Best laid plans... part XXIV

You may be able to tell by the sweet potato puree on my jeans that I am watching the babies again today. Alone. Because Bob decided to make sure I couldn't hand him a honey-do list this morning by staying up half the night working on a project. So he's asleep. The babies are almost asleep. My honey-do list is history. The Kathy-do list is glaring at me in bright neon pink. So, of course, I'm blogging.

I am watching the kids again because their mother my daughter-in-law Katy is facing one of the hardest things a person faces in life. Her father is critically ill and in intensive care here in Columbia. She is a young woman who does what needs to be done, so she arranged for him to be brought here when MUSC in Charleston didn't have an open bed. Her family (other than her sisters who stand with her) is not appreciative. It is sad to see a soap opera in the family of a person I love very much. I can only offer support and love to her and her sisters, but I can't make her father's sister, brother, and girlfriend behave like civilized adults. It is too much for a 20 year old to have to face. I watch the babies and offer prayers for courage, strength, wisdom, and solace.

My children have been very lucky to have two grandmothers and two grandfathers for so long. It makes me sad that my mother didn't live to see Robert happily married. I am sorry she never met the babies, whom she would adore. I am glad my father & Bob's parents are here to see the children turn into wonderful young men and to enjoy their great grandchildren. I hope Katy's father recovers enough to enjoy his grandchildren longer.

Since it's Memorial Day, I'm also thinking of all of the ways people have sacrificed for their families, their communities, their nation, and their world. I honor the people who have died so that my life can be blessed with freedom, justice, mercy, and peace.

Happy Birthday Mark

My baby is 11 years old today. I'm not sure how that happened, since it seems like only yesterday he was 10.

Eleven is a big deal: middle school, girls, hair in places I don't want to see... maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Because today, he is playing ball with his 18 month old nephew and his (chronologically challenged) father.

Mark is a remarkable young man. He is brilliant, kind, funny (although he told me that sarcasm is wasted on him since he's too young to understand it), cute, polite, and kind. I know I said kind twice, it's just important to me.

Mark is a quiet leader. He doesn't put himself out front, but he acts in a way that the other children notice and admire. Although he has great geek potential, he manages to pull it off with his humor and (did I mention) kindness, and his courage in the face of peer pressure.

I pray that he continues to grow into a strong, kind, young man. His brothers are wonderful young men, I know. I just kind of hope Mark won't hit so many potholes on the way to maturity. I'd like someone to support me in old age. (Joking, Robert & Joseph. You guys will have to help. Bob and I are high maintenance.)

It's a little sad to see my baby head toward puberty. Well, sad isn't the word. Terrifying. But Mark is a strong, stable, lovely young man. Ask anyone. But most of all, ask me, cause I'm his mom and I know.

BFF

Today is Blog Fart Friday, which we all know I love. It's a good thing, too, because while writing this post, I am watching a 3 year old, an 18-month old, and an 8-month old. The bigger boys are running around.. hang on...

Goodness, who knew an 8-month old could move that fast. Hold on, let me get the bananas...

OK, this is what I plan to do today...

• catch up on blogging & reading blogs & facebook & other essential things


• print photos for the photo clock Joseph got me for mother's day


• complete four months of bookkeeping for my sister


• do some stuff I can't mention for Carolina School for Inquiry
  
• laundry


• clean house --- at least the top layer


• read War & Peace

I hear all of you SAHMs & professional nannies giggling, and it is very disheartening. Surely I can get all of that done. How hard can it be to take care of three... oh my .. what was that sound?

This really is no country for old women.

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School is out next week. The next week we go to Hilton Head for a week. I'm looking forward to that. I'm not sure why, since we'll be in a three bedroom condo with us (four people), Dad, my niece, and my son & his family (4 people including the two babies). Want to come?

It will be nice, though. There are two pools and an ocean. Mark, Roslyn, and I are going to build the biggest sandcastle ever. We use the mud-drip method. Our castles are long Gothic creations, not the kind you see at beach festivals.

I hope there aren't any sharks. We usually see a couple of dolphins, and once we spent an early morning tossing stranded starfish back into the ocean.

OK, what's that sound?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's about 5 hours later. All I can say is the kids are alive, fed, and (at the moment) not poopie. I got almost nothing done, even though I called Bob and begged him to come home after lunch. I picked up Mark & Shayna, took Mark shopping for birthday games. And I don't mean RISK, unless you are referring to the version for the PS2.

Suggestion to Game Stop, Game Crazy, and any other GAME store. Put comfortable chairs, real magazines (not the game cheat sheets), and a pot of coffee in a corner so that parents can sit down while their children search through thousands of used games to find Revenge of Spyro: red version 3 (not two, which is for geeks.) OK, I made the title up. If you know it, you are either way young or pay way more much attention to your children's games than I do.

Thank you thank you thank you

Martha from A Sense of Humor is Essential (so true, eh?) has given me two awards. I am flattered, honored, and awed.

Which brings us to the first award:




My assignment is to list 7 things about me that are awesome. This may take time, since the only thing awesome about me at the moment is the size of the bags under my eyes. However, anyone who has as many great friends, virtual & IRL, must have something good going on. My friends aren't stupid. (Mostly).

1. I can explain taxes and most accounting issues to regular people without any of us crying. Most of the time. And if they cry, it's not my fault. Usually.
2. I can entertain two year olds with empty coffee containers and ball. (The trick: one for each, so you don't hear the dreaded "m" word --- MINE!)
3. I seem to be able to say to be a bridge between people of different points of view and personality.
4. I can often calm overwrought and overexcited people trying to operate in crisis mode. This is purely selfish --- if I get in crisis mode, I OD on adrenaline and can't do anything useful.
5. I can write pretty gooder English.
6. I talk to kids without talking down to them. I only use baby talk with babies who don't talk yet. Or my husband when I want to irritate him.
7. I make a really yummy carrot cake with cream cheese icing. Oh, and the pumpkin cheesecake is great too.
   

The second award:

Isn't that pretty?

I get to pass this on to 10 bloggers I've recently discovered. Well, some are recent and some I've been reading a little while. I'm just getting into exploring all of the great blogs. It's amazing to me that there are people all over the world to whom I can relate. Either they think like me & I say "Wow, separated at birth!", or they don't think like me & I say, "Wow, I hadn't looked at it that way before!" Or both. And most of these folk I've just recently discovered don't know me from Adam's off ox, since 1) I don't comment regularly & 2) they have boat loads of followers. But that's cool. An award is an award, and I hope they enjoy it.

1. Pseudonymous High School Teacher I used to teach high school, but then I realized I was mistaken about my calling. The caller must have been telling someone standing behind me to teach high school. I just start them up and leave it to the professionals to run.
2. Ramblings of a Texas Housewife I found Nessa through Lynette, who was one of the first bloggers I followed.
3. Not Your Average Soccer Mom Brandy participates in Blog Fart Fridays. What's not to love?
4. Winsome Blog Get some culture. Have you ever heard a poem that just shifted your view (I didn't say paradigm) point enough that the world is clearer and fresher?
5. Eating the Angel Way New blog, old veteran blogger. And when she says "eat a rainbow" she does not mean Skittles. I tried that joke.
6. Holy Mackerel Who knew Canadians were funny? Well, I suppose a lot of people... but not me.
7. Cinnamon, Spice & Everything Nice What's for dinner?
8. My Brown Baby Interesting reviews, outlooks, ideas no matter what color your baby is. Even if your baby is ginger, hairy, and eats your boots.
9. The me that I am Nice, friendly, thoughtful.
10. YOU

Everyone complains about the weather but no one does anything about it...

It's cold. How can it be cold, when it's May? How can it be cold in May when it was hot in April? How can it be cold when I put away my sweaters?

OK, it's not cold cold. It's maybe 48 degrees F. It will probably get to 70 this afternoon. But I'm still cold now.

I like cold weather, and so I'm confused about why this bugs me so much. I complain because we never have the cool, in-between spring weather. I thought Spring was April 24th this year. I already celebrated.

In SC, we have seasons --- at least two. Summer and not summer. All winter we wear the "spring wear" collection from L. L. Bean, cause it just isn't that cold here. All summer we wear as little as possible and giggle at the magazines that debate whether you should wear pantyhose with sundresses. (FYI: no.) The articles that suggest packing a sweater for the beach in case it gets chilly really crack us up.

But here I sit, without a spring sweater (not really sure what that means), with a choice between boots and sandals, with well-shaved goosebump covered legs. I have nothing to wear.

Oh well. As much as I'd like to call in unclothed (Hey, boss, it's too nice, I'm not coming in), I'll shiver to work and do what all good South Carolinians do. I'll turn on the heat in the morning and the air conditioning in the afternoon and watch the sunshine through the window.

Maybe I'll have a hot flash to carry me through... but that's a different story...

8 things

Eight is my bestest number, & so when I saw the "8 things" meme floating around, I thought I'd better grab it. I am technically grabbing it from Martha at A Sense of Humor is Essential, since she put it on her buffet. She always has nice things on her buffet, so I encourage you to check it out. (Save the macaroni & cheese for me.)

FYI: I am singing the Schoolhouse Rock song as I write. "If you skate, it would be great, if you could make a figure 8!!!"

8 things I'm looking forward to:

1. the trip to Hilton Head in early June
2. the trip to Washington in late June
3. my children having jobs they love, families they love, houses they love... lives they love and that love them back
4. Bob having a job he loves (he has the rest)
5. Carolina School for Inquiry 6th grade
6. summer break for Mark
7. making a sand castle with Gabe & Brendon
8. pottery class in July

(This was really hard to do. What do you suppose that means?)

8 things I did yesterday:

1. wrote a blog post
2. went to lunch with my sister
3. read a book
4. changed the sheets (Yay me!)
5. played with Gabe & Brendon
6. talked to my kids
7. tried to figure out my Blackberry (this explains huge gaping holes in my time yesterday... I think. Either that or I had a stroke.)
8. visited my dad, sister, & bro-in-law

(Not a really productive day, although it was a good one.)

8 things I wish I could do:

1. Help start a Padeia/inquiry middle school (preferably magnet.. charter is hard)
2. Sing... not just this "joyful noise" crap
3. Dance... without having people try to stick an eraser in my mouth
4. Make beautiful pots on a wheel
5. See my belly button
6. Write a novel.. a story.. a something interesting
7. Commit to my garden
8. Talk to people without fainting, or feeling like I'm about to faint or cry

8 favorite fruits:

1. green grapes
2. pineapple
3. perfect strawberries
4. blueberries
5. peaches so ripe you have to eat them over the sink
6. oranges in winter
7. bananas each and every day (I even like fake banana Popsicles... go figure.)
8. watermelon in July

(The hard part about this was limiting it to eight.)

8 places I would like to travel:

1. New Mexico - we went three years ago and fell in love. I'd like to explore more.
2. Greece
3. Ireland
4. Alaska
5. On a train across Canada
6. Australia
7. Kenya
8. India

(I would like to work on an archaeological dig. I suspect I would be miserable, but it is something I've wanted to do for a long time. I blame Elizabeth Peters' novels.)

BFF - this ain't no beauty pageant

It's been a tough week. Not a tough week in that I had to work 80 hours or someone died or even got sick. I've just been blue. Post tax season depression, maybe. Maybe it's because I wasn't able to save any money during tax season because we had to get a new stove, have serious plumbing done, help out the kids who aren't kids, fix my tires & transmission. And there was the Blackberry...

I think I've been doing a lot of stewing about what I want to be when I grow up right now. I say stewing, even though I originally thought "reflecting." I have not been reflecting. I think that's what I need to do.

But I'll do it on my own time. Right now, on to the Blog Farts. Bring on the Pepto Bismal.

I've been thinking about the Miss USA pageant. Really. When we were little and there were only three & a half television stations, we used to watch the Miss USA pageant. My Mom, who was chair of the committee to get the ERA passed, would pass out paper & we'd grade the contestants on beauty, poise, and stupid answers. Mom said it was a damn beauty pageant and the best looking one should win. (For most things in life she'd say, "This isn't a damn beauty pageant." She, unlike Donald Trump, knew the difference between a beauty pageant and real life.) Which brings us to the Miss USA pageant. Someone needs to tell Miss California we don't give a rat's a$$ what she thinks of gay marriage. It's only since we've had 500 24-hour news stations that we even know what the contestants say about the stupid questions other than "world peace." No, Miss California, you did not lose because you took a "politically incorrect" stance. You did not lose because you have a revolving account at "Boobs R Us." You lost because Miss North Carolina was prettier. Tough titties, as my mom would say.

I'm sure there are other things going on in the world, but the 500 news channels I watch haven't mentioned them.

Oh, wait, speaking of beauty pageants, what's with the media coverage of Michelle Obama? I know I'm late on this (as with everything) but why are we talking about her as if she were in a Miss USA pageant? It's either the absurd adulation for a HOT first lady from MSNBC or the even more bizarre attacks from FOX news that some how imply that it is wrong to have a young, attractive, and stylish first lady. Like she's doing something wrong. My god people, she's a brilliant lawyer, a great mother, and a physically fit woman. Yeah, I hate her too. No, just kidding. I love her. But why are we talking about her looks?

And note to FOX news: are you saying your sweetheart Laura Bush is a dog? Because she really isn't. She's no Miss California, but this ain't a beauty pageant...

************************************

My brilliant son Mark has been taking standardized tests this week. Last year, it was the PACT test, a SC test that is used to skewer schools but has no recognizable value as a monitor of actual student achievement. So the legislature got rid of PACT and put in PASS, which is supposed to do a better job than PACT at whatever the PACT was supposed to do.

So I said to Mark, "How is PASS different from PACT?"

He said, "The name is different."

He tried to remember what the "SS" and the "CT" stood for, but he forgot. I hope that wasn't on the test.

I said, "It's supposed to be a better test."

He thought about it and said, "we did have writing in March."

Oh well. That's good... I guess. It's not pretty, but then, this ain't no beauty pageant.

***************************************

It's Friday, which is my day off, meaning "the day I do everything I was supposed to do before but didn't feel like doing at 5:00 pm." I haven't figured out what I need to do today, but I think it will start with "take Alka Seltzer." I'm addicted and take it all the time, even if it's not a hang-over. It's probably not good for me. I probably have bounce-back headaches and heartburn, but I'm not up for doing anything about it right now.

Friday is also "yard day" in the neighborhood. The lady across the street, a teacher who must be independently wealthy, hires a team of men to do her lawn every week. The carbon foot print must be as big as a brontosaurus. This fella is riding around on her apron of a front yard on a lawn tractor almost as big as my car. Talk about tight turns.

Oh yeah, Friday may be the day I fight with Miss Clairol. Two clients have commented on my gray hairs. One said he didn't want to give me any more than he'd given me. I told him those weren't his doing. The problem is that I'm in between, with about two inches of gray and the rest mostly black. I ought to color more often, if I'm going to do it, but I'm lazy and cheap. And I'm not quite ready to go gray, partly because it's not pretty gray hair, it's a sad urine colored gray hair. Maybe I should go blue...

Speaking of blue... my bags under my eyes match my eyes. Where is my Mary Kay?

Anyway, I'll dye my hair & it will be REALLY black. I'll look like Elvira (is that her name?) for a couple of days before it tones down. I know, a real hairdresser could do wonders, but see above **lazy & cheap**. I'll think about some after pictures.

But anyway, this ain't no beauty pageant.

Coming into the twentieth century

I am always the last to do anything that has to do with trends, technology, and style. I'm not a Luddite, I'm just a) cheap b) lazy c) easily confused by mass amounts of information. I'm moving slowly into the second half of the twentieth century, and hope to live to the 21st. In that quest, I am now on Facebook AND I have a Blackberry.

The Blackberry is great. I have e-mail and messages right here ALL THE TIME. I think I can write a whole novel while waiting for the train to pass... if it's a long train, a short novel, and I can figure out how to send it somewhere to print. I can actually see the pictures I take. I love the Blackberry.

Then I think, is it really important that I know Coldwater Creek is having (another) sale right now while I sit at this extremely long red light? Is it essential that I see from Facebook that my buddy who I haven't seen face-to-face in ten years is drinking coffee? Do I need to know RIGHT NOW that my real-life friend is Darth Maul?

Well.... yeah. And just how long does it take to microwave a pop-tart? I put that sucker in at least 10 seconds ago!

I read an article (on-line of course) called something like "10 reasons to quit Facebook." It was one of those lame AOL things that occasionally sucker me in. One of the 10 reasons was that it is now overrun by people over 30.

Yeah, I can't stand people over thirty... so 'flicked & geeky, not copacetic at all. Oh wait, they are talking about me. Oh well.

I joined Facebook to get in touch with my cousins, aunts, uncles, and old friends all around the place. That's cool, because I do want to see pictures of my cousin swimming with dolphins or my other cousin's daughter and son at a birthday party.

When I first joined Facebook, I started trolling for friends whoring for friends seeking out new friends where no friend had gone before. So now I have a bunch of friends, many of whom I have met. Some I know through the Internet, which is the same as meeting as far as I'm concerned. Then there are those I've heard of, those who have heard of me (which is scary), and those who I don't know from Adam's off ox, but they asked me to be friends and I didn't want to hurt their cyber-feelings.

All of that is fine, since I have an excessive curiosity about all people, even those I don't really know, and do want to know my former Young Democrat buddy is planning a Republican fundraiser while my former reactionary classmate is now a Moveon.org activist. Nothing changes, does it?

But the new format is not working for me. I can't figure out how to find out what my brother or sister are doing. I don't get regular feeds from my friends, maybe because they have all given up too. I don't twitter. I'm not ready for that.

Oh well. I'm settle nicely in the 20th century, and I guess I'll party like it's 1999. Peace out!

Can an 18 month old live on bananas alone?

Most of the time when a toddler says, "Nana!" he is talking about his beloved grandmother. Gabe is talking about bananas.

He wants bananas all day long. He won't eat much else. Bananas, milk, and juice.

He did eat a strawberry. He passed on the grapes (which I'd sliced for him) and the hamburger. He left the mac & cheese with cubed carrot & peas.

He will eat a couple of chicken nuggets. (Parts is parts.) But mostly, bananas.

Oh, well. At least Brendon is trying new stuff. Although he only eats fruit now, he has eaten apples, bananas, peaches, cherries, and blueberries. And loved every drop.

Back to the chase...

BFF

Blog Farts – noun.

Def: Crappy ideas that are too short to make a real
blog post, but when combined, join forces to make one unified, albeit half
assed, post. see also: memes, surveys.

Swine flu, bird flu... why can't they have tofu flu?

I have Hypochondria by Proxy, which means that when I hear about diseases I am sure my children, grandchildren, nieces, etc have it. A sneeze is pneumonia. A cough is tuberculosis. A headache is a brain tumor. So you can imagine, I'm in a tizzy with swine flu. It doesn't help that my son and daughter-in-law are on a cruise to the Bahamas, where they will, no doubt, get some dread disease or fall overboard, or both. Did Brendon just cough?

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Dress codes are great, in that I don't think you should wear a bathing suit to school, but should they be the focal point of your school? I'm being unfair, of course. Mark & I have been looking at the school district's regular public schools in case Carolina School for Inquiry isn't allowed to open a 6th grade. There were several things that disturbed me, including the "majors" for middle school students, but Mark was OK until.... "shirts will be tucked in at all times."

What does that mean? he asked.

You know, shirt tail in pants.

Even if we aren't at a wedding or funeral?!

Uh.. yeah.

What do they do if your shirt comes untucked?

I assume they suspend you for disturbing the learning environment and send you home to play video games and watch the Disney channel.

SWEET!

One time I read "writing standards" written by a lovely person who was an English teacher. The purpose was to set guidelines to improve student writing. The first two "standards" were: use blue or black ink & only write on the front of the paper.

::sigh::

Is it wrong to pray for CSI to get a 6th grade?

*************************************

I have my grandsons Gabe (18 mos) & Brendon (7 mos) with me this week... until Tuesday. There are lots of good things about that. Losing sleep is not one of them. Fortunately, I have my dear hubby Bob and my darling sons Joseph & Mark to help. In fact, Joseph is sort of in charge. When I got home from work on Wednesday, Joseph met me at the door, baby on hip.

How was your day? I'm going to take a nap, he said, handing me the baby.

The next day he found a babysitter and worked an electrical job with Robert's boss. Nothing like a day home with two kids under two to make you think work is fun.

******************************************************

Speaking of which, a lot of bloggers I read (OK one or two) are struggling with the SAHM/go to the office dilemma. I understand completely. My youngest is 10, and I still want to stay at home. In fact, it's better now, because there aren't so many kids.

At least MOST people aren't engaging in Mommy Wars any more. It's a choice for some and that cool. It's not a choice for others, and that's sad, but so is life.

Since it's Not Tax Season, I'm in the pretty good in between world --- part time work that I like. We have to be careful with money, but that's OK. I can volunteer at the school, blog, take on a side job, write a novel, whatever. I may even clean the house.

OK, well time to check out other blogs clean the house. Peas!

My Birthday

My Birthday is July 30. I am telling you this now because I want you to have time to save up for an expensive gift that is about 90 days from now. And since someone has said that it's good to do your life planning in 90 day increments, I thought, I'll make my "Things to get done by my birthday" List.

This is the 90-day list, & so world peace & being a ballerina are going to have to go on a different list. I'm still not really sure what to put on this list, but let's give it a go.

1. Study for, take, and pass the Enrolled Agents Exam. Sound familiar? Yeah... I put it off last year, so now I have to start over and take all three parts instead of just the one I haven't mastered. Oh well. Three parts in three months. I've already joined the National Association of Tax Professionals. That's a step.

2. Take a pottery class. I have wanted to do this for a very long time. As a child, I watched my parents' friend Henrietta make pots and vases and cool things on the wheel in the courtyard of their apartment complex. My siblings took a class, but I think I was too old. Now, I'm not too old anymore and I'm going to do it. I am taking a class at Southern Pottery in Columbia.

3. Clean and organize my house. Yeah right. Whatever.

Hey look what I found while trying to steal pictures:

4. Develop the good habits of eating well and moving often. I mean like walking. Not with a U-haul, although I'm thinking about that too.

And for help with that: Eating the Angel Way blog.

Happy Birthday DAD!

John Joseph Duffy was born in a house his father built... no not really. His father was a pharmacist. He was born in a hospital in Charleston SC April 25, 1931.

.

My father is a brilliant man. He is funny in a dry sort of way. As an administrator at the University of SC, he inspired loyalty, friendship, and excellence from a diverse & often quirky group of people. Many of those people will gather with him today to celebrate his birthday. What a party.

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When I was about seven, I had a friend over to play. She announced that she was Caucasian. My father looked at her with wide open eyes and said, "How wonderful! Will you speak some Russian for us?"

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When he wasn't scaring off my little racist friends, he was reading, watching television, and mediating sibling squabbles all at the same time. Many times I remember fighting with my sister & brother, as Dad looked up and said, "Let me read this to you... it's really interesting..." My children and grandchildren enjoy the same experience. Dad will look up and yell names randomly until he gets to the culprit. Now there are just more names to choose from. (It must be genetic, because I do the same thing.) Sometimes he names cats and dogs as well as children.

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Since Dad was a college professor in addition to his administrative duties, he knows there may be simple questions but there are no simple answers. If you ask him, for instance, who was Andrew Johnson's vice president, he won't say "no one." He will give you a 90 minute lecture complete with a suggested reading list. I am not kidding. If he is reading this, he is saying, "well, of course. You can't understand the answer without understanding the historical and constitutional issues...." We often wished he'd taught the MWF 50 minute classes instead of the TTh 90 minute blocks.

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He and Mom gave us a solid sense of self. I have never understood the concepts of keeping up with the Jones, what will the neighbors think?, or be quiet or you might offend someones bigoted sensibilities.

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When faced with social disapproval, Dad will laugh. One of his favorite stories (or maybe it's one of my favorite of his stories): in the late 50s (or early 60s) he was teaching a history course. The local twig of the committee on anti-American activities questioned him, suggesting he had communist leanings. He pointed out that the book he was using was written by former president Herbert Hoover. The guy said, "I'd feel better if it were written by J. Edgar Hoover."

.

When my mother was a delegate to the Democratic Convention in 1972, she decided to support George McGovern. Some of the local Democrats called Dad and asked him to control his wife, perhaps suggesting his job was at stake. Dad just shrugged. (I'm sure he said something, but I don't know what. I'll ask.)

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This is not to say that Dad is overtly anti-conformist. If you saw him in the grocery store, you wouldn't think "Commie-pinko-n*-loving-hippie freak." It's only when you see the twinkle in his eye that you realize what he's said, what he'd done, and how he's done it. The pompous of all political & social persuasions lie like tattered balloons on the floor and all you can think is wow.

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Dad has lots of stories and some of them probably have a nodding acquaintance with the truth. But one of the most interesting and admirable things about Dad's stories is that he is not the hero in all of them. He will tell about stupid things he did, poor choices or silly decisions he made. He will talk about the greatness of others. He will share the good, the bad, and the ugly, but never the petty or the mean-spirited.

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I started out thinking I didn't know what to say, but now I don't know when to stop. So here: Happy Birthday Dad. I hope we share many many more.

.

Love,

.

Kathy

BFF

Blog Farts – noun. Def: Crappy ideas that are too short to make a real blog
post, but when combined, join forces to make one unified, albeit half assed,
post. see also: memes, surveys.

Oh great, I set up the Mr. Linky, but I haven't finished the post. Hop to it.

I've sort of had the week off, although instead of a big blank vacation week spent wrapped in a blanket in the hammock, I've been running around, trying to clean up, and working. Yes, working. People still want to get paid. And I'm trying to finish up the church work so the new person can start fresh.

Today and tomorrow I will be cooking a couple of things for my Dad's birthday party tomorrow. There will be lots of people there (some I may even know.) My brother & sister have organized this thing the past couple of years. With me being wrapped up in tax season and generally incompetent, they do the work & I make deviled eggs or something. It will be a nice party. I'll try not to drink too much and get sloppily sentimental. Maybe I should just call in sick.

I colored part of my mandala yesterday. (Idea from Dina.) I need more pens. Or colored pencils. I need extra fine points. I used sharpies, so the ink bled through the paper and made a really cool design on the back. I'm not sure about the meditation part, but once I get past thinking "I really need a finer point" I might be able to meditate. Off to Staples.

I am really cleaning my house today. I'll start as soon as I take the kids to school. Oops... gotta go.

Time off

Germaine Greer said that household chores expand to fill the time you have, so in fact, you are never ever finished. And the more time you have, the more THINGS need to be done.

This week I am sort of off work. The blank calendar page that I see before me is very quickly filling with chores and meetings and THINGS that want to be done.

This weekend, I managed to clean the fridge. Not the freezer, just the fridge. But the fridge is nice.

Yesterday, when I got home from work (there were things to do), I cleaned the bathroom closet. It was pretty satisfying. I put all medicines in a cute little container I already had, after throwing out the medicines that had expired. I put all of the lotions I've gotten over the years in one of my Mary Kay bags. The hair conditioner that comes with the hair dye that I DON'T USE all went into another bag. I threw out the sugar scrubs that became rancid about a minute after I opened them. (What made me think I'd like grapefruit peach more than once?) I sorted and cleaned the make up, washed all the towels and sheets that had ended up tossed to the dusty top shelf and lost. I found a couple of rolls of toilet paper hidden in the back. I threw out the sheet that the cat had kittens on.

I really haven't finished because I didn't touch the drawers, but Robert & Katy brought Brendon & Gabe over, and I have my priorities in order. The three of us went in the back yard. Gabe played ball while Brendon and I listened to the wind. We watched a medium sized black bird chase a hawk away from her nest. Of maybe she was just picking on him. We ate chive blossoms (only one each) and threw magnolia leaves off the deck. I love a kid who cleans. He gets that from his mama's side.

Today, I'm training my replacement at the church. It won't be hard, I'm sure. I need to think about the CSI board meeting tonight, the meeting with the District Superintendent tomorrow and the food for Dad's party next Saturday. And I need to clean up.

Off I go...

Sunday morning

This is the time of year when I am overwhelmed with thinking about all of the things I want to do, need to do, should do... I've put off a lot of things until "after tax season" and now it's here.

Typically, I over scheduled Friday, but I had a productive day.

I went to Carolina School for Inquiry for an extended visit. Fortunately, the school is strong, thanks in large part to the excellent director. However, there are things we need to face, mostly budget crunches. As a public charter school, our funding is per pupil from the state and the school district. No bonds, no building funds, just per pupil. That is being cut even as we speak, since our governor is the smartest man in the world and doesn't think our state needs stimulus money, even if we as taxpayers will be providing it to the states that do take it. We hope that some of those cuts will be replaced, but even then, if the economy is bad, the problem will continue. We are just beginning to seek grants and things on a large scale, and of course, those are drying up too. Parents and teachers need to understand that although we are public, we are different in that they have agreed to take responsibility as well as the benefits of running a school. We need to pitch in and help, we need to make sacrifices, we need to do whatever needs to be done to continue

I have stumbled out of the haze of Tax Season, and realized that my house is really a mess. Really. Right now I'm just cleaning the top layer. Soon I'll need to do more. I saw a bug killing company that claims to be green. I may try that. I need to get rid of these bugs, and they like the Orkin stuff. Whatever we choose, we'll have to clean everything out afterwards. Oh joy.

There are other little things and big things I'm thinking about right now. I need to find my direction. I feel that it's time to make some changes, but I don't know what. I'm sort of drifting and thinking and listening, fixin' to get ready to move ... somehow. We'll see. I'm sure I'll be babbling on about that for awhile.

There's got to be a morning after...

Even though I double checked all e-filing and extensions before I left work last night, I still dreamed that I forgot someone. I don't think I did, but who knows?

The DAY AFTER TAX DAY is not a vacation day. Today we have to make sure everyone was acknowledged (e-file technical talk meaning yeah I got your return.) Then we have to do a couple of sales tax returns that are due Monday. And there are still the people who filed extensions...

Still, it is quieter than Tax Season. Certainly quieter than the two 11 hour days I've had. Today will be work. Next week will be the time to think about how we are going to carry on for the rest of the year.

Maybe this weekend I can sort through our personal life --- clean house, sort papers, plant stuff. Say hello to my family. (Hey, who's the new guy?)

And tomorrow..... She's baaaaaack!

Morning has broken

"Yellow Morning" by A. D. Tinkham

It is Easter morning. It isn't quite bright and sunny, but the mockingbirds are singing, the dogwoods are blooming, and the Easter Bunny has been and gone.

I am making baked French toast and pineapple upside down cake for the Easter brunch at my sister's house. My brother will make bacon and eggs, Dad is making grits casserole, and my sister is making a fruit salad.

We have plastic eggs for an Easter egg hunt. Joseph cleverly picked a kind that can be labeled, so each child finds his or her own eggs. We don't need to label all of them, but since Mark & Roslyn are 10 & 9 years old, and Gabe is 20 months... well you can see the problem. So we'll label the Gabe eggs and let Mark & Roslyn fight it out.

I can't wait to see Gabe's first Easter Egg Hunt!

Later this afternoon, I will go to work. I need the quiet to finish some huge tax returns. I'm so ready for Wednesday.

I had planned to think about an exit strategy for myself, but in the past few days, several of my friends and family have asked me to do their taxes and possibly take on their business accounting. There have been a few other new business inquiries as well... the ones that keep us going through out the year. In a way it's an exit strategy, because if I bring in and nurture the clients, I have a stake. My boss can't really sell the business to someone else without me being involved, and I'm not going to work for someone else.

Oh well... those are thoughts for May...

10 days...

Today is the first day of Mark's spring break. TAX DAY is 10 days away. Easter is six days away.

Mark will be on the way to DC in a couple of hours, along with his grandparents, his aunt, and two girl cousins. It will be a wonderful trip. Bob's father has arranged tours of both the White House and the Capitol. He is looking forward to the Museum of Natural History or "the rocks." His older brothers went with their grandparents when they were about his age, and my mother-in-law is very excited. I'm excited for them.

He has new pants & socks, clean shirts and underwear, and new pajamas. He usually sleeps in his clothes, but I thought the family would freak about that. His pj bottoms are Mario Brothers and the top says "Do not disturb." He seems pretty happy with it. He also has four disposable cameras, a book, a journal, and his DS game system. I asked him to call me in the evenings just because.

Joseph has to take care of Bob's car today. Last night, a lady hit him as he headed home. She drifted into his lane, then said he had been in the turn lane. Joseph goes through that intersection several times a day. I know he didn't accidentally get in the right turn lane. Then the lady said he had someone else with him & that that person ran away. Not true, but a strange thing to say. Anyway, the police couldn't make a determination so they wrote that both were at fault but didn't give any tickets. They told Joseph his story made sense, but they weren't equipped to make the decision. She had a bunch of kids in the car who would have sworn whatever she wanted, so what can they do?

No one is hurt. Our car is damaged --- a blown tire and bent rim, and a driver's side door that needs to be fixed. Joseph apologized, but Bob told him he didn't need to. He was driving home at a reasonable hour (10:30), he had not been drinking or anything, he remained calm & handled the whole stressful situation very well.

I meant to go to St. M's this morning, but I was too damn tired. It looks like I won't be replaced before the end of tax season, but I'm not able to give them my best. I hate that. But when I went to St. M's from 6 to 8 a.m., then went to the main job from 9 to 6, I was dead by 3 p.m. I really couldn't do what needed to be done. I'm going tonight, after I go to the eye doctor and order new glasses.

Did I mention that the super glue gave way on my glasses & the left lens is now held on with tape? Maybe I'll see if I can get some red electrical tape to hold it until the new glasses come in. Now it's Scotch tape and people are looking at me in that funny way --- you know, when you look at someone but don't look at them? And you talk to someone without looking her in the eye (or broken glasses)? It's interesting.

I miss writing my blogs. Next week... or maybe the next. It takes awhile to recover from tax season. I have all those 1040s & 1120s to mount on my wall....

Signs of Spring

Spring didn't slip in this weekend, it burst on the scene with flowers and birds and a very high pollen count.

Aside from the pollen which has everyone gazing through crusty eyes at the lovely flowers, there are other signs of spring.

The dogwoods are blooming, poor things. I hope we don't have another freeze.
The azaleas are beginning to bloom, a sure sign there will be another freeze.
The daffodils are actually passed... we have had a weird winter.

And of course, my local roadside produce tent opened this week. Right now, they have mostly tomatoes, citrus, and potatoes, but just wait!!!!! I'm so excited.

I think I'll plant something.

The Garden

I am working on my imaginary garden, which may or may not become the real garden. I am wishing I had the creativity to take "found" objects and make a nice planter garden and not a junkyard with flowering weeds. And so, I need to find large containers that look nice and don't cost a bundle.

This weekend, I am going to plant some seeds in my cardboard egg cartons and hope to get a jump on the herb garden. I'd plant outside, since it is in the high 60s, but last year there was a hard freeze at Easter. Anyway, I like the planter idea, since I don't really have space for a yard garden. And I hate digging up the yard.

I'm off to work. Thinking of a garden...

Harry Potter & the Meaning of Life

Jaci posted about an abusive ex who tried to "friend" her on Facebook. The question was sort of, can you be friends with exes (it depends), but really, what do you do with someone like that? Another friend, in answering one of those Facebook/ e-mail list things said that there is one person he really hates (or would like to see dead or something).

I suppose a lot of people have someone like that. A person who harmed us in such a way that even though we move on, do great things, have great families, love our jobs, blogs, or dogs; the mention of his or her name causes us to feel a jolt of adrenaline and see a montage of pictures of horrible things that happened at that time.

I don't really have a person like that. I'm sort of self-centered and don't get that attached to people. If I am attached, they are still here and haven't done anything terrible. I guess I'm lucky that way.

But there is one person whose name makes me start spewing a repetitive list of his sins. He is a former boss. One of the saddest things is that, if someone told him that I hate him to this day, he'd get that vague, confused look he had (OK, the normal look) and say, "Kathy who?" And then, he'd be pleased that he had affected me to such an extent while remaining completely untouched himself.

As much as I'd like to say, screw him, he's trash, I can't fight the visceral pain that shoots through me when someone is stupid enough to say his name in my presence. It makes me angry with myself that he allow him to affect me. For someone whose Bogey-man is an abusive ex or a person who did real harm to them, it's much worse. How do you keep from continuing to be victimized? Really, not just on the surface.

I don't know. But I have an idea, and I got it from Harry Potter. Seriously. In Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkabhan, the doomed defense against the dark arts teacher de jour, Professor Lupin, taught them how to fight the Bogey... a monster that took the form of whatever most frightens a person. And the way to fight it is to make it ridiculous. If you can take the fear (or in our case, the truly horrible person) and picture him in a ridiculous way, you laugh at him and he loses his power. Really. Not just on the surface.

My other idea is stolen from another writer Martha Grimes. Her character was a mystery writer who dealt with the people who made her feel powerlessly miserable by writing variations of their murders. Safe and satisfying.

That's all I've got. I'll let you know if it works for me. Let me know if you have any ideas.

Hero girl

Who makes up these hero names? The putting together the picture is cool, but "The Astonishing Whipped Jones"? It sounds like a diet dessert, or something else I'm far too reserved to mention...

And speaking of reserved, does my hero look like a preschool dominatrix or what?

I found the hero thing on Walking Within the Spiral. If you want to be a hero, check out Super Hero Factory.

Brought to you by the letter "K"

I am feeling guilty about not writing. I think I've mentioned the old "tax season" excuse. I'll add a small ocular migraine excuse. And a complete lack of quality sleep excuse. Anyway, that's enough of that.

Annie pulled out this pass along game, so I decided to give it a shot. You have to answer these questions with an answer using the first letter of your name. You can't use the same word twice and you can't use your name as the boy or girl's name. Since my name is Kathy with a K and there are only about 10 words that start with K, I may regret this. But here goes.

1.What is your name? Kathy
2. A four letter word? Kiln
3. A boys name? Keith
4. A girls name? Kelly
5. An occupation? Knitter (not to be confused with the hooker)
6. A character? King Arthur
7. Something you wear? Knee-socks
8. A food? Kisses
9. Something in your bathroom? Kitten (I am not kidding)
10. A place? Kenya
11. A reason for been late? Kinko's had a pen sale.
12. Something you'd shout? Keep the &*(% off my lawn, you miserable little wretches!
13. A movie title? King Kong
14. Something you'd drink? Kool aid
15. A musical group? Kinks
16. An animal? Koala
17. A street name? King Street, Charleston, SC
18. A type of car? K-car (remember those?)
19. A song title? King Tut

I think I cheated, since I used a variation of king several times. Oh well. Sue me.

Back to work....

The Zest Green Terry Cloth Tube Dress

Many years ago, my grandmother gave me a dress for my birthday. I was about 17 and although I was not as fat as I thought I was, I was not skinny. Part of the problem (as I saw it) was the boobs, which were all I saw when I looked down. And so, my grandmother may she continue to rest in peace, whose fashion sense was ... well, hers, gave me a size 7 terry cloth tube dress. A Zest green terry cloth tube dress. I tried it on, and I looked like a Zest green terry cloth sausage. I smiled and said "How thoughtful!" because even then you could take me out in public.

I got home and put it away, which is what I do with things. About four years later, I took out the Zest green terry cloth tube dress still in it's original box and wrapped it in (new) birthday paper. I made a birthday cake, and took both of them to my friend Courtney for her birthday (March 12). She loved the cake and laughed hysterically at the dress. Then she said, "How thoughtful!" because she, too, knows how to act.

My birthday came on July 30, and Courtney gave me a lovely, thoughtful gift. A newly wrapped Zest green terry cloth tube dress.

Courtney & I passed the dress back and forth for several years. When we drifted in different directions, as buddies often do, she had the dress. Imagine my joy when after several years without seeing her, she dropped by on my birthday with a present.

The dress is somewhere in my shed, I think. It may or may not be in it's same box. Although I've missed Courtney's birthday this year, I may see if I can dig it up for next year. It's not every day that you find a friend who knows the proper response to receiving a Zest green terry cloth tube dress. "How thoughtful!"

Happy birthday to Courtney. I hope this is a joyous year.

Sprung

Let me begin by saying that I abso-freaking-lutely HATE daylight savings time. What kind of weird hybrid of government, science, and banking conspired to come up with this idea? Does anyone really believe that any daylight is saved? Didn't they pay attention to all that stuff in school about the Earth's rotation and axis and seasons and stuff?

Many years ago, one of our SC Congressmen spoke out against daylight savings time. He said that if there were more daylight hours, the crops would burn in the fields. Since the man didn't know the meaning of the word "irony" (or many other words), we think he was serious.

Back then, the argument was about saving energy. Is energy saved? I don't see how, since I have to turn on the lights in the morning when I get up. And I spend the day in an office with more natural light than most, but still have the lights on. And then I go home and close the blinds and go to sleep. My brain is screaming that it is warmer and there should be light --- real light. My mind is saying, go to sleep, it's still tax season.

The only time that daylight savings time didn't bother me was when my oldest son was a baby. He had been born on January 10 and lived on his own schedule. (Still does, but that's another issue.) Since I was able to stay home with him, I also lived on his schedule. Robert didn't care what the clock said, he woke up when he was ready. Once the clocks changed, his wake up was an hour later and OH JOY!!! so was mine.

Babies and burning crops aside, who does this help?

All I can think is that it is a part of the factorization of the United States. We send children to school to learn to sit still and follow bells. Reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic aside, the main point of modern education is to civilize children so they can sit still for hours in a factory job and get to work on time. The main point of daylight savings time is to twist the natural flow of light and dark, spring and fall, warm and cold, so we can work all the damn time.

I can see clearly now...

The sun is shining and the birds are singing and the weeds are flowering. I have to work this morning, but the "day off" Thursday has made me feel sooooo much better.

Even though I spent most of Thursday at St. Michael's catching up the bookkeeping and didn't get around to the REST OF THE LIST, I feel wonderful. I quit the St. Michael's job, but somehow managed to get on at least one volunteer committee. My sister rolled her eyes. (It was on the phone, but I could tell.) "Kathy, only you would quit a paying job because of overwork and take on a nonpaying job in its place." Yep. It's so much easier to work if there is no money involved. And I'm not really on the committee... yet.

I went back to my regular job to a pile of ... well, you know. But my attitude was so much better that I managed to sort through the previous day's crap in about an hour and breeze through two large tax returns and a mega payroll without crying once. And if my prayers sounded like, "Oh for God's sake, what were they thinking?" well... at least I smiled a little as I said it.

Today after work we are going to an oyster roast at Bob's cousin's house. I am really looking forward to this. I hope my oldest son and his wife and kids can come too. Bob's cousin lives in a wooded area, and baby Gabe would LOVE to run up and down the hills.

And now I'm off...

Not much

There is very little to say. My friend has lost her husband, and I cannot be there to help, if I could help. I know that she has friends and family surrounding her. I am sending strength and courage. That is what I would need to get through something like this.

Time out

I am not going on & on today. I am too tired even to complain and whine. I am taking off tomorrow. I will catch up on my other jobs and my house. And maybe, me. I haven't decided whether to just say, "I'm taking off" or to claim illness. If I claim illness, I will probably get sick. It's in my nature. I feel guilty for lying, so I make it not a lie. Sad. So I'll probably say I am taking the day off and if he complains, I'll tell him to kiss my ass, I'm going to go work for the SC Employment Security Commission and hunt down the greedy SOBs who pay their employees as contract labor so the employee gets stuck with a 15% self employment tax. But that's just a pipe dream. The state isn't hiring.

When I agreed to be scheduled for all open hours (9-6 M-Th, 9-5 F, 9-1 Saturday) I really thought he understood I wouldn't actually be there all those hours. I'd make sure it was covered and take off to do things that need doing in life. Shopping, cooking, going to my son's music program. Instead, he has scaled DOWN his time at that office ("I need to be flexible" --- to see his grandson's play baseball), while if I need to run out, I am letting him down.

Oh, crap... that's going on and on, isn't it? OK, well I won't go on and on about how his idea of me being the office manager is that he calls me every hour (and on Sunday afternoon) and tells me to tell people things, he leaves me lists to do (I really hate that), he switches every decision I make, and that he wants me to do the crap things he hates to do.

And I won't go on and on about how he said I should put in "extra time" on the weekend to do the work that requires concentration, while still working 5 1/2 days a week doing every damn thing on all of the damn lists...

I'm sure you are glad I have spared you...

Sisterhood...

Kim, at The Diary of a Wicked Stepmom has given me an award. It's for uplifting & other good stuff, and I am honored. Since Kim is one of the people who lifts me up, it means all the more. I am to send this on. I am sending it to at least one person who has already received a few of these, because she also lifts me up.

To Annie who has a bunch of awards, and deserves them. http://anniekelleher.blogspot.com/

To Lydia, who doesn't blog a lot, but is a great friend: http://lydiasbalance.blogspot.com/

To Carolyn, who always gives even when she needs to take support: http://avoidingstasis.wordpress.com/2009/02/26/being-booooring/

To Jaci, who makes me laugh every day: http://ravingsofamadhousewife.blogspot.com/

To Lynnette, who also already has this, but still, sometimes you just gotta give someone another award!: http://theysayimnuts.blogspot.com/

and to Dina, who always makes me think, and in a good way: http://walkingwithinthespiral.blogspot.com/

And Kim, even though you sent this to me, I have to regift. Thank you.

To those who received the award, pass it on, put it on the mantel piece, hold it in your heart. Thank you all.