to do with my life. I'm 51. It's time to get serious. Sort of.

Well, here they are, written out in fine pompous words. It's up to me now...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Thanksgiving Happiness

2011-11-24T09:47:00.000-05:00

I have missed a couple of days on my happiness project. It's not that I didn't have many things to make me happy, it's that one of those things was oxycodone/acetaminophen that I was prescribed after my gall bladder surgery. And my motto is "Friends don't let friends blog drunk" or stoned or under the influence of too much caffeine.

Monday, we arrived at 5:15 am to prepare for my surgery. The intake folk at Palmetto Baptist were wonderful, professional, efficient and friendly without being irritating. Not one asked me "how are we feeling this morning?" My doctor did ask if I was ready, which made me wonder what would happen if I said no.

I went home and my darling husband took care of me all day. OK, he gave me drugs and hogged the TV remote, but he's still a peach.

Good drugs, good insurance and excellent heath care. Gotta make you smile. And be grateful, because I know I am fortunate to have all of this.

Tuesday, I felt a little bit yuckier, but not terrible. I took drugs and slept between writing and knitting. I am knitting something, and am proud of myself because I've never succeeded in knitting more than a small triangle.

Today is Thanksgiving; the day we set aside for gratitude. When asked what I am grateful for, I always say "family and friends, home and hearth," because those are the basics. I don't want to leave them off, ever, because I am blessed to be able to take them for granted.

I am also thankful for all of the wonderful people in my life who make me laugh, give me hugs, help me think.

I am thankful for my children and grandchildren, and I pray that they will all find the way God wants them to go. Soon. Not that I'm rushin'...

I am thankful for my friends, virtual and real. I am thankful for love without judgement or limits.

I am thankful for things that are happening in my life, my heart, and my mind; and for the people who are helping me on the way.

I am thankful for so much, I think I'll stop. Thank you thank you thank you.

Sunday morning

2011-11-20T07:48:00.000-05:00

Friday, Bob and I went to Brookgreen Gardens on our way home from Myrtle Beach. Brookgreen Gardens was the home of the Huntingtons and houses the wonderful sculptures by Anna Hyatt Huntington and other marvelous sculptures they collected.

It is a garden, and even in the winter, it has lots of happiness potential.

There are berries and camellias all winter long. There were even some roses and sage flowers of some sort. And pansies, of course. It wouldn't be winter without plantings of pansies.

The sculpture and the trees are beautiful.

Diana and her hound... she's here a lot.

We had a lovely lunch in the middle of the garden in the old kitchen building. I ate a vegetable wrap with dill sauce and iced peach tea.

It was an afternoon full of happiness and appreciation for the joys of life... big and small. The small being, I was able to walk around the garden for three hours without too much twitching from my twitchy hip.

Yesterday, Saturday, I read alone most of the day. I took a warm bubble bath and read some more. The Son of Neptune, by Rick Riordon. I'm almost finished, then I'll give it back to Mark.

Gabe and Brendon spent the night... and now we are getting ready for church. I guess I'd better help...

Red sky at night/ red sky in the morning... mixed messages

2011-11-18T06:50:00.002-05:00

One:

Last night there was a beautiful coral sunset over the ocean. I'll put in the picture when I can download it. Of course, the picture can only represent the vision --- you'll have to imagine the smell of salt and winter in the air, the cold embracing the city. Since I'm in SC, I welcome cold. I know some of y'all have already had enough. This morning there was a crimson sunrise. Beautiful, but what? Red sky delight or warning? Oh well. We'll see. Still stunning.

I love the beach in the winter.

Two:
I enjoyed the seminar yesterday. PTI tax has interesting amusing speakers who don't cross the line into silly or (heaven forbid) political. Taxes are what they are. Congress makes a new mess every year, and every time they "simplify" taxes, we get new clients. That's not political, that's life.

I love good continuing education seminars.

Three:
In my continuing farewell to my gallbladder tour, I had a wonderful fried seafood dinner at Drunken Jack's in Murrells Inlet. Bob, Bruce, and I went down there last night. It was too dark to see the inlet, but you can just feel the water, can't you? They also had yummy sounding not fried food, but that wouldn't be a farewell to my gallbladder, would it?

I love good seafood at the inlet.

Good news/bad news

2011-11-17T07:02:00.000-05:00

The good news bad news is that I am in Myrtle Beach in an ocean front hotel getting ready to go downstairs for another tax seminar.

Yesterday's blisses were pretty easy to find, I'll just have to narrow it down.

I rode down to Myrtle Beach with Bob. That alone helped me relax enough to be an not unpleasant person this morning. The weather was great on the ride down.

Once we got here, the fog rolled in. I couldn't see anything from the balcony but fog, and I could hear the waves thundering beneath it. Very very cool. It was even cooler when a thunderstorm hit later in the evening. We could see the rain dancing over the ocean. Bob said it was like watching ghosts. We slept with the balcony door open, listening to the wind and the surf.

We went to Outback for dinner. It was close and I decided to eat a blooming onion as a farewell gesture to my gallbladder, which is leaving me on Monday.

The color of the day is gray, but I kind of like that.

On to tax education!

Stretching for Happiness

2011-11-16T06:41:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was a day.

A day that makes me stretch to find the happy places. But they are there. ~~Sort of.~~

First, I went to an orthopedist about my supposedly herniated disks and arthritic hip. He poo-pooed them both, having seen much worse. The fact that he himself is getting his knee replaced may have lowered his sympathy level.

That is ok, because I don't want a hip replacement or back surgery or any of those horrible things. I want to be able to sleep through the night, sit on the floor, and let my grandkids and lovely niece sit on my lap without me screaming.

And, I have high hopes, because he is sending me to a physical therapist. YEAH!!!! I hope he does massages and gives me exercises that will make me feel better.

Happy moment number one.

I probably shouldn't mention that I left the office, went the wrong way, got lost & found, took the elevator the wrong way, made it to my office and walked into the office... wait that's my second story.

I'm in my office about 10 minutes when Gina gets in from her class.

"Your car sounds funny."

"I noticed it was making a weird noise when I got out."

"Really, how long ago?"

Moment of enlightenment.

I ~~run~~ hobble outside.... yep. I left my car running. And thought, I wonder why it's making that sound, like it's still running...

At least I didn't lock the door.

Why is this happy moment number 2? Well, it made us laugh for the rest of the day, and we have a new catch phrase: "I know this may seem dumb... well not as dumb as leaving your car running..."

Number three. Number three.

I'm going to have to go with the weather again. Bee-you-tee-full. I'll take it as long as I can get it.

I guess that's the point, huh? Find happiness where you can and embrace it. Not too hard or it might break...

South Carolina Fall

2011-11-15T07:27:00.000-05:00

Spring in South Carolina is one of my favorite days, but I have to say that autumn is the very best.

Yesterday was one of the fine days of Autumn... 78 degrees, sunny, with a mild breeze. The leaves that change are glorious: yellow maples and crepe myrtles, red maples and dogwoods, orange oak;, all blazing out among the still very green pine trees.

The air seems as if God has set the thermostat for the perfect temperature. As the wind brushes my very light-weight sweater, I feel no temperature to notice. It's not hot; it's not cold. It's just right.

And that is one thing that made me very happy yesterday.

When I got home, I took Mark to Gamestop so that he could fix the arrangements for a game he has preordered. When I first went to Gamestop, or any shop like that, I just sat back and let my kids speak the gaming language. Now, I'm a tiny bit more comfortable, but I still love to see my 13 years old walk up to the store manager and start talking about games, system requirements, and whatever. The people who work at these stores are gamers. That's great for the ~~kids~~ customers and for parents, uncles, grandmothers, etc who go into the store and say, "Um my grandson plays some game that seems to involve a blue... animal..." With a few questions, the folks at Gamestop figure out what you mean, find out what the game system is, and send you on your way. Maybe I've been lucky, but I've had great help at several stores. We usually go to the one on Two Notch (Columbia), but I've had help at others.

And that, believe it or not, is number two. A trip to Gamestop.

Number three also involves shopping. I went to Bi-Lo with Bob and Mark. We each had a little basket and we picked up a few things for dinner. I got American Grain bread and feta cheese spread, fresh pasta, an apple and a pear. Mark and Bob got other stuff. We all ate whatever we wanted when we got home. Did I mention that my stove needs a new motherboard? Anyway, it was a pleasant trip and I am very much into bread and cheese these days.

Number three: a trip to Bi-Lo where we didn't kill each other.

Grace

2011-11-14T07:35:00.000-05:00

I read that people who sit down and write about things that made them happy during the day are happier people. I think it's three things and they can be things that were just bits of joy, things you did that made you feel accomplished, things that helped someone else.

I think I will try this, especially since I tend to freak out during the holiday season, which leads quickly to tax season, which leads to melt downs, night terrors and loss of patience at home.

Since it's 7:28 am EST, I'll think about yesterday.

Yesterday morning, I told the story of Joseph in Egypt to the combined Sunday school classes at St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church. The children ranged in age from 7 to 13 (since my grandchidlren weren't there) and they all listened well and talked about what was important to them in the story afterwards. It was terrifying but very cool. They are wonderful kids.

I had a conversation with Mark, who is 13, and Joseph, who is 22. It doesn't matter what we talked about --- they are my sons and it's always a wonderful thing to have a real conversation.

I spent a good bit of the day reading in bed with my husband Bob. We were both a little under the weather, and the closeness was a comfort.

Right now, for today, I am about to have a great (I hope) cup of coffee. That's a great start.

Where did the time go?

2011-11-05T07:52:00.000-04:00

It's been four months since my last post on this blog. Where did the time go?

Part of it went to (sort of) taking part in the Blogblast4peace countdown at The Matriarch's Corner, another of my blogs.
Part of it went to Gardens of Time and Sims Social of Facebook.
Part of it went to catching up at work after a fairly disastrous beginning of the year.
Part of it went to working on the board at Carolina School for Inquiry, a child-centered inquiry-based multi-aged public charter school in Columbia, SC.
Part of it went to reading and taking classes at St. Michael & All Angel's Episcopal Church.
Part of it went to my family and their needs and wants and whatevers.
Part of it went to myself: falling apart at 51 & trying to sew myself back together.

I should make a pie chart...

...later

So now it is November 4. I have thought a whole lot about peace in the last three months and I think it's helped me find some personal peace. The dreaded holiday-with-family-drama season has begun and I'm not freaking too much.

OK, I did schedule gallbladder surgery for November 21, and that might interfere with Thanksgiving a little. I'll still be able to go to the dinners (one Thursday and one Friday), but if I need to leave early, everyone will understand. No dramatic, "I can't believe you just said that!" but more of a "I think I'm going to puke, see ya later."

This is really really going to be a hard candy Christmas. My son and daughter-in-law and their three children may be homeless in January, although they are taking steps to find a place with another couple (bless their hearts). My husband and I have a house and are making enough to get by, mostly, but there won't be a lot of stuff under the Christmas tree.

There will be a tree, though, and I think we'll try to observe Advent more meaningfully this year. We will go and look at light displays (the more color and plastic reindeer, the better). We will make and eat cookies if my range gets the new mother board it needs. (I am not kidding. The damn stove has a mother board. You'd think it would cook for me, or at least make some suggestions...)

Anyway, this season from Thanksgiving to New Years Day is about family and community not about money.

And as our parents get older, we wonder if we'll be able to have these same damn arguments every damn year for very much longer. I know that since my Mom died five years ago, I actually miss her yelling "Use the ricer! It works better!" every time I made my cardiac mashed potatoes (with the beater... "remember when Kathy broke the beater making mashed potatoes?") Well, not really, because her voice is still in my head.

And as our children get older, to that in-between age where there are no toys for them and they'd rather go naked than wear the clothes we bought even if we bought them in the cool store... ("Yesterday, Mom, it was cool yesterday..."), we wonder how much longer we'll be able to lay claim to first place in their hearts.

Then the children who have another in first place, a wife or husband and children of their own, will come by briefly as they go to visit other relatives and other friends. The hugs and candy-cane kisses make every Christmas bright, no matter what day or for how long.

I wonder if I can enjoy this season this year. Put aside the annoyances. Forget the to do list. Avoid the Martha Stewart magazine. Just eat candy canes and hug people I love.

I wonder...

Happy 4th of July

2011-07-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

There is supposed to be a picture here. Oh well. I'll work on it later.

In 1890, one of my great grandmothers got off of this ship in New York City. There was no Ellis Island for her to go through. She was met by a porter named Mr. Murphy, who was reportedly "the blackest Irishman she had ever seen." She came alone, a young woman from Ireland looking for a place to live her life. She moved to Charleston, SC, where she found a job as a maid. The family story (for what it's worth) is that she changed her name from Bridget to Annie because people made fun of Irish maids named Bridget.

In 1894, another of my great grandmothers traveled from a very small town on Prince Edward Island to another small town called Stow, Massachusetts. She too was a young woman looking to make a life for herself. Her brother in law, a minister in Canada, arranged for work in the US for young, unmarried women. She worked as a maid in the house of a widower with a small child. She later became a bookkeeper.

I'm not sure what they thought their lives would be like in the United States. I know they expected to work hard, and they did. I suppose they expected to make friends, and I think they did. Both women worked for several years before eventually marrying and having children. Their children gave birth to my parents, and for that I am greatful.

When they came to the United States, they came for economic opportunity, although it's unlikely either of them used those words. They came to work. Blanche Eleanor may or may not have felt welcome among the descendants of Puritans, but I don't know. She brought the quiet strength of a people who had been chased out of France, Germany, Switzerland, and other parts of Europe, brought to Prince Edward Island as Foreign Protestants to settle an English land few Englishmen wanted to colonize. And although people made fun of Irish maids named Bridget and there would have been plenty of signs saying "NINA" --- no Irish need apply, it seems that Annie found her place in the thriving Catholic community in Charleston.

Whatever they felt when they arrived, they stayed and strived and, if I do say so myself, made wonderful contributions to this wonderful country.

Thank God for America, and Thank God for our Immigrant Ancestors.

Morning Pages

2011-04-08T06:52:00.000-04:00

With eight days left in tax season (not counting Sundays which are feast days), I am having trouble focusing on what needs to be done now and spending time thinking about what I want to do after tax season.

For once, my son's spring break is after tax season. We are taking a family trip the weekend after Easter, so we won't go out of town for spring break. We have a long to do list --- chores, school work, chores; but we are including day trips to fun places. The zoo, the State Museum, the Congaree Swamp, the book store...

I am very itchy right now. I have a lot of work to do between now and April 18, including tax returns for FRIENDS who ALWAYS wait until the last minute (you know who you are) and payroll deposits and reports for everyone. I want to go shopping for cute Easter stuff. I want to plant some stuff. I want to read a book that was not published by the Internal Revenue Service.

Oh well. I'll make it, I have so far. But then what?

Who has the time?

2011-04-07T08:03:00.000-04:00

A good friend said that she didn't understand bloggers. She thought they must be the biggest bunch of narcissists in the universe. I had to confess that I have three theoretically active blogs. She looked at me and she said, "how do you have the time to do that?"

The answer is "I don't." And you can see that by the sparseness of my blog entries. I also don't have the commitment to writing everyday, no matter what. I wish that meant that when I do write it's interesting and relevant, but we all know that's not true. So why do I blog? (Other than the narcissism thing.)

Well, I need to write. I often write junk, whiny stuff, silly stuff, but I need to put the words that float through my brain on paper... or computer.

"So why not write in a journal?" she asks. Excellent question.

I do. I have lots of journals. Some are spiral notebooks, some have pretty pictures, one is a large fake leather bound tome that I meant to make into a multi-media journal until I realized I'm a one trick pony. I write. Just the other day I picked up an old journal and started reading through it.

"This time I really will lose weight..." I wrote, over and over again. I did notice that I've been having headaches and backaches for a couple of years now. I don't know why I always think of that as a new thing...

When I write in a journal, I know I am writing to no one. I don't even read it again, really. Sometimes that is great. Sometimes it's self-destructive rather than positive. Sometimes it's just plain boring.

When I write on line, I know that someone might read it. It might be someone I know, in which case I don't want to say anything to hurt any ones feelings or cause someone to sue me. If I were really narcissistic I wouldn't mind getting sued because then people might find my blog... which is not a bad i...

That was scary. Where do these things come from?

It is more likely that someone I don't know will read the blog. And in that case, I'd like my whining to be universal, or at least galaxial. I want to make sense to someone who is not me.

When I write in the blog, I don't do a lot of editing (shocking, huh?) but I self-edit (also shocking). It makes me think and not just react. I have to put things down in a logical way, and that helps me think more logically. I have to express ideas and options and other viewpoints, which makes me explore ideas and options and other viewpoints.

So when do I find the time to blog? When I have to. When do I find the time to read the blogs I follow? When I need to. And why do I blog? I'm a narcissist, of course. A whiny one at that.

Peace to you all & thank you for feeding my addiction.

Thinking some more about eating styles

2011-03-06T08:10:00.001-05:00

I've done a little looking around to see what other people think about your Myers-Briggs type and your approach to food, and it's been interesting. Like any trip around the Internet, it had its highs and lows and a bunch of irrelevant side trips, but what the heck. The journey is interesting.

In order to do that justice, I'll need to organize my thoughts and make links and stuff, and I don't really have time right now. So instead, I'll babble about Introverts and Extroverts. Or mostly Introverts, because I don't know much about Extroverts. Not that that will stop me from speculating...

So this is what came from a conversation with an Introvert. Introverts get energy from being alone. My theory is that if introverts are around people for too long and don't get their "me" time, they might over eat to get energy somewhere else. My I friend pointed out that he doesn't like to eat with other people. That whole breaking bread community thing is an anathema to him. (Word of the day) And so, he isn't going to over eat in front of other people.

Now, think about this: he is at a conference and around people all day and is low on energy. He doesn't eat much if anything at the banquet lunch. His energy is low. What does he do? Well, I would be eating Snickers bars all day, scarfing them in the corner when I got a chance to be alone. And when I went home I'd probably eat cheese with potatoes and cheese. And then I'd go to sleep.

And what about Extroverts?

I can see a couple of possibilities. Say that an Extrovert is also at this conference. She is getting lots of energy from the people around her. She might forget to eat food, because she is so caught up in the flow of energy. She might over eat to make the togetherness last (I'm picturing the never-ending pasta bowl at Olive Garden.)

I also wonder if Extroverts eat more when they are alone because they are low on energy and feeling lonely?

I wonder how the other factors affect this. An ESTJ might plan the meals, knowing she wouldn't eat unless she thought about it. And INFP might eat in public because she didn't want to hurt any one's feelings. And INTP might pack fruit so he wouldn't eat the candy on all of the tables.

I guess I'll keep thinking about this...

Eating and personality styles

2011-03-01T08:20:00.000-05:00

I am taking a class at St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church about Life Gifts... life gifts, spiritual gifts, personality, values; and how to use them for God and community and ourselves. Last Sunday, we talked about the Myers-Briggs scale. In the past, I've thought that I was INTP --- introverted, intuitive, thinking, perceiving. That means I get energy from being alone, I am a big picture information gatherer, I use logic and reason over feelings, and I like it loose and easy in the scheduling department. I have recently decided that while I do value reason and logic, I usually go with Feeling. I want everyone to be happy and get along, and work to make that happen. Sometimes, especially if I'm around a whole lot of Fs, I have to channel the T and say "OK, that's enough whining, 'getting your feelings hurt' is not covered by worker's compensation."

Yesterday, when I was writing on my eating blog about how I came to Eating the Angel Way, I wrote that I used to eat to make others happy. OK, I still do sometimes. I was in line at a covered-dish lunch and the lady next to me said, "I made the beet and Brussel sprouts casserole." So, of course, I put some on my plate. Also, I'll take the food that no one else has tried yet, because I don't want the cook to be hurt. Although I draw the line at fried chicken (WHAT? EVERYONE LOVES FRIED CHICKEN! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?) I've eaten sausage biscuits I didn't want because someone offered it to me, donuts, cake, hamburgers... you name it (except fried chicken). Why is that? Because I'm an F! I eat like an F!

Is that cool or what?

Which made me think of some other things about food and eating and personality styles.

For instance, as an NP, I love Eating the Angel Way, except the food diary. I wonder how a Sensing, Judging person (who would want an orderly, step-by-step process) would deal with ETAW? Oh wait, I've seen it. They keep the food diary religiously, then put their colors of food in a chart (I do love me some excel) and then plan how to eat a rainbow and white light food every day.

Is that cool or what?

I wonder how other traits affect the way we eat?

I eat more when I have to be around people and don't get my quiet time. If I don't get my solo-energy boost, I have to get it from food. Preferably cheesy mashed potatoes. I wonder if Extroverts eat more if they are stuck by themselves?

I bet somebody has thought of this. I think I'll use my LifeGift of research and check it out. I'll let you know what I find.

Eat well, drink water, keep your feet warm.

Waking up

2011-02-15T07:54:00.000-05:00

It has been two months since I blogged (can that be right?) and I'm going into a full-blown tax season rant.

Yesterday sucked. Not because it was Valentine's Day & I didn't feel the love. In fact, it was my dear husband deciding to take me (and Mark) for a romantic dinner for three that salvaged the day at all. I had called to ~~whine~~ vent, and he said, "Let's go out tonight."

Yesterday sucked because it was Monday and I wasn't feeling great this weekend. I didn't work on Saturday, so I knew I'd have the pile of everything with indecipherable notes on my desk. I was right, and it took about and hour to sort through that before I got to the basic Monday crap. But that isn't when the day started to suck.

It started when I took 45 minutes out of my getting ready for work time to write an email to my representative supporting the charter school bill in the SC House. I couldn't just write "I support it," because I think it's complicated and important that I explain that charter schools are a part of the solution and not the end of public schools. And so I wrote a well-thought out e-mail... ok, not the best, but better than average, and I sent it through the SC Legislature on-line website, and....

I got an automated message saying he doesn't read the e-mails but his constituents should call him at a phone number. Where I would have two minutes to give my well thought out opinion, which would undoubtedly be ignored as well.

And that made me mad all day, over and over, again. I voted for that arrogant SOB in the primary and the general election (although I'm not sure he had opposition). Which also makes me feel mad and powerless and frustrated. Because what does he care if I vote for him? He's supported by a narrow group of people who control enough votes in the single member district that he doesn't need to read e-mails or take phone calls.

And that is what put the dark shadow on my day and made me feel miserable, helpless, and frustrated all damn day.

And today, if I let it. But I think I'll drink another cup of coffee and read some blogs and not let this bother me today.

It's beginning to look a lot like Tax Season, but this time I'm an EA!!!

2010-12-21T07:05:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, Mark brought me the mail. It included a large flat envelope. From the IRS. And I lost my breath... not the way most people do when they get large flat envelopes from the IRS, but in a good way. I squealed. Really. Mark and Katy looked slightly concerned.

I thought (maybe, probably not) that if they were going to reject me, it would be in a small business sized envelope. "We are sorry to inform you that you are unfit to practice before the IRS. And you are going to jail."

It was a cardboard page in a folder. I thought (really) that it was a request for fingerprints. I opened the folder. I started making squeaky noises like a cat with a mouse (the cat sound, not the mouse sound.) Both Mark and Katy pulled out their cell phones to call 911. "Are you ok?"

I started jumping up and down. "I'm an enrolled agent!" At least they knew to say "congratulations!" Others have to say "Congratulations! Now what does that mean exactly?"

It means I can represent tax payers before the IRS in non-tax court cases. It means I'm a professional tax preparer with a DESIGNATION other than "unenrolled preparer" or "charlatan." It means I DID IT!!!!!

I was very surprised to get it this soon, since I'd applied in November. I didn't expect anything until mid-January at best and mid-March more likely. Now I get to start the tax season as an Enrolled Agent. I'd like to start off right by commending the IRS on their efficiency. (Doesn't hurt to kiss up.)

I am so excited! I need new business cards, and a frame for my certificate, and a name plate that says "Kathy Duffy Thomas, EA." What a great Christmas gift!

Happy Thanksgiving Dammit

2010-11-26T10:04:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was a fairly stress-free day. I was able to find what I need to make my pumpkin cheesecake. I didn't ruin the cheesecake when I put it in the fridge, forgetting something is leaking from the freezer (probably the ice maker) and causing food to water-log. I removed the cheesecake in time.

This is the perfect Thanksgiving plate. From the top going clockwise: turkey that was very moist because of the fennel bulb, onion, and orange placed inside during roasting, cardiac mashed potatoes (not so cardiac this year because they were made with white cheddar, cream cheese, and Greek yogurt without the usual sour cream and butter), succotash (lima beans & corn), two kinds of stuffing, cranapple sauce (no added sugar, just orange juice, orange zest, apples, and cranberries), creamed baby onions, ham, bourbon sweet potato casserole (my brother said next year he'd just take in on the rocks), and in the center green & wax beans with garlic, butter, and almonds. The pecan halves are part of the sweet potato thingy, I think. Hmmm... no blue or purple. Oh well. Maybe bourbon is purple.

We took the obligatory Thanksgiving pictures.

My brother John, with Bill in the chair.

My dad John.

Roslyn, my beautiful niece.

Starting with Dad (see the shirt?) and going clockwise, that's my son Mark, my son Joseph, Bill, me, my sister Ellen, Ellen's husband Paul, and my husband Bob. I'll try to find a better picture of Bob and Mark, but they are being shy. Since I just got a new camera, I'm a little ticked, but we'll adjust. I'll ~~hunt~~ wear them down.

Today we will go to Bob's parents house, where I will put aside my churlish desire for order and forget that I have 10 thousand things to do and go with the flow and have a great time. Really, I probably will. We are bringing left over green & yellow beans, mashed potatoes, cranapple sauce, and cheesecake. Since the potatoes are a complete protein, I'll be fine even if they have fried chicken. What can't be fixed by a large plate of mashed potatoes?*

*I'm only joking, Annie & all Angels. Sort of. :S

Happy Day After Thanksgiving, Everyone!!!

Why must you torture me like this?

2010-11-22T15:41:00.000-05:00

OK, I am neurotic. I know that. You all know that. We all try to adjust. I do what I can to clean up after my neurosis and y'all don't poke sticks at it. Right?

So here it is, the holiday season. The season of where neurosis comes home to visit, even the ones you don't see most of the time. Like the Martha Stewart neurosis, that wants to make hand-made Christmas cards, twenty kinds of cookies, and a real rack of lamb for twenty. I don't have too much trouble keeping that one under control. Although I did actually BUY Christmas cards this year, and I wrote a short and sweet Christmas letter. Sort of funny but not over done. No bragging, really, and no talking about things best left unsaid. Surprisingly discreet.

The neurosis I can't control, try as I might, is the one that wants to make sure the family plans are set. I don't think I'm entirely unreasonable on this one. Bob and I both have family in town and want to spend time with them. Our son and his family have to deal with both of our families, plus Katy's mother's family and her deceased father's family in her hometown. There is an intricate mix of want to be together feelings and obligated to be together feelings. And there are things I'd like to do like make ornaments, bake cookies (not twenty kinds), and read meaningful stories.

And then there is life, which continues to happen. Mark's school, Bob's work, my work. All of the preparation for the tax season. Cleaning the house and the office so I can think straight. (Is that neurotic?)

And so, in order to not go ~~crazy~~ crazier, all I ask is that people decide what they want to do more than two days in advance. I'm not talking about planning every single second (although I do it), I'm talking about deciding what day and time you are going to have Thanksgiving dinner. Or Christmas dinner.

Which is why my mother-in-law rolls her eyes and acts like I'm difficult when I ask for a commitment in early November. So this year, I said, we are having Thanksgiving dinner at my brother's house on Thursday at 3:00. In the past we've had the dinner on Friday, and I'd like to do it on Thursday this year. What are your plans, I hope I'll be able to be there? And although we are willing to eat two Thanksgiving dinners in one day, I kind of hope I don't have to do it.

And her plans are to have dinner at 12:00 or maybe 12:30ish on Thursday. BUT she won't be there because she's having surgery on Tuesday. She wants us to go to a cafeteria or buffet or something and be together. Without her. Bob says, Mom, don't feel you have organize something for Thursday, it would be great to do something later when you feel better. She says, no, it has to be Thursday. Even though she won't be there.

I say, ok, but I can't make it. I hate cafeterias (more neurosis) and I have other stuff to do. Bob says ok.

Then, she tells Bob that his sisters won't be there because they have other plans, but we should still go out with his brother's family. Even though she won't be there. And neither will his sisters. But it has to be Thursday. Bob says, let's do it later. Like in December. When she will be well enough to enjoy it. So, ok, it's going to be Friday and we are supposed to bring something but I don't know what and she will still be unable to enjoy it. And neither will I. But I will be there, and I will be cheerful and happy-looking.

Now, this is the thing. I had plans for Friday. Not meeting someone plans, but clean the house, catch up with Mark's virtual lessons, make cookies (not twenty kinds). Take the on-line class on Non-profit information tax returns. Read. Write. Sleep.

OK, some of you may now be thinking that I am being churlish, and maybe I am. Maybe the holiday neuroses are just too much for me today. Maybe I should just buck up and go to the damn family dinner even if it is at a cafeteria and I'm afraid of cafeterias. Maybe I should just learn to go with the flow.

Or maybe people should just freakin' learn to plan ahead.

Kathy's one thousand one hundred and twelfth diet journal: Eating... the Angel Way: Welcome!

2010-11-01T14:45:00.001-04:00

Kathy's one thousand one hundred and twelfth diet journal: Eating... the Angel Way: Welcome!

This is a link to a link. I am helping a virtual friend Annie who is writing a nondiet book about Eating the Angel Way. I am going to follow the guidelines and share my experiences. I know a lot of people don't care, but if you do, this is where it will happen.

Peace. Water. Warm socks.

Listening to the bees

2010-10-18T14:46:00.000-04:00

I am doing a lot of things these days, and most of them seem to be valuable, enjoyable, necessary, or comfortable. Some are more than one of those things. Some are barely one.

I am thinking a whole lot about busyness. You can see from my posts that it's something that I think about a good bit. I used to think that busyness was a good thing, the goal of a fulfilled life. When I heard people say, "I'm too busy for..." fill-in-the-blank, but probably something I like to do, I'd feel guilty and think, I need to do more stuff.

And when people tell me that my schedule makes them tired, I don't really understand, because I don't do nearly as much as most people. Or as much as they seem to do. And I really should do more...

As an aside, a Facebook friend from high school asked if I wanted to foster cats. I admire the work she does more than I can say and I really wanted to say yes. Even though we have four cats of our own and three of my son & daughter in love's and my husband hates having cats at all. People who know me are rolling their eyes and wondering if "animal hoarders" pays a finders fee. Anyway, I passed on that.

So there is something in me that tells me I'm not doing enough, and in answer to that, I keep adding stuff. Even stuff I don't do well, like baking cookies for a set time. Cookies that are normal and will sell to children. (Nota bene: elementary school kids aren't big fans of rosemary lemon cookies. Go figure.)

But maybe it's not that I'm not doing enough, it's that I'm not doing the right things. Or maybe that I have too much stuff going on to figure out what I truly love. (I'm seeing the eyes roll now as the "hoarders" analogy continues in some people's minds.)

I think I am doing some very good important things and I don't want to stop, but I want to do them better. And I want to stop kicking myself for not doing more. And I want to stop hoarding tasks and things to do.

I think I need to take some walks in the woods by myself and listen to the softer voices beneath the screeching harpy who is telling me to get busy. I think I need some quiet time.

Fall forward

2010-10-01T16:10:00.001-04:00

The weather has cooled down here, after the remnants of the tropical storm drenched us for a couple of days. I hope y'all up the coast are drying out now. I love the fall weather. I say there are 15 minutes in SC when you can enjoy the outdoors, and this is it. Fall and Spring are my two favorite days.

I have been sort of busy (busy! busy! busy! I am Important!). I actually worked a full week, which for me is 30 hours M-Th.

Mark was sick last week and he's catching up on his work in his virtual charter school. You know, when your kid goes to school, you take him in at 8 and pick him up at 3 and you pretty much assume there is learning in between. Like magic. And of course, Mark was at Carolina School for Inquiry, where excellent learning takes place every day, like magic. Magic and a great deal of hard work and planning from an excellent faculty, staff, and administration. With a virtual charter school, I have to make sure Mark has 30 hours of learning in a specified variety of subjects. Whether I know diddly squat or not. Now, the lessons are really well planned, with a mixture of on-line instruction, off-line work (including labs), and on- and off-line assessment. But Mark doesn't get the interaction he had at CSI. The energy that comes with a really good classroom setting, lead by a professional teacher. The on-line teachers are fine, but we haven't figured out if we can use them to Mark's benefit yet. It's a process. It's still happening.

I was sworn in to the CSI board again last night and elected chair. We are planning to work on sustainability and long range plans, especially on-going funding sources and technology. The new board has a lot of people who are new to CSI, at least to the board, and I'm really excited. They respect the history and the ancestral memory, but they are not entwined in past drama-baggage. They are looking to the future. One of the new board members suggested that there is a danger that some of the members who were re-elected (after being off a year) might be subject to the old bad patterns. That is an excellent point, and something we must all guard against. Although our mistakes were not as outrageous as the board from last year, we did have a couple of problems. For me, it is that I had trouble communicating with the community. I was trying so hard to keep the board professional and about governing not managing that I may have been too aloof. It's a fine line, and I think that there are some other board members who can help me find the balance. I am looking forward to the challenges. More challenge, less drama.

In other news, I have passed two of the three parts of the enrolled agent exam. I'm going to take the third part in the next two weeks. After that, I have to apply, which means a background check and examination of my tax return. More challenges, along with the regular ebbs and flow of a tax office. October 15 is the deadline for filing personal tax returns if you got an extension. It's like a mini April for us. Then we start going to workshops and classes, sending out planners, examining last year's procedures to see how to make it better this year, and incorporating the new regulations into our routines. It's very exciting. OK... maybe not to everyone. Go figure.
I am also running for the St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church vestry, which meant I had to go get "received" into the church by the bishop. Last Sunday my friend Morgan and I went to Rock Hill (about an hour away) for me to do that. It was very cool. The church was beautiful in a very different way from St. Michael's. The people were welcoming, the music was great but different. I got goose bumps when I was received, although that's when the rain started. Hmmmm. Anyway, I forgot to get my official certificate, so I might not be able to be on the Vestry anyway. If that is the case, I'll take it as a sign from God and be grateful for the heads up.

Oh yeah, I have volunteered to help a non-profit organization called Girls, Inc. here in Columbia. I have three sons, and like many women, I always wanted a daughter. At some point I realized that the good Lord had a reason for giving me sons not daughters, and it may have something to do with the violent twitch I get when I hear high pitched squeals. Although I enjoy my nieces (hey Roslyn!), my cousin Lizzie, and my daughter-in-law Katie, I am not a girl scout leader type. Which is irrelevant, because I'm going to be helping with the bookkeeping. Accounts rarely squeal. And who knows, maybe someday I will have the opportunity to work with these great young women, even if they do squeal.

On Mark's schooling, I need some advice. I want to enrich his world history experience by watching a couple of movies. I'm going to get Luther when we get to the Reformation next week, but isn't there a good movie about Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci? Something that will show the art and give him a feel for the time and politics and culture. Any suggestions for this or any world history type movie from 1400 to the present would be appreciated.

So that's me today.

Coming up for air

2010-09-22T15:06:00.000-04:00

I am very busy. I hate when people say, "I am very busy." First, I immediately feel lazy. Then I think, "who cares?" And then I wonder why they are so busy if they are just going to complain about it.

I am very busy for a couple of reasons. (1) Some things have been thrust upon me. (2) Some things I have taken on myself.

Things that I have to do: work. visit people. clean my house. shop. shower.

Things I have chosen to do: be a learning coach for my son's virtual charter school. take the enrolled agent exam. spend time with people. read. go to church (and all of the things that go with it.) serve on boards. volunteer to help a non-profit with their bookkeeping. eat.

You see that the list of things I've chosen is longer than the list that I've had thrust upon me. So I'm not going to complain when I say, I'm very busy.

There are many things I'd like to share --- the learning coach thing, the vacation to Lake Lure, NC, random thoughts. But I'm sort of crazy at this moment because I signed up for Part II of the enrolled agent exam on Friday and I'm afraid I'm not going to pass. I know a bunch of stuff, but there is a bunch I'm not getting through my head right now. Like which part of a sale of a partnership is ordinary income & which is capital gain and when you have a 1231 gain... oh crap.

I could use some good thoughts, prayers, and maybe a cheat sheet or two. See ya soon!

On the gym

2010-08-20T17:03:00.000-04:00

I think I mentioned that Bob and I joined the gym about a week before my 50th birthday. It made sense. We're both hitting 50. We want to exercise, but we live in SC where it is at 80 degrees at 7 am for most of the year. When it's cool enough to walk outside, it's too dark. It wasn't working for us. I'd thought about yoga classes, but the gym offers yoga among other classes and costs less. There is that nasty 2 year financial commitment, but that's just incentive to work out, right?

Maybe.

And anyway, Gold's Gym, which we joined had just hired my daughter-in-law. That didn't work out, so now I feel free to tell the story of the fitness trainer who I thought was going to help me learn to use the machines. Silly me.

OK, so I go in and the woman I'm supposed to see isn't there. It turns out I'm scheduled for Saturday at 9 am not Friday. OK, that's not going to happen, I say. So they set me up with a guy for Friday afternoon.

I'm thinking he's going to weigh me, talk about goals, show me how to use the machines. No. We did talk about goals, but I'm not sure he heard me.

D: so what are your goals?

Me: I want to be healthier. I'd like to lose weight...

D: how much?

Me: About 50 lbs.

D: (Raises eyebrow)

Me: That puts me in a healthy range and if I lose too much weight I'll be all wrinkly. Like Nancy Reagan.

D: OK. (Writes: "Lose 60 lbs." on my goal sheet.)

Me: (Eye roll.)

D: (Long and boring spiel about rates for personal trainers who will "Kick my butt" and get me into shape.)

Me: I don't want anyone to kick my butt. I'm 50 years old. I want to use the treadmill and the girly weight machines. Can you show me how to use those?

D: (More crap about personal trainers, kicking butts, and rates "you can't beat")

Me: (Eye roll.) OK, well let me talk to my husband about this.

D: Oh (eyebrow raise) did you ask your husband if you should buy those shoes?

Me: (Double eyebrow raise and expression that everyone who knows me knows means get the hell out of my way but D. thought meant he'd brow beaten me into submission.) (Like the brow pun?) No, but my shoes don't come with a two year contract.

Then, just because he'd pissed me off, I explained to him that as an INTP on the Meyers-Briggs scale, I tended to believe people who I liked and because of socialization, I tended to want to make people happy. And that now that I was 50 I'd finally figured out that I needed to walk away from long-term commitments and talk the decision over with other people who would help me put things in perspective. His gaze went blank, and when I finished, he said, "Well let's workout then."

He did NOT show me how to use the treadmill or elliptical machine, which are much more complicated than they sound. He showed me one weight machine, but didn't really help me use it, he just adjusted it. And he had me do these awful squats and weight things. Then I left feeling kind of crappy about the whole thing.

In fact, I couldn't get out of bed the next day. My legs would not move. By Sunday, I could walk, but almost died during the service (Episcopalian calisthenics.) Morgan laughed at me every time I moved from sitting to standing to kneeling. The 90 year old people pushed me forward during communion (not really, they were very patient.)

Bob went to visit D on Saturday and he missed work on Monday. Why in the world would D think it's a good thing to work two middle-aged people who admitted they hadn't been in shape since the last century (or their last incarnation, in my case) to the point of near-crippling? Did he think that would make us want to jump up every morning and get our butts kicked again and again? Personally, I can think of a lot more interesting ways to inflict pain on myself.

Maybe he wanted us to be so miserable, we don't use the gym again, now that they have our two year financial commitment and they still get the money whether we show up or not. Probably not, I don't think he thought that much. I think he believes everyone wants to get their butts kicked by muscle-bound personal-like trainers. Maybe he's INTP and that's his world.

In any case, we went religiously for a week after we recovered. Life intervened and we haven't been back for two weeks. We will start again on Monday. Me on the treadmill reading my Barnes & Noble Nook and Bob on the elliptical watching FOX news alternated with the Morning Joe. And if we see D, all of us will pretend we have never been through that embarrassing little S&M episode. At least I will. I think D has forgotten us already. I feel so... cheap.

Decade of what?

2010-08-19T17:11:00.000-04:00

I am planning to make my 50s the decade of joy, but so far it's the decade of "get the hell out of my way or I'll hit you with a bat." I'm hoping this will change soon. Maybe I'll just sit here and rest a spell.

There are already really good things. I joined the gym and went for awhile. I'll probably start going again soon. An old friend made contact after 12 years. Well, 12 since we talked and about 22 since we've seen each other. It is really good to hear from her. I think we both are awakening at 50, but I might be presuming there. I think I mentioned that I sometimes feel as if I was in a coma for about 20 years, beginning to come alive again at about 40.

The things that are dragging me are the same old things. Nothing dramatic, nothing I can fight head on, really.

My computer broke. I'm using an inspiron mini (which seemed like such a cute idea when I bought it). I'm hoping the desk top will get fixed soon. Especially since my youngest son is in an on-line virtual charter school. Computers that you can actually see are really important here.

My dishwasher broke. I hear it's been fixed. That's good because I was about to take all of the dishes upstairs and give them a shower. And by all the dishes, I mean ALL the dishes. Since my sink drains through the dishwasher, I couldn't even use the kitchen sink without flooding my floor. Serious bummer.

Mark and I are painting the study/classroom. I have high hopes for organization when it's done (tomorrow, I hope.) I often say I can be organized in one area of my life at a time. I usually pick work. Now I need to be organized in work and Mark's school. I am almost wondering if it would be that bad if he went to a school that teaches Charlotte's Web in its 6th grade honors English class. But then I remember that SC funds its public colleges and universities at about 10% so the tuition to even state colleges is more than the value of my house. Scholarship, baby.

And then there are the shenanigans at his old school, where a selfish board refused to approve contracts for three teachers (the day AFTER school started) but did find the time and money to buy pretty report card covers and a wand with which to put up school achievements. Since the ~~twits~~ fallible human beings won't acknowledge the great job of the director and teachers who are committed to multi-age, child-centered, inquiry-based education, I'm not sure what they want to put on the sign. (The school has made Adequate yearly progress two years in a row, and last year's 6th grade (Mark's class) led the entire district among 6th grade classes.)

I'm thinking that a trip to the gym might not be a bad idea. Or maybe I'll go upstairs and paint a room, then organize my really cool school supplies.

The Decade of Joy

2010-07-28T16:11:00.001-04:00

When I turned 40, I went to the doctor.

I was at a low point in my life--- feeling tired and depressed, not sure what to do with myself, waiting for the times to get better. I was staying at home with my 2 year old baby and trying to help my 14 & 11 year old sons make it through puberty. Although I did wonderful things with Mark (the baby), I didn't do much with myself. I played a hell of a lot of Canasta with my parents. Together time with your parents is great at any age, but let's be real. A forty year old really shouldn't be that good at Canasta.

And so I went to the doctor. Up until then, I'd only gone to the ObGyn or to the Doc-in-the-box if I was really sick. I think I thought, "gee, you are forty, you need to take care of yourself. Go to the doctor."

Well, the doctor liked me. I was fat and forty and had great insurance and a lot of time on my hands. My thyroid was low, my iron was low, my will was low. I went on medication for hypothyroidism. I had a boat load of tests (and by boatload, I mean that I paid for my doctor's yacht) to find the cause of the anemia.

As an aside, as the Colonoscopy Poster Child, let me say: This is when I had my first colonoscopy, and that was a good thing. Since then, two of my uncles have died from colon cancer, along with at least two of my Dad's cousins. I have had this test every three years since then. The test isn't fun, but colon cancer is worse. And when you get tested, they remove the polyps so they are gone before they can develop into cancer. It's well worth the agonizing misery the day before.

So, I had tests on all parts of my body that might cause anemia. They never figured it out, but when I had a hysterectomy because of heavy bleeding (which THEY said wasn't enough to cause anemia but I thought was enough to make me die) and three very early term miscarriages, I got over the anemia. I guess. I sort of quit paying attention.

Then... I had my first migraine, an agonizing pain that felt like someone was hitting me with a spiked pike for a week. It wasn't typical, so it took awhile to figure it out. After they called it a migraine, I had one a day for a few months. I lost 30 lbs in three months. I looked like hell, but I was thin(ner) and was trying to decide whether it was worth the pain when the migraines just sort of went away. I still get head aches, but nothing that keeps me from eating, dammit.

And then my blood pressure, which had always been normal even though I'm fat, went up. A whole lot.

Sometime over the decade, I woke up psychologically. I went back to school and became a tax preparer & accountant of all things. I helped start a great school for my youngest son, and worked with that on a daily basis for five years. I felt alive and competent. I vaguely wondered where I'd been the last twenty years.

Here I am: 49 years and 363 days old. I am no longer fat and forty, I am fat and fifty. I do like what I'm doing, but I'm not sure what else I want to do. I love my children and am really really glad they are older. I pray that they are able to become independent and challenged in their lives very soon. I hope they come visit. Often.

And here I am, working every day, taking on more and more tasks and completing my to-do lists while writing more. And I still don't know what I want to do with my life.

That is why I am calling this the Decade of Joy. I'm not going to quit my job and move to Santa Fe (not yet). I'm still clearing out the crap in my house and my life. I'm still thinking about being in business for myself (with Bob's help). I am still working on quality public charter schools. But now, I'm adding time for my joy and dropping the stuff that isn't important and/or Joyous.

This is my JOY:

Instead of yelling at Bob because he grabs his guitar and heads out to the hammock when I want to clean the bedroom, I'm going to grab a G&T and head out with him.

We joined the gym, not because we (or anyone else) thought we ought to (and that's another story or two), but because we want to. I'm going to use the walking-type machine, the girly weight machines, the yoga class, and the water aerobic classes as much as I can. I'm not going to care that Duston the pt kid thinks I'm a wuss.

I'm going to write more. That gives me joy, even if I never get an actual story written.

I'm going to have lunch with friends, because I like that and it doesn't make me stress. Hey, maybe friends can walk with me at the gym. Whatever.

I'm going to talk to my kids without asking them when they plan to go to college/get a job/cut their hair. I'm going to listen.

And the stuff I'm not going to do... well that's another story. But maybe I won't tell it.

nostalgia

2010-07-04T09:49:00.000-04:00

This week, I went to Charleston with my husband and youngest son. Charleston is my father's birthplace, the place where my parents met and married, where we spent almost every New Year's Eve and every weekend from Easter to Labor Day throughout our childhoods, where my aunt and cousins still live. Although I haven't been there as often in the last 30 years, I have been there many times. And yet, for some reason, this week the nostalgia hit me like the wall of humidity that greets you when you walk from the air conditioned hotel lobby.

I was there for a conference, and so we were with my boss and his wife and my co-worker and her sister. Maybe it was sharing memories with them.

My mother's mother moved to Charleston from Massachusetts when she retired from teaching. It wasn't until I spent summers with her that I really "did the tourist thing." Gramma and I walked or rode buses and taxis all over the city. She took us on the horse and carriage tour of South of Broad. We'd go to the Market, or even just the Piggly Wiggly on King Street. And where ever we went, she'd say, "This is Kathy Duffy. Her uncle is Father Duffy. Her grandfather was John Duffy the pharmacist. Did you know him?" And although it wasn't surprising that everyone knew Uncle Tommy, I was shocked by the number of people who remembered John Duffy the pharmacist. It was almost enough to break through the soul-deep mortification I felt as a psychotically shy child with a talkative grandmother. Almost.

On Tuesday afternoon, we drove to Folly Beach. The road to James Island, where I enjoyed a true childhood with my friends Bernadette, Elizabeth, and Roland, was so different it didn't strike any chords. Actually, I think it might be an entirely different bridge. It certainly didn't awake my sleeping child-map that remembers the turns and the Spanish Moss and the Dairy Queen we stopped at once in a while for a rare treat.

Although Folly Beach isn't a part of the child memories, the ocean and the waves that were. The waves were breaking in just the right place for some serious wave-riding. For the first time in 25 years, I didn't stand in the shallows with small children or watching anxiously for potential threats against my fearless sons as they dove into the waves. Mark and I rode the waves ourselves. I heard my mother's voice as I said, "Hold up, that one isn't going to break for us." I saw my awe for my mother reflected in Mark's eyes as he saw I could really tell when the wave would break and when it was faking. Of course, he didn't say anything. He was having too much fun, and maybe he didn't realize what an art it is. I got tossed into the sand with the whole ocean as a Netti pot, and I haven't had such a good time in... 30 years?

Wednesday we went to Sullivan's Island to visit Fort Moultrie, and that is another story...

Summertime, and the living is...

2010-06-24T10:58:00.000-04:00

OK, first an update on Dave, Adrian, Bud, and the missing Lumina. Dave says he is going to pay for it. He thinks Adrian might have it. We are holding our collective breath...

I started to write about how hectic my next two weeks are going to be and how unhappy that made me, but then I decided to slap myself. I really need an attitude adjustment. OK, so my idea of a perfect life is to live alone in a house with a big porch on a beach without hurricanes or mosquitoes with books, writing equipment, and regular conjugal visits from my husband. OK, he can live with me. People would visit often enough, but in a really really informal way. I'd have beer, basil lemonade, and cookies for them. They'd go home (although they could sleep over if they needed to.) And money is no object. I don't need a lot. Just enough so I don't have to worry about it unless I want to buy a $500 cotton t-shirt. And that won't happen.

So... my real life. I missed work yesterday to take care of my grandchildren because my son & daughter in law needed help. I had a great time with them, although the fantasy about cleaning my house while watching them was ... a fantasy. I did get a teeny bit done. But mostly I played.

Today I am at work, trying to catch up with what I didn't do yesterday and can't do next week because we are going to Charleston, SC for a tax workshop/conference. (This is when I start the slapping.) Bob, Mark, and I are staying at a really nice hotel right across from the Market, within walking distance of the finest restaurants, shopping, and historical sights in SC. Bob and Mark may go to the beach one day while I learn how to help people who are going through bankruptcy and other fun things. Sunday & Monday nights are paid for by my boss. Tuesday, we are paying, so I can have a little bit of a real vacation and visit family on Tuesday evening and Wednesday. Obviously, I am an ungrateful wretch if I don't see what a cool thing this is. (And I LIKE learning about tax stuff.)

Again, I'm a wretch because I'm feeling pressed about family obligations this weekend before we go to Charleston. A family wedding on Friday and the second quarter birthday party at my in-laws on Saturday. The wedding will be nice, even though it keeps me from my usual suspects happy hour and that puts me out. The second quarter birthday party will be as good as I make it. And I don't want to talk about that right now.

Next week, we'll miss the regular happy hour again for another family gathering with the in-laws. We're meeting at Little Pig's Barbecue, which is a really good place to eat as long as you like pork. They have three kinds of barbecue --- mustard based (my choice), ketchup based (yuck), and vinegar based (ok). They have all of the normal sides --- slaw, green beans, mac & cheese casserole, banana pudding, rice and more. It's a great place and I'd be really happy to go there if I weren't missing happy hour.

On July 3, I think we are going to my boss' house for more barbecue as well as swimming and horseshoes. On July 4, we'll have a picnic at church, then go to my brother's for swimming, burgers, and brats. The sausage, not my children. I think we have July 5th off. I know I'll need it.

And so you see what a whiner I am. This looks like a great couple of weeks, doesn't it? It will be as fun as I make it, I guess. OK, well, off to have fun, even if it kills me...

I am not making this up...

2010-06-21T13:15:00.000-04:00

OK, about three months ago, our 1996 Lumina's transmission broke. We had it towed to a transmission repair shop where they told us they'd look at it for $400. That's on top of the $90 tow. On a really ugly car. The car in which I'd spilled spaghetti sauce and Italian dressing and could never get clean. The car with only one working seat belt in the back (see spill above.)

Bud, the owner, did tell us that if we decided to fix it, the $490 would go toward that cost. So we know we are looking at a pretty hefty repair bill. On a car with a blue book value of $450 if it runs. And at this point it did run, but only backwards.

So Bob asked Bud if he knew anyone who might want to buy the car. Bud grumbled something that sounded negative, but one of Bud's employees (Dave) told Bob he'd give Bob $150 and pay for the tow. Great.

AND SO, Bob and I take off from work and go get a copy of the title. We take it back and get ready to sign over the poor old Lumina to Dave. UNFORTUNATELY, Dave didn't have the money then. He'd get his check cashed and get with us on Monday. OK.

Bob takes off on Monday and goes to see Dave, who had had a family emergency over the weekend. (I think his cousin Jose Cuervo showed up, but what do I know?) He did not have the money.

Bob and Dave dance this dance for a couple of weeks, with Bob taking off from work to meet Dave, only to get a last minute phone call. In the meantime, poor Dave is having one family emergency after another. (I'm thinking it was his brother Jack Daniels & his uncle Captain Morgan, but I'm cynical.)

And it turns out that Dave can't buy the car, but his buddy Adrian can. And he will get Bob the money as soon as his fiance gets their bank account unfrozen.

This has gone on a long long time, and at this point I don't care. I was about to call SCETV and get them to pick up the car and sell it for whatever they can get. Bud seemed to think we would pay the tow if the "deal" fell through. Bud was mistaken.

But now, as of today, the car is missing. I am not making this up. Adrian (or is it Dave) thinks it was stolen (who the hell is going to steal a 1996 Lumina that only goes backwards?) Bob told Bud that we needed to know if he was in the city or county, because we needed to know where to file the police report. Bud said Dave is going to pay Bob anyway. And then Bud said he saw pigs fly... but I think that was cousin Jose again.

Gray rainy mornings in Columbia

2010-05-25T08:03:00.000-04:00

It is gray and a little rainy. I think there is a chance of thunderstorms. You may think I'm strange, but I love this weather. It feels comfortable, like an electric blanket with a frayed cord. OK, that's a little strange, but I was thinking about the possible thunderstorms. I love thunderstorms. I've missed them over the winter. I don't think it's hot enough for a really good storm, but I'm feeling tingly just thinking about it.

My mood is like this weather. Gray and damp, waiting to see what is going to happen. Is that enough blue to make a pair of cat's pajamas? Is the sun going to come out? Will it be bright and sunny by the time I get to work?

Are those real storm clouds? Will we have a thunderstorm, finally, to break the tension of the almost rain?

Is it because this is the last week of school and I still think like a student/teacher/parent when it comes to the calendar? Is it because tax season is over, but I still haven't caught up and I have a pile of tax returns that people wanted yesterday? Is it because Mark is leaving his school but I still hope that the school will go on? Is it because a lot of people "need" me, but it's not like I'm a rocket scientist and there aren't other people who can do the job just as well, and I really don't know what I do want to do? Is it because I'm not sure about finances, family, friends?

Oh Wow, I need a thunderstorm.

A little bit of nothing much

2010-05-24T15:57:00.000-04:00

This is Mark's last week of school, and the last week at Carolina School for Inquiry. It has been a good ride, for the most part. Mark has gotten a wonderful education. He has grown up with some great friends who he hopes to keep in touch with when school is out. He is sad to leave his friends, but I think he's excited. Who knows what will come?

Next year he will be attending a virtual public charter school. I'm hoping this is a good thing with project based challenging learning & the opportunity to meet with other kids and teachers on field studies and other things. With our legislature cutting school funding to as close to nothing as is legally possible, we have had to make tough choices. First, he is zoned to a middle school that has terrible test scores. The honors summer reading book for 6th grade last year was Charlotte's Web. Add to that the budget cuts which have led to widespread teacher lay-offs and new rules which allow "unlimited" number of children in a class, and I can't really see sending my baby there. He will have to be responsible and get the work done every day. There are still attendance requirements and of course, he has to complete his assignments. I think he'll be with me at work. Thankfully, I am in a flexible work environment. I don't know how much togetherness Mark and I can stand, though...

I took the first part of the enrolled agent's exam last week and passed. I'm glad to have that out of the way. I was sweating it. It's so obvious to me what I don't know, I can't always see what I do know. So here we are, part one down... two parts to go. I'm waiting for a part two study guide in the mail. That's the hardest part... business and stuff. Part three is ethics. I'm glad to say I don't have too much trouble with that.

I don't know what we're doing this summer. We won't get our week at the beach, darn it, because of scheduling conflicts. In fact, that week is now and Mark is in school. Bob and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary if we make it until August 17, and we both turn 50 this summer. I'm thinking about a "hundredth" birthday party for both of us. I'm not sure we know that many people who we want to see, though.

Tut tut, it looks like rain. I guess that means I should try to get a little more work done. Don't ask me why, it just does.

Mother's Day

2010-05-10T08:05:00.000-04:00

I have never had a big thing for mother's day. I used to buy my mother stuff, usually books. We'd have dinner at her house. When I got married and had children, we still went to Mom's for mother's day. When I suggested that I was a mother too and might want something different, Mom ignored me. Which, I suppose, she should have.

And so, with no expectations, Mother's day is usually pretty good for me. Yesterday, all three of my children and the two grandsons were here. Robert gave me a rose a couple of days ago. Joseph & Robert bought me some bromeliads (I'd asked for Rolaids... just kidding) and a palmetto plant. Mark gave me gifts for my facebook farm (is that sad or what?). All was good.

We went to church in the morning, then to my brother's in the afternoon. Johnny & Bill will be leaving for Europe before Mark's birthday, so we celebrated yesterday. Barbecue and ribs from a local restaurant I won't name. It was open on Sunday.

The kids, Ellen & Bob swam. It has been in the 90s but yesterday it was maybe 75. And the water was cold. Roslyn, in particular, is an ice baby.

And of course, I dreamed about Mom, and it was a good dream. I don't think it was too exciting or traumatic. I think we were having a party at her house and everyone we've known for the past 50 years came through. And then I cleaned up.

All or nothing

2010-04-28T09:15:00.000-04:00

I'm an all or nothing kind of girl. I tend to dive into something with great enthusiasm, then decide to think about it for awhile, or maybe make an excel chart or something...

I have walked two days in a row. Bob and I walked about 30 minutes each day. I promise, it was ALL uphill. What's with that? If burning butt muscles means they are getting strong and firm, I'm well on the way to having a butt. We can only hope and keep tromping.

Bob has been pretty good about not leaving me in the dirt as I toddle along with him. He even pulls me up the hills when they get really bad. Mostly, he encourages me. Sometimes he decides to talk politics, which pisses me off, but I suppose it raises my heart rate.

I have made better food choices. Two days, what can I say?

I am using the 15 minute timer thingy to get myself cleaning. Monday I only cleaned about 30 minutes total, and yesterday I had to go to work even though it's my day off. But today, I'm going to set the timer as soon as I finish this ramble.

Mark left for a school field trip this morning. They are going to a CSI camp --- Crime Scene Investigation without the blood spatter. They will learn how to observe and measure and do cool stuff. I'm glad he's able to do this.

Friday, Bob, Mark, Roslyn & I go to Kanuga, an Episcopalian retreat center. We are going to have a great time. It's in the mountains, so I plan to work on my burning butt muscles. It will be too cold to swim, but there is a lake and maybe I'll get to canoe or kayak. That's one of those things I like in theory more than fact. I guess it would be good to work on my flabby back and arm muscles too. And I hear the food is marvelous! I'll try to pick veggies and fruit.

Speaking of which... time to make a smoothie. I have some locally grown strawberries that really didn't want to be picked. Now I need to use them before they go bad.

What else do you do on a rainy day?

2010-04-24T10:04:00.000-04:00

I woke with an urge to go tromping through the Congaree National Swamp, but it's raining. A real frog-strangling soaking rain that may even clean the pollen out of the air. Or not. And even though Bob says it's not raining that hard (he is upstairs in bed and doesn't know), I'm not going out today.

Today, I am going to clean something. I just can't decide what. The kitchen? That would be good. I need to sort through my cupboards and clean out the fridge so I know what I have and what I need for the next week. I want to try out the chicken salad & pita recipe I found at Cinnamon & Spice. I need to make rainbow slaw for my Dad's birthday cook-out tomorrow. A clean kitchen would help. And a good thing about cleaning the kitchen is that you can see the results. It smells better. People say, "Wow, good work Mom/Kathy/lady."

I also need to clean the closets so I have places to put the things I plan to keep after my house purge. Starting today or tomorrow, I am sorting, trashing, giving away all of this crap in my house. I have too much stuff. Too much that I might use someday to make 10,000 crocheted blankets. Too much stuff I might use when I re-pot 4,000 African Violets. Too much stuff that could outfit a dozen kitchens and a couple of apartments.

Since Joseph is making moving out noises, I want to box some of this up for him. I also need to box up stuff Robert & Katy will need when they are able to move into their own house or apartment and out of her mother's house. I'm not really sure what to do with the furniture, since it's hard to store extra couches and king-sized beds, but I'm going to do something.

A lot of this is going to Goodwill. I still sort of kind of not really want to have a yard sale, but I know I will be miserable, make very little money, and end up taking it to Goodwill and Habitat for Humanity any way.

I'm not really sure where to start, but I figure I'll quit thinking about it and just do it. Tomorrow.

Slowly returning to the world of the living...

2010-04-19T13:31:00.001-04:00

I spent most of Saturday in bed and made it to church yesterday. I decided NOT to try to go to the baseball game because it would have ruined everyone's fun if I'd a fallen out in the middle of the game.

It was a shame though. Yesterday was a beautiful day. Warm but with a cool breeze. Bright sun. Still the pollen, but no count is more like 2000 parts per square inch rather than the 5 billion parts last week when even my cats turned green.

Today is a "day off," but it's a "clean the house that has been neglected since Christmas" day off. Since I'm still a little tired, I'm moving slowly, but I'm working....

I didn't sleep well last night because the cold medicine gave me weird dreams. One of them was that two cats were fighting on top of my head. Oh no, wait... that really happened. Our cat Mars and my son's cat Kay (Mars' daughter) got into fight in the middle of the night. On my pillow. On my head. We have too many damn cats.

So now, I'm moving... sort of...

I'm making rainbow lamb korma for dinner. I started with a simple "convenience food" recipe from some magazine... Good Housekeeping, I think. I'm cooking the lamb cubes and a jar of korma sauce in the crock pot for the rest of the day. Later, I'll add fresh veggies. The recipe called for microwave frozen green beans and carrots, but the produce was pretty this morning, so I got small yellow and green squash, baby carrots, and red, yellow and orange bell peppers. See, no blue, but I'm making a salad with purple & green lettuce, raddichio, shredded carrots, grape tomatoes & broccoli slaw mix. The korma will go over whole wheat couscous.

We'll see how well this goes over. Mark and Joseph aren't sure they like lamb very much. They can have hot pockets if they want. Whatever.

I need to go wash some dishes then maybe take a little nap.

Or maybe I'll nap then wash some dishes...

A new year

2010-04-16T11:00:00.000-04:00

Tax season is over and I have a chest cold. I have spent the last couple of months saying I couldn't get sick until after tax season, and it appears my body has taken me literally.

My husband asked what my schedule is for today and I tried to give him a look, but went into a coughing fit. My schedule is to (1) go to work to see if any e-files were rejected (there were two) and fix them, (2) go to the store and buy paper and cd labels so I can make covers for Bob's cds, and (3) go home and go to sleep. I'm at step two and a half: reconnecting with the blogosphere.

After I sleep awhile and enjoy a happy hour knowing I don't have to go to work in the morning, there are lots of things to consider.

My work situation is changing. Not me, but the job. We may move offices, combine spaces, enlarge. I need to decide what I want my place to be and how I can ensure that. You can tell I'm not ready to talk about it. Sleep.

I have signed up for an online course to prepare for the enrolled agents exam. Next year, all paid tax preparers will need to pass some sort of test. I might as well go for the biggest one I'm interested in. I plan to take the first course, then take the first part of the test. At the beginning of next month, if I like the course, I'll sign up for the second part & for the second part of the test. Part three is ethics and only a week instead of three weeks. Telling, huh? I passed the ethics part of the exam without any problem, but I want to be completely comfortable. I should be finished with the three parts of the test by July, then I will do whatever else I need to do to become an enrolled agent. (I hope I pass the background check.) And BAM! next year I will be a professional tax preparer with a set of initials behind my name. Cool huh?

Then I can think about why I have choosen a career that makes me miss spring. (I heard it was a nice day this year.) I'll think about how Mark came running from the house yesterday and said, "Mom! Tax Season is OVER! YEAH!!!!" I'll think about developing coping mechanisms that don't involve yelling at people I love and eating large amounts of fried food. But that can wait. I think I'll go check up on my blogging friends... how have you all been?

Moving right along... again...

2010-03-24T15:29:00.000-04:00

Is it interesting that I said I would avoid whining self-indulgence for Lent, and haven't written another post since then?

Moving right along...
Have you heard the stories of the three Jesuses? A (probably) famous psychiatrist worked at a mental institution where three patients believed they were Jesus. He thought it would be interesting (and amusing at cocktail parties) if he put the three men in a room to see how they would handle the conflict. Obviously they couldn't ALL be Jesus. Obviously this was done before ethics rules stopped psychiatrists from screwing around with patients for fun and profit.

Anyway, the three men talked for awhile and the psychiatrist was disappointed (I made that up) to see they weren't really upset. And so he talked to each of them separately and asked how can you be Jesus if he thinks he's Jesus?

Well, this seems kind of obvious to me, which makes me wonder about my sanity. Each man maintained that he was Jesus and that the other men were nuts. And each man forgave the others and prayed for their well-being.

I'm not really sure why (which also makes me wonder about my sanity), but that story seems to be really important to my life right now.

Oh well. One and a half more weeks of Lent. Three more weeks until the end of tax season.

Embracing Health for Lent (and stealing from myself)

2010-02-17T07:20:00.001-05:00

Kathy's one thousand one hundred and twelfth diet journal: Embracing Health for Lent

I'm doubling up this morning. Is that cheating or what?

SNOW dammit!

2010-02-12T14:32:00.004-05:00

First, let me say to all of my friends north of here, you might not want to read this. You might break something from laughing too hard, or snorting with disgust. Just to be safe, if your roof is in danger of caving in because of the weight of the snow, move on to another blog post.

OK, for those of you who are still here: it's supposed to snow today. One to SIX inches. (Six inches is about /------------------/ that much right?) I am sooo excited I'm having real trouble putting together this foreign earned income tax return. I haven't looked at the payroll tax deposit I ought to do. I am waiting for the snow, dammit.

I'm working, so I had to send my son out for milk and bread. He went yesterday, but that's what you do when it might snow --- go buy milk and bread. And beer, but that's just us. There hasn't been a flake, the temperature is about 39 degrees, and school gets out at 3 pm anyway, but they shut down the schools early. I love it.

Yesterday, I went looking for gloves. I want some basic Isotoner type gloves to keep me warm. Target had some cute bikinis that might keep one hand warm if I wrapped it real well, but no gloves. What's with that? We heard rumor of winter wear at the Family Dollar, so that's where the boys are heading now. Katy and I are waiting for a few flakes so I can close the office early and go home. Dangerous roads, you know. People driving while looking for snow flakes.

Oh well, I guess I have to wait. Let me get back to the damn payroll tax.
Stay warm.

Fridays aren't for working

2010-01-15T15:35:00.002-05:00

I know that I am not going to get a lot of sympathy on this one, but:

This is the first Friday I've worked in several months. I mean, work at my job, not at home or at St. Michael's or as a volunteer at the school. In my office in the country. You know what this means. It means that it is TAX SEASON.

From January through April I work five and a half days a week. May through December, not so much. In fact, 30 hours a week is really only a theory. That's not great since I get paid by the hour, but it's hard to argue with flexibility.

It takes awhile to get back into TAX SEASON shape.

It means that I wear real clothes and shoes every day. And make-up. No more wearing my Snuggie all day. No more fuzzy socks from morning to night and beyond. I'm talking hard-soled shoes. A bra. Jewelry if I can find it.

It means that I work nine hours straight most days. No more naps on Friday afternoon. No more Friday night "happy hours" that run into Saturday. The happy hour is going to have to be closer to an hour (or three, but who's counting?)

It means that I have something to do at work pretty much all the time. And that much of the time I have three or four things to do. And I have to figure out what's important and how to do everything.

It means that I will see actual human beings every single day. Several times a day. And some of them will yell at me because they have to pay taxes even though they were unemployed most of the year. And some will cry on my shoulder because their stinking soon to be ex-husband/wife is doing terrible things to their credit rating and alienating their children. And some will try to kiss me when they get a big refund even when I tell them that was their money anyway and the government has been holding it interest free. When it's not tax season I can go three weeks without a visitor. And, as an accountant, I LIKE that.

This stuff takes getting used to. I try to take it slow, working until five a couple of days a week to build up to the six o'clock closing time next week. Walking around the yard when I start to feel really tired or overwhelmed. Telling accounting jokes with my co-workers (why did the accountant cross the road? Because that's what last year's accountant did.) Little things that keep me going.

So now, Fridays are for work, like normal people. And Saturday mornings are for work, like a lot of other people, too. And my sudden urge to crochet may be pushed aside by my increased desire to sleep as soon as I get home.

But at least I'll be making some money, and as an accountant, I LIKE that, too.

Has broken

2010-01-14T07:46:00.003-05:00

For Travel Tip Thursday, from Pseudonymous High School Teacher: let your donations do the traveling.

The airport at Port au Prince is open, and the donations are coming in. Haiti is a small poor country, probably less able to handle this disaster than any other country in the world. Let's help our neighbors.

American Red Cross

Morning

2010-01-13T07:44:00.001-05:00

I am doing what I can to make this tax season not suck. I am coming to terms with the fact that I have no control over most things. My goal is to do a good job and make a lot of money. I am planning for the future, but I'm not ready to talk about that a whole lot. But let me ask, who wouldn't want to have their taxes or small business bookkeeping done in a coffee/tea shop?

I have acted on my new serenity three times this week, catching myself before I got upset about things I'm not going to be able to fix. I had a NOTE on my desk Monday morning. NOTES are a trigger for me. My blood pressure rises, I think WTF now? I start planning my resignation letter. Sometimes actually reading the note makes it better, sometimes it makes it worse. Monday, it made it worse, listing three possible crises or screw-ups, but I calmed down and actually listened to the phone messages and realized there wasn't a problem. Yet.

I have learned I will have much less help than I thought, and I really wasn't planning on getting much help. I'm on my own (almost) with no authority and lots of responsibility. As usual. The difference is, I'm not going to fight it right now. Just think of the money.

I'm also signing up for at least one yoga class. That should help. I'm proud to say I have taken two steps: checking out classes, times and rates on the Internet & asking someone who knows about this stuff what she recommends. Today I'm going to see about finding a class and a partner or two.

Other than that, I'm still ahead on the payroll reports and W-2s, on task on the bookkeeping for tax returns, and behind on a mailing that should have gone out last week. Oh well. On we go.

Here we go again...

2010-01-08T08:03:00.002-05:00

Tax season 2010. I'm feeling sort of weird --- excited, nervous, and panicky. Kind of like I felt when I felt the first labor pains with my second child. "Oh no, I changed my mind, I can't do this!"

Things feel fairly calm right now. We have good personnel, including a really good bookkeeper with a positive attitude who will take the burden of a lot of the monthly bookkeeping and payroll work. I've given up any notion of control, and that is good right now. I've never liked floating, going with the flow, but it's liberating. My new motto is "I'll burn that bridge when I come to it."

On the home front, Joseph is not in school this semester, which means he will have no health insurance. He may sign up for some sort of mini-semesters, but I don't know. I'd never push him to go to college if I weren't terrified of him being without health insurance. Although I always assumed my kids would go to college, I know from my experience that if you don't know what you want to do or you don't want to study, college is a black hole for cash and self-esteem. Get a job, then go to college when that's what you want to do and will be willing to work hard to do well.

Robert & Katy are still living with us. It's nice having Gabe & Brendon with us, but Mark is getting really tired of living in a crowded house. I have a couple of ideas, but I don't have the time to do something right now. Maybe tomorrow...

One of R & K's cats had kittens and the other is preggers. I can't tell you how much I want them to get the girls fixed. This time, for sure. Right? In the mean time, kittens, free to good homes. OK: kittens free to homes that won't feed them to dogs. I still have standards.

This is the last Friday that I don't officially work. Tomorrow is the last free Saturday. I'm helping the accountant at the church, then going to my office to get some stuff done. I'm tax season nesting. Ready to roll. Today is the last lunch with Bob. Maybe we can go to the Blue Marlin... very nice. We'll probably go to Monterrey's where I'll get the #10 & Bob will get the Speedy with rice.

I have been thinking about things I want to write, and now that I've gotten this exciting update out of the way, maybe I'll remember and write something interesting. Or not. Peace out!

and so it goes...

2009-12-02T08:18:00.002-05:00

I started cleaning my room yesterday, by which I mean, folding and sorting a huge pile of clothes. Aside from the clothes of the eight people who live here, I also have almost every clothing item I've ever owned, a whole bunch of children's clothes that don't quite fit anyone anymore, clothes with holes and stains, and sheets and pillow cases for way to many beds in sizes I don't need any more. I forgot to mention the towels. Bob has a set he got when he went away to college in 1978. I have a set I inherited from my Grandmother when she died in 1980, a set which she had probably bought in 1970. The flowers are wilted, for pete's sake.

Have I mentioned that I have a problem? And it may be true that recognizing that problem is the first step, it doesn't naturally follow that there will be a second step.

For instance: I did manage to get the outgrown clothes that are in good condition into bags to be delivered to Goodwill. They are on the carport. Where they have been since Halloween. I keep thinking I need to look through them again just in case there is something I still need.

For another instance: Instead of throwing away clothes with holes and stains, I have saved a bunch of them for "future craft projects." I saved a bra that is now see through and couldn't hold up a kiwi because I think I might use the silk-like material for the Virgin Mary's robe in the theoretical creche I'm thinking about making. Do you really think the Virgin Mary would dress in an old bra?

For a final instance: I have lots and lots and lots of t-shirts. I love t-shirts. Some of these are t-shirts that used to belong to my older sons. I've saved them for Mark, who for some reason will not wear them. Something about "Power Rangers" no longer being cool.

Oh well.

Today I am going to put those bags and a couple more in the car and take them to Goodwill. I will not buy more clothes at Goodwill, no matter how cute & in what great condition they are in. (Unless I see another suede jacket for $10 like the one I passed up last year because it didn't fit me or anyone I know and maybe I should have bought anyway...)

Today I am going to go to Lowe's and get the small screws, gaskets, and doo-dads I need to fix the little things around the house. (OK, the things I need to have Robert fix the little things around the house.)

Today I am going to make gumbo. (That's pretty easy. I threw it in for a gimme, you know?)

Today I am going to relax.

Waiting for coffee

2009-12-01T06:47:00.003-05:00

It has been a mild fall and winter here in Colatown. Yesterday, it was even balmy. This is great for electric bills and outdoor cats, but it's not winter.

I am waiting for the coffee to finish making itself, then I am starting my day. My productive day. My productive fantastic day.

I have taken off three days from work. ##GASP## (That was my boss.)

Tax season starts in mid-January, but before that, we need to finish all bookkeeping & make sure clients don't have nasty surprises. (A profit is often a nasty surprise... go figure.) I have to organize schedules and do what I can to make sure my boss doesn't over-hire during tax season. Optimize, I say, but who listens to me? And I have to complete W-2s & 1099s as soon as possible so that people can get their own taxes done.

And then there's Christmas & New Years and that entails. Don't get me started...

My theory is that if I clean (really clean) my house, I will be better prepared for the rest of the world. I am not sure if it will work, and I'm not sure if a clean house is sustainable, and I'm not sure if 20 years of neurotic build-up can be cleaned in three to six days (counting Friday through Sunday), but I'm going to give it a shot. I'll keep you posted.

What's with people?

2009-11-17T08:22:00.003-05:00

I haven't been blogging or reading blogs much lately. The stress thing. And the Facebook farm/cafe/yoville/aquarium obsession...

But in the past few months, most recently this week, a couple of the blogs I read have been temporarily (I hope) shut down because the blogger shared her very personal thoughts and was blasted by ugly commenters. In one case another blogger used her situation to write a whole mean blog about her. Since both of these people seem to be kind, funny, good spirited people, I don't understand what compels people to blast them in blogs. (Not to say that being biting & funny is a request to be blasted either.)

Blogs are public, and we know that when we push the button that says, "Make blog public." We know we lay ourselves out for comments. We know we risk pissing off relatives and friends and co-workers and anybody else who stumbles in. Thanks to recent court cases, we know that we are liable for evil things we say about others, even if we think there are only 12 people including the French guy who wants to sell Viagra on our blog reading what we write.

But, within reason, blogs are our little rant spaces. We can share what we feel without tempering it with good girl (or boy) voices that run our lives.

You know, the ones that say, "I'm sure she had a good reason to invite everyone in class to her party except you. Don't judge her harshly." Or, "Be happy for Sally for winning the contest you both entered." Or the one I really hate, "I cried because I had no shoes until I met the man with no feet." OK, it sucks not to have feet, but at least his feet aren't cold. It also sucks to have no shoes.

Sometimes you have to let go and say, "This is how I feel and I don't care to look at anyone else's point of view. So shut up." Sometimes you have to say, "Some people may have it worse but I don't care, I feel crappy. So shut up."

Blogs should be that place.

And, here's the kicker... if you don't like what you read... don't read it. Move on to one of the thousands of blogs in the world. Don't kick people when they are down. Don't slap people who have shared their own sorrow. Leave my buddies alone, dammit!

However, if you want to write nasty comments about this blog, go ahead. I've got plenty of gin. I can handle it.

Dr. Sleep says I'm normal...

2009-11-17T08:08:00.002-05:00

...which is really sad, now that I think about it. Is it normal to dream all night long about having to clean up a motel that looks like it was hit by a frat party during a hurricane and wake up feeling tired and frustrated? Probably not, but the problem is not apnea or anything that is easily solved by a small pill or a large medical device. Oh well.

Dr. Sleep thinks it might be depression. Although I initially said, no, depression is when I feel my skin crawling and want to jump through the mirror in the bathroom, after some reflection (har-dee-har-har), I thought, maybe not. Or maybe yes. Maybe I do have either chemical or situational stress and or depression. (Ya think?) And maybe there is a small pill or a large medical device that can help.

In the mean time, exercise (other than walking to my car), eating well (real food not wrapped in Styrofoam), and meditation (working on it) might help. I'm also trying to spend more time with my family.

I know that sounds counter-intuitive, since part of my stress might come from living with seven people and 12 cats (Ya think?), but it has occurred to me that if I embrace the family instead of hiding in my room under the covers, I might be less stressed.

I also think that maybe I sleep too much. Again, counter-intuitive, but clever, huh? Maybe if I stay up later, I'll sleep better. Maybe I'm not tired enough to sleep well.

Of course, I'm still looking for the happy pill to give me energy, good spirits, clear skin and shiny hair. If anyone has any suggestions (other than Carolyn, who will tell me to exercise & eat better) let me know. OK, Carolyn, you can go ahead and tell me exercise and eat better. Maybe one day I'll actually pay attention to your very good advice.

Dr. Sleep

2009-11-13T08:28:00.005-05:00

I had a sleep study done two weeks ago. Did I tell you this? I can't remember anything these days. That's part of the reason I had the sleep study.

Bob tells me that I snore in an indelicate manner. Not a little "pip-pip-pip," but a great big "snock-gack-pshoo." He says that sometime I just quit breathing, which is bad. I know that I have woken myself up with my snorts. I know that I remember dreams all the time, even if they don't make sense and that that can be a sign of frequent waking during the REM cycle. I know that I am freaking tired ALL THE TIME and that I can fall asleep in about two seconds, but wake up easily.

I arrived for the sleep test at 8 o'clock on Sunday night. A nice lady took me to a little room that looked like a small hotel room with no windows. It did have a mirror on the wall, which sort of gave the impression of a window. I don't know why that was important to me, but it was.

I dressed for bed and sat and waited while she attached wires to my head, chest and legs. I had a tube at my nose to measure air flow and bands around my chest to measure my breathing. All dressed up and ready for bed.

Of course I fell asleep easily. And I woke up several times. Even though I didn't drink after lunch, I had to get up and pee. And I just kept waking up and staring around the room, trying to figure out what the "window" was. The nice lady had to come in and fix my wires at least once. At one point, I woke up and heard snoring somewhere else in the building. And then I started dreaming that I had overslept and was late and had to clean my room and get packed and get out in time...

So yeah, it was a normal night's sleep, except for the wires, tubes and bands. I suppose it's good that I didn't sleep like a log. What a waste that would be.

And now, today, I go talk to Dr. Sleep and see what he can do for me. I'm hoping for something simple, inexpensive and non-intrusive that will make me sleep better, have a cheery disposition, lose weight, smooth my wrinkles, and make my hair shiny. Not too much to ask, huh?

Feasts, Friends, and Fried things

2009-11-10T08:16:00.002-05:00

I love to know what people eat.

I think I get this from my Dad, who will watch the food channel all day long if he can (with quick flips for M*A*S*H reruns & a CNN news fix.) For as long as I remember, Dad's narrative of his day at work consisted of what he ate for lunch. His trips are a diary of food. Since he is a person who will try new foods in new places, it makes for an interesting story. Ireland, Germany, France, Cuba, Indonesia, Colombia --- all opportunities for new food. All I know about their trip to Maine and Nova Scotia is that there are many many ways to cook lobster.

I love to see what people consider to be essential food for holidays. "It's not Thanksgiving without: ______________."

There is turkey, of course. I don't love turkey, but I always eat it because you are supposed to eat it on Thanksgiving. If someone offered me roast beef, which I like, I'd feel cheated. That's not Thanksgiving. My oldest son doesn't like going to his wife's family for Thanksgiving because they don't have the essential food. My husband's family's meal is not quite right to me even after 25 years.

Their cranberry sauce is jelly, not made from fresh cranberries simmered with orange juice until they just pop. Mom just chopped cranberries and orange peel, which I hated. Dad insists we have that, and we do. I just add mine as well, and we end up with way too much cranberry sauce.

It's not Thanksgiving without my brother's stuffing. We call it stuffing, even though we don't stuff the bird. I don't know why. He makes two kinds, at least. One with onions, one without. Sometimes he uses oysters, I think. It's made with bread, not corn bread. One time we had a guest who was used to corn bread dressing, so we added that as well.

Nothing gets taken away, we just add more. And although sometimes it feels like too much, I guess it's all good.

Hard Candy Christmas

2009-11-09T09:08:00.002-05:00

Every year I think we are going to have a hard candy Christmas, and every year I somehow manage to put together at least a milk chocolate Christmas. This year is probably going to be different for a couple of reasons:

First, we really don't have any money. We have eight people in our three bedroom ranch style house, and only two of them are working. Two are in school and have been told that school is their job right now. Two are struggling with various illnesses and conditions combined with a tough economy. I'm not letting them off the hook. My Christmas wish is that they'd either go to school or get jobs.

Second, even though we are probably less materialistic than most people I know, we are too materialistic for my taste right now. This is not to say I don't like stuff. I do. As I've said before, I am bordering on obsessive hoarding, if I haven't crossed the line. I'm working on that.

It seems to me that when people like me decide to dematerialize Christmas, or any holiday or festival, we don't replace materialism with something else. If we don't have shiny wrapped gifts, what do we have? Most of my family is not religious and those who are are not religious in the same way.

I would like to replace the trauma of Christmas with family time. (I'm seeing the blank stares and rolling eyes.) I'd like to take the family on a walk through the Congaree Swamp, for instance. Or to the zoo's Lights Before Christmas (costs money, but not as much as a Wii.) I'd like to make cookies, maybe. I'd like to make fruitcake like my mother used to make, only edible. We can maybe make Christmas decorations and trim the tree. I guess I want to try to replace stuff with time.

Weird, though. This kind of makes me feel panicky. Time and money are two rare commodities in our life right now. But I guess I need to decide what is important.

Still not dead yet

2009-11-08T08:18:00.002-05:00

It is Sunday morning and the live ones in my house are sick. They claim a stomach virus, which I've always found to be vague and convenient.

The nuclear family within a nuclear family (Robert, Katy & the babies) are in Hampton to celebrate Katy's birthday and let her participate in a birthday celebration for her late father. I'm hoping she'll get closure, whatever that is. As my mother, who died three years ago in October, said just the other day in a not too unpleasant dream, "Maybe if you cleaned out the refrigerator you would know what you have to eat." Which is one of saying, "there is no closure. Only perspective."

The house has been quiet this weekend, and that is a good thing. I love the babies, but I love the quiet. Is that a grandmotherly thing to say, or what?

Quiet is good. It has not been quiet for a while. The babies are the least of the worries, and they are cute, so it's OK. It's been a rough couple of months. I don't want to talk about it. I think you'd be grateful, trust me.

I am leaving for church in a few minutes. I am helping with the Sunday school class, and the brilliant, witty, and handsome Morgan is sharing the lesson. (He will read this, so that's a little thank you. It's true, of course, I never bother to lie.) I am meeting with a couple of people to help with the bookkeeping and trying hard not to get committed to doing it again. Of course, I'm thinking about it... For now, I'm just doing the payroll for the next month (or two?) and straightening out the computer. And trying to teach an old bookkeeper new computer tricks. I am sure he will be able to handle it. I wish they had hired the USC student I'd suggested, but they seem to distrust her youth. She is young, but she's extremely well organized, smart, & precise. Now she has other commitments, unfortunately.

Oh, and I'm going to have to change my comment moderation. Some of my old posts (since all of my posts are old, these days) have been getting interesting comments in French. It turns out I'm not extremely popular as a English lesson, though. And "Viagra" is viagra. You know?

This is not to say I don't welcome comments in French or German or anything else, as long as I know someone who can translate them for me so I know I'm not selling male enhancement products or state secrets. But pretty much, a comment is a comment. Thank you very much.

Rainy days, Mondays, and moldy shoes

2009-10-12T15:02:00.002-04:00

It is raining today. A long, hard, cold (relatively), drenching, soaking, I want to be in bed with a hot toddy and maybe even something to drink kind of day.

The Facebook posts cover the usual: it's raining and it's Monday, and the inevitable (at least here) "We need the rain." What I want to know is when does "we need the rain" become, ohmygod my shoes are moldy? When will I be trading in my car for a canoe? When do the ants drag off the baby with the tail? (One Hundred Year's of Solitude reference --- this kind of rain does that to me.)

Although all I want to do is cozy up with my personal hot toddy, I am working very hard. Income tax extensions are up on Thursday. Payroll tax deposits are due then, too. Quarterly reports are due at the end of the month. And then there is the regular stuff.

Tomorrow I go to see my doctor for a follow-up of my (relatively) recent non-heart event. I'm hoping for something simple, definitive, and non-life threatening. If the cure for this non-heart event pain will also increase my energy, enable me to lose weight, make me a cheerier person, and get rid of wrinkles, I won't complain. I'm sure my whole family will be happier, at least with my increased energy and cheerier personality. I don't think they care about my weight or wrinkles.

I am still trying to figure out what to do with my 1000 hours that I am not spending on the CSI board. The process has been slowed by the fact that some people are crappy winners and have continued to make my life miserable. I am focusing on happy thoughts (not the happy thoughts where they get hit by lightening, but the happy thoughts where I live a good life, the school survives, and our children continue to love learning.)

In the short term, I am cleaning my house, taking the enrolled agent exam (eventually), and thinking about crocheting Christmas presents. In the long term, I think I want to commit to writing. Not full time, because I need to work, but in those 1000 hours I used to spend at the school or on the phone, and in the other 1000 hours I used to spend planning and worrying about the school.

Right now, I'm watching at the rain, wishing I had dry socks, and keeping an eye out for ants carrying a baby with a tail.

What will come

2009-10-04T21:11:00.002-04:00

In the past two weeks... and more... I have been struggling with a lot of things. I am no longer on the board of the Carolina School for Inquiry & after over five years of giving the school many hours of my time, I have a small void. The void didn't come quickly enough, because even after the selfish twits won the board election, they continued to harass me and the rest of the now former board members. They will continue to harass the wonderful director, but I'm hoping that some people on the board will come to understand that Victoria is one of the greatest resources the school has. At the very least, I hope they understand that they haven't been elected to the PTA and that they are legally and financially responsible for the well-being of the school. While they may whine to the authorizer, the authorizer can do nothing but shut the school down if they think it's being poorly run. I am praying that there is enough sense on the board that they won't destroy the school.

I will never understand the employees hired by Victoria to work in an inquiry based multi-age charter school have decided to mutiny (they don't like lesson plans, they don't like multi-age, the parents aren't good enough, whine, whine, whine), with the probable end result being that they will destroy the school and make it so no other school district would ever hire them. Do they know how foolish they seem to other people? I guess not.

And so I continue to be concerned for my son's school, a school I had hoped would last longer than his school days, but I am not bound to spend 10 or more hours a week (unpaid, of course) taking care of school business.

So what am I going to do?

Well, I probably want to start eating better again. I have been on a real deep-fried carbathon the past month or so. It's time for autumn and winter vegetables, soups and stews, chili with corn bread... yum yum. Maybe I'll have time to cook and the heart to eat well. (Notice that while some people lose weight when stressed, I gain weight. Drats.)

I am also going to do the work I am paid to do. Those who pay me will be glad to hear this. I'll start tomorrow, I promise.

On a side note, I have almost quit one of my part-time jobs. I'd returned to bookkeeping at St. Michael's when the person hired to replace me had a family crisis. It worked then, but now it's getting to be tax season again, and I won't have the time. Her crisis is passed and she is available, what could be better?

I am taking things fairly slowly... maybe too slowly. I've read a lot and leveled up in Farm Town, Farmville, YoVille, AND my new Cafe on Facebook. (Sad.) I know I will find another project that will take a lot of my time, but I'm not ready to commit. Somethings have happened that push me in one way or another. I'm concerned about medical care, county jails, my professional status, middle school, my house... something will come to the front.

But for now, I am here. I am not really happy, but I am not anywhere near dead. And for right now, that's all I can ask for.

Through open doors

2009-09-20T18:40:00.003-04:00

My horoscope for today says that I don't have to express my feelings right now, and I think that's good advice. Let me just say that I was voted off the board & a group of dedicated, level-headed people were replaced with a group that has no experience & seems to think that the board is like the PTA. I am afraid it will be a Pyrrhic victory for them, but I won't make that happen. I will pray for the school, because excellent public education for all children is what this is all about.

Right now, I am going back to doing the work I am paid to do. I'm not sure what I'll do with the thousands of hours and dollars I had been putting into the school. Maybe it's time to write. I need some alone time.

I am looking into another educational option for my son, although I'll leave him with his fine teacher until and unless there is fallout from the hateful. I always put the good of the school first when I was on the board. That doesn't mean I'll sacrifice my son.

And with this almost behind me, I am seeing lots and lots of open doors... I hope I choose well.

On we go

2009-09-19T09:02:00.003-04:00

OK, I didn't kill anyone last Tuesday. I was civil, & if I do say so myself, I did a fine job of explaining that being on a charter school board is not like being in the PTO. I explained that the job of the school board is not to paint imaginary school buses or help the teachers to teach or to manage the school. I also pointed out that if a parent is on the school board, they may have to put the good of the school over the good of their individual child.

Unfortunately, no one was listening. Candidate after candidate in the cabal which has decided to take over the school because of personal issues stood up and talked about how much they've volunteered in their children's classrooms, how the board should plan gatherings at the school, how their teaching experience will help them change the curriculum (which, technically, would be a violation of the charter), and how well they manage their businesses.

This same cabal which earlier accused of us being demons (don't I wish), now is accusing us of dishonesty. One spouse of a candidate went to the office and announced to the director that they aren't going to let us steal this election. I don't steal, which is a good thing. If I did steal, I'd be really good at it, and these creatures would never be the wiser.

Mind you, these are people who have never attended a board meeting, board training, or charter school conference. Until now, they haven't bothered to read minutes or check agendas. They are the masters of the irrelevant, with an unfortunate combination of ignorance and meanness.

These are people who think that they were with the school from 'the inception,' when what they mean is they walked their child to the school door on the first day of school. They were not here when the charter was written, proof-read, and re-written. They were not here when the school board made us start the whole process over because we changed our name. They were not here when we used our own money to produce and send out flyers to invite them to attend our school. They did not write the application for non-profit status or go through that extremely exact and tedious process. They were not here when we negotiated with the landlord, the school district, and individuals to get the building ready, to feed the kids, & to provide the services parents at regular public schools take for granted.
Although they were here during the first year when a well-intentioned experiment in managing by committee went down in flames, very nearly taking the school with it, they didn't learn anything from that other than that the current director is willing to take chances & stand by her decisions, even when they are unpopular. And they didn't like that.

And of course, there are excellent board members who weren't at the original meetings. Some weren't here during the first tumultuous year. That's not the point. The current board has the experience and the intelligence to know they needed to learn. It would be hoped that their replacements would be the same. And it would be hoped that there would not be an arrogantly ignorant cabal that will most likely install a board without a single carry-over member. They don't need experience. They are too smart for that.

As an INTP & a writing spider, I am constantly bewildered by human behavior. No matter how often I see it, I can't believe that a person would take a strong dislike to me when I haven't harmed them or their people. I cannot believe that people will act against their own best interest just to spite someone of whom they are irrationally jealous. I can't believe people can be irrational. I am happily surprised when people are kind when it is hard or thoughtful when it is harder. I just expect people to act in a logical way: in their best interest. Then, at least, I can figure it out.

This reminds me of another story. A frog sitting at the side of a river was approached by a scorpion.
"Please take me across the river," said the scorpion.
"Are you nuts?" said the frog. "You'll sting me and kill me."
"Don't be silly, if I do that, I'll drown too," said the scorpion reasonably.
"OK," said the INTP frog. "Hop on."
Half way across the river, the scorpion stung the frog and he was paralyzed.
"Why did you do that? Now we'll both die," croaked the frog.
The scorpion shrugged as they sank.
"It's in my nature."

Little lessons

2009-09-14T12:49:00.002-04:00

This is my lesson for the week: not everyone is going to like you. (And by you, I mean "me.") If you stand up for what you believe in and say what you think is important to say, there will be people who don't like you for it. This is especially true of those of us who are INTP (Introvert, Intuitive, Thinking, Perceiving) who forget to couch things in a nice way most of the time, and when they do say things in a nice way, it sounds sort of sarcastic. Even if they (and by that I mean "I") do not mean to be sarcastic.

So now I find that something far more important than I am is dependent on my ability to: 1) not take things personally even if I'm told I'm a witch and/or I'm going to hell, 2) speak in a non-sarcastic kind way and still make my point, and 3) not threaten to have anyone knee-capped.

I am pretty sure I am at the end of my rope. I am going to have to write my murder novel soon, or else ... I don't know... maybe paint my kitchen.

Send good thoughts my way, please. And if anyone can help me turn someone into a newt...

Yesterday...

2009-09-11T06:55:00.005-04:00

was my second grandson's first birthday. Brendon, or "BeeBee" as his brother Gabe calls him, was not really impressed when his GrandBob and Grammy snatched him from his bed to sing "Happy Birthday" before they went to work. I understand he was more excited about the mini-cup cake he ate after his dinner.

This is Brendon with his beautiful parents one year ago today.

This is Brendon in June. Now he is walking all over the place, getting into lots of trouble with the help of his big brother, 2-yr old Gabe.

I can see the future: Gabe and Brendon, the Irish twins, fighting each other and anyone who comes between them for the next hundred or so years.

Happy Birthday BeeBee!

Labor Day

2009-09-07T07:40:00.002-04:00

It's been over a week since I've written. I haven't read the blogs I've followed nearly as much as I usually do, or as much as I'd like to.

What's up? you ask, if you haven't completely given up on me.

The first thing is Facebook Farming. I have TWO Farm Town farms and two Farmville farms. I don't spend as much time with the Farmville farms, but I've recently added rivers to both of my Farm Town farms, and the redecorating took some time. In order to afford all the ~~crap~~ amenities on my farms, I've been "working" for other farmers. I go to the market, tell them I give a great plow job and get hired. Who knew? It's interesting that my avatar that looks a little sultry (in an anime kind of way) gets more work from male avatars, while the motherly one gets work from older women looking avatars. Sad, pathetic, and amusing.

In real life, my son, daughter-in-love, and two grandchildren are still living with us. Life is better, though because they are really pitching in to clean & have moved from the living room to Mark's bedroom. Mark sleeps on the living room couch, but he isn't there all day.

Mark is attending and loving the multi-age inquiry-based public charter school I helped start and of which I am chairman of the board. School is great, school business is stressful. I am involved (as board chair) in a grievance hearing. I can't talk about that, which is part of the reason I haven't written. Almost anything I might write could be construed to be related.

We joined St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal church, where I have been working as a bookkeeper. Bob hooked up with both the traditional choir and the Praise choir (guitar) and it was all she wrote. Since St. Michael's is a small church, people notice if you join the church and especially the choir. It is very gratifying.

I appreciated their support (as well as the support of all my other family and friends) last week when I didn't have a heart attack. I did have chest pains that weren't horrible but didn't go away with my favorite standby Alka-seltzer. The pain radiated into my left jaw and arm. I'm embarrassed to admit that I spent the better part of the day reading WebMD & other articles about women's symptoms of heart attacks before going to the hospital. Well, not that embarrassed, since I didn't have a heart attack.

I had several EKGs and blood tests over night, then an echo cardiogram & nuclear stress test. My lung X-ray showed it wasn't pneumonia and all the other tests showed it wasn't a heart event. A cardiologist mentioned sleep apnea and I told him I was pretty sure I had that, since my husband says I snore like a drunk in a midnight choir and that sometimes I quit breathing. (Don't ask why I haven't had THAT checked out. I probably can't get past the part where I snore indelicately.) Anyway, he said the couldn't test me for that while I was in the hospital, I'd have to do it as an outpatient. Since sleep apnea isn't an emergency, the insurance company won't pay for the test even if you are already in the hospital. I sort of thought, then can we skip the nuclear stress test and let me go home? I will wish I'd said it when the bills come in. Even with fine insurance, we'll end up paying at least $1000. Granted the whole bill will probably be 5 or 10 grand.

I still have chest pains, headaches, and extreme stress. It's a little better since my kids have decided they don't want me to drop dead and have started picking up after themselves. This is comforting.

I am reading four books right now.

The Seven Outs by Brian Carpenter. It is a very practical guide to strategic planning designed for public charter schools and their particular needs. It's going to be very helpful unless it's moot & I get voted off the board next week. Oh well. Since I believe that the school is greater than the sum of its parts, I believe it will survive.

I read this book in the cardiac unit of the emergency room, so you can see it's an easy read, but still packed full of important information.

The Spectrum by Dean Ornish. Dean says he's been misunderstood and you can eat good tasting food that is good for you. And he says that not everyone needs an extreme diet, any movement toward healthy on the spectrum of eating well, exercising, and meditating helps.

I got this book after a discussion with my counselor about the food in the cardiac unit. I said, "I have always said that it is impossible to ruin green beans, but they did it." The beans were fresh (I think since there were still stems in them), and neither overcooked nor undercooked. They were just cooked. In water. No spice, not a drop of oil or butter or butter-like-substance. They tasted like the smell of newly mown grass. A nice smell, a crappy taste.

My counselor told me that Dean Ornish had come to that hospital and taught everyone how to cook with spices and herbs and still keep it healthy, even for the extreme diet needed to repair an unhealthy heart. I looked him up on the Internet and found the Spectrum website, then checked out the book from the library. I recommend the book, but my advice is that if you already know anything about health & nutrition, you may want to skim the first few chapters. But don't skip them, because there were some surprises, for me at least.

Teaching Godly Play by Jerome W. Berryman. I am helping out with the new Sunday school classes, which are Episcopalian Montessori. I'm looking forward to this. I think I'm a door keeper, which appears to mean I welcome the kids, send the parents off without hurting their feelings, and point the kids in the right direction. I won't be alone & the kids are 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders.... a perfect age in my opinion. Old enough to talk and think for themselves but too young to feel they have to suggest improvements in my dress or character.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith. What can I say?

Today being Labor Day, I plan to labor. I have accounting to do for two of my part-time jobs. I'd also like to get the pile of junk on my carport sorted: trash, keep, give-awy, sell. I actually pulled something out of the pile and put it to good use in the house. Maybe that was a good start.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend.

A Day of the Rest

2009-08-27T07:30:00.002-04:00

I am taking today off from my two paying jobs.

"Yeah!" you say, "Kathy is going to spend the day reading our blogs and making witty and insightful comments, uploading photos to Facebook, upgrading her Facebook farmer to level 30, and writing in her innumerable blogs so we can know all of the trivial things that have been going on her life as well as her brilliantly thought out opinions on education, health care, and food."

I'm sorry, I may have to disappoint you.

I have taken the day off to: clean my house and do the accounting work for my third paying gig.

I decided that if I did not take A DAY and just freaking clean the house, I would go insane. And yes, I know I have Friday off. And Saturday. And part of Sunday. It just wasn't working for me.

Originally, I decided to take the day off because Mark's teacher was going to visit us this evening. And when she had to postpone until next week, Bob and I decided not to share this information with the rest of the ~~inmates~~ family. And so, as far as anyone is concerned, Miss S is coming to visit today, and we are doing a level 1 cleaning: making the living areas look good as long as you don't go peeping in the cabinets.

Once level 1 is achieved, we'll begin level 2: cleaning rooms that most people (other than my incredibly ballsy sister-in-law) don't visit. Level 3 is the long and arduous cleaning of cabinets, closets and the room that is piled high with things I'm (at the moment) psychologically unable to get rid of. I have high hopes for the weekend, at least as a beginning.

Having said that, I think I'll see if I can level up my FB farmer over another cup of coffee before I tackle the dishes...

Wednesday Wanderings...

2009-08-19T08:19:00.003-04:00

It's one of those days...

I have been trying to organize my health insurance, flexible benefits plan, and doctor's bills. I need an aspirin.

I wrote about my opinions on health care reform at The Matriarch's Corner, if anyone cares to read it.

I am trying to decide whether to call in sick, but I get paid by the hour, so no...

Katy made a really good sausage and bean soup for supper last night. I added shredded Parmesan and Greek yogurt because that is what I do. I don't think she was offended.

Bob starts choir practice tonight. That will be something different and fun for him to do. I had a dream that Mark sang in the choir, but when I told him that, he gave me a look.

Gabe just came up to me and said, "Baby fee. Baby fee." I said, "Do you want me to feed the baby?" (The baby is Brendon, who is almost one.) Then I decided to check. It appears that he said, "Baby free." Gabe had opened the gate to let Brendon out.

Mark's teacher is coming to visit next week. I have to clean the house. Maybe I'll make scones. Maybe not.

OK, off to work....

The Spider's Tale

2009-08-18T12:29:00.002-04:00

My son Mark came to work with me last week. As we walked in, he noticed a writing spider in the bushes. She sat in the middle of a large complex web without moving. When we left at the end of the day, she didn't appear to have moved. Mark wondered how she could do that without getting bored. I said, "She's a spider."

Mark said, "She sits there all day, writing stories into her web. Since she has a terrible short term memory, she can read it again and again and it's always new and surprising."

I'm not sure why, but Mark's story has really stuck with me. I see the spider every day and check to see if she has any new stories. They all seem to be the same, but since I also have a terrible short term memory, I'm also surprised.

This is my life.

My boss says that I am a manager, but doesn't let me manage anything, even the way I arrange office supplies. I have worked here for eight years & I am very good at what I do and he knows it. I like him, but every year I wonder if I will be able to fix the problems with communication, hierarchy, attitude, etc etc etc. ... and each year I have a nervous breakdown.

Gosh, didn't see that coming!

My children promise to clean the house, get the other house ready to sell, find jobs. I come home and find that they are not feeling well, or are fixing to get ready to do something and... oh look here comes the posse, well gotta go... my friends need me to help them...

Wow, that is new!

My father-in-law wants to help and gives a boatload of advice and promises to us and to the kids and to anyone who is watching... then does an end-run around what we have arranged and undermines our plans and our relationships with the kids.

My, that IS a twist!

The spider and I are getting tired of writing this story over and over again. As the rains pelt her web and she has to redo it, she gets more and more erratic. That's OK. Pretty soon she'll lay a bunch of eggs and die. I read Charlotte's Web.

I, on the other hand, have laid my eggs and don't plan to die any time soon. And so I'd better start the story again... lay my plans, write my goals, get a move on...

I sure didn't see THAT coming!

This day in history

2009-08-17T13:41:00.003-04:00

On this day 24 years ago, my lovely husband and I went ahead and got married.

I was going to write a fairly humorous bit about the disaster surrounding the year of planning for the wedding, but it turned bitter too quickly. Let me just say that about two months before the wedding, Dad said, "I'll pay for you to elope. You can go anywhere."

I said, "But we have made so many plans already, we've paid for the stupid dress and reception and invitations... We can't waste all that. We can't back out now."

Dad looked at me and said, "Kathy, it is that kind of attitude that got us into trouble in Vietnam."

And so we declared victory and had the wedding and a decent reception (with only one arrest and maybe two or three bitter arguments) and short honeymoon.

I am not sure how we have stayed married for 24 years, except to say that I can't imagine not being with Bob. Sometimes we say that we stayed together out of inertia. Just yesterday Bob said, "Marriage is easy, divorce is hard."

But that somehow implies that we are in a nice quiet settled relationship and that is not true. Bob said that I am the one person he knows he can count on no matter what. I know that Bob will be there for me, not always saying what I want, but there nonetheless.

And this is not to say we haven't had some really really hard times. That's when the inertia kicks in. Or something. And at some point we realize that as hard as things are, it's just a little easier together.

What we have is trust and love and joy and humor (a lot of that) and faith and hope and charity and passion and kindness and caring and a whole lot of other things, most of them good. I thank god and all the angels that I have Bob and he has me.

And that is enough of that.

In other news... Happy anniversary to Bob's brother Clark and his wonderful wife Nancy. I can't remember how long they have been married, but it's been awhile. I guess they saw what a good day this was for us... or they were engulfed with the same type of planning issues we had.

And of course: Happy Birthday Gabe! Two years old today and still my angel, no matter what they say about the terrible twos hitting right on time.

2009-08-13T07:58:00.000-04:00

It is raining for the second day. This isn't a summer rain, even though it's summer.

Summer rains are fast and violent, usually coming at around 5:00 with thunder, lightning, and torrents of hard raindrops. Sometimes there is hail. Sometimes a storm will deluge one neighborhood and leave another less than a mile away dry. The storms pass through after leaving the commuters in a tangle and there is still another hour of bright sunlight before dark. The rain evaporates like a sauna and you still have to water your plants.

This is a winter rain (except for the cold part.) It's rained slowly and steadily for two days with only little breaks. It's raining over a large area. The plants look happier. The worms will be coming out and drowning themselves on the sidewalks.

This rain is like my life right now. A slow thorough healing rather than a quick burst of anger and frustration that won't solve anything. This is my hope at least. It's hard to go through the days of healing and cleansing, but there will be growth. And very very soon I will be singing, "I can see clearly now..."

But not yet. Oh well.

Early is as early does

2009-08-08T10:35:00.002-04:00

We had planned to get an early start this morning, but with a birthday dinner & visits with long distance family and (of course) working on the farm until midnight, I woke up at 9. I felt great, which is a little surprising for a Saturday morning. (Note to self: nine hours sleep).

We are going over to our old house, the one we couldn't sell after renovation, the one my son and his family moved into, the one in the 'hood. We are giving it another shot. Today, Bob, Robert, Joseph, and I will go over and evaluate, buy products, and clean. And of course, yard work, before Mike the housing inspector comes by with his weekly summons. By the end of the week, we want it cleaned, repaired, and painted. We may plant annuals, but it takes so many to make a difference I don't know if we can afford that.

We are not trying to make a killing on this house, just sell the damn thing. I hear that the market is improving, but I don't know if the lower-end housing market has heard that yet. Although the house has real brick and real hardwood floors, it was built in a time where one bathroom was plenty. At some point, someone added a half bath in the "master" bedroom, but took away a half a closet in the process. So it has a small closet and small bathroom, neither one of which is really adequate. The yard is big with beautiful trees --- oaks, maples, crepe myrtle and dogwood. There is a wisteria vine that may take over the house, but the flowers smell wonderful. It really is a nice house. Too bad the neighborhood sucks.

You can see why we are hiring a real estate agent. I'm a great sales person.

One step at a time... today is clean and clean. As soon as the rest of my posse gets their heinies out of bed.

Get up! I'm up, dammit! You can be up!

Wish me well.

BFF: or FBF for the Facebook Farmer

2009-08-07T12:58:00.004-04:00

Hi, my name is Kathy & I'm addicted to Facebook Farm Town. It's so bad that I got a second FB account so I can have another farm. If I hook up a wireless network at home, I can work on two computers at the same time and hire myself to harvest and plow. This is very sad, and yet, I have no intention of stopping. I've even quit drinking so I can concentrate on the farm. I don't drink during the week anyway, but I've cut down on the weekends so I can get some good plowing time in.

I have an excel spreadsheet showing the best return for various crops based on cash value, not percentage. (Not that anyone else cares much.) I am not alone, because I've seen other spreadsheets & discussions about price per day et cetera et cetera et cetera. While I'm washing dishes, I make Mark hire himself out at the Market to plow and harvest. (Mark to Market... lol! sorry: accountant joke sort of.) You can see how bad it is.

I dream about the farms. I woke up in the middle of the night to harvest a forgotten crop, but I found out the crops won't rot right now because the software developers are working on the clocks. (I don't know what that means, other than I don't have to get up at midnight right now.)

In defense of my obsession, there have been some benefits. One: reorganizing my farm is very relaxing. It's like a meditation of sorts. I used to play solitaire, now I plant virtual flowers. Two: I taught Mark how to make a spreadsheet. He is very well organized and advises me on the best values for our time. Three: it's inspired me to make a real garden hide-away in my very small yard. I was so happy with my little benches surrounded by trees and flowers that I've decided to find a couple of benches and build a little nook behind the shed under the grape vines. If I get the wireless network set up, I can farm from there.

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Tonight I am going to the summer birthday party at my in-laws. They group birthdays, since it's hard to get people together for every birthday. This is fine with me. My birthday is included in this party, along with my MIL, Gabe, Joseph, & maybe my MIL's sister who will be in town. I think that's all the July & August birthdays on this side of the family. (Except my niece,who has her birthday with her sister and Mark sometime in May, June, or July.)

Bob and I are planning to have a good time, especially since his aunts will be in town. We plan to ignore his sister who searched our house for cat crates she thought we had, then took our crates. I don't know if you can forgive someone who not only hasn't apologized, but thinks she was perfectly right to search our bedrooms and then proclaim that we are slobs. I have considered not going at all, but there are too many other people to consider. On the other hand, I do have fields to plow...

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I am making a crochet & bead belt. It is turning out well. I am using a much smaller thread and hook than I've ever successfully used, but I'm not having too much trouble. Well, I did have to get magnifying glasses. If I finish it, I'll take a picture.

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Although it is only August, I am beginning serious plans for Tax Season. Some of those plans involve figuring out how to slip drugs to my boss, who made us all really miserable last year. I am also making long term plans related to me after he retires or drops dead (heart attack or murder, take your pick.) I have a feeling that one day with no warning, he will announce that he has sold the business & I, at 50-ish with more knowledge than education, will be SOL. And with that in mind, I am planning for what to do then. I don't plan to leave before he does (although if this tax season is like the last, you don't know), but I'm not working for anyone else even if they want me. Right now I'm thinking about a tax/bookkeeping/payroll service & coffee shop. But it's early days, of course. In the mean time, I am building my credentials by working to pass the enrolled agent exam (still!) and taking as many continuing education workshops and classes as I can.

And if worse comes to worse, I can do taxes in my garden between planting virtual fields and chatting with other FB Farmers.

Time to clean the kitchen... yes, it's that time of week again!

Another cloudy Monday morning, but this one is in August

2009-08-03T09:31:00.004-04:00

Let me start by saying that if you turn on Jerry Springer and think, "Oh my god, how much worse can it get?" you haven't met my daughter-in-love's family. That is all I'm saying about that this morning, because (1) oh my god & (2) it's not my story thank you Jesus.

What is my story is that because of the latest episode of Jerry Springer live from Hampton County SC and because I am ~~an idiot~~ a soft touch (soft in the head), my beautiful minivan (with six CD changer/sunroof/beepers-when-you-almost-hit-someone) is sitting in Varnville (or Nixville or Miley or Podunk) with a dead battery. Not, give me a charge, will you? dead, but dead dead dead... or so I hear. While I have no reason to distrust somebody's cousin's husband's brother who is a mechanic and says the battery should RIP, I have less reason to trust him. I am thinking of a "new" used transmission a few years ago. (Same town, different people). I'm wondering if there is an electronic damper or old Indian burial ground in the county which causes these problems. You would think one of us would learn.

So now, aside from the usual work in the country (corporate, partnership, and personal tax return extensions run out soon), a payroll (mine --- yeah!) and monthly reports at the church, getting my baby to MEGGS & AAP testing sites, completing my sister's July reports, cleaning my house because Mark's new teacher wants to make a home visit (can you just say no?), selling the house we used to live in and the kids aren't living in any more, getting rid of kittens...

Now, we have to figure out how to pay for a battery two hours from here when I can pretty much guarantee no one will loan Katy the money and let us mail them a check. So we are talking Western Union or even a freaking trip to that godforsaken county.

I am not feeling very holy, very loved, very nice. But quite frankly, even when I did do everything to make people happy, I still didn't feel holy, loved, or nice enough. It never is enough and being an enabler is no way to make a living.

And for some reason the song "No more Mr. Nice Guy" is playing in my head and that is so unlike me, I had to google the lyrics to figure out who sang it. And I found this picture, which looks a whole lot like me this morning:

Happy Birthday to me

2009-07-30T20:18:00.004-04:00

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

2009-07-29T09:33:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-28T14:22:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-27T07:48:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-24T07:27:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-17T09:17:00.007-04:00

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

2009-07-16T08:04:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-15T07:15:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-12T08:39:00.002-04:00

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:

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
find out if we can go to the yoga class for people with depression & go if we can
set up a scrapbooking group
get some yarn to make a shawl
plan my birthday party

Blog Fart Friday

2009-07-10T09:21:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-09T08:17:00.004-04:00

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?

2009-07-08T18:28:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-07T15:16:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-05T08:56:00.002-04:00

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...

2009-07-02T07:59:00.003-04:00

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.

And you thought Jerry Springer was making this up

2009-06-30T07:37:00.003-04:00

My daughter-in-law's father's family belongs on Jerry Springer. They need a regular feature. Sadly, they may not be unique enough to make the cut.

In today's episode, sister Cathy & girlfriend Vivian have refused to allow the daughters to have any part in the "celebration of life" ceremony after they (FINALLY) cremate the father. Cathy says the daughters abused the grandparents (a lie of course). They will be tossing out ashes to all and sundry, but not the daughters.

Poor Katy is a mess, as are her sisters. While I couldn't give a rat's patooty about cremated ashes, they mean something to her. I would like to be able to help her, but feel pretty powerless.

I mean, I could go beat up the cow, but let's face it... she'd mop the floor with me. I already gave her the "freeze" (southern thing, I think) but she was such a dumb heffa she didn't notice. Legal action is possible, but how can it not end up sounding like Judge Judy? "I want my daddy's ashes." "You were a brat as a child so you can't get any."

I think one of those judges would set them straight after all. But that's not going to happen.

Bob says he doesn't want to make a judgement since he doesn't know both sides. I told him that there was a time for justice and empathy for the other side, but this wasn't it. It isn't our job to rule on who is right. It's our job to stand by Katy and glare at anyone who hurts her.

Maybe I need to write a book. There are lots of signs pointing me that way. Not the most recent but the most piercing was from a novel, that a writer is a person who actually sits down and writes. Puts in the time, takes the chance. Aside from the fact that I need to kill off a few dozen people who have been irritating the crap out of me for many years, I feel ready to take the chance. Maybe.

The monday after the vacation

2009-06-29T07:29:00.003-04:00

In about 30 minutes, Bob and I will head back to work after a week off. I hope I can find my desk. Bob will not be answering the phone today, since he will be plowing through messages. I have no idea what awaits me, but it's sure to piss me off.

There will be no big problem. The women in my office will have taken care of the payrolls, most tax returns, regular bookkeeping. They may even have cleared the file cabinets. But there are things they can't do. I can hope that my boss spent some time in this office and handled pressing matters. I'll be depressed if there is an emergency from last Monday on my desk.

I am just working myself up. Everything will be fine. I'll have little more than the crap I left. The tax returns for clients who opened for business over a year ago and need to take care of everything (including a pile of letters from the IRS & the SCDOR) RIGHT NOW. The tax return that was brought in two months ago that has been pushed aside while I do 12 months of bookkeeping for the client about to lose his licenses. The technical publications that will help me figure out how to help clients for next year.

OK, well here I go...

Bertie's everyflavored Blog-farts

2009-06-26T08:32:00.002-04:00

I have been gone a week and I am totally out of touch. After I check-off some items on my chore list, I'll try to catch up with all of my blogging buddies. I have really missed them this week.

I went to the National Alliance for Public Charter Schools Conference in Washington DC. It was spectacular, especially for a bumpkin like me. I am amazed at the brilliant ideas for choices in education that have been established throughout the nation. I'm thinking about what might work in Columbia, and what niches might be met. For instance, there are elementary schools (in SC too, I think) where everything is taught in French. I don't speak French, unfortunately, but I'd like my children to be able to speak as many other languages as they can master or even pick up. That's just one program, and the rest of the curriculum is excellent, of course. Anyway, I'll muse on that stuff more at my other blog The Matriarch's Corner, where I pretend to know something about stuff and try to use complete sentences. Not really.

We stayed at the Renaissance on 9th Street. It was a lovely hotel and the concierge was helpful and the mattress was really comfortable and the shampoo smelled really nice. And it was right next to the convention center. But, being a country bumpkin, I can't understand why, if we pay $300 a night convention rate hotel fees, we have to pay $12.95 a day for Internet service. And $2.50 for a soft drink. And $25 a day to park. OK, I admit it... I'm a provincial mouse. I have stayed at Best Westerns (and other hotels) with free Internet, comfortable bed and shampoo that didn't make my hair fall out. They didn't have a concierge, but when we asked the desk clerk where to eat, she said there was a really good Greek restaurant about a half mile away. It wasn't in the middle of DC, of course. And I know $300 a night is chump change for a nice hotel in a big city. And the mattress was comfortable. But, good grief, how do rich people stay rich when they waste so much on conspicuous consumption? I really am a hick, ain't I?

I love DC. Even though the streets are jammed with cars and buses full tourists and government workers and lobbyists and diplomats and everything else, the city's layout is logical. I love the fact that the streets are named after famous letters and numbers. I know the order, once I get the NW/NE stuff straight. The metro and bus system is just as clear, even for tourists. I love color-coded metros.

And DC has so much STUFF. My sister Ellen & I only toured one day, but it was great. We had hop-on/hop-off bus passes on the open-topped bus. I recommend that as a way to go. We saw more of the city than we would have if we'd tried to drive. We got to pick our stops and concentrate on the sites, not the parking. The pass was good for two days, so Dad, Bob, Ellen's husband Paul, Joseph, Mark, & Roslyn toured on Monday as well.

I saw the Vietnam Memorial for the first time. There were flowers for father's day, I think. Mark kept asking if I was OK, but I couldn't really explain.

At the Korean Conflict Memorial, there were Korean marines --- veterans and younger men. It was very moving.

On Wednesday, we went to the Capitol to tell our Senators and Congressmen we support Quality Public Charter Schools. That was cool, even though we met with staffers, mostly. The staffers were very knowledgeable and interested. We were supposed to meet with Congressman James Clyburn in person, and most of our group probably did. His office is in the Capitol building, so the security is tighter. I'm sure it's our fault for not realizing this, but we had a rather unpleasant encounter with a pompous security guard. We also had a wonderful encounter with a woman at the Sgt at Arm's desk who went out of her way to help us.

A staffer from Congressman Brown's office took us to where we go through security to get into the Capitol. The other office buildings had security, but other than having to take off my stylish belt, it wasn't a problem. At the Capitol, we got in the wrong line and someone said we could go the other way. Following directions, we walked in that direction. There was a metal detector there, so it's not like we were jumping the security. But Officer Odie started yelling, "LOOK OUT YOU HAVE SOME RUNNER'S!" We didn't pay attention because we didn't know WTF he was talking about. When he grabbed us, we explained what we were doing. God, what an ass. So we headed over to the Sgt at Arms desk, where two women checked our IDs and gave us passes. Ellen wasn't with us, so I asked the lady what Ellen should do to get in. She said she'd get her, asked me what she was wearing and run upstairs to find her. It took two tries, but she got her and got us through. BUT THEN, we went back to the metal detector where Officer Odie starts yelling, "LADIES!" like we are supposed to know ~~the dumb f~~ he is talking to us. Then he tells us our bags are too big and we have to do something but I'm not sure what. One alternative was to put them in our congressman's office, but our congressman's office was in the capitol building. So I said, "Fine." And we left. I understand the need for security, & I don't expect security people to be overly friendly, just professional. I don't see the need for pompous rudeness. And the fact that the lady (I think her name was Bobbie) was soooo helpful stands in stark contrast. We were really looking forward to talking to Congressman Clyburn, too. Oh well. Maybe we can invite him to the school.

On the way up to Washington, we visited my cousin Karla and her family in Leesburg VA. They were so welcoming! (Chris --- thanks for letting us use your bed and sorry for ruining your Wii golf score.) Along with great talk, great food, and great coffee, Karla took us to the Mannasses battle site even though she's probably been there a million times.

On the way back, we saw my aunt & uncle, Ellie & Cec in Shadyside Md. Cousin Jay and his cool family came to visit, but we had sort of dropped in (not literally, but only a couple days warning) and they had other plans. It was good to see them all.

Between Karla & Frank's house and Ellie & Cec's house, I am inspired to get rid of a lot of my junk and only keep stuff we love. Frank is a Navy officer, so they have traveled a good bit. I think it's the moving that honed Karla's simple but elegant & comfortable decorating style. Ellie & Cec have lived in the same house for 40 years maybe, and you can see layers of collected things reused in a new way. But no clutter. We'll see, but wanting is the first step to realizing, right?

The weather was perfect the whole time. It was in the 80s with a breeze. With the right shoes, I could have walked all day.

It's great to be home. Time to start deciding what I really love... other than the husband, the children and the babies, of course.

To all of the Fathers

2009-06-21T06:45:00.003-04:00

Happy father's day to all of the fathers, none of whom will read my post.

To my Dad, I love you & I am grateful that you have reached a point in your life when you can respond, "I love you" instead of "thank you" or "me too." Thank you for the stories and the sense of humor (even if you sometimes don't get mine) and the sense of self that you have given us.

To Mr. Bob, the father of my husband, I love you and I am grateful for all of your support, love and kindness that you have given me since I married your son. Thank you for the love and stories and sense of justice and mercy you share with us. Thank you for raising a fine son.

To Bob, the father of my children, I love you & I am grateful that you are snoring right beside me right now. You are a wonderful father and wonderful husband. When I see you with your grandchildren or even with other people's children, I am awed by your rapport with the little people. What can I say about a man who sees a dirty diaper and changes it? A man who willingly takes five children (ages: 11, 9, 3, 1.5, & .5) to a pool? And even though it is harder to be a father to older sons, I admire the way you are learning to step back and let them be. I have noticed you say "hello" before you say "did you get a job" these days.

To Robert, my son who has two boys of his own, the father of my grandchildren, I love you and I am grateful that you have grown into a strong, kind, loving man. You will take the best of your father & your grandfathers and make it your own. You will learn from our mistakes then make some of your own. But it's OK, cause kids love you and will turn out fine. Mostly. (Lock the bedroom window.)

And finally, to Joseph who is not a father yet and who should not take this as a push in that direction. Take your time and grow into the man you will be, but let me tell you that I have no doubt that you will be a great father. I see you with your nephews and it brings me joy to see you love them and care for them.

Happy Father's Day, to all of the men who have stepped up. Thank you all.

BFF = and off we go

2009-06-19T09:32:00.003-04:00

I continue the BFF tradition, even though it occurred to me that I ALWAYS write blog farts. Almost always. Oh well.

Last night we drove to the funeral of my daughter-in-love's father. It was a very difficult time for her and her sisters, because his girlfriend and brother and sister have decided to act as if he didn't have children. As a small example of the smallness of these people: they made a photo montage DVD for the "family" gathering. They made two copies: one for his father & one for his girlfriend. When the daughters asked for a copy, they were told they would have to pay $35 each. "Why would you want it anyway?" they were asked.

I have seen excellent stepmothers (Kim jumps to mind, of course), and so I know a woman can love her husband's children as her own. I cannot imagine the smallness and weakness of this woman's heart. I cannot image the spoiled selfishness of the father who was cherished by his own parents but didn't know how to love his children. I am appalled by the hypocrisy of the person who said, "He never hurt anyone in his life." I don't expect you to get up and say "He deserted his children when his first wife left him after years of abuse, but God loves him anyway," but don't lie. There were severe thunderstorm warnings already.

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Today we are driving to Virginia to stay for a couple of nights with my cousin. Sunday we will go to Washington, D.C. My sister & I will attend the national public charter schools convention while my husband, sons, father, brother-in-law, and niece tour Washington. Mark went a few weeks ago and is looking forward to showing off his favorite things. Ellen & I will tour with them on Sunday in a bus deal where you can get off and see stuff then hop back on when you are ready to move on. No traffic.

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I like travel from a theoretical point of view, but the process makes me very unhappy. I can't find enough clothes for everyone. I'm pretty sure the hotel at the conference is going to be a mess. I know we can't afford the trip. But then, my kids really need to travel. See relatives at times other than funerals. Be a part of someplace other than home. I sort of think my anxiety is a protective mechanism. If I worry hard enough and well enough, nothing bad will happen. The trick I am learning as I get older is to do the necessary worrying without letting anyone else know.

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I will have a small laptop on the trip. I don't know if I can get the wireless connection to work, but I hope so. So I will either blog on or take a break. Like usual.

Why I am not speaking to my husband

2009-06-18T07:10:00.002-04:00

Today is going to be a long day. We both have to finish up projects at work. I have to go to my second job and run a payroll. Then we are going to drive to a funeral two hours away, then come back. THEN (because we are like that) we are going to pack for our trip to Washington. We will leave sometime tomorrow, probably midday.

That is not why I am not speaking to my husband.

This morning, I woke up to the FOX news morning bimbos discussing the economic crisis. In their particularly whiny, silly way, they were 'llowin' as how it's UNAMERICAN to prevent CEOs and other top dogs from raping companies for their own benefit even though it hurts everyone else in the country and the world. Individual rights, to the point of selfish, materialist greed that destroys the economy is WHAT WE ARE FIGHTING FOR. (Note that these same people do not think an individual should be allowed to marry who he or she choose even though it hurts no one and may even help the economy). Now, I believe that individuals should do what they want, but every country needs a dose of community spirit. While it doesn't hurt the community to have three morons spout their opinions (and actually, that applies to the other cable stations too --- who cares what a journalist thinks?) it does hurt the community if CEOs rape the company. And then to call that patriotism... well that explains a lot.

It does not explain why I am not speaking to my husband.

So I said, oh for pete's sake, I'm already having a crappy day, do I have to listen to this $&!#?

And Bob jumped up from his sleep (because he had turned on the TV and gone back to bed) and yelled at me. And I said, screw it, watch whatever the %^&* you want, your holy heiny. I tried to slam the door on the way out, but our doors don't slam well. It took me three tries to slam the bathroom door.

Then I came downstairs, started the coffee, straightened the kitchen and got on the computer.

And while this will blow over, I am still starting my day with a headache, a bad feeling, and a bit of shame that I acted like a twit, no matter how great the provocation.

I really need to learn to breath.

What's happened since Friday

2009-06-17T12:25:00.003-04:00

Katy got out of the hospital on Friday, which was great. She is still weak, which is not great.

On Sunday, her father died. He had been in the hospital for several weeks, with Katy by his side until she got sick. She divided her time talking to doctors and nurses, helping her father, and driving her family around. It is amazing to me how much she did. It is no wonder she got sick. Unfortunately, as is normal but unpleasant in times of stress, some of her family members were less than grateful. In fact, there was a great deal of complaining when she went to the beach after spending an entire week with her father, in the hopes of recuperating.

The funeral is Thursday, and then Katy's grieving will begin.

Friday, we (Bob, me, Mark & Joseph) leave for Washington DC. I am going to a National Charter School Association convention. It should be interesting, but I'm underwhelmed with the offers for reasonably priced uniforms, multiple choice test kits, and traditional desks that we are getting. Since Carolina School for Inquiry is a child-centered, inquiry-based public charter school, we don't do those things. But I'm hoping for lots of information about grants, marketing, and stuff. I'm really looking forward to the goodies that these people better be giving out. Pens of course, but I want some good stuff.

In the mean time, Bob and I are trying to get ahead at our respective workplaces so that they won't fall apart while we are gone. It's not a piece of cake, but there is a certain amount of satisfaction in crossing off items on the to-do list.

And now, I've finished lunch (two red, two orange, and some green so far today) and it's time to get back to the expanding to-do list.

BFF

2009-06-12T05:57:00.003-04:00

It's Friday morning, 6:13 a.m. I've been up since about 4:30. I almost wrote this post last night, because I'd forgotten what day it is. I suppose this is just a warning that these BFs may be stinkier than even I usually do.

My daughter-in-law has been in the hospital all week. I am a terrible person who doesn't go visit people in the hospital. I am going today, but it really didn't hit me until yesterday that I ought to go see her. We have been taking care of the babies while Robert stays with her at night. Fortunately, they go to daycare during the day, but getting them ready is a struggle. It's been awhile since I've had to deal with small things that don't dress themselves.

I've been back from the beach for a week and still haven't managed to catch up on blogging. The house is a mess, but that's normal. I have gotten a lot of productive stuff done at work. That's something.

We got a mini-laptop. I'm going to set up a home network so I can blog in the hammock. That will last about a week, maybe, before the mosquitoes and the tropical humidity chase me back inside. But at least I'll be able to get on the computer.

Last night we went to a family night at the zoo. It was lots of fun, even though we had a severe thunderstorm right before and right after the event. The tiger looked like he thought we were extremely stupid not to know when to come in out of the rain. I forgot my camera and had to use my phone camera, which sucks. At least I can blame the camera and not my own pathetic photography non-skills.

Brendon is now 9 months old and the ladies at the day care say that he is ready to move beyond baby-mush. I sort of knew that, since he grabbed his brother's chicken nugget and gummed down half of it before I could get it from him. He ate beet salad and seemed to like that. I think it's important to give babies weird foods so they have a base-line taste for it. I don't mean sushi, of course. I think you have to be two to eat sushi.

I am mentally reviewing my to-do list and feeling tired. Everyone who went to the beach has some sort of cough and cold kind of thing. Katy (my daughter-in-law) got a kidney infection, but she was under a lot more stress. I'm very concerned about her, since they think she has an underlying problem that contributed to the kidney infection, but don't know what it is. Can extreme stress cause a kidney infection? Is fibromyalgia hereditary? If a patient is on medicaid, does the hospital staff work as hard? (The people I know who work in hospitals do. Are they the exceptions or the rule?)

Time for the rest of the family to rise and shine... or at least rise.

Hi Ho Hi Ho

2009-06-08T20:42:00.002-04:00

...it's back to work I went.

I really need to buy a lottery ticket.

Although the very competent people with whom I work did a great deal while I was gone, I still could not find my desk when I walked into my office this morning. There were notes from Monday, as if they didn't know I wasn't going to be there all week. (By "they" I mean my boss, bless his heart.) So I spent about 45 minutes sorting stuff. Then I spent another 45 minutes calling people and telling them I'd help them as soon as I figured out what had been done last week. And then I worked on bookkeeping for a client who doesn't like to bring everything in on time, so I'm in June of 2008 instead of 2009. Since the county is threatening to levy his house if he doesn't pay business personal property tax, he is a high priority today. Tomorrow it will be someone elses turn, I guess.

And then I think of something another client said. She wondered if going on vacation was worth it if you came back to a pile of stuff to catch up on. I said, then, yes, it's worth it. Now, as I sit here in a house that still needs cleaning, thinking of the work that's not gotten done, and the things that I maybe should have done, I wonder: was the week at the beach worth it.

Hell yes.

It cost too much, everyone got sick, tired and sick & tired of each other (especially me and Bob), but it was great. Even the rain was better there. The food was better. The sandcastles and the pool games and even the sweet young thing whose job it was to harass us into playing dumb pool games and getting our hair braided at $1 an inch were great.

Ah, well, it's not even summer yet and we are primed. Let the good times roll.

PS: I managed to not get a tan or burn even though I went in the sun a whole lot. This is a good thing, since those are simply precancerous conditions, in my book. Yeah me!

Summer vacation & the duckwalk home

2009-06-07T08:09:00.004-04:00

I honestly thought that I would take some time over my vacation week at the beach between trips to the pool and walks on the beach and the seven library books to catch up on reading blogs and writing my own.

I found that it is harder to write a blog when you are in the middle of the living/dining/kitchen area with a whole boatload of people. Especially my Dad, who kept saying, "Are you writing your blog?" He didn't come out and say, "Are you writing about me?" which is what my mom would have said. I'd have said, "No," then written, "Dad thinks I'm writing about him." So, technically, the answer would be yes, but nothing interesting.

Dad has heard my friends (including my sister) and me talking about things I've written. One friend has said he doesn't need to ask what I've been up to, since he reads the blog. It does save time at happy hour. I have sent my Dad my blog when I have written about him (or did I just tell him about it?)

I always write as if Dad would read it, which may surprise some people, considering how disgusting I can be. I just don't say mean things about people I know. Everyone has their boundaries. I talk about sex, money, weight, religion, and politics. I don't say ugly things about people in writing, if it's possible they will read it and ~~sue me~~ have their feelings hurt. When people say they don't talk about people behind their backs, I am bemused. Surely you don't say that stuff in front of their faces?

Since my general philosophy is ~~leave me the hell alone or I'll make you the murder victim in my as yet unwritten mystery novel~~ live and let live, I don't usually give advice to people's faces. If it will make an interesting and/or amusing story, I will talk about people. I'd like to say I didn't have anything ugly (even if it is funny) to say about anyone, but that's just not true. And I rarely lie if the truth will do just as well.

I'm not sure what my point is, originally or recently. But those are my Sunday morning musings. I think I need some grits.