Thriday

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

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




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

Off to work.

Why is this baby laughing?

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

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

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

The Summer Grind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking out from Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This week I intend to

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

Don't bring me down...

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

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

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

And you thought Jerry Springer was making this up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...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

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.

Greetings from Hilton Head, South Carolina

I am at Hilton Head for the week. I seem to have a wireless connection right now, which is good because I'm addicted to the internet. I tried to send a blog post from my Blackberry, but after about a half an hour of furiously thumb typing, I got confused, pushed the wrong button and lost everything. Oh well, it was crap anyway, since I'd been stunted by the medium.

This is the walk that Bob, Gabe, Roslyn & I took this morning. The tree is a live oak, a wonderful tree that clings to the ground with branches that look like they were made for a tree mansion.

We walked about a quarter mile down the beach, which is pretty impressive considering that Gabe is only 18 months old. This is his first beach trip where he really knows he is at the beach.

Yesterday, Gabe, Brendon, Katy & I built a little sandcastle. Brendon was sitting in the title pool, as happy as a 7 month old clam in the world's biggest muddy sandbox. I saw a family looking at him, and was taken aback to see that the teenage girl looked disgusted. How can someone look at my grandbaby like that? I thought. Then I looked a Brendon, who had a full beard of sand and drool coming from his mouth. Well, you know what they say, got to eat a peck of dirt...

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.

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

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?

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

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!