Slipping Reality

No Time to Exchange Them

2010-03-24T21:17:00.002-07:00

Didn't get the promotion, but I did get the lateral position. In hindsight, I'm very happy about this. More time to learn a few finer details and practice leadership before I'm responsible for it. I'm applying things to my job now that I didn't realize I had learned over the past four years of the previous world. It's challenging but fun and I'm happy with it.
I've adjusted to the carpool schedule. Those mornings I have to get up before 6am. Don't laugh, but I spend my evenings before setting coffee, packing lunch, picking clothing, gathering my things, and making sure that I don't have to think about a single thing as I stumble around my house, uncaffeinated, before dawn. I thank the technological genius who thought to add a timer to a coffee maker.
Live by the checklist, die by the checklist. Can't die today--not on my list.
Still banning HFCS (did you see the study released today?) and extended the ban to include soy products as well. I chose soy because most of it is genetically modified and I don't agree with the way Monsanto treats farmers. Tom has been turning a patch of ground to make a garden and we've taken the plunge to buy only local beef, pork, and chicken and sustainable seafood. I highly recommend Monterey Bay Seafood Watch as a resource. Out here, there's actually a buffalo ranch about 6miles from me and I've started transitioning from beef to buffalo. It's delicious. And for those wondering about cost, yes, it is more expensive. As a result, meat gets less of a focus to our meals and has become more of a supporting player. Our rule--each cut of meat must provide for at least two meals. This week, we stretched six sausage links to five meals. It takes planning, but it's challenging and fun, too.
I've been visiting the farmer's market near me every couple weeks and I'm very happy to see how big it's growing. It started with one farmer and one stand; now he has vendors dealing with bread, sockeye salmon, local meat, homemade jams, jellies, and salsas, fudge, and tamales. We're happy to support it. I'm buying, eating, and loving vegetables that I wouldn't have looked at a few years ago--fennel, turnips, daikon radish--and his carrots and potatoes are sublime. Tom has been baking bread and buys bags of flour at Costco. We haven't bought bread at the grocery since Thanksgiving.
CJ completed his T-Ball clinic and is currently enrolled in dance class (ballet and jazz). He loves dance and will be in a recital in June. He did well in T-Ball, but seemed unsure at times. His first at-bat in scrimmage he hit the ball, watched it go, then twisted and fell at the base of the tee. His coach tried to pick him up but he did the rubber limbed thing so Coach Mike picked CJ up, slung him under his arm, and ran CJ to first.
Every day, I become more and more like my dad. Tom stays home with CJ, I go to work, and I have chores on weekends and take out trash.
I really like red wine.

No Words Exchanged

2009-09-02T10:09:00.003-07:00

Quick hits today:

Had an interview on Monday for a potential promotion. Also applied for a potential lateral move. Keeping my fingers crossed. I was nervous, but I think I did fine in the long run.
Finally adjusting to my new carpooling schedule (which requires me to get up before 6am two days a week and I am NOT a morning person). It's been a challenge but caffeine has helped.
Almost all traces of high fructose corn syrup removed from my house. A bit of residual left in barbecue sauce, ketchup, and a jar of jelly that's almost gone. Did you know baked beans have HFCS? Now working on banning aspartame; I'm down to only one bottle of Diet Pepsi a day. I've been cold-brewing concentrated green tea and mixing with 100% juice or lemonade.
Farmer's markets start up in a couple weeks. I'm excited. There's monthly one that will be within walking distance at the new ballpark, and another within reasonable driving distance. They're offset by two weeks. I'm going to have to learn to play my cards right.
CJ drew a picture the other day--a tiny version of himself lying in a half-box, a big circle above that with little circles leading from the half-box to the big circle, and a large version of himself standing in the big circle. Tom asked him what the picture was. CJ responded, "That's a picture of me as a baby dreaming of me as a big boy!"
I think the arrangement with Tom staying home with CJ full-time is going very well.

Music Requests

2009-07-29T07:52:00.002-07:00

I was pondering this last night, and was spurred to post after reading Suze's blog this morning. I need a bit of advice--both on how I should perceive reality and what actions I should take.

Tall order? Possibly. Allow me to 'splain:

We have been aware that CJ has a love for music since shortly after he was born. I sang to him quite a bit in the early months, but he didn't have a great love for lullabies. He liked it much better when I sang Mahna Mahna or Mr. Blue Sky. As a toddler, he loved to watch us play Guitar Hero and we got him his own toy guitar to "play". I lost count of how many batteries I've gone through from his incessant playing of his Ocean Wonders aquarium, and I recall one night, spent in a hotel room in Burlington, when Tom and I had to hum the aquarium songs to lull CJ to sleep. For almost a year, his bedtime story was singing--all the songs from a book of lyrics and pictures that had come with a CD. The CD was lost a long time ago, but he knows the songs.

Before he was 2, he was singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. By 3, he'd figured out that Baa Baa Black Sheep and his ABCs were the same tune, and he could play it on a toy xylophone (one octave, each key a different color). He would sing on the ride home from daycare, asking us which song he should sing. He had a catalog of at least thirty songs, full words and melody, by 4. Some of those songs were tough--I've Been Working on the Railroad, The Green Grass Grew All Around, and the Ants Go Marching. He had the sixth from My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean down pat. He didn't belt out the songs or scream them--he sang strongly, on pitch, in tune, and with proper emphasis and phrasing.

I've shared some songs that he likes based on what he hears from around the house and in the car. He has a few childrens music CDs, but he has a strong preference for songs with guitars, especially acoustic guitar. He likes Rolling Stones, Beatles, and Grateful Dead--he even dances like a true little Deadhead!

Now that he's home with Tom, Tom is encouraging the music play. He brought out the old Casio I got in high school and has been teaching CJ to play on it. Over the last few days, CJ has learned to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Mary Had a Little Lamb, and scales. Yesterday, he learned do-re-mi (which he sings with perfect pitch while he plays it).

Here's where the help comes in:
1) Do I gush too much about his seeming talent for music, or is this normal for 4 1/2? I'm pretty impressed, but I impress easily when it comes to this kid. I used to sing, but could never play an instrument so I'm always taken with those who can.

2) Since this is play, I don't want to impose any firm structure or expectations. This is about his discovery and his love. I don't want to make him learn to play a song or follow some technique. But, I don't want a lack of structure to harm him later--for example, I am a terrible touch typist because I tauight myself to type when I was a kid, and I have never been able to make the right connections in my brain to overcome the bad habits I taught myself. His brain is making connections at lightning speed. Should I be concerned that a lack of discipline could harm future ability?

3) At what point do I consider lessons? I never had music lessons, so I don't know how early is too early, or how late is too late. How do I encourage him to develop his talent without killing his passion? How do I keep it from becoming a chore? I'm thinking that we should look into getting him piano lessons when he starts kindergarten next year--am I on the right track?

4) He has such a broad interest and a variety of toy (and kid sized instruments)--drums, xylophone, keyboard, guitar, maracas, noise makers, his voice--where do I start? How many lessons do I entertain? Of course, I could ask, and I have asked him what he would like to play. He either answers with a list of everything, or gives me a different instrument. Sometimes, he says no. I know his decision making capability is limited--how much of this is his choice, how much is mine, and when do the scales start to tip?

Conversations with a Four Year Old

2009-07-09T15:07:00.001-07:00

Christopher likes to watch Noggin, and there is a Laurie Berkner song he's learned from Jack's Big Music Show. It's called I'm Not Perfect:

I'm not perfect, no, I'm not.
I'm not perfect but I've got what I got.
I do my very best, do my very best, do my very best each day,
But I'm not perfect and I hope you like me that way.

It continues with another verse for We and concludes with a verse for You, with the ending line "And you know I love you that way." It's a very very sweet song and Christopher loves to sing it. Sometimes, he asks us to sing it with him (we sometimes sing in the car on the ride home). The only problem--he is very particular about the words as he knows them. If Tom or I sing the wrong word, Christopher will shout, "No! That's not it!"

I sometimes forget that he's a little too young for sarcasm. One night, he asked me to sing with him, then yelled because I used a wrong word. I immediately replied, "I think you've missed the message of the song, buddy."

"What do you mean, Mommy?"

"Do you know what "not perfect" means?"

"No."

"It means that we don't always do everything correctly. We're humans, and we make mistakes, and we will mess up sometimes even when we do our best, but that's OK."

"Oooooh," he says, then falls silent. I turn my head, and he has a pensive look on his face, and I think maybe this is one of those impactful life-lesson moments, then he straightens in his seat and declares, "*I'm* perfect!"

Tom and I answer in unison, "No, you're not!" then laugh.

*****

We often listen to the classic rock station since it's the only one that doesn't drive me to change stations with every other song. I've noticed some more recent songs creeping onto their playlists, and I am gobsmacked that The Joshua Tree apparently qualifies as classic rock now, but I'll try not to rail about that.

At 6pm, they play the 6 o'clock Stoner, a block of 4 Rolling Stones songs. I'm sorry to say that we often catch this during the commute home. Three times in two weeks, we caught "You Can't Always Get What You Want" in the block, and Christopher was entranced with the choir and the acoustic guitar.

A few nights ago, he asked, "Can you play my song, 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'?"

"I'm sorry, honey," I told him, "but I don't have that on CD."

"Can you make it play on the radio?"

"No, I can't make it play. We have to wait for the station to play it."

"But I want to hear 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'."

"I know, but sometimes, you *can't* always get what you want."

"But I *want* it!"

I wanted to tell him that if they play it, maybe he should really listen to it, then I remembered about the sarcasm thing and said nothing.

Joke from a Four Year Old and Phonics Lesson

2009-06-24T13:05:00.003-07:00

"Knock-Knock!"

"Who's there?"

"It's Pizza!"

"It's Pizza, who?"

"Haha, that was a funny joke!"

*****

Earlier this week, Christopher and I were discussing letter sounds. He asked me what I started with (what letter my name begins with, in his parlance). I told him, "My name starts with the letter 'B'."

He looked puzzled. "But 'Mommy' has a 'mmmmmm' sound."

"That's right! 'Mommy has an 'mmmm' sound, but my name is Becca."

"Oh, yes! That's right! You start with the 'butt' sound."

Four Months?

2009-06-15T16:34:00.002-07:00

Seriously, four months? Sorry, I didn't realize it had been that long.

Since the last post, Christopher has gotten glasses (spiffy red frames that he loves). Poor thing is farsighted, like me, and his eye was crossing under the strain to focus. He takes good care of his specs, and has improved greatly with his recognition of letters and numbers. Interestingly enough, his poor small motor skills (those used for coloring, tracing, and writing) were related to his eye issues. Once he could see, he rediscovered those activities and loves to draw. Within the last month, he's gone from scribbling to representative artwork--I'll have to scan some since it's impressive. At least, it is to me. Currently, we have to put an eyepatch on his left eye each night to help his brain recognize and accept input from his right eye. His opthalmologist is very optimistic about the patching, given how well he took to his glasses.

We took a trip to see Jenn and Jamie, driving to San Antonio. We thought we could make the drive in one day. We were wrong. Driving through West Texas from El Paso is a fat lot of boring, and San Antonio was nothing like we expected. We saw the Alamo. Christopher loved the fish. I was surprised how small it was. I was rather moved by the carvings on the walls in the rooms where soldiers held their ground while woman and children huddled. I couldn't stay very long as I felt guilty being that close to tragedy in a voyeuristic capacity.

We also visited the Witte Museum, the Riverwalk, and had a great day at the Children's Museum. We didn't make it to the beach, but there is always next time. Christopher greatly enjoyed the Easter egg hunt he had with Jamie, and asks to go back someday. He even points to the picture of the Alamo on the Texas piece of his America puzzle, and tells us that's where Jenn and Jamie and Buddy and Ziggy live.

In May, I introduced Christopher to the library (and how to say "library" correctly, which he does, as well as the word, "correctly"). The actual branch is due for construction next year, but there is a room off City Hall where the county has put up shelves of bestsellers and popular childrens' books. Christopher likes to go and play with the puzzles while I browse the shelves, and then he helps me check them out using a scanner. He's signed up for the Summer Reading Program, and is already 25% complete. We're due to go this weekend--the check-out times are very generous, three weeks, and I try to make an afternoon of it with him. We go to the library, then Goodwill, then someplace for lunch, then home. It's like our date. He loves Goodwill. I don't take him very often since that's one errand he typically runs with Tom at least once a week.

Speaking of Tom, we received news in June that his job was eliminated. His last day is July 3rd. Since CJ starts school next fall (2010), Tom will stay home with him full-time and continue his-pre-school education. We've told Christopher that he won't go to daycare anymore to start the conversation. We know he doesn't recognize the full impact, but we know he will ask questions as information sinks in, the more we talk to him about it. We wanted to give him plenty of time to adjust to the idea. The daycare has been fantastic--they'll keep his information and place him in drop-in status so we can take him at anytime for the day should the need arise (like, if Tom gets called for jury duty and I have to go to the office). We knew this was a possibility since last fall and have planned quite a bit for the eventuality. We'll be fine, so please don't worry too much. Tom is very excited about staying home, and has wished to do so for some time.

Oh--nothing major, but I quit smoking last month. It's been over 5 weeks. I'm very pleased. This time, I did it cold turkey--just decided I was done after that pack was done, and held to it. It's been tough at times, and I take it moment by moment. I may be consuming more caffeine and tea, but I haven't killed anyone, so I consider it a success. Now I'm just trying to adjust to the way my body reacts now--I breathe easier, my senses of taste and smell are improved, but I'm often tired, and my brain is slow. I forget I've been using a stimulant constantly for 14 years. My body has to remap itself and my body has to adjust to finding a different form of motivation and energy. I've found some excitement in food; I'm even now with my weight from when I quit, but I've been experimenting in my kitchen. Tomatoes have been lovely, as has fruit, so I'm eating fresh foods, little red meat (more seafood), and trying my hand at making my own "staples". To date, I've made sherbet, banana muffins, bread, gingersnaps, granola, chex mix, and yogurt. Yes, yogurt. Which was awesome this morning with grapes, banana, and fresh granola.

Maybe in another four months, I'll get around to posting the recipes.

Sad Day

2009-02-18T15:47:00.003-07:00

This morning, I took my 12 year old cat Zeke to the vet. Unfortunately, Zeke did not come home with me.

He's been in gradual decline since Thanksgiving, which accelerated over the past two weeks. Xrays this morning showed he had cancer through most of his major organs with nothing we could do. The vet kindly talked me through the euthanasia procedure and I was present when it was done.

Zeke was always an stubborn right bastard, but we loved him very much. I am very sad, as is Tom. We have no idea what to tell Christopher--so far we've only told him that Zeke had to stay at the animal hospital. We were very clear to him this morning that we were taking Zeke to the vet--an animal doctor--not at all like his doctor.

All Christopher knows about death is from Lion King--he tells me, "Lion King fell down and got dive." He doesn't know the actual word. Any tips on how or what to tell him when he asks?

Le Geek, So Chic

2008-12-16T14:32:00.002-07:00

Christmas time is almost here, which means things are busy. CJ's birthday is Friday (he turns 4 and is very excited about it), then Tom's birthday is less than two weeks after Christmas. I almost have all the shopping done. I know it isn't CJ's or Tom's fault that they were born so close to Christmas, and I know I'm not going overboard, but I'm sure it will seem almost obscene once I get everything wrapped.

This past weekend we put up the Christmas tree, and CJ had a grand time helping us put up the ornaments and a star. Now he wants a tree for his room, and another tree in some unvoiced location. He just decided this morning he must have three Christmas trees. He also wants a lion, a fire engine, a rocketship, a cowboy, and blocks for his bath.

I've been getting into the holiday mood by cooking and baking. A couple weekends ago, I baked a chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting and several batches of oatmeal raisin cookies. I've also cooked large pots of beef stroganoff, chili, and chicken and dumplings. Later this week I'll bake CJ's birthday cake (spice cake with cream cheese frosting) and I'm sure I'll make some more warm comfort food. I plan to spend part of next week making gingerbread cookies with Christopher since he asked. I've never done homemade gingerbread, but it should be fun and I can't wait to have my boy help me with cutting cookies and decorating them. It's been cold and rainy--not as bad as folks back East are seeing, but cold for the desert. CJ wants to see snow and a fireplace and snowmen. I might need to turn on the YuleLog on TV on Christmas morning!

Speaking of TV, I recently stumbled across a site called CancelCable.com that gave some wonderful information on how to cut the ties with the cable company and access TV in other ways. Some are old-fashioned, others are new-fangled, but it opened my eyes overall to how much I have been paying for my entertainment.

See, I get cable. I have for a while. I used to have a satellite dish but it came loose during a monsoon season and we could never get it aligned just right after that. I got tired of coming home to find "Attention: Acquiring Signal" on every channel. Shortly before CJ was born, we got a TiVo Series 2 with DVD burner and lifetime subscription that I loved dearly until it died. I haven't buried it yet. It sits in my linen closet while I decide whether to buy a new hard drive for it.

After the TiVo died, I got an dual tuner HD DVR from the cable company and fell in love again. Oh, how fickle I am! I like shiny things. I especially like shiny things in HD. But I read the site and started thinking about what I actually watch versus what I pay to watch, and I realized I wasn't getting quite the deal I thought.

See, I thought I was being frugal for eschewing the premium channels, but getting the "free" tier of movie channels. I never watch them. If you include football on Sundays, when the TV is on for about 9 hours for all the games, we watch about 30 hours of TV a week. Most of that is recorded via DVR and watched later (except the football games, which we watch live). It roughly equates to me paying $1 for every hour I watch. That seems like a little, but not enough of a deal for me.

Spurred by my reading of CancelCable.com, I decided to reevaluate the situation based on what I had. I have an XBox 360 that can run as a Media Center Extender. I have a PC with a TV tuner running Windows Vista Home Premium with Media Center. I have a wireless-B network that I need to upgrade anyway. I got an over-the-air digital antenna to hook up to the PC and enabled Media Center to watch live TV and record. I got a new router that I need to hook up, and a couple of plug-in ethernet adaptor to create a wired network--they use existing electrical cabling to carry the signal. Once I get that done, I'll finish setting up the XBox as an extender, which will let me watch live TV or recorded TV from my PC elsewhere in the house.

To replace my other cable channels, I'll use Hulu.com and Netflix streaming (a membership with Netflix costs less than $10 a month, significantly less than my cable service). Some shows I can catch on YouTube or on the network website.

I did have to invest in some of the infrastructure for needed upgrades, but the Circuit City stores near me are closing so I got great deals on the equipment. Plus, I'll recoup those dollars quickly once I cancel the cable service. I plan to do that shortly after Christmas, after I make sure my network is setup correctly.

One interesting thing I learned--I knew that HD signals are compressed through the coaxial cable due to bandwidth. The picture was nice enough that I didn't realize how much degradation that compression causes until I went over the air. The difference is incredible! I feel like such an idiot since I didn't know one could catch HD signals over the air. I thought you had to have some sort of converter box. Maybe it was my confusion from when HDTVs were really HD Monitors, and you had to have a converter box for the signal. I didn't know my TV could display the signal as sent without any help.

It will be a fun project to complete over the holidays. Most of all, I'm just looking forward to some time off and spent with my family instead of at the office.

Learning More About Thankfulness

2008-11-19T11:15:00.002-07:00

Shortly after arriving home from work last night, I went to my bedroom to change my clothes before cooking dinner. Christopher was perched on the bed watching TV. Since Halloween, he assumes that whenever I'm changing my clothes, I'm putting on a costume.

"Mommy, what are you going to be for Halloween?"

"Oh, sweetie, Halloween is over this year."

"OK. Mommy, what are you going to be tankful for this year?"

This is the first time he's asked me this question, but I know he's been learning about Thanksgiving at daycare. "Well, I'm thankful for your daddy and for you."

"OK."

"Christopher, what are you thankful for?"

He thinks for a few moments while I step into the bathroom and pull on a t-shirt. "I'm tankful for lion."

"Lion?"

"Yes. And I'm tankful for letters."

"Letters are good."

"I'm tankful for puzzles!" he exclaims, pointing to his set of wooden puzzles strewn about my bedroom floor. I step over the pieces to get to my dresser.

"Puzzles are nice things to have. Are you thankful for anything else?"

"Yes. I tankful for you," he points at me, then quickly continues, "And I'm tankful for blankets!" He grabs two handfuls of my comforter as I pull on a pair of warm sweatpants, fresh from the dryer. "And I'm tankful for stepladder!" He points at the item in question, a three-tier ladder currently pressed into service as my bedside table.

"Those are a lot of things to be thankful for."

"Yes. I'm tankful for all these things I can use!"

My mind is suddenly filled with an image of Steve Martin holding a lamp, a chair, and a paddleball game. "I'm very glad you are thankful for all those things, Christopher. Thank you for sharing them with me."

"You're welcome, Mommy! Oh--I'm tankful for TV!"

This time I laugh. "Yes, honey, I heard."

I Am Thankful for Honesty

2008-11-10T20:18:00.002-07:00

At daycare, the kids did a project where they named the things they were thankful for. Each classroom has a bulletin board in the hallway where they post such classroom projects. Christopher's teacher was putting their board together this morning, and we got to see it completed when we picked him up today.

Christopher's room had a leaf for each child and their thing, like, "Johnny is thankful for my mommy." Most of the kids were thankful for Mommy, Daddy, Mommy and Daddy, or various combinations of familial units.

One kid was thankful for his blanket. Another kid was thankful for Waffle House.

Then I saw the leaf that belongs to our child. "Christopher is thankful for T.V."

Oh, my.

I couldn't help but laugh. One of his teachers heard me howling and thought I was upset. I told her no, that I was just so proud that our son loves TV more than ANYTHING.

Another teacher told me it could be worse. A few of the older boys replied, "Guns," and had to be steered in another direction.

Thankful for TV, huh. Oh, well. I suppose it could be worse.

333 Is A Magic Number

2008-11-04T21:39:00.002-07:00

I feel like I should be handing out cigars. The count just rose to 338 while I was turning on my PC, but it doesn't matter.

Obama won, and I feel like the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders.

As I write this, 62% of all votes have been counted equaling over 85 million votes. The final tally will definitely show a record turnout for an historic election, and I am proud to have done my part.

I have nothing more to say. Still absorbing the impact. But I have hope.

Puzzling Potty Practices

2008-11-03T22:39:00.002-07:00

I am actively asking for advice--I want to say that upfront. I am completely befuddled about what to do, and I welcome any suggestions.

CJ will be 4 in December, and we've been working on potty training for almost a year. We had backed off a bit when it became clear that he had the concept and could control his bladder but was seeing potty training as a control issue. Rather than press the point and come to an impasse, we pointed out the potty, explained that we'd like him to use it, and left it be.

Occasionally, he would go on the potty, but more often he chose his pullup. We tried using daycare as an incentive--we already knew from his teachers that he was in the last room until he was potty-trained and that many of his friends had already gone to the next room. A few weeks, the woman who runs the daycare approached us about moving CJ on into the next room. She explained that she was positive that he could go on his own, but was choosing to be lazy since he could have a pullup changed rather than stop what he was doing. She also felt that since he was nearing four, and many of his classmates had just turned three, that he was too comfortable in his routine and needed the additional mental stimulation (the new room is set up like preschool).

After discussing the pros and cons, we agreed. The transition took place within a week. He's been in the new room for a few weeks and the change is incredible--except for potty-training, and not the way I expected:

He goes without complaint during his time at daycare. He stays dry, goes when prompted, goes on his own, and really seems to love going potty. At home, nope. We put him in underwear and celebrate his successes, but he will usually pee on the floor rather than go to the toilet. Just tonight I've changed three wet pairs of underwear and Tom changed one pair of poopy underwear.

He knows he needs to use the potty--he tells us he peed on the floor instead of going. He doesn't seem to have bladder issues since he can be dry through the night and doesn't have this trouble at daycare.

For whatever reason, he is just refusing to go at home.

We've tried stickers, toys, and books as incentive. I've even offered Dum-Dums. None of it matters. I'm at the end of my rope. I'm trying to be patient like I'm supposed to be for potty accidents, but I really don't think this is about accidents. Part of me wants to enact consequences like I do when he doesn't listen or willfully disobeys in other ways but I don't want him to get mixed signals.

Any suggestions?

A Few Thoughts on Arizona Proposition 102

2008-10-20T15:44:00.003-07:00

Again this election Arizonans are asked to make their vote heard on defining marriage as between a man and a woman--this time, in the form of a state Constitutional amendment. Forget the fact that Arizona law already employs this definition and outlaws civil unions. The argument is we need it to "protect" us from those pesky "activist judges" who apparently have nothing better to do than to grant equal rights to gays and lesbians.

The intersection near my house is littered with SIX signs urging me to vote Yes! to 102. Never in my life have I wanted more to use my Second Amendment rights to exercise my First Amendment rights against those signs--but apparently that isn't permitted under Arizona law.

If marriage is truly a sacred institution between man and wife granted as a covenant by God, as these supporters contend, then I think they don't go far enough to protect marriage. Just preventing gays and lesbians from marrying their partners doesn't fully protect that covenant. If marriage is to survive as these supporters envision it, here are some extra steps they need to take:

1. Put marriage back in the church. No more marriage certificates, no more Vegas wedding chapels, no more civil ceremonies conducted by a Justice of the Peace. If you want to get married, you must marry your heterosexual partner in church officiated by your pastor. Don't go to church? Sorry, you can't get married.

2. Abolish all legal benefits of marriage. Since marriage is performed in church and has no legal standing, you and your spouse may no longer derive any legal benefit from your marital status. No more joint tax filings, spousal health insurance benefits, or rights of survivorship may be granted under law. Everyone files taxes independently and secures his/her own insurance. If you want your spouse to inherit your 401K, you better cash it out before you kick it. All inheritance would go to your children, like God intended, or to your church.

3. Revoke all divorce laws. Courts may no longer dissolve marriages since there's no legal contract to dissolve. You said till Death do you part--now you have to live up to it. No petitions, no decrees, no custody arrangements. Churches can decide how to dissolve a marriage, if that's even an option for your faith.

My daddy always told me if you're gonna do a job, do it right; don't do it half-assed. Come on, Arizona! If you're going to vote Yes! to 102, make sure you do everything else to protect this sacred covenant. Otherwise, it'll just look like those who vote Yes! are just voting for hate and discrimination.

Harper's Bizarre

2008-09-05T11:00:00.003-07:00

I go for months without saying a word, and then the conventions get me all riled up. Here's the latest.

Remember that weird yellow dress with the winged collar that Cindy McCain wore on Tuesday night? Well, her entire outfit cost her over $300,000.

Seriously.

I am supposed to believe that her husband understands the impact on the economy when she's out there wearing almost 300 grand in jewelry? This kind of largess staggers my mind. With that kind of money, I could pay off my house, my car, and wipe clean all outstanding bills for the rest of the year and STILL have tens of thousands left over.

This is the party that understands the middle class and the working poor?

I can barely wrap my mind around spending the equivalent of three mortgage payments alone on a dress. That pearl necklace would cover daycare costs for three years.

John Edwards got nailed leading up to the primaries for a $400 haircut. McCain can't remember how many houses he owns, and he gets a nomination? Cindy Lou Who spends more than the average 2000 pre-tax income of 99% of Americans on a single outfit for a convention, but Barack and Michelle Obama are the elitists?

I think Strangeite is right about Htrae. I just don't get it.

It Ain't Easy Being Green

2008-09-04T19:20:00.003-07:00

John McCain is making his big nomination acceptance speech in front of a giant green screen. Crayola green. Kermit the Frog green.

It certainly does its best to emphasize just how hale and hearty this 72 year-old cancer survivor is.

I smell another "Make McCain Interesting" contest coming on.

(Note to self: find some good video editing software)

Update: The Green Screen Mystery is Solved! Turn out that the green was part of a larger image, specifically the lawn at Walter Reed, uh, Middle School. You gotta click that link to read the full story!

I Made This!

2008-09-02T23:09:00.002-07:00

Pardon my rudimentary Photoshop skills....

So Many Shades of Wrong

2008-08-27T18:28:00.001-07:00

Bill Clinton just finished his speech at the DNC, extolling the virtues of Obama and leading to Biden's speech, and the house band played him off with "Addicted to Love".

Are they ragging on Bill? How is that an appropriate choice? They played the entire first verse and part of the chorus, stopping abruptly when it was time for the title line.

Permit me to break my months of inactivity by plaintively wondering--WTF?!?

Sometimes I Wish I Were Charlene*

2008-04-18T22:44:00.002-07:00

Catching up on TV from the DVR list tonight, I'm watching last night's Colbert Report.

Incidentally, this is one of CJ's favorite shows. He loves the eagle, and gets very excited whenever we watch "Bear Pore".

Anyway, I read the article on Yahoo this morning about the Colbert Bump in reference to Hillary's appearance last night. I didn't know that John Edwards also made an appearance and did one of the funniest and smartest monologues I've seen in sometime.

Oh, John. I'm so sad things didn't work out this year. I would have voted for you, if you hadn't dropped out five days before our primary.

I'm still behind you, and I'll see you in four years. You'll get my vote, and you won't even have to buy me a jet-ski.

*a cyber cookie to whomever gets the reference.

But Not the Hippie-potamus

2008-04-18T21:58:00.002-07:00

I typically check the blogroll either at night, shortly before bed, or at work while I eat salad at my desk for lunch. This means I usually don't have the chance to respond as I would like. The past couple days, I've read several interesting blog posts from people I know (or knew, like Roy) and people I don't know (like Steph, and Rae) on the meanings of the word, "hippie".

The posts piqued my interests for two reasons. One, I've been reading the article on Larry Brilliant in the most recent Rolling Stone. Brilliant is the executive in charge of DotOrg, Google's recent launch into the world of corporate philanthropy. Brilliant is not a typical Silicon Valley CEO--he travelled across Europe to New Delhi with Wavy Gravy in the 70s, toking the entire way, arriving at an ashram of a guru. At the guru's urging, Brilliant travelled back into India and helped medical workers eradicate smallpox from the known world. In the 80s, Brilliant founded the Seva Foundation, dedicated to healing the blind, and ponied up the money for The Well, an early bulletin board think tank dedicated to the digitized sharing of ideas. He was friends with Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir, and won a TED aware for his work at using technology to develop early warning systems to detect pandemics. (I'm going my memory here, so if I got a detail wrong, please don't bust my balls over it). Anyway, Brilliant is an old hippie functioning in the corporate world.

The second reason is that I might be a hippie myself. I had some very eloquent thoughts on this subject morning, but instead of blogging I had to complete over 40 process and subprocess flows, so my thoughts may be rougher than the genius that struck me earlier. Bear with me.

Members of the M-Clan can vouch for my hair length since they've seen me most recently. I may have cut an inch off since then, but not much. I own a hybrid vehicle, replaced all my bulbs with CFLs, recycle my junk mail, cans, and plastics, and until the soft real estate market set in, had plans to mount solar panels to the roof of my house. I don't wear makeup, hate wearing dresses, and decline to shave my legs. My dream is to have a little patch of land to grow my own veggies and be as self-sufficient as possible, but reality is that I have to work.

My work is in the corporate realm--information technology--translating very geeky things into common English, driving project plans, defining processes, and leading a team of analysts doing the same types of things I do. A very non-hippie job. A very yuppie job.

I am a study of contradictions. I am a nerd, a geek, a dweeb, and a moron. I am a twisted freak, a loving mother, a decent cook, and an indecent wife. I'm a raving humans right liberal with a fiscal conservative bent. I mutter obscenities under my breath when I pay my quarterly HOA dues and tsk-tsk judgingly when my neighbors leave their trash cans outside their garage doors. I turn my music up, tell the kids to get off my xeriscaped non-lawn, refuse to grow up, and mourn the spoiled nature of teenagers today.

The things is, I don't necessarily apply these labels to myself because I defined their meanings and truly understand what they represent. These are labels placed on me by others in an attempt to define who I am. It seems very common to me that as a people, we categorize and generalize in an attempt to bring order and obtain easy explanations to complicated issues. As part of that process, we label each other because it is easier to understand a label than it is to understand the complexities of each human brain.

And yes, I know that I'm generalizing human behavior, and I get the irony. I think this particular generalization is valid. I'm been thinking about the need to categorize, understand, and explain a lot the past few weeks since Battlestar Galactica came back, but that's another post.

I guess my point is that I am all of things while not being any of these at the same time. I just am who I am, which doesn't seem to be acceptable for those who have to apply a label.

BareNaked Java

2008-03-27T00:01:00.003-07:00

DISCLAIMER: I am not a programmer. I work with Java folks, and I don't pretend to be as smart as them. This struck me as a funny idea and I poked through the Java help forums for beginner stuff. If it isn't structurally sound, I'm not surprised. And yeah, pretend I did the indents, cuz I did, but stupid Blogger won't show them.

class IfHadMillionDollars {
public static void main(String [] args {

switch (purchase) {
case 1: System.out.println("house"); break;
case 2: System.out.println("furniture"); // chesterfield or ottoman; break;
case 3: System.out.println("k-car"); // reliant automobile; break;
case 4: System.out.println("your love"); break;
}
void buildTreeHouse(){
if (isHelping){ // effort not as hard
tinyFridge--; // pre-wrapped sausages (bacon == null)
}
}
switch (purchase) {
case 5: System.out.println("fur coat"); // coat == real; break;
case 6: System.out.println("exotic pet"); // llama or emu; break;
case 7: System.out.println("Merrick's remains"); // crazy elephant bones; break;
case 8: System.out.println("your love"); break;
}
void gotoStore(){
if (rentLimo){ // cost is increased
kraftDinner--; // fancy Dijon Ketchup
}
}
switch (purchase) {
case 9: System.out.println("green dress"); // dress == real; break;
case 10: System.out.println("art"); // Picasso or Garfunkel; break;
case 11: System.out.println("monkey"); // I have always wanted a monkey; break;
case 12: System.out.println("your love"); break;
}
System.out.println("I'd be rich.");
}
}
}

Latest Police Stats

2008-03-22T11:16:00.003-07:00

NOTE: I did not make this, although I wish I had.

Random Silliness

2008-03-18T22:30:00.002-07:00

In case it wasn't already obvious, work and life have been kicking my ass lately. The MMWP has grown to gigantic proportions, and my days are filled with meetings leaving little time (except evenings and weekends) to catch up on emails and regular work.

Tonight is one of the few nights I've been able to successfully boycott working after dinner.

As a result, most conversations between Tom and me consist of me ranting while he listens as we come home, or us cracking jokes while listening to Stephanie Miller on the way to work. A few nights ago, I spotted a new billboard on our commute route--a Spanish McDonald's board advertising, "Sausage McMuffin con huevo".

This spawned some predictable responses:

"What do they call a Quarter Pounder in Mexico?"
"Does Mexico use metric or imperial?"
"Metric, I think."
"What's the Spanish word for quarter?"
"What's 'Royale' in Spanish?"
"I got it--they call it the Quarter Pounder con queso!"

I spent a good deal of time amending everything I saw with "con huevo". It's just fun to say. Billboard for healthcare? "Cigna con huevo!" City bus with a PSA plastered to the side? "Just say no con huevo!" Be caller number 9 to win tickets to big concert, "Kansas con huevo!"

Somewhere around there, things took an odder turn. Tom has a smattering of French from his childhood spent growing up 40 miles from the Canadian border, trying to get a peek of boobies from the CBC programming coming from Montreal. I recall ridiculously little of my 2 1/2 years of Spanish--just about enough to translate "con huevo". I asked Tom what quickly became a dangerous question:

"What's the French word for egg?"
"Oeuf."
"Uff?"
"Oeuf."
"Uhff?" I was trying to curl my mouth around my teeth but it wasn't working right. My French pronunciation is pitiable. "How is that spelled?"
"O-e-u-f."
"Well, that there's your problem! There are entirely too many vowels in that word!"

Tom laughed. "French has that. Remember 'oui'?"
"Wee? Oh, oui! Oui!
"Why do ya ask?"
"I was wondering if the French call it, 'Sausage McMuffin avec oeuf'."
"I'm sure they have a different name."
"I hope so. Avec oeuf isn't as cool as con huevo!"

This is about the time when I morphed into Beavis. "Huevo! Con huevo! Necessito huevo por mi queso! Si!" Then it was time for another of my stupid questions. "Hey, if I go to France, and I order two eggs, would I ask for "duh uff?"
"Duh-zehrv."
"What?"
Tom repeats it, something sounding like a pretentious pronunciation of deserve.
"Where'd the z come from?"
"When the x precedes a vowel, it sounds like a zed."
"Zed? Since when are you kiwi?"
Tom ignores me. "Zed. 'Deux oeuv'."
"Duh uhv...wait--where is the v coming from?"
"Plural. F becomes a v. Deux oeuv."
"Duhuhvvvvv."
"Close."
"What about three eggs?"
"Trois oeuv, I think."
"Five?"
"Cinq oeuv."
"Sank oeuv?"
"Your pronunciation sucks."
"I know!"
"Just sayin'"
"My mouth isn't made right."
"Uh-huh."
"What oeuv?"
"No, I said uh-huh."

Tom's making a turn onto another surface street, and I realize we've been carrying on this silliness for almost twenty minutes of our ride. Tom is counting in French under his breath, while I'm still pondering the whole oeuf to oeuv thing and this mysterious zed. "So French has a hidden Z?"
"Sometimes."
"Is there a silent q?"
"No."
"There are silent t's and silent r's."
"Yeah, tons of those."
I try counting to ten as Tom laughs at my attempt, "Uhn, duh, twah, cat, sank, seize, set, wheat, nuff, deesay."
"Dix."
"What?"
"You said deesay. Not deesay, dix."
"Deece?"
"Yep. What's deesay?"
"Deesay? Oh, dice. Twelve in Spanish."
"Oh, OK."
"So, Deece uhv?"
"No, dix oeuv." He says it again like he's drawing out deserve.
"I thought that was two eggs?"
"No, deux oeuv, dix oeuv. It's different."
"Not different enough if I'm ordering. I don't wanna ask for two eggs and get a dozen."
"Ten, not twelve."
"Whatever."
"Nuff of."
"What?"
"Nine eggs. Neuf oeuv."
"As is, 'I've had enough of neuf oeuv?'"
Tom laughs. "Yeah, that would work."

What's really weird about this whole conversation?

I'm allergic to egg yolks. I'll never order eggs in any language.

All That Gas

2008-01-02T19:33:00.000-07:00

I was checking my email a few moments ago when I heard CJ wildly laughing in our bedroom. I had set him up earlier with an Animaniacs DVD and decided to go investigate to see what was tickling him so.

It was a Great Wakkorotti cartoon. In this one, Wakko "sings" Blue Danube completely in belches, unhinging his jaw in more and more impossible ways until a great big burping finish. That was what my son was finding so funny. It reminded me of something I wrote about five year ago, when I actually owned slippingreality dot com and was giving running a website a try (it died a painless death, but that's ok. It was a fun experiment with FrontPage).

Anyway, here's what I wrote--please to enjoy:

Farts are funny.

It's a fact. Everyone knows this, even children. When I was a kid, my dad would make a production number out of his farts, leaning in the doorway and cocking one leg up, knee bent, to let one rip. He did this to much amusement from my sister and me, and to much consternation from my mother. I used to think his beaming expression after one of these displays was in reaction to the giggle fit coming from us; now I know that his grin was the result of his own amusement.

When visiting the family last March, I babysat my nephew, 5, and my niece, 2. We were watching Nickelodeon for the eighth hour when a commercial came on featuring an animated lawn mower which ate grass and belched. My nephew loved it. He imitated the noises and laughed, and looked at me and said, "Burps are funny." Then my niece, who was nestled in my lap, looked at me with her angelic face and announced, "Farts funny, too!"

Farts are usually dismissed as a juvenile attempt to make people laugh without substance, but Aristophanes used flatulence as a humor device in many of his early plays, most of which are considered classics. Some modern movies are falling back on the fart jokes, and are becoming box office hits.

Why are farts so funny? Part of it is the word. Fart. Fart fart fart. It's fun to say, and it's hard not to laugh when someone says it. Part of it is the sound. The fart doesn't have to be real; a polyester clad posterior on a leather chair can provide hours of entertainment if the weather conditions permit. The sounds can be tiny or thunderous, and can sometimes contain harmony if done just right. Tom can sound like a brass band after eating popcorn. This is why we don't go to the movies very often.

Sometimes farts are funny only to the ones who smelt it, and not the ones who dealt it. During that same visit last March, Tom's niece wanted to show us her dance routine. To the Backstreet Boys. I won't go on that tangent now. Her dance contained mostly gymnastic movements, and at the height of her cartwheel, she erupted with a blast that was rather impressive for her small size. Initially, she was embarrassed as Tom, his brother, and I resembled three monkeys who could speak no evil as we fought laughter. She yelled at her brother, who was singing the praises of her flatulence from the doorway, until he began to blow fart noises on his arm and she started to laugh and finished her dance. The noises brought her back from the momentary horror. Of course, she had to start her song over, but again, I won't get into that.

Me? I don't fart.

Honestly.

Farts are funny. It's an incontrovertible fact. And I'll try to remember that tonight when Tom pulls the covers over my head.

The New Year's Day University of Phoenix Insight Jobing.Com Tostitos Fiesta Post

2008-01-01T23:20:00.001-07:00

It's been a very good vacation, the longest we've taken at home in sometime. Tom goes back to work tomorrow, and CJ returns to daycare, but I'm still off through Monday. I'm hoping to continue the progress we've made on the homefront, and complete a bit of online training before returning to work.

We started off slowly, recovering from last minute Christmas shopping, birthday festivities, and general stress. Since last Thursday, we've managed to reorganize some clutter in the living room, tackle Christopher's messy bedroom (truly like entering the Heart of Darkness, I emerged muttering, "The horror; the horror." My fault for buying him all those toys, I suppose), and do a complete Clean Sweep of our bedroom.

I don't know if you've ever seen Clean Sweep on TLC--homeowners get help clearing out their junk rooms. A decorator and carpenter redo the rooms while the homeowners sort out the mess before it goes back into the house. I watch for two reasons: 1) I feel a little better about being such a packrat compared to people who have rooms so full of stuff they can barely open the door anymore, and 2) It gives me ideas on how to tackle my own clutter problems and make things more manageable.

In the living room, I got some large baskets to fit under the coffee table and end tables for CJ's toys. I know a lot of parents have those huge trunk-type tables, but we foolishly bought our furniture in our child-free days without thinking about where we would need to stash crayons, puzzles, and several plastic dinosaurs. In CJ's room, I sorted through his clothes to pull out what he's outgrown and stashed them in a container that fits under his bed. We'll put the clothes out at a yard sale in a few months. Our bedroom was a much larger effort--it had become a catchall for various things throughout the house, my clothes were stacked on top of my dresser for lack of room, and Tom wanted to change the furniture arrangement.

First, Tom helped me go through my clothes and I pared quite a bit from my wardrobe. I felt some guilt; as a kid, we didn't have a lot of money, so anything I bought to wear I had to wear, whether I liked it or not. I don't buy clothes often, but I have a closet full of blouses I've worn once and then realized I didn't like them, shirts and pants that didn't fit right after a few washes, and other t-shirts and things that I hesitated to throw away once they became ragged, thinking I would fix them. I was pretty ruthless--I made a big pile for yard sale and made enough space for everything to fit. Then we went through baskets and boxes of junk and sorted those out, and managed to store most of it under the bed. Finally, we moved the furniture around per Tom's idea, and it's like we've discovered a whole new room! We now have space for a couple chairs in there so we can sit and watch cartoons with CJ in there, or get away and read.

I should mention this is all stuff we've been wanting to do for most of the year, but got derailed through various means.

We also managed to get out of the house a few times. Today we went to get coaxial cable and special fasteners so I could run cable over the bedroom doorway from the outlet (we moved the TV to another wall), stopped at Chik-Fil-A for yummy chicken, and all got haircuts. There were a few moments where I began to freak while Tom got his haircut--Christopher didn't recognize Tom without his glasses and long hair while dressed in that black cape and got rather upset, insisting I go with him to help find Daddy. Once Tom took the cape off, put his glasses on, and spoke to CJ, CJ was fine with it. Tom watched CJ while CJ and I got haircuts. My stylist was very good, but was a little too enthused by my "virgin hair". Apparently, hairdressers don't see untouched, uncolored, unpermed, completely un-product-covered hair like mine, and she ran her fingers through it quite a lot. Enough so that Tom asked if she was hitting on me, but I don't think she was.

Right now, Tom is in bed sleeping since he has to wake early tomorrow. Christopher is still fighting bedtime, so I'm still up until I'm sure he's asleep. For the past two hours, he's tried laying on the couch in the living room, then I brought him back into his room. Last I checked, he was busily covering pictures in a board book with black crayon then wiping it off with a diaper wipe. It's one of his favorite bedtime activities.

Hope the New Year brings good things to everyone. I'm hoping it brings more great moments to my family like the ones we've had this week. As boring as the events may seem when written down, this has been one of best vacations in a long time.

The Only Winning Move Is Not to Play

2007-12-25T20:48:00.000-07:00

Today, Christopher gave me a Rubik's Cube for Christmas. Tom told me it was genuinely from him; CJ saw it when the two of them were at Barnes and Noble, and CJ grabbed it and carried it around the store while telling Tom, "We haf to go show Mommy."

That would explain why the top of the package was already partially opened.

Anyway, I am now freaking obsessed with this thing. I stared at it for some time, and told Tom I was afraid to touch it, that I would mess it up. He laughed and told me it's there to play with, not to just stare at for hours. So finally, I picked it up and gave it a twist...

I had a Rubik's Once before, when I was about 5. Mom couldn't get it out of my hands. She had to hide it before I left for school. I spent days twisting, twisting, twisting, trying to solve it. One morning, Mom found the cube sitting by her chair, solved. She picked it up and a sticker fell off. I had gotten so frustrated with the darned thing I had peeled off each sticker and restuck them in order.

I haven't tried peeling this one yet.

I've already spent several moments today twisting, peering, shaking my head, twisting backwards, and occasionally biting my tongue to keep from cursing (CJ said "shit" at the store yesterday, but that's another story). I got all the yellows at one point, but had to abandon them to try to align my blues and whites.

Heaven help me. I'm on vacation for another week and a half, and I can already tell I'm getting nothing productive done.

Merry Christmas!

OK, since I mentioned it--CJ picked up the s-word from either Tom or me (we're equal opportunity shitters) and said it a couple times over the weekend. We didn't make a big deal and directed him to something else. Yesterday, we went out to finish our Christmas shopping and split up at the shopping center. Tom went to one store, and I took CJ to Linens 'N' Things.

I was trying to find a coffee grinder for my friend, Jay, who is seriously into coffee. I couldn't find one. I was next to all the coffee makers and carafes, and I knew they had to be there somewhere. I said to CJ, who was riding in the cart, "I can't find the coffee grinders. I wonder if they're out?"

My sweet little angel looked at me and with perfect inflection intoned, "Shit."

Again, I didn't make a big deal of it. He had a good point. Just then, I found what I was looking for and moved on.

Later, we were looking at candles while Christopher sang "Jingle Bells" to me ("Jinga bell, Jinga bell, Jinga alda way! Oh wah fun, do-doo-doo, jinga alda way!"). He started singing it using nonsense words, bobbing his head, "Shoo shoo shoo, shoo shoo shoo, shoo shoo doo doo shoo!", and then I realized he was using the s-word again instead of "shoo". Luckily, he was singing softly, no one overheard, and I was able to get him back on the right words.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this latest development. My own darned fault, I know. I have a mouth like a sailor at home; it's a failing. Anyway, for any who have gone through this: Am I doing the right thing, letting it go and directing him to another word or activity or should I do something else? It seems to me that if I laugh, or get angry, then he'll say it more often--or who knows what other word he might pick. I'm sure I've given him plenty of choices.

And yes, later on, I told Tom what had happened while CJ was watching Bugs Bunny in our bedroom, and we laughed our asses off.

Where, Oh, Where Are You To-Night?

2007-12-18T20:33:00.000-07:00

Jenn, your phone calls and emails have been duly noted (and quite enjoyed, especially the sung voice mail), and I'm really sorry I have been remiss in sticking with my plan to update once a month. Where have I been? Nowhere, really, just stuck in the details.

November and December have contained 2.5 weeks of training and the rest of time in planning sessions for the Mighty Morphing Web Project. After 18 months of prototyping and analysis, we're ready to go forward and managing to secure a big chunk of cash to do so. So I've been involved in sessions to plan timelines, priorities, documentation structure, resource planning, and kickoff. Somewhere in there I have found time to breathe, but barely. During this time, I'd been planning everything except my role, since I didn't know what my role would be over the next three years as we make this thing a reality. So I found the courage last week to approach my boss and create my own--essentially, I want to define the documentation standards, create the templates, hire the analysts, implement the governance, and oversee the analysts, providing guidance along the way. I also want visibility, so I want to filter the information into the regular status communications, prepare end of release containment reports, and participate in the ongoing strategy discussions for the overall project.

Amazingly, I made a strong case for why I was the best person for the role, and gave some examples of things I've done that fit in, as well as ideas for the way we should do things for MMWP. Even more amazingly, my boss thought I was right on point with my ideas and agreed that I fit exactly what he's needing for this kind of role. So, I got it.

One must be careful about one wishes for, though. Today I found out that while I may have my dream role, I may be doing it for another boss. Not sure how I feel about that. There are pros and cons to each person--I'm more hung up on the surprise of it. Remember those trainings I mentioned earlier? Turns out those discussions happened while I out learning new stuff, and since we're moving at Mach 2 to get everything ready, everyone on my team assumed I had gotten an update about from someone else. In actuality, no one told me a thing, and I bopped along blissfully ignorant of the impending new director.

Surprise!

On another topic--my little boy turns 3 tomorrow! I have two dozen cupcakes in the pantry ready to go to daycare tomorrow for an informal class party. I'm working from home tomorrow so I can bake a spice cake and make the cream cheese frosting, then it's time for Birthday Dinner Party! This is the first year CJ has talked about parties and birthdays, so I think he'll enjoy it. I have hats and balloons and squawking things, and way too many toys for one child to handle. Our friends Jay and Erik are coming, along with her sister Robin (who watched CJ when Tom and I had to go to Florida earlier this year). No kids this year, since we were too late with the planning to execute that piece, but I still think my little boy will be pleased.

Next week I start vacation till January 7th, but this is still a busy time--CJ's birthday, Christmas, then Tom's birthday. I love Amazon.com! I'm really looking forward to the extended family time of the three of us together, around the house, without having to juggle work and daycare for a bit. Then I'm sure we'll all get sick of each other by the time we have to resume our normal schedules and we won't accomplish half of our "honeydo" lists--but let's focus on the important thing, really:

VACATION!

Last random thing to mention--I have begun my 10th year with my company. I'm a little surprised about it. It's the longest I've been in any one organization in my life, and it seems to have moved quickly. Somehow, I blinked, and now I'm 32, married, a mother, with a career, and I still feel like I'm 17 and should get up early because I'm opening the Hardee's drive-thru tomorrow.

I'm not sure if this is what it means to be all growed up.

Suck it, Malthesar!

2007-12-16T15:57:00.000-07:00

99% Geek

My Dynamite Napoleon

2007-10-31T19:31:00.000-07:00

Excuse Me. I Couldn't Help Noticing That Strange and Interesting Plant.

2007-09-23T12:22:00.000-07:00

Finally--finally!--FINALLY, I've published the report I've been working on for the last 6 months. One of my coworkers told me I looked different a few days later, like I was standing up straighter and smiling more. It's an incredible sense of relief and one of the biggest challenges of my career and I'm very proud that I got it done and done well.

My little guy is conked out on the couch with a cold. I've been giving him Motrin occasionally for fever, and Dimetapp this morning for the snot. The Dimetapp wound him up bigtime! I felt bad because after the Dimetapp he was in a good mood and so goofy and I couldn't help but laugh at his sillier moments, even though I knew it was because he was doped up.

When the Dimetapp wore off, I confess, I gave him a tiny dose of Benedryl instead. It was naptime, and I knew he'd have no nap with Dimetapp (Maybe that should be their new marketing campaign?). So I crossed my fingers and gave him the Benedryl. I temper my guilt with the knowledge that he needs his rest.

Tom is picking up on the antiques and collecting hobby, still working toward putting together his own business. We've been watching more Bargain Hunt. One couple bought a silver ladle from the 18th century to display as a "conversation piece". I don't understand this logic. I imagine every conversation would go this way:

"Is that a ladle?"
"Yes, it's from the 18th century."
"Why did you buy it?"
"As a conversation piece."
"Oh."

I saw someone buy a huge butterchurn once, same purpose. It was a like a barrel with legs, and a giant handle to turn. There was a small window on one end to see the progress. Again, I imagine each conversation as:

"What the heck is that?"
"A butter churn."
"Why would you buy a butter churn?"
"As a conversation piece."
"Oh."

To be fair, these would be conversations with the buyers and their guests. I'm sure that guests and visitors amongst themselves would have some very spirited conversations about the buyers and their interesting taste.

I really don't know what else to add. I post only once a month and still have nothing to say. I'm a very boring person.

What'sa Happ'nin, Hot Stuff?

2007-08-10T16:04:00.000-07:00

Suze noted in the comments for Office Space haiku that she waited behind teh great Johnny C while in Malibu. Oh, Suze, how I envy you. How could you stand that close to Dr. Cox and not just jump him then and there?

On the list, I tell you--on the list! In Sharpie!

Moving on--Monsoon season has hit the Valley and I will be glad when it passes in a few weeks. Dew points above 55 degrees equal humidity levels of 40-50%. Not bad back East, but in the summer desert with a temperature of 115? Murderous. Literally. It's difficult to stay hydrated, too hot to go outdoors, and dust storms come from nowhere followed by rain storms that flood the washes quickly and create standing water of an inch or more within minutes because the parched ground can't soak up the rain and quickly as it pounds down. For some reason, I have trouble breathing when the air gets too humid--right before a monsoon hits, I'll feel as though something is sitting on my chest and that feeling doesn't pass till the clouds do. After the rain, though, the desert smells incredible and there's brief respite from the humidity, the air pressure, and the temperature till the next day begins.

Work is still keeping me busy. In fact, I've been so busy I still have nearly three weeks to use before the end of the year. Most of that is planned around the upcoming holidays, and I have a feeling I will be taking some long weekends until then. I took a four day weekend this past weekend that was awesome. I didn't leave the house--just stayed home and played with CJ and cleaned and did some Sudoku and caught up on TiVo. Like Tooz, I have my shows I like to watch but I have to record them all to watch during naptimes and the evenings. Typically, weekend TV is devoted to Blue's Clues, Jack's Big Music Show, The Upside Down show, and Pinky Dinky Doo. It may seem like CJ watches a lot of TV, but he really doesn't. It's more background noise while we color or play. He does actually watch a few of the shows and he'll tell Steve where to find clues, or clap with Jack and Mary, or tell me about the whole Dinky Doo family. I must admit that the television he does watch is more interactive than I recall some things I watched as a kid. I'm fascinated by the Upside Down Show--it's educational focus is on imaginative play and abstract thinking, it's hosted by a pair of actors from New Zealand, and it becomes so absurd at times that I suspect it might be a preschool primer to Monty Python. CJ loves it.

I'm hooked on home flipping shows--Flip That House, Property Ladder. Tom and I are convinced we could do better than the people in the shows. We've looked at the possibilities several times, but not in the Phoenix market. Too unstable right now. I have Season Passes for Bargain Hunt and Cash in the Attic on BBC America. I have to have my Daily Show/Colbert Report fix. So much so that CJ asks for those shows by name (Day-lee show? Bear Pore?). And I have the usual summer foodfare--Hell's Kitchen, Top Chef, Good Eats, and Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares when I can catch it.

That's about all for now. Too darned hot to do anything but watch TV.

For Mrs. Ann

2007-07-19T10:33:00.000-07:00

Office Space haiku. I think I've watched this movie way too much.

If you could put the
cover sheets on TPS?
Yeah, that would be great.

If things go well I
Might be showing her my O
face--"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Heh.

I'm gonna lose it!
Sounds like someone's got a case
Of the Mondays!

It seems you've missed work.
I can't exactly say I've
Been missing it, Bob.

Don't take my stapler.
Move my desk and I swear I
Will burn this place down.

Haiku Doin'?

2007-07-13T21:10:00.000-07:00

Lapse in updating.
Will attempt to fill in gaps
Solely in haiku.

Took a trip in May.
West Palm Beach--ritzy. Open
Bar, drank way too much.

Rode catamaran
To Peanut Island. Many
homes I can't afford.

Went go karting in
Jupiter. Ran off course but
Still finished the race.

Had picture taken
With Senior Vice President.
I smiled awkwardly.

Sunburn peeling, flew
Home to Phoenix. Was very
Happy to see son.

Most of June has been
Very busy. Catch up on
Work, projects moving.

CJ is talking
in partial clauses. Learns new
Words every day.

Read Dr. Seuss's
ABCs each night for bed.
Memorized each word.

Big I, little i,
i...i...i. Icabod is
Itchy. So am I.

Took time off for Fourth
Of July. Made burgers, watched
Fireworks from backyard.

Birthday is next week.
Excitement mounts though I grow
Older--Thirty-two : )

Shall quickly forget
to mope about if Harry
Potter comes on time.

As for now, not much
Going on. Daily routine
With domestic joy.

Hope you enjoyed the
brief haiku update. If not,
It's all Everett's fault.

Off to Palm Beach

2007-05-29T06:07:00.000-07:00

I won't be back till the weekend, so no singing for me to post week. I'm hoping this will be a fun trip, despite the business context--I have to meet the CEO, y'all! Yikes!!!

I'll see you when I get back.

So It Goes

2007-04-13T13:51:00.000-07:00

The surge of troops into Iraq has worked so well that there is a proposal to extend tours of duty by three months, from 12 to 15. Don Imus has been fired, and fired again, for stupidly thinking he could describe a women's collegiate team in a way that was politically incorrect, socially unacceptable, and realistically untrue (while 24 hour cable outlets have repeated the epithet so many times my brain has turned it into it's own sitcom jingle). We now know who fathered Anna Nicole's baby, and my baby got his first goose egg at daycare yesterday after horsing around with a classmate. And at some point, while all this was happening, Kurt Vonnegut passed away after long, interesting, and fairly incomprehensible life.

So it goes.

I'm still working on delivery for the project I've been working on for a year, and two weeks from now, will be completely done with the documentation for this particular effort. Then we go into evaluation and I began the documentation for another project. I was picked, inexplicably, as a winner for the department Excellence award at the Platinum award, meaning I receive a monetary award and trip for two to a swanky five-diamond resort in Florida for four days in May. While my teammates and boss are very excited for me, I feel a little strange about it, as if I drove the cement truck but they were the ones who laid the foundation and built the house. Then I tell myself to relax and go with it, stop being my own worst critic, and don't worry about expectations when staring at a blank PowerPoint slide and just do my thing.

This seems like an excellent time to bust out Jenn's five questions for me:
1. What's your favorite speech/drama memory from high school?
I've been mulling this one over for a week, since there are so many--each gavel I picked up; stopping at Ehrler's for ice cream whenever we were near; the year I managed to place 5th in the State and the weirdness Susan and I felt when I kept making it through each level when I had never dreamed I could be one of those kids but Susan knew all along I had the potential; the Cujo joke Susan, Isaac, and I shared while walking into the Pizza Hut in Shepherdsville that drew us some perplexed stares from the waitstaff, and other general memories of friendship, camaraderie, an amazing first kiss, and other assorted benchmarks of life that I can't imagine sharing with anyone other than the people who were in my life then.

Trying to narrow it to one, I go back to the one that pops up first: Some details are fuzzy. I think this was senior year, coming back Bowling Green for the State Tournament that year. I don't remember everyone in the car, but I know Mandi, Doug, and I were in the backseat and Susan was driving. This was odd, since I usually sat up front next to Susan, but this time someone else had that place. Doug was the only male, and we covered his head with my jacket while Mandi and I stripped off skirts and pantyhose to put on more comfortable clothing and shoes. Doug got bored and began clucking my name, "Buh-Buh-Buh-BeckEE!!" till Susan was crying with laughter. In general, we were having a grand old time as the sky got darker and darker and Susan began to wonder why we hadn't E-town yet on the Parkway. About that time, we spotted the sign for Shepherdsville--in all the fun, we'd missed the Parkway completely and kept moving up the 65!

This was before cellphones, so we just kept going, grabbed the Gene Snyder Expressway, and came down 64, getting to the high school at least an hour later than we should have (if not longer). Parents were worried, as were our fellow classmates, and it was pretty hard to explain exactly why we had missed the correct exit on a drive Susan had made at least 20 times.

On a somewhat related note--For some reason, I was the only person who could remember which exit to take off the Gene Snyder to get the Bullitt Central High School, the one that looped around and back. Other cars would always take the wrong one and have to turn around. After I graduated, Susan began taking the team to a different high school that weekend instead of Bullitt Central, and the location for Catholic Regionals changed. Coincidence? I think not.

2. If you were offered the chance to go back to college and finish up your degree, regardless of subject matter, what would you study and what would you do with that educational background?
I was thinking of this not too long ago, since I get tuition assistance as a perk and I want to finish my education. My decision was to major in History (or Historical Studies, or Humanities, I forget how ASU has it listed) with a minor in Religion or Cultural Studies. The schools I have available name the subjects differently in their curriculums. Basically, I want to learn more about the patterns of the people who live in this world, about the causes and effects of past actions, and understand how the religions we practice and the places we live influence our decisions and communication. It's something that interests me since I live in an area much different in racial population than where I grew up, and I work for a company where cultural differences can be slight, yet profound. For instance, my boss attended school in India and did well because intelligence was highly celebrated; as he put it, being a nerd was desirable. In my opinion, our culture celebrates and awards mediocrity over intelligence and effort. It just seems like a good idea to understand those overarching differences, especially if I want to continue in my line of work where that cultural divide is not going to go away.

3. What's the funniest thing C.J. has done so far?
He does something funny every day, so there's always a new one. Last Sunday, he had me cracking up when he was playing with his ball--it looks like a softball but is literally soft, stuffed with fiber and safe for playing in the house--anyway, he was about the throw it to me when He lifted his t-shirt and stuck his ball under it, then pulled the t-shirt down. Proportionally, he looked nine months pregnant with this huge round belly sticking way out, then he spread his hands and shook his head, "Where'd it go? Where'd it go?" I stammered out, while laughing, "It's under your shirt!" and he looked down and got this look of surprise, then exclaimed, "there it is!" This might seem strange, since he's only 2, but he was definitely trying to be funny, knew this was funny, and was completely committed to it. Plus, the visual was completely, perfectly absurd.

4. What's the most romantic thing Tom has ever done for you?
Again, lots of moments in nearly eleven years, so narrowing it down is difficult. We're not overt in our notions, but do more subtle things for each other--in other words, he might not give me a card or flowers for Mother's Day, but he'll wash all my laundry and cook my favorite steak for dinner, that kind of thing. When CJ was six months old and the last Harry Potter book came out (the day before my birthday), Tom watched CJ all day on my birthday so I could curl up and read, something I hadn't really done since CJ was born.

We've been getting ready for a yard sale in a couple weeks, and this weekend we were going through our books to decide what to keep and what to sell. I found the copy of The Bean Trees he gave me for one Christmas, with this inscription: "From a man who's very happy a certain Kentucky girl moved to Arizona." Still, for most romantic, I'd pick this example: Right after I moved out to AZ, I discovered I was missing one of my Eddings books, a hardcover copy of the Ruby Knight, that was irreplaceable. I didn't find out I missing it until I had finished a re-read of the book before it, so I was pretty upset. Months later, for our first Christmas, Tom gives me a present to open--a paperback copy of the book, with an apology that he couldn't find the hardback! He'd actually looked on the list in one my other Eddings books to see which one I was missing so he could replace it. A small thing to be sure, but it gave me a fairly good idea of the kind of person he was.

Ten years later, he hasn't proved me wrong on that.

5. What's your dream job?
I doubt it exists. It would give me tons of flexibility to work when and where I want, pay well enough that Tom could stay home and I wouldn't have to worry about the bills, would give me a sense that my accomplishments actually affect the earth and the people on it in someway, give me a tangible feeling of satisfaction for completing my tasks, and let me be as creative as I want to be.

My current job, luckily enough for me, fills some of these goals, but not all. Enough for now, I suppose.

Sort of like this post--enough for now, I suppose.

YTNNRDY

2007-03-30T14:01:00.000-07:00

It has been quite the absence, and quite a bit has happened in the past two months. I talked to Jenn pretty regularly during most of that, so I'm sure she'll keep me honest and point out if I missed anything truly significant.

I was gone for no good reason, really, other than I was in a deep funk and had to dig out. I was solidly entrenched in anger phase for a while--I picked a fight with Tom one morning on the car, complete with floorboard stomping, because he had the audacity to pay me a compliment! How dare he! I'm coming back to grips, still dealing with issues, but it'll get better. March 2 was Dad's birthday (and Todd's, too) and that was much harder than I expected it to be.

My son is now addicted to Blue's Clues (preferably the episodes with Steve). I can't check the mail without singing. He asks for it as soon as he wakes up, as soon as we pick him up from daycare, and as soon as he walks in the door. He has begun to incorporate the dance moves during the songs and can now perform Jazz Hands! He also cleans up his toys before bed, although we have fights every night about bedtime. Namely he doesn't want to go. I long for the days when he would pick up his blanket, say night-night, and try to climb into his crib at night. Oh, well.

I have a new car. Instead of renewing the tags on the 2000 Olds I'd been driving, I bit the bullet and got a great deal on my first new car ever--a 2007 Toyota Prius. I'm getting 48 MPG on my 85 mile commute now, and feel better about not contributing to the brown cloud that hovers over Phoenix. It's a sweet ride, once one gets past the feeling that the engine has stalled when transferring to the electric motor.

Home improvement news--had the old, non-sliding glass door removed and replaced with french doors, which make a big difference! They have the blinds inside the door, between the panes, so no more dusting, and despite having less surface glass than the sliding doors, they somehow make the room seem brighter. My only regret is I didn't have it done sooner.

Let's see, what else? There's something big that I'm missing, but since I quit smoking my brain has turned to mush. I just don't know what it could be? I'm sure Jenn will remind me.

Five Fragen Questions

2007-03-29T15:23:00.000-07:00

Oh, Jenn, thinking I would go a full two months! I'm not that bad, although it has been a dry spell. I'll post some quick hits about the past two months in a bit. First, I'll address the questions that Suze asked of me:

1. What the most unusual thing about your hometown of [tiny town] KY? Well, Suze and I are from the same area, but I lived out in the county from the main town. This town had a population of 250 people while I lived there.

That's right. 250 people.

I lived next door to one of the descendants of the town's founders--it came into existence as a depot on the old passenger route during the days of the steam engine. I lived there for 12 years, counting my time home from college, before moving out West. I can't isolate anything particularly unusual from anything else in the town--I'd say the town itself was highly unusual.

When I lived there in the mid to late 1980s, one could still go to the general store on Main Street and buy penny and nickel candy from glass canisters by the register. The bank had a giant vault that was opened each morning and locked every night and was never robbed. A grate covered the vault opening during business hours while the vault door itself rested against the wall. The post office was run by one person, who also sorted and delivered all the mail, and there was never a line for service. There was one funeral home and five churches. And there was Mabel.

Old Mabel--Mabel Ganz was her name, and she was almost as old as the town. Everyone was against her, as Mabel told everyone, and she lived in an old house on 32 that was falling down around her. She had no family that I can recall, and she walked all over town with a huge limb as a walking stick. She kept her hair tied back in a bandanna, wore long sleeved henleys and old dungarees, and walked right down the middle of the road as she pleased, where ever she went. She never left the town, and didn't even own a car. She got all her groceries from the general store, but I don't know what she did for clothes or other items. She went to every City Council meeting and loudly disagreed with every suggestion--traffic light, police officer, sewer system--didn't matter what was proposed, she opposed it while claiming corruption by the town government. Mabel didn't like much of anything or anyone but for some reason she liked my family. She came to visit every so often when she felt like hiking up the hill. She was an interesting yet annoying woman, I confess.

When Mabel's house was eventually condemned by the county, the town built her a new house. I always found it interesting that a town that didn't like her found the funds to build her a new house right where her old house stood, and I think Mabel was surprised, too. She still hiked all over town and went to the City Council meetings, but kept her grumblings to a minimum after that.

2. What's the geekiest thing you've said or done in the last 24 hours? Yesterday my team went to a place called Jillians' to blow off steam--lots of video games, skeeball, and bowling. I wore my old bowling shirt from TC that Jenn might recall, and I bowled a 68. In my defense, I only bowled one game and the beer didn't have a chance to kick in before I had to go pick up the boys and head home. I scored a 50000 playing Galaga, beat my boss in a driving game (I made him spin out in the last seconds), and did fairly well blowing away bad guys in a handgun shooter game. So well that one of my coworkers watched in awe and proclaimed he would never, ever piss me off. Not bad for a chick who's never handled a gun.

3. Where's the most exotic place you've traveled? Hmm. When I think of exotic, I think of palm trees, tropical climate, and sandy beaches, but I've never been out of the country. The closest I've come to any place truly alien was my first visit to Las Vegas; Tom and I went on the spur of the moment on a Friday night when we had a long weekend and arrived at 11pm after driving about 5 hours. I didn't know about the lax liquor laws and was shocked to see people walking down the street with open beer bottles. We went to Fremont Street and I bought a bong-size margarita for a dollar before going into Binion's Horseshoe and quickly losing $20 playing BlackJack.

I love Las Vegas!

4. Name 3 guilty pleasures you have. First would be a good glass of wine with a good steak. Second, watching all the home flipping shows on TLC like Flip That House and Moving Up. I'm convinced I could successfully flip a house because I'm not a moron like the people they always seem to find and I might be right--keep in mind that I also convince myself I could run a restaurant after watching a Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares marathon on BBCAmerica. Third? Hmm...I guess jelly beans, since I quit smoking.

5. If you found yourself sitting next to your favorite celebrity on an airplane, what's the first thing you would say to him/her? "Are you using that armrest?"

Six Weird Things About Me

2007-02-02T15:38:00.000-07:00

I guess it's time I got around to my turn. The hardest part is just trying to keep things limited to six, but I'll do my best:

Caffeine is not a stimulant for me. I don't know if it's because of the ADD, but I can ingest a lot of caffeine and have no issues with sleeping. I remember in college we'd hang at the Suburban late at night and I'd drink half a pot of coffee and drop off to sleep at 3am without any issues. I drink a lot of caffeine at work because it keeps me focused on work instead of the typical scatter-brained bouncing I normally do. I've been using insane amounts of Diet Pepsi to stay engaged at work, but it's not enough anymore. I'm tempted to try Red Bull and see if it helps me break through my procrastination (although I have been unusually productive this week at work and don't have anything hanging over my head for the weekend. Woohoo!).
I have a semi-photographic memory (I say semi- because I remember nearly everything I see but find I forget some details as I get older). In some ways this is great, since when I'm looking for something around the house, I can picture exactly what was around it the last time I saw it. Problem is, I may picture CJ's bear on the bathroom counter next to his hairbrush, but not know which bathroom. This serves me well at work since I usually take the minutes for our project meetings--I have extraordinary recall of our decisions and findings from weeks earlier since seeing them in print cements them in my memory.
My brain is packed with absolutely worthless knowledge. I won't even call it trivia, since this junk isn't important enough to be trivia. A recent example--two nights ago Tom and I were watching an installment of I Love the 70s on VH-1 and they did a segment on Mr. Whipple and the Charmin commercials. I instantly remembered (and shared with Tom) that Jennifer Wilson, who played Larry's love interest and eventual wife on the later seasons of Perfect Strangers, was Mr. Whipple's real-life daughter. Why, I may ask you, do I know that? Why would it ever be important? That will never be a Final Jeopardy question. I'm a smart cookie, I could cure cancer or balance the national budget, but I never will because I have this type of crap staining my cerebellum. (And go ahead, look it up on Google or iMDB--you know you want to. Unfortunately, I'm totally right.)
I am obsessed with license plates. I associate the randomly generated plate numbers with patterns, forming words or relating them to phone numbers (for Illinois plates) or look for mathematical connections in the numbers. I must figure out any vanity plate I see. This time of year with the snowbirds around I see all sorts of states, and I get excited way beyond reason when I see a plate from Canada or Alaska. I once spent part of a drive home trying to factor in my head the number of permutations for AZ plates--not just the regular plates, but also the numbering conventions for the special veterans plates, historic vehicle plates, and other special issues. I might have done it, too, except I got hung up on the ones that would have to be thrown out for obscenity. Tom asked why I was so deep in thought, and I told him what I was thinking about and how many plates I had figured, and he was silent for a good two minutes before saying simply, "You're weird." So it makes this list.
At work, when I go to the bathroom, I always go to the same stall even though the toilet paper holder has too much tension on the roll and I'm always frustrated that I have to rip off one to two squares at a time. After I go, I always try to use the middle sink which has the bad motion sensor and rarely works before I give up and use a different sink to wash my hands. I don't know why I do this. I'm not comfortable in any other stall, and you'd think I'd have learned after almost two years that the middle sink doesn't really work.
Each morning when I get ready to leave, I have brush my teeth, apply my deodorant, and brush my hair in a particular order or I will forget a step and go to work with stinky pits or bad breath. I have no idea why. If I try to brush my teeth before I brush my hair, it takes me a bit to retrace and come back to what I need to do. I've always been like that, going back to teenage years. It's good thing I don't wear makeup, or I might never make it out of the bathroom.

You know, reading back through these, I wonder if I got a touch of Mom's OCD? I don't want my hands compulsively, but I do have my routines, my sense of order, and sometimes when I am seized by an idea that excites me I have to follow it until it's done--the weekend I got back from Kentucky, I went to the store and bought baskets and wooden boxes and rearranged my entire entertainment center beside I suddenly had a vision of what it should look like and couldn't rest till the vision became reality. Hmm. Don't think I've ever noticed that before.

Saturday Night

2007-01-27T22:48:00.000-07:00

I've had two tall screwdrivers, and have been watching an old Mystery Science Theater 3000 DVD--one of the ones with Mike. I'm not sure I have any with Joel. I've been wanting a drink a lot this week, but have refrained, figuring it wouldn't be a good precedent. But since I have to go back to work on Monday, I thought I would indulge tonight after I got the boy to bed.

Yesterday, I tried to go through some old pictures and stuff from the funeral, but I wasn't ready. This week Tom and I rearranged the living room, and I think we've hit the magic configuration. I've been coloring and playing with CJ a lot, and generally just enjoying him (which is hard to do when he's having an ornery day, but the cuteness makes up for the stubbornness eventually). I've been catching up on Top Chef and Mythbusters and doing lots of word puzzles to keep my mind occupied. I have all these puzzle magazines lying around so I'm trying to finish them off. Some of them have been kicking around since I lived in Tucson and worked second shift and graveyard relief--that was ten years ago, for those keeping track.

Why, yes, I am just a big old nerd.

I talked with Mom last night and she's mulling over the idea of early retirement. Apparently she can buy some service time, enough to meet her 240 months required (she's only about 4 years short in actual service time). She doesn't like her new teacher, a guy right out of college that doesn't seem to understand that she's been working with these kids for almost 20 years, can feed a child and change his diaper, and made most of the contacts to form the community programs and jobs these kids participate in on a daily basis. He's a micromanager to the extreme--so much so that if he were my boss, I would have already told him to bite me, and followed it up with an email containing full, detailed illustrations.

Mom has more patience than me.

Anyway, she would like to go ahead and leave, draw her pension with her benefits paid, and either work at the hospital doing what she does, or freelance--she sometimes works with her kids over the summers and the parents pay her for her time, and at least one family has said they would love it if she could do it full time. I told her not to do anything out of spite, but if the financial aspect allows her make her bills, follow her heart. I think it hurts her now that Wilma has retired and many of her peers are rather new--they view their jobs as just jobs, while Mom has always felt it as more of a calling.

That's about it for now. It's 11 on Saturday night and I'm an old, big dork who's up way past her bedtime.

Slowly Returning to Normal

2007-01-23T12:16:00.000-07:00

I've been back in AZ for a few days, but haven't had a moment to log on and post about last week. I figure this time is as good as any, and talking about things has been pretty good in terms of getting a bit better.

As I posted before I left, the service for Dad was last Tuesday, with the military ceremony at Camp Nelson outside of Nicholasville. I thought the service was rather nice, and I was glad to see Tooz there, as well as people I hadn't seen in years. Our old neighbors from Sadieville from almost 20 years ago came--they saw the obituary in the paper. The hospice chaplain, Gary, told us a few times he wished he'd had the chance to meet Dad during the good times--in his line of work, that doesn't really happen. After the service, Dad received a 21-gun salute at Camp Nelson, and since I've never been near a gun when fired, I almost wet myself at the first volley. Mandi was there, and she grabbed me and held me for the rest. Somehow, we got through the day. Mom wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening alone, and Jamie and John called us that night to have dinner. Jamie and I had a couple shots for Dad and talked about the day. We agreed that while people meant well, and it's a social convention, asking us, "How are you?" at our Dad's funeral wasn't the best idea. Jamie had to hide to fight the urge to punch the next person who asked her. Me, I watched people ask me, then realize what they had asked, and I had to fight the urge to laugh as they struggled with wanting to take it back. Completely irrational, we know, but it was so difficult and our nerves so raw it was really hard to predict how we were going to behave.

We spent most of the week with Mom, Jamie, Todd, and Erin, in various combinations, as we just needed to be together. I felt badly for Tom since he was trying to be so strong for me, but it's only been a year since he lost his father, and he really liked Dad. I helped Mom with the finances, attempting to get her on track with the changes, and helped Jamie move into her new place in town. Thursday night, Tooz and David invited us for dinner, but only Christopher and I could go. Tom needed alone time, Mom had plans with a friend who was bringing her meatloaf, and Jamie had to get the kids settled into the new house and their homework done. We had a very nice time at the Plum Tree, Christopher was amazingly cute on his best behavior, and they forgave his newfound curiosities withs straws and styrofoam.

Friday afternoon we left for Phoenix via Lexington, and I'm glad we decided to fly through Lexington instead of Louisville. Tooz, I did call about bereavement fares, but the airlines don't do that anymore. They just guarantee the lowest fare available for the route, which is what I got. Since getting back, the reality of everything is finally sinking in and I'm finding myself puttering around with a lot of nervous energy. I find that I'm impatient on a lot of things (though I'm trying to be more patient with CJ, who's beginning his terrible twos), and I have this driving need to finish making our house a cozy home--something we've been working on since we moved in. This weekend, I went out and got baskets, boxes, new towels, new shower curtains--things I've been putting off for a while, and I've starting nesting with a ferocity I haven't matched since the last trimester of pregnancy.

I tried going to work yesterday--until I dropped Tom off and discovered I had forgotten my laptop. I went back home and logged in from there, but it became obvious to me as I was trying to catch up that I wasn't ready. I talked to my boss, delegated some tasks, and I'm taking the rest of the week off with plans to return on Monday. So far, I've put together a bathroom cabinet, reorganized my entertainment center and living room, filed my taxes (I get my W2s online early), called about my PLUS loan on Mom's urging to have it discharged, and straightened out a few bills. Considering I can be an exceptionally lazy person when I put my mind to it, that's a lot and it's only 1pm. I still have other financial work to do, grocery shopping, a kitchen to clean, bathrooms to clean, straighten, and redress with the new towels and stuff, and CJ's room to clean and reorganize.

What am I going to do tomorrow?

I realize it's a little manic, but since it's an acceptable reaction and it's constructive to my home and my sense of needing something to do, I'm going with it for now. I'm still having my moments, but I have a feeling that will last a while and just when I start to get past them, it will be Dad's birthday, then Father's Day, then their wedding anniversary, then. . . .

I do have to say that Dad's passing really is a blessing, considering what he was going through over the past few years and how quickly he slipped over the past few weeks. Jamie and Mom were stressed out, spending every moment trying to care for him--Jamie while juggling her own family, and Mom while running out of sick days and trying to figure out how to pay bills. I wasn't in the trenches, but I was the sounding board and the mediator, carried a lot of the worry for them, and tried to help when and where I could while regretting I couldn't help more. Dad told me long ago while driving back from Tennessee one break, while I was mourning a broken relationship and trying to figure out where I'd gone wrong, that you can't live a life of regret since that really isn't living. Somehow, you have to pick up and move on. I know he was proud of me and Tom and CJ, and understood that we couldn't visit as often as we would have liked. And I know he wouldn't want me to dwell on missed opportunities and make myself sick--he'd want to me to be there for my son, do my best for the rest of family, and move on. So I'll try. It'll take me a while, but I'll try.

The Suffering Has Ended

2007-01-12T11:41:00.000-07:00

My father passed away a few hours ago at home in Kentucky. It was very fast. Appears to be a massive stroke (the one we always knew was on the way).

Jamie and Mom are with him now and will be calling the funeral home soon. The hospice care nurse he likes was there when it happened. We'll be flying out sometime this weekend, but I haven't made any arrangements for tickets yet.

I'm not sure what to say about my father other than I love him dearly and I will miss him. Who he really was was lost some time ago to the ravages of the congestive heart failure, poor circulation, and complications from his diabetes. While I am, of course, upset that he has died, I am largely relieved that any pain, frustration, and indignity is gone now. He knew he wasn't the man he used to be, and that upset him more than the though of dying.

I'm not sure how long I'll be back home. Tooz, I'll likely give you a call at some point to give you information on the service. Since I think just about everyone who reads this knew Dad, I wanted to let you know.

I Did It!

2007-01-04T15:54:00.000-07:00

This morning I called and scheduled an appointment to tour the Lifetime Fitness club near me and sign up for membership. I talked to a gentleman named Chris who despite the fact that he heads sales for the club, never went for the hard sell.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment at 1pm for a baseline consultation with a personal trainer. The trainer will help me with an assessment of my goals, the exercises I want to do, and my current physical activity level to develop a basic plan of attack--what exercises and how often. I told Chris that I was looking to lose around 80 pounds total, but that I'm not really looking at the number. I know what I looked like 10 years ago, I know how my clothes should fit, and since I'm looking to do some muscle training, the number wouldn't be relevant anyway. I'm hoping I can get back into fighting shape by this time next year; if I'm dedicated, it's doable. Basically, when New Year's 2008 rolls around, I want to be able to reflect on my accomplishments in meeting my goal rather than sit on the couch and think about joining a gym.

I think I'm really going to like the club. They cap the number of memberships they sell to make sure that members don't have to wait for equipment or trainers. They have a broad assortment of treadmills and low impact machines, as well as a very nice selection of free weight machines, dumbbells, barbells, and other toning equipment. The weight machines are arranged based on target area: go down the row to work all aspects of a particular area, or go across the rows for total body. They have basic yoga, pilate, and aerobic classes included in the membership, basketball courts, and an indoor heated pool and sauna. There's also an outdoor pool scheduled to open shortly after some pump and heating issues are resolved. The pool has operating hours, but the rest of the gym is open 24/7. There's also a child center where I can table CJ if I need too, and he can get swim lessons there (along with me). They also have a full service spa and cafe attached and wifi internet access. A bit hard core for me, but I saw a few people in the cafe on their laptops, and wondered if they were working in between workouts.

The thing I liked the best was that they seemed to have a very diverse clientele. I was afraid that the place would look like a Bally's commercial, filled with hard bodied women wearing only sports bras and hot pants--the kind of women I could only work out near if I slit my wrists and popped out my eyes first. Instead, I saw a few people who were obviously training for something, and most looked like me. I also saw some older people there and some teenagers.

For right now, I just got the membership for myself, but I may add Tom and CJ if Tom can find time in his schedule. One benefit of being able to work from home is it gives me some more flexibility in going for a workout before starting my workday. Hopefully, I can get the approvals needed this year to work from home all the time, which would mean I could go every day before work without getting up before dawn.

So, I've gone and done it, and I start work tomorrow on meeting my goals. I just wish finding a sports bra in my size was as easy.

Hold On

2007-01-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

So today I went to the grocery store to take advantage of some meat sales, restock the pantry, and replenish my wine supply. I went to a cashier I hadn't seen before. Big mistake.

She's scanning my groceries and she says to me, "Has anyone ever told you you look just like that lady?"

I chuckle, "Not exactly. Depends on the lady."

"I don't know her name. She used to sing, and she had gastric bypass surgery on the internet. Her dad was a Beach Boy, I think."

I realize she's talking about Carnie Wilson, and say as much. The cashier replies, "Yeah, I think that's her name. Anyway you look JUST like her--after she got the bypass surgery, but before she got really skinny."

It is not often I find myself truly speechless. Those who know me know I like to talk, and usually have some snappy retort for almost anything--it's like a compulsion. I honestly did not know how to reply to this woman. Carnie Wilson? On what planet is that a compliment, honestly? ESPECIALLY since she clarified that it was before Carnie reached her target weight, so the implication that I'm fat--really fat--is pretty blatant. And this cashier wasn't some skinny stupid bimbo--she was bigger than me, and told me that she was getting lap band surgery herself, once she quits smoking.

Then I'm almost positive she said, "Quitting smoking is, like, *so* hard. Much harder than when I quit smoking crack."

Again, I was speechless. Twice in about 30 seconds--that's some kind of record! This woman is my conversational Kryptonite. Now, she talked really quickly and maybe the crack comment was more hypothetical and not an actual anecdote, but still. Yikes!

I suppose it could have been worse. She could have told me I looked like Rosie O'Donnell or Mama Cass or the mother from What's Eating Gilbert Grape. She could have told me I looked like one of the motorcycle twins from the Guinness Book of World Records.

She could have just said, "Wow! You're fat!" Maybe then I would have had some sort of response other than a shocked, stupid grin.

The funny part is I was just thinking last night of taking advantage of an employee offer and joining a local gym at a discounted rate. I figured since I plan to quit smoking by Groundhog Day (seems like a good day), I could use the savings on smokes to pay for the gym. This very uncouth woman solidified my intentions--I am going to tomorrow to check it out and sign up for membership. I suppose that's a good thing.

Carnie Wilson? Honestly?!? Excuse me while I go sulk for a while.

New Blog, New Year, New Post

2006-12-31T11:01:00.000-07:00

OK, so the blog isn't really new--I just finally got an option to upgrade to the new Google Blog. And it isn't the new year yet, as there's still another day to go. But this IS a new post, and that should count for something, right?

I've been tagged by Jenn, so I'll get this done now--I am supposed to:
1. Find the nearest book.
2. Name the book & the author.
3. Turn to page 123.
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page. Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.
5. Tag three more folks.

OK, I have bookshelves above my desk, so there are quite a few books. I'm selecting the one I can grab with the least effort, which happens to be Polgara the Sorceress by David and Leigh Eddings. Now, Polgara has been sitting where Belgarath the Sorcerer would normally sit, but Belgarath was lost some time ago and I've been waiting patiently for the old wolf to wander back. I'm guessing he got caught up with some drinking, or running with the golden eyed wolf in the Vale, so I'm not holding my breath.

Anyway, Polgara is a prequel, of sorts, telling of her life before the events in the Belgariad and the Mallorean. I got hooked on them a lifetime ago--and I don't think I ever properly said thank you, so thank you. Anyway, here's the selection:

"A very close examination of my reflection didn't reveal any wrinkles, though--at least, not yet.

The four of us spent about ten years--or maybe it was only nine--concentrating our full attention on the Darine Codex, and then the Master sent father to Tolnedra to see to the business of linking the Borune family with the Dryads. Father's use of chocolate to persuade the Dryad Princess Xoria to go along with the notion has always struck me as more than a little immoral."

There is a joke in there that's really funny if you have read the series before. Otherwise, that passage seems a bit strange. But no worries! If you want to understand, there are only five books in each series! Time to get cracking!

As for tagging someone else, I'll pass. If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged.

We're coming down from the holidays and vacation is nearing its end for Tom. We got the big boy furniture for CJ and the new sectional for the living room on Wednesday, and we're very pleased with everything. Tom and I have been cleaning the whole house to address our storage issues and toss out some junk. For a brief moment on Thursday, I had a completely clean kitchen--all dishes and counters clean. Then I blinked and the moment passed. Tonight we're staying home since Tom and I aren't fond of going out on "Amateur Night". I did give him a barware set for Christmas, so I may have him break it out and use it. CJ checks under the Christmas tree occasionally, looking for more presents. I think he'll understand things a bit better next year. All in all, it's been a great week and I've really enjoyed the time with my family.

CJ's Second Birthday

2006-12-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

Christmas time is very busy for us this year, since CJ's birthday is a week before it (aw, my little tax break baby!). Tom's birthday is also close to the holidays, so we're making a concerted effort to make sure CJ has a separate birthday and separate Christmas, and not blend the two together.

Of course, I still get to shop the same sales, but that's beside the point.

So Tuesday was the big day for my big boy, and he got to stay home with Mommy because he had a cold. He's been home with my all week because of that cold, and now Mommy has it. Anyway, Tuesday morning we greeted him with Happy Birthday! He played on his own very well while I got some work done, then my friend Jay came over around 4, bearing grande mocha frapuccinos. Jay kept CJ entertained and chatted with me while I tidied my kitchen and began baking CJ's birthday cake. I made a spice cake with cream cheese icing from a recipe in my Better Homes and Gardens red plaid cookbook from 2000 (but I can post it for Jenn later). Jay finished the icing while I started dinner--spaghetti and meat sauce, one of CJ's favorites. Tom and Erik arrived shortly before dinner, and we all sat around the table.

CJ really likes Jay and Erik. I think he might have a crush on Jay, because he always grins at her and acts on his best behavior until she makes a funny face at him and then he cracks up. Erik is very tall, and CJ is fascinated by that--he leans his head way back to stare at Erik, then later will make faces to make Erik smile.

After dinner was singing and cake, and we had a brief moment of panic when CJ tried to put out the candle with his hand instead of by blowing. He was successful--but most importantly, no blisters or other injury. He was VERY surprised, though--I think touching the candle flame definitely did not feel good. After cake, Tom brought out the presents I wrapped earlier in the day.

I hope we're not spoiling him too much! He got lots of coloring stuff, a couple books, an art desk for keeping his crayons and papers, a little golf set, a new pirate playset, and his favorite gift from Jay and Erik--Pirate Potato Head! It's a giant Potato Head filled with 4 smaller potato heads and all the pieces are pirate/see themed. We all played with this one! Erik and created what we called the Pirates of Dr. Moreau while CJ clapped and approved or everyone. Then he took one and repeatedly held it up for Erik, made it dance, then giggled to himself before doing it again.

So, my little boy had a fantastic birthday and we've had a blast playing this week. I'm now on vacation starting today, so no more work for me until January! I'm really excited about Christmas--we have a naked tree we need to decorate (but it smells wonderful!) and I can't wait to see how much CJ will love Christmas morning after seeing how much he enjoyed his birthday!

Christmas List

2006-12-09T11:29:00.000-07:00

Alrighty, I guess it's my turn.

1. Eggnog or Hot Chocolate?
Hot Chocolate.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
Tom and I wrap all the presents, but all the ones for Christopher are marked, "From Santa".

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
Colored lights for both.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?
No, I get and give plenty of kisses.

5. When do you put your decorations up?
It varies. We've had a couple years where we didn't put any up. A few years ago, Tom had to work on Christmas Eve and we hadn't gotten a tree or anything, so while he was at work, I put up old Christmas cards and strung lights and hung stockings as a surprise. Last year, we didn't decorate the tree till Christmas Eve after putting CJ to bed--he loved it on Christmas morning.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
I don't have a whole lot of background on tradition. Some years, Tom and I open a bottle of wine and eat grapes, cheese, and crackers while listening to Christmas music. That's always good. I can't think of a specific dish.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child:
I don't have any. I used to enjoy going to church with the Clan. Opening it up to the whole Holiday season, I loved Granny;s New Year's Eve parties and I miss those greatly.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
When I was really young and from the Jehovah's Witnesses. I don't remember ever believing in Santa Claus.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Yes, one each. Previous years, our friend Candi has celebrated with us, and we've always made sure she had a present under the tree from us for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. This is our first Christmas without her, and that makes me sad.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree?
A couple strings of lights, some glass balls, some painted decorations, and other ornaments we've received over the years.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
Love it, and miss it.

12. Can you ice skate?
Once upon a time before my center of gravity shifted.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?
A mini-disc player I didn't even know I wanted or existed. I still use it almost every day at work.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
Family.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
I don't really have one. I've started baking spice cakes for CJ's birthday (right before CHristmas) so I'll go with that.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
I like filling up the stockings--ones for me, Tom, each cat, and now CJ.

17. What tops your tree?
Previous years, nothing, or a Santa hat. This year, Tom got a color changing star for the top. Since CJ is currently obsessed with stars, I think he'll like it very much.

18. Which do you prefer giving or Receiving?
I'm uncomfortable with both since I haven't done it very long. I think I like them both equally, but they both stress me a bit--I'm never sure if I got the right gift to give someone, and I'm never sure I've properly thanked the giver when it's something I really like.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
O Holy Night--sung by David. I miss that a lot. I wish I could have it on CD to play every Christmas Eve.

20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?
Yum--but only the peppermint ones. Cherry ones are disgusting.

21. Favorite Christmas movie?
A Christmas Story, Elf, and Bad Santa.

22. What do you leave for Santa?
Nothing. I'm a bad girl.

In a Pickle

2006-12-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I talked to Jenn while I was upset about something. I won't be going into those details anytime soon, but suffice to say Jenn was the PERFECT person to talk to about it.

Anyway, in an attempt to cheer me up, Jenn asked me if I knew pickles were evil. I was puzzled--I love pickles, always have. During the first few months of my pregnancy I ate a gallon of pickles a week! So I got to thinking about it, and I think she's absolutely wrong.

See, pickles are cucumbers soaked in brine, and brine contains large volumes of salt. Salt was very important before refrigeration for preserving foods, including meats, and in Roman times, soldiers were paid in salt (hence the word "salary"). In modern times, salt was infused with iodine to keep people from developing goiters, and it's been shown that the complexity of salt's composition amplifies a variety of flavors, making the taste more intense than if the food is eaten unseasoned. Salt is used in many recipes, including baking, for this reason.

Cucumbers grow from tiny seeds sown in the earth and can be harvested in a short period of time—two months from planting. Cucumbers contain potassium, which helps regulate blood pressure and prevent muscle cramps. They are rich in fiber and are useful in cooling and relieving tired eyes.

Matthew 5:13 refers to Christians as the "salt of the earth", inferring that their faith was necessary to "season" the world and make it a better place to live. The "salt" they provided through their faith and actions would turn their communities into havens of morality, goodwill, and worship, and without their faith, the earth would be worth nothing.

Going back to salt and its benefits, goiters were a big public health problem until it was determined that iodine helped thyroid health and improves thyroid function. Certain vegetables, like broccoli and cauliflower, are cruciferous vegetables, and they impede the absorption of thyroid hormone within the body. Those who are hypothyroid (like me) cannot eat broccoli or cauliflower while taking synthetic thyroid hormone or else the synthetic hormone will not be absorbed and the thyroid will continue to malfunction. Eating foods with iodized salt, like pickles, helps preserve the malfunctioning thyroid while allowing the body to use the synthetic hormone as replacement for the hormone that the body does not produce. Proper thyroid function is critical for humans—the thyroid governs the body’s metabolism, determining mood, energy levels, hunger, calorie burning, digestion, and reproduction in women.

See, if the thyroid is imbalanced, a woman’s body chemistry will go awry, changing her estrogen production. Ovulation reduces and the natural cycle lengthens and becomes irregular, making it hard for the woman to conceive. So proper thyroid function is essential for women to be fruitful and multiply!

You can see now, absolutely clearly, that pickles are certainly NOT the evil fruit from the Tree of Knowledge to be avoided by all costs. Pickles are manna from Heaven, filled with potassium and iodine, giving us the essential building blocks we need to carry out good deeds, avoid gluttony, and produce new generations. Pickles are a tangible manifestation of “the salt of the earth”.

Because of its ability to impede thyroid function and reproduction, it is also clear that BROCCOLI is the true fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, and should be avoided at all costs.

I've Been a Little Listless

2006-11-20T09:31:00.000-07:00

Luckily, Suze started this one and Jenn picked it up--so it's my turn!

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? Dude, I need to brush my hair.
2. How much cash do you have on you? About $30.

3. What’s a word that rhymes with “DOOR?” Four.

4. Favorite planet? Pluto. I don't care what those scientists say. Take away Pluto, and My Very Elderly Mother Just Served Us Nine nothings.

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone? A number I don't recognize. I get a lot of drunk dialing, so some reason.

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone? I don't have one since I'm stupid about downloading ringtones. Tom has his phone programmed to play "Birdhouse in your Soul" when I call!

7. What shirt are you wearing? A brown/grey t-shirt that has Mr. Owl and the Tootsie Pop Kid and asks, "Mr. Owl, How many licks does it take?"

8. Do you “label” yourself?I would if I had one of those DynaLabels from when I was a kid. Maybe I should get a Brother P-Touch, and label everything in my house like some OCD freak--wait. I read this wrong. Sorry, pseudogeek.

9. Name the brand of your shoes you’re currently wearing? Sketchers. A comfy brown pair I bought on the Cape.

10. Bright or Dark Room?Dark.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you? I think she has an amazing will despite everything she's gone through and I wish I could bottle her so I could drink her and absorb some of that. She'd have a greater kick than Ale-8, but not as flat tasting.

12. What does your watch look like? I don't wear one. My last watch had the battery die, and I never replaced it.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?Sleeping, until I had to get up to go pee and have a drink of water.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say? My bill is ready for my review and payment.

15. Where is your nearest 7-11?The only one I know of is 32 miles away, near where I used to work.

16. What’s a word that you say a lot? No. (I have a 2 year old, give me a break!)

17. Who told you he/she loved you last? Tom.

18. Last furry thing you touched? My cat, Zeke.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days? Caffeine, Nicotine, Alcohol, Nasonex, and Synthroid. So, five. Not so far gone I can't count.

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?None! For a change.

21. Favorite age you have been so far? 28-29. I was 28 when I got married and got pregnant and 29 when I had my son.

22. Your worst enemy?Me. And Syndrome.

23. What is your current desktop picture? Random cute picture of CJ--home and work.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone? "How many lushes do we have in this crowd?" Said to our admin, while we were deciding if we should bring wine to our lunch event today.

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?Million bucks. I can buy first class tickets, then. Actually, I could buy a house back East within driving distance and not have to fly again!

26. Do you like someone? I'm married--I'm supposed to like him, right?

27. The last song you listened to? I had to laugh at Jenn's answer of White and Nerdy, because it's the answer for me, too. I listened to It's All About the Pentiums right before that.

28. What time of day were you born?1:17pm

29. What’s your favorite number? the square root of 1764.

30. Where did you live in 1987? BFE. Almost literally.

31. Are you jealous of anyone? No, not that I can think of.

32. Is anyone jealous of you? Lindsey Lohan.

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened? At home, nursing a horrible headache.

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?Pound the buttons a couple more times, a little harder, then I curse.

35. Do you consider yourself kind? I try to be. I'm as philanthropic as a misanthrope can be.

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be? I'm trying to imagine the circumstances in which I *had* to get a tattoo. Like, if the Democrats really went nuts and enacted some law that we all must have an American flag tattooed on us to prove our patriotism and act as a national ID card. I'd get mine on my ass--that way, any time I had to show papers to an official, I'd moon them. "License, insurance, and registration, ma'am." "Sure, officer!" Ziiiiip!

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be? Spanish. Maybe Italian. I'm a sucker for Italian, like Wanda.

38. Would you move for the person you loved?Absolutely.

39. Are you touchy feely?Yes. But only with certain people. If you're not one of those people, don't touch me. If you are one of those people, you'll know, since I'll likely touch you first.

40. What’s your life motto? I've never really thought of a motto for life. I just live it.

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times? A pen, my glasses, and those little mite-things that live on your eyebrows.

42. What’s your favorite town/city?Brewster, MA. No question.

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash? A hot dog and a soda at Costco on Saturday.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it? I can't remember. I write lots of letters, but never mail them.

45. Can you change the oil on a car? I used to be able to, but not anymore. I used to able to change a battery, too, until the car manufacturers started putting that bar across the battery to support the frame--I don't have a wrench that can fit those bolts. So now I have AAA.

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?While not technically the *last* thing I heard about him, he cut off his mullet. That's noteworthy.

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry? I know back to my grandparents on each side, but that's it. I know that I am Scotch, Irish, Welsh, and Cherokee, which means you don't want to be around me if I go on a bender.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy? I wore a sapphire blue dress, had my hair and makeup done at Regis salon, and got a french manicure. I have never been so fancy in my life, but it was my wedding day.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?My shoulder. I slept on it funny.

50. Have you been burned by love? Once or twice, but it doesn't matter now.

Post Election Thoughts

2006-11-08T16:13:00.000-07:00

I started to respond to a comment earlier in response to some Arizona election results, and I thought I might take it to a post. Skip or read, it's up to you.

I am extremely dismayed by the measures brought to Arizonans this year on immigration, and even more dismayed that they passed. The immigration "crisis" is not what it is cracked up to be. Before working for my current company, I worked for a check cashing place, cashing payroll and personal checks, doing payday loans, and sending Moneygrams (I think Moneygram got bought out by Western Union long ago, so that may date me). I cashed many checks for Mexicans in the Valley and I saw my share of green cards. I maybe saw one valid green card. Most of the others were fakes and easily noticeable as fakes, but I accepted them if I could verify residence and employment (as did my coworkers, and as did just about any other employer). My point is that the majority of immigrants living in Arizona are not working for low wages and taking cash under the table. They are trying to become citizens and become legal; they use these forged green cards to gain regular jobs at minimum wage or above, they pay taxes, they pay Social Security, just like I do. Many of my customers were laborers and I saw their advice stubs; I know they were paid fairly for their work and contributed to the government. I know many of them had fake Social Security numbers, but not for identity theft--again, it was to add the element of legality to their lives.

I'm not saying that there isn't a problem with illegal immigrants working for cash without legit status--I know it happens. But it doesn't happen as much as Republicans would make you think it does, and despite common belief, not every Hispanic person in Arizona is here illegally. I think from an economical standpoint, one reason for the backlash is the amount of money sent from Arizona to Mexico. Most of the paychecks I cashed were turned into wire transfers to families back home. Moneygram catered to this, offering $300 transfers for only $10 (domestic fee for $300 was $30). I would have customers come to me with 3-4 different transfer orders for $300, all going to the same place. If that money was going back into our state's economy, I doubt anyone would have a problem with that.

One proposition we had on the ballot was raising the minimum wage, which passed. Opponents of this proposition claimed this would increase the amount of illegal immigration because our jobs would pay more than those in Texas and California--a bit contradictory, if you ask me. If these same opponents argue that most immigrants are working off the grid, how can they be employed in these higher wage jobs? The argument can't go both ways.

One last word about immigration--it is very dangerous for Mexicans to cross the deserts to get here, but not until those yahoos went down and started acting above the law and intimidating any Latino they saw. People used to leave water stations in the desert for those crossing, but don't dare to now. Coyote smuggling is increasing because the risks are higher--not from the elements, but from Barney Fife wannabes with more bullets and less brains. We don't need a wall across the Sonoran Desert to protect us from the Mexicans, we need protection from the Minutemen. Maybe I sound soft, but I believe most Mexicans coming here want a better life for their families, better opportunities for their children, ways to escape the corruption in the Mexican government, and many have family ties here already. I wouldn't be here if my ancestors hadn't made the trip from the British Isles, and I know how Irishmen were treated at the turn of the century. Mexicans are the 21st century Irish, and that just isn't right. Give those who are here and gainfully employed amnesty, give those who are here are working under the table the means to establish legal status, and figure out a program to help those who want to come. Stop talking about building a wall and start talking about building a community.

From one disenfranchised group to another--what the hell is going on in this country that people are actively trying to take away rights from other people based solely on what they do in their bedrooms? Why is gay marriage such a threat to the American family? Despite the facetious comment I left on Suze's blog, it's not like we're being forced to be gay or marry a lesbian--we simply have a group of people who want to same basic rights afforded to them as are afforded to most. Here's a newsflash--less than half the families in America today are happily married couples with their natural children. There are gay parents, single parents, divorced parents, adopted kids, in vitro kids, blended families, cohabitating couples--the threat to the American family isn't gay marriage but a narrow-minded view on what makes a family. Families are created out of love, pure and simple, and biological equations are meaningless beyond that. Want to save the sanctity of marriage? Ban divorce. Make it harder to obtain a divorce or an annulment and maybe then people will stop looking at marriage as a means of vetting a relationship that isn't really going to last. Understand that marriage can be difficult, requires commitment, and can take some work from both parties and preserve your union with that understanding; stop attacking others because they sleep with partners of same sex. Love is love, commitment is commitment--let gay couples have the same rights as married couples because they deserve those rights and they, as American citizens, have the right to be treated fairly.

Lastly, the Democrats have secured the House and may even pick up the Senate once the counting in Virginia and Montana is done. Howard Dean, listen up--the people of this country have indicated to you and your party that they are tired of the War in Iraq, tired of government corruption, and tired of childish actions and partisan politics. Here's what your party, under your leadership, need to do from here:

Balance the budget. Give it to Bush to sign. If he doesn't, seize that opportunity to show you have tried and he refuses and use that momentum to pick up more seats in 2008.
Open investigations into the Iraq intelligence that led us into war. Keep the doors open on this one--show the American people that truth is important, regardless of how messy it may be.
Enact legislation to bring lobbying back into check and severely limit the favors a Congressman can receive from lobbyists. Bring the power back into the legislature and away from the corporations.
Begin urgently, intelligently, looking into alternatives to fossil fuel comsumption for energy. research the alternatives, draft proposals, and do something before it's too late.
Do not use this opportunity to punish Republicans for their lousy treatment of Democrats over the past six years. Don't close Republicans out of meetings, dump bills on them hours before vote, stick them in broom closets and janitor closets to conduct business as they did you. They will take those actions and use them to gain traction to supplant you again in 2008. Instead, drop the Valerie Plame leak--it's old news. Try to gain some support for your social programs. Ask for their help in drafting an exit strategy for Iraq. Keep them involved in discussion, make them feel like they are part of this government. Not all Republicans are as corrupt as the highest ranking in power; some of these people mean well and will need your guidance, not your vengeance.
Lastly, when the time comes that Democrats face a scandal (which will happen, you are all politicians in Washington, after all), don't hide behind talking points and insult our intelligence with Jedi mind tricks. Own up to it, take the necessary actions to purge those who are responsible, and move on the greater heights.

OK, I think I'm done. I feel better for having gotten that out.

I've Got to Get Out of This State

2006-11-07T21:36:00.000-07:00

And find a place in the Poconos....

Early results are in, and I am astounded by the stupidity of most of my fellow citizens. Arizona had nearly a dozen propositions on the ballot for this election, and I'm dismayed by the early results I see:

Prop 100, which would deny bail to any illegal immigrant arrested for a felony--Currently passing with 77% favor. (Update: Passed, 78-22)
The problem with this proposition is that it's a blanket denial on one group, paving the way to deny bail legally to other groups. Today, the target is illegal immigrants. Tomorrow, the target could be sex offenders, drug dealers, pot smokers--anyone against the norm.

Prop 102, which would deny illegal immigrants the right to punitive damages from a lawsuit--Currently passing at 74% (Update: Passed 75-25)
Again, blanket disenfranchisement of a particular group, paving the way to enact similar legislation against any other group. And I could be wrong, but I don't think illegal immigrants have turned to torts as a money-making opportunity as the proponents of this proposition would have us believe.

Prop 103, which would declare English the official state language--74% in favor. (Update: Passed 75-25)
Thanks to this wonderful proposition, our state workers will no longer have to be bilingual, and government paperwork will only be in English. Currently, we keep paperwork available in over 200 languages to accommodate all people in AZ. Yeah, this won't cause any issues at all.

Prop 107, which would amend the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage and civil unions (already illegal in AZ)--failing at 51%, which is way too close for my comfort. (Update: FAILED, 51-49. Narrow, but I'll take it as some small sign of sanity.)
The way this wonderful proposition is worded, not only would marriage be defined narrowly, but the State of Arizona would not be able to provide domestic partner benefits to state workers, their partners, or children of those unions (which the state does today). It's also poorly written, meaning that heterosexual couples who live together but are not married might not be able to get state health insurance for their children. Insane, and did I mention we already have a law on the books making same-sex marriage illegal? Redundancy at its finest (and most evil).

Prop 300, which limits education services to illegal immigrants AND their children--passing at 71% (Update: Passed, 72-28. This one proves most did not pay attention in civics class)
Children of illegal immigrants, who reside in AZ, would not be able to attend state universities on in-state tuition rates. This one is the worst in my opinion, since said child, if born in AZ, would be a US citizen but still denied in-state status. Let me repeat that--a CITIZEN of the UNITED STATES, born in this country and given citizenship under our country's CONSTITUTION would be denied in-state rates and possible educational opportunity based on the immigration status of his/her parents.

I'm most disappointed by the raging xenophobia and hatred that permeates these propositions. I'm sick that the people of Arizona bought the arguments of straw and voted in support. Trust me, I am very, very interested in real estate deals back East, especially New England. We're looking at Vermont, but maybe we should go to New Hampshire.

Live Free or Die, indeed.

EDIT: I updated this post on 11/8 with the percentages available from AZ's election results site. A few weeks ago, a astudy was released that ranked Arizona 50th in the US in terms of intelligence--that's right, I live in the dumbest state in the Union. After these election results, I believe it.

Four Day Weekend!

2006-11-02T16:26:00.000-07:00

I just shut down the laptop and packed it up--I'm not touching it again till Tuesday morning. I have a four day weekend for no real reason, and I like it that way. It's been a tough couple weeks, and it'll just continue through the rest of the year. This is my little break till Thanksgiving, and after that, it's bulling through till my end of year break.

In the meantime, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow for a much overdue checkup, probably getting blood drawn, and maybe going to lunch with Jay. I'm talking to Tom tonight about a honey-do list to get a few things done, and I plan to enjoy the weekend with CJ. He's going to daycare tomorrow, but I might keep him home with me for a Mommy Day on Monday depending on how things go.

That's about it. Maybe I'll have more after the weekend.

When You Thought It Was Safe to Answer Your Door

2006-10-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

Knowing how much Everett loves the Mormons, I had to post about the recent Watchtower tract wedged in my door while we were away. The title is, The End of False Religion is Near!, and it has to be the strongest piece of Jehovah's Witness literature I've ever seen. I'm tempted to scribe it word-for-word since I could not find a copy of it on WatchTower.org, but I have determined it's part of a month long campaign for the Witnesses; you may receive a copy of it soon if you haven't already.

The reason I say it's the strongest piece of literature I've seen is because this tract comes close to outright stating that modern Christianity of any demonination is false religion, souring politics and paving the way for Armageddon. It asks questions to determine what is false religion and gives deliberately vague, thinly veiled examples that are easy to recognize without qualifying as libel. A few examples:

1. By teaching the concept of souls going to Heaven after death, churches are practicing false religion by going against Christ's statements that the dead will be resurrected.
2. Jesus Christ is referred to as "a widely respected religious figure".
3. Church groups that ordain homosexuals as clergy members or condone child molestation by religious leaders are practicing false religion.
4. The harlot spoken of in Revelation is false religion. The beast with seven heads and ten horns represents the world's political leaders who listen to the harlot and use false religion to justify their actions.
5. Eventually, the "rotten tree" of false religion will be struck down by the beast upon God's instruction.

The solution? Call a Kingdom Hall and ask the Witnesses to show you how to escape false religion through their instruction in the Scripture.

Some of you may know that I was raised as a Jehovah's Witness. Mom met some in G-town when I was two, and she liked their message. I went with her to the Kingdom Hall in town and participated in the Bible studies at our apartment or at an elder's house. I read the materials, but had too many questions. By the time I was 8, I began to realize there were some problems when the elders couldn't answer the questions I had about calculating the rings on one of the Cedars of Lebanon, or about the Trinity, or the missing references to Jehovah in the Holy Scripture, or about the 144,000 people from the 12 tribes who would go to Heaven after Armageddon. Eventually, I went only to the Nisan 14 services under protest, and finally stopped going when I was 12.

I find it very interesting that the Witnesses are proclaiming themselves so strongly that they are the true religion--they always have, but not by blatently attacking Christianity as they do in this pamphlet. I learned during my time at G-town Baptist that the Southern Baptist Convention considers them a cult because they have a different translation of the Scripture and use supplemental books to teach about their faith. Irony? Maybe.

Another reason I found the tract interesting is it made me ponder my world view based on what I learned in childhood. Halloween has really stemmed this thought wave for me, and it's similar to what I went through last Christmas. See, Witnesses do not pledge allegiance to the U.S. flag or celebrate birthdays because they see it as putting a false idol or oneself above God. Witnesses don't celebrate common holidays, like Christmas, Halloween, or Easter, because the modern celebrations are based in pagan rituals. As a child, when my classes had holiday or birthday parties, I went to the principal's office and sat in the quiet tolerance of the secretary at his desk, drawing on copy paper. I didn't dress up for Halloween. I didn't meet Santa Claus. I didn't believe in the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. No chocolate bunnies, marshmallow Peeps, or stockings filled with fruit and candy canes for me. The closest day I had to Christmas was when Mom brought home the layaway box from Sears with our back to school clothes.

Last Christmas, we made a concerted effort to make sure CJ had a separate birthday and Christmas because of their proximity to each other. I dove into making a birthday cake and buying birthday toys whole-heartedly, but struggled with Christmas. As beautiful a sight as our trimmed tree with presents beneath was, I felt a faint pang of guilt, as if I were wrong in having it. I still haven't decided about Santa. I'm leaning toward teaching CJ that Santa is a personification of goodwill towards others, not a separate being, but I don't want calls from angry parents because my kid told their kid Santa ain't real. This Halloween, I was relieved that CJ's daycare has banned costumes as it means no one will have the experience I had of being the only kid who didn't dress up.

Don't even ask me where I stand on the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny. I haven't gotten that far.

Because Witnesses do not believe in the concept of the Trinity, and this was drilled into my head at an early age, I don't believe in the concept that 1=3. To me, the Bible is mainly a collection of creation myths and attempts to explain fantastic phenomena beyond human comprehension at the time, and a way of defining a purpose because people need some sense of purpose. In my personal worldview, I confess I take things a step further and do not believe that Jesus Christ was the literal Son of God. I believe Christ was an exceptional man, very wise and compassionate for his time, who taught great concepts that should be followed. I don't know if Christ thought he really was the Son of God, but I believe that he was certain his death would cleanse the sins of mankind, as God said. Despite my doubts of Jesus' divinity, I accept my salvation without reservation--as I see it, God said it, Jesus believed it, and since we have no proof when it comes to religion, the intent is good enough for me. I'm not comfortable calling myself a Christian, though, because I don't follow the Old Testament, and really only follow what Jesus is recorded as saying in the Gospels themselves--love your neighbors, help the poor and sick, keep the government out of the churches and the churches out of the government, don't judge. Those are my basic morals, and I really don't care what food I should or shouldn't eat, who sleeps with whom, what days I should sit in a tent in my backyard, or whether or not I'm completely righteous and everyone else is going to Hell. I don't even believe in Hell!

As you can imagine, I've been thinking about these things a lot since Christopher was born. While I would rather not taint him with my unorthodox way of thinking, I know the questions will eventually come. While I would like for him to learn about God and the basic stories of my youth, I don't want his knowledge coming from propaganda or from politicized churches spouting judgement and hate in their proclamations of God's Word and Love. I want him to have an open mind about other religions and cultures, but not so open that he becomes lost and doesn't know what to believe--or becomes so open that he accepts any old doctrine that comes along without looking at things from a critical point of view.

This parenting stuff is hard. Forget about diapers, meals, and the constant supervision. That stuff is easy compared to these thoughts keeping me up at night while my baby soundly sleeps.

Wild Blue Yonder

2006-10-22T09:50:00.000-07:00

This weekend the Thunderbird Balloon and Air Classic was held at Goodyear Airport, which is about a mile, mile and a half from my house. I've been hearing the Blue Angels since Thursday when they first flew in to practice. Rather than pay the ticket prices to see entertainment we didn't really care about, Jay and Erik and Tom and I decided to make a day of it.

Tom cleaned up the backyard yesterday and cleaned the grill, I cleaned my kitchen, and Jay and Erik brought lots of cow! I made a batch of CheezIt burgers and another batch of parmesan burgers (Jay's idea), got the hot dogs together, and Tom slapped them all on the grill. As we finished a late lunch, we watched a four-prop military plane of some sort fly around and then come straight for the house! He passed right over us at an altitude of about 200ft--right about the time I realized my camera was still inside!

After eating, we went behind our backyard to the street and sat in the shade of our yardwall so we could get a better view of the close-to-the-ground manuevers. Erik and I discussed the merits of developing and building a one-way view wall, like the mirrors in interrogation rooms on TV. CJ contented himself to playing with gravel, dirt, and dried leaves while we waited for the Blue Angels to start. According to the schedule they were supposed to start at 3pm, but we didn't see them until 3:30--apparently they have some runway stuff they do first before taking flight.

CJ loved the planes at first, as they were flying farther away and the sound of the jets wasn't as loud. Eventually, they came close enough that I could read "U.S. NAVY" painted in orange under the wings. At that point, the jet noise began to scare CJ, and I took him back into the house shortly before the show ended.

When we came back to the house, CJ wanted to go into the backyard, and we did, until he discovered the loud noises traveled there, too. We went back inside and cuddled for the rest of the show until Tom, Jay, and Erik came back. Since it was such a nice day, we had shut off the AC and opened all the windows; my cats went into hiding. Zeke was found right away but we didn't find Shadow until an hour after the Blue Angels had finished. I had checked all his usual hiding spots, then Tom checked, then Jay joined the search. While she and I were looking, I checked my kitchen cabinets again and sat down--that's when I spotted him, curled behind a charcoal grey pan the same color as his fur! That's why we named him Shadow!

Later, we had the rest of the burgers and watched Mythbusters while waiting for the fireworks finale. I gave CJ a bath to clean him up from his play with gravel, dirt, and dried leaves, and the fireworks started at 8:10, 20 minutes earlier than the night before. I took CJ outside, but it was past his bedtime and he didn't like the pops, so Tom took him in to bed. The fireworks lasted almost 20 minutes, and CJ was sound asleep when we went in to check on him.

All in all, it was a fantastic day! There will be another Blue Angels show today and then the airshow ends. I'm hoping that large plane flies over our house again--I have my camera ready for it! I got lots of pictures of Blue Angels doing cool things, and although they'll likely look like little dots on the photos, I'll post them in a few weeks when I get the pictures back.

I Have a Full Network!

2006-10-14T16:49:00.000-07:00

My friend Jay has an awesome husband!

Months ago, I was talking about getting a new computer to replace my desktop that's still running Windows ME (no longer supported by Microsoft). He works with computers and networking, and without my knowledge, he began building me a new PC out of spare parts he had lying around. Jay had to let me know the plan a few weeks ago, after my keyboard died from water spilled on it, and I was planning to buy one.

Anyway, they came over today and he set up the new PC and networked it to our laptop and printer, THEN he networked everything to the old desktop so we can move files off it and turn it into a file server. I have a full network in my house now, and I'm not sure what to do with it, but it's way cool! Before, only the internet connection was shared, and I had to save drafts with my email for file sharing. Not anymore. And he replaced my keyboard, too, which was very nice of him.

I bought them lunch at Quiznos, since it was the least I can do, and I now have new ways of wasting my time on the weekends as I get files burned, sorted, and organized. This rocks!

Giving Birth to Athena

2006-10-07T11:02:00.000-07:00

Since I didn't answer the phone when Jenn called yesterday, I thought I'd head off the singing at the pass.

I'm sick. Tom and I were both sick with stomach bugs last weekend, then the flu hit this week. It hit Tom about midweek, and I came down with it badly yesterday, despite my best efforts at fighting it off with tea, Airborne, and some homeopathic medicine called Oscillo-something that's supposed to lessen the impact and shorten the duration of flu symptoms. It may have worked, and if it did, that's scary. I had one of the worst headaches ever yesterday taking over my entire sinus cavity. Dude. Horrible! I don't know about the 1-10 scale of pain, but this one fluctuated between "Holy Sh!t." to "F*&k me!" most of the day. Combine that with the fever hovering around 102 despite fever reducers, and I was laid low.

Today, the headache has dialed down but has me scared. The fever is under 100, but not much. I'm waiting for everything to kick in, but we'll see how today goes. Yet another exciting, relaxing weekend in our household. Thank goodness CJ seems unaffected, judging by the amount of energy he's currently exerting tossing a hat around the living room.

Hooked on Crack

2006-10-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

All week, Starbucks has been running a promotion in my workplace, providing free Doubleshots and Iced Coffee drinks (in the cans). I can't help but think of Suze and wonder if she would drink this stuff since it's free. I'm building up quite the collection. I figure they're coming in like drug dealers--get us all hooked this week and then next week, in our desperation for a fix, we'll began buying them at two bucks a pop. I could be a little paranoid, though. Getting hopped up on caffeine can do that.

Thinking About 30

2006-10-03T14:17:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about Jenn's post and her fear of turning 30 and I'm wondering if I just got lucky or if I'm a little strange for not having freaked out too badly about that hurdle myself. Granted, I'm 31 now, so I've had time to adjust to my fourth decade of life, but it occurs to me that despite my status as wife, mother, and valued talent at work, I haven't completely grown up.

What does it say about me that:

The only CDs I've bought for myself in the last few years have all been Weird Al albums?
My last DVD purchase was a double bill of Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain?
I love my son's game of running down the hall shouting "Eeeee!" so much that I join in, running after him and yelling the same.
I refuse to watch Titanic, fully convinced I'm the last person in America who hasn't seen it. Tom says I'm being stubborn, but honestly, I have no interest in seeing it.
I think Army of Darkness is a much better movie than Citizen Kane.
I still listen to music made before 1998 and prefer it to anything coming out on the radio today (except for Weird Al).
I'm shocked when I don't get carded for cigarettes or wine.
I giggle at every fart I hear and burp freely in front of my son (who tries to imitate).
I let my son play with his food, letting him discover what happens when chicken nuggets are dropped into a glass of water for himself. I can clean up the mess later.
I use CJ's crayons more often than he does. I have a whole shoe box filled with colored pencils and various types of markers for when I feel like being creative, and I can't wait till CJ is old enough for fingerpainting and modeling clay!
I'm way more into Blue's Clues than CJ is.
I still can't resist a good opportunity to retort, "Yeah, that's what she said!"
I can't wait for Trick and Treat this year!

Strange, deranged, or normal? Am I being dyslexic in matching my actual years to my mental state?

The One With the List

2006-09-26T12:28:00.000-07:00

You know how on Friends, they had the one about the laminated list of your five "freebies"--the five people that if you ever met them, regardless of your current marital status, you'd get a pass?

Well, Keith Olbermann is on my list.

Wanna know why? Check this out and see.

Can You Smell What the Beck is Writing?

2006-09-16T11:47:00.000-07:00

I am addicted to cooking. This isn't too bad considering that I enjoy cooking and do it daily. I don't enjoy cleaning up afterwards, but that's another blog.

When my sister and I were little, Mom and Dad would take us to Cynthiana every Saturday (which seemed like forever away from G-town) and leave us with our grandmother while they ran errands and went grocery shopping. As a child, I resently this highly--the idea of my parents having the audacity to do something that didn't directly involve me was highly insulting--but I completely understand it now. I'm waiting for Christopher to develop my old talent of pulling a grocery cart down the aisle by tugging on the edges of the shelves, taking out the occasional display of cereal boxes, pasta boxes, and even ketchup bottles!

At least ketchup comes in plastic bottles these days. When I was little, they came in one size glass bottles, and they could smash spectacularly on the tile floor of Ken's Super-Valu if the cart hit the display at just the right angle. Maybe I was only three, but I understood angles of incidence, reflection, and refraction. Too bad I don't understand those as well today.

Anyway, while Mom and Dad left us behind, enjoying themselves, maybe stopping at Angelo's for yummy strombolis before making the usual rounds to the stores, Jamie and I hung out at Granny's tiny apartment, visiting with her and the odd assortment of aunts, uncles, and cousins who would stop by to say hello.

Granny had an old gas stove. I used to think she was silly since she didn't know how to cook on an electric stove. Her kitchen was tiny and cramped, but Granny had worked hard through her life, cooking every day for her family and keeping house while they tended to the old farm, and she had exactly what she needed and nothing more. Her mixing bowls must have dated back to the Depression--her pots and cast-iron skillets were at least that old. She always had something on the stove: brown beans simmering in a pot with hamhocks and onions and a skillet of cornbread, still steaming, waiting on the counter; a pot of boiled potatoes, fresh snapped green beans, and jowl bacon sitting on a back burner waiting especially for me; biscuits, sausage, bacon, eggs, and gravy made from the sausage grease (eggs were scrambled in the bacon grease). In the refrigerator was always an old Tupperware cake dish of Jell-o with marachino cherries, pineapple, and some other canned fruit I could never make out, all suspended in the gelatin despite my best guesses as to how that was possible, or the same dish filled with banana pudding, slices of banana, and nilla wafers, assembled in layers and topped with Cool Whip.

That banana pudding was Heaven for me. I don't know why I don't make it myself, but I know I loved my Granny's banana pudding and dream of it to this day.

Anyway, my point (if I have one) is that Granny always had food at the ready, and within minutes of walking in the door to her apartment, every family member was asked, "You hungry? I got a little sumthin' 'roun' here summare, iffn you're peckish." Of course, this standing question was always answered with, "I had dinner a little earlier, but I could eat."

Remember, on Dad's side of the family, they had breakfast, dinner, and supper. Not lunch. And brunches were unimaginable.

Granny would disappear into her kitchen, pulling out plates and bowls and forks and spoons and dish up whatever old time feast she had waiting, making sure everyone ate and had seconds and even thirds if they wanted it.

I would sop up the brown beans with my cornbread, drinking any leftover simmering liquid like soup. I would beg for those fork tender potatoes and green beans soaked with pork flavor, eating bowl after bowl after bowl until my mom would physically stop me from getting more. I would pick out the fruit from the Jell-o after puzzling over it, giving it to Dad to eat since he couldn't eat the sugary gelatin, slurping the Jell-o between my teeth and making disgusting sounds while Granny shook her head and Dad shushed me. And the pudding--oh! That pudding! I would eat the pudding in tiny little bites, as small as I could get on my spoon, eating each crumble of nilla wafer and slice of banana separately, making it last.

All these meals were eaten at her kitchen table, made of tin, pressboard, and yellow formica, while sitting on a padded vinyl chair under her kitschy 1950s pointy clock (the kind with star points all around that was ugly in 1980 but would be worth some serious money on Antiques Roadshow today). I would watch her as she pulled roasts from the oven, tended to her simmering pots, and sometimes wash her dresses and aprons with her roller washing machine, pulled up to her kitchen sink, with her washtub and washboard nearby for serious scrubbing.

My dad had learned how to cook from his mother; after his time in the Army from 1946-53, he spent a few years as a bachelor before meeting his first wife, getting married, and moving to the pig farm in Ohio in '58. He made brown beans like Granny did, used her old cast-iron skillet for his cornbread, and on Sunday mornings, my family awoke to smell and sound of Dad cooking what later was known as the "Sadieville breakfast"--sausage, bacon cooked crispy AND chewy to accommodate my sister's and my different tastes, soft biscuits, eggs over easy, and that white gravy with lots of sausage grease and lots of black pepper. We'd come into the kitchen, still rubbing our eyes, while Dad would chuckle and pass me the butter for my biscuit before I even asked.

Some Sunday afternoons, Dad treated us to his special salmon patties--canned salmon, carefully deboned, mixed with cornmeal and crushed saltines, then panfryed in the cast-iron skillet in some Crisco. Every time, Dad would warn me not to eat too many since they were very rich, and every time, I ate salmon patties until I began to feel queasy and realized I'd eaten too much--but they tasted so good!

That's not to say my mother didn't cook. She did most of household cooking while my sister and I grew up--once she started working and I hit middle school, we all took turns cooking dinner after getting home from school. For a brief time after Dad had his heart attack when I was 11 and before he returned to work a year later, he had dinner ready every night when we got home. After he started working at Ashford, Jamie and I became proficient at making Mom's simple recipes, picked up from her mother and based heavily on convenience foods from the 1950s. Lots of Hamburger Helper, canned sauce and veggies, and rather salty and bland. I don't mean to slag my mother--obviously she learned from her mother and did her best, but her experience growing up in Pennsylvania in a relatively middle class home was much different than my dad's experience growing up in Falmouth after the Depression.

I kick myself now that I didn't pay more attention to my father's and grandmother's cooking. Obviously I paid attention to the flavors and aromas, but I didn't pay attention to the assembly. Many of the dishes I loved as a child I will never have again--Granny passed away long ago, and Dad isn't in shape for cooking a Sadieville breakfast any Sunday soon. Hell, he doesn't even live in Sadieville anymore! I did attempt brown beans a few months ago, using a combination of what I remembered, what I learned from Alton, and chunks of a ham I had baked the week before, but it wasn't the same. I don't know how to season a cast-iron skillet to add the flavor of 60 years of use beyond buying a skillet and using it for 60 years. I feel bad using too many convenience foods like fish sticks and chicken nuggets on the nights we don't get home until after 6pm, but it's impossible for me for make the simple, fresh foods I had as a child in the time alloted in my life today. My real opportunities to cut loose and play in the kitchen are on weekends--and that's if I feel like cooking after I get all the pots and pans washed from earlier in the week.

Despite this, I am very much like my grandmother in that I must feed anyone who walks through my door. It doesn't matter if I have dinner already made, don't have anything defrosted, or wasn't even expecting company. If you show up at my house, I will try to feed you. I may even be insulted if you refuse. My friend, Candi, used to joke that the only time she had a homecooked meal was when she came to visit (which she used do once a week). Now that she's moved to Ohio, she's told me what she misses most is my cooking. What she doesn't know is I miss feeding her more.

So, it's another rare weekend post. My baby is napping, my husband is working his one Saturday a quarter, and I have a kitchen to clean. After I get everything squared away, I think I might use those overripe bananas to make some banana bread, bake some cookies, and get some beans soaking for simmering tomorrow.

Go And Buy the CD

2006-09-15T13:30:00.000-07:00

Like you know you that you should, but don't download this song.

And don't download any of these songs either unless you're pitiful.

Seriously. New album. Go get it--I will as soon as I'm done playing Halo 2.

My Blog Was Down, But It's Back Up

2006-09-15T12:02:00.000-07:00

Doo-dah, doo-dah.

I actually had something I wanted to say this morning during the outage, but I forget it now.

I am craving some free time--seriously craving it, but I have no idea what I would do with it. My report isn't getting published today; something came up that needs to be captured in the requirements and we need another week to get those settled and complete the final review before publication. I still have three more reports I need to start, and a person in Bangalore I'm trying to mentor long distance even though I can't quite figure her out. I know she's very capable although she's fresh out of school, but I'm not being direct enough in my requests, I think. Time to bring it down a level and specify to the letter what I need. Not that I've been letting her dangle and guess what I want--I thought I was very explicit, but apparently not enough. I think it's also a cultural thing that, especially because she's new, she won't tell me when she has an issue or problem with someone not responding to her. So I have to intuit what she needs and specifically ask if she's getting that one thing, THEN she'll tell me what the problem is.

I'm fighting the urge to do the tasks myself for a few reasons--first, she needs the experience, and we're hoping that she'll become very valuable to us in the long term if we can work through the short term tasks. Second, I don't have time to these things myself--if I did, I wouldn't have gone to my boss to ask for another person. Third, I think I might just be management material someday, and this will become my daily life if I go that route. So I need to practice now and learn the challenges and when I do decide to go into management, I won't need to learn those challenges when my goals are on the line. My boss is urging me to take a lead position, but I'm declining for right now. First, if I'm going to coach people on how to be a business systems analyst, I need to get this stuff down for myself. Second, there isn't an open lead position on my boss's team, and I like where I am now. Give me a year (or till the end of this project) and I'll be ready. Till then, I'm not interested.

Yesterday, I had a full house while working from home. CJ had some, tummy troubles, shall we say. I think he had too much juice the night before. Tom got CJ to daycare basically just in time to clean CJ up and bring him back home. Tom kept an eye on CJ while I worked, and after his nap, CJ decided he wanted to play in his room by himself. This is a way cool development! He's figured out how to turn on his stereo to play his CDs (basically hitting the play button), and he sorts his toys among his baskets. He knows which is the trash basket, which is the laundry hamper, and which are his toy baskets. He likes to close the door, so we pop our heads in every once in while to make sure he isn't trying to climb up the dresser, but otherwise, he's just fine.

Such a funny little boy--he's obsessed with keeping things tidy. If I'm changing his diaper, he has to put it in the diaper pail immediately. If he's eating and gets ketchup on his hands, he must have a napkin to wipe himself, and that napkin MUST then go into the trash. While I'm cooking, he plays in the kitchen and must help Mommy by handing me wooden spoons he pulls out of the dishwasher and throwing away any boxes or bags. I've had to fish my oven mitts and kitchen towels out of the trash cans thanks to his peculiar sense of order. He must have separate cups for juice, milk, and water, and a plate for his morning banana. And at bedtime, he MUST have his stacking cups, his monkey, his blanket, his two stuffed octopi, four small board books, three big board books, his soft basketball shaped rattle, and one of his pirates from his pirate ship (though he sometimes prefers the parrot). There's barely enough room for him! But all these things have to be in his crib, or he literally won't fall asleep until he has them all.

I am amazed at the things he is learning, and fascinated by his burgeoning sense of logic. A few examples:

In the bathtub last night, he kept standing up and dancing. I told him twice to sit down, and the third time, I said it more forcefully. He sat, and I said, "Thank you!" He grinned, then stood up again. I told him to sit down, and he did, and when I said, "Thank you!" he smiled wider and stood up again. That's when I figured out he likes the praise, and this is his way of getting it.
Yesterday, we caught him right after he marked the wall with a crayon. We told him not to do that, and I got a cleaning wipe to clean the mark. He watched me, then he started swiping all the walls he could reach with his hand, helping me clean them. I told him he was a good boy, helping Mommy cleaning the crayon marks--that's when he looked at me and grinned and marked the wall while I was watching him, then he swiped his hand over it and gave me an expectant smile.
Two nights ago, we got home late from work and I started on dinner as soon as we walked in the door. CJ comes to me with a big blue tumbler and pointed at the refrigerator door (where the ice and water dispensers are). I filled the tumbler with a bit of water, but he shook his head no and backed away--he didn't want it. Then he brought he a red sippy cup with juice leftover from that morning. I emptied the cup and washed it out, but when I opened the fridge, I thought he was pointing to the milk. I gave him the sippy cup of milk, but he shook his head no and backed away. Puzzled, I thought maybe he wanted the milk in a regular cup, so I got a small one and poured some milk in it--he wouldn't take it. Finally, I put together what he was trying to tell me with the original tumbler and sippy cup--I put some juice in a small juice cup, and he was happy as a clam, taking a deep drink before toddling off.

I should mention that once I got it figured out, I thought it was rather clever. His clues were good--not his fault Mommy was stupid. And of course, when dinner was ready, he had to have his plate, a fork, a spoon, all three cups with milk, water, and juice, his half eaten graham cracker, and a napkin before he would sit down to eat. He neatly lined up his cups, too, just so, before digging in to his meal. He let us know a few weeks ago he was done with his highchair--he climbed into one of the dining chairs and patted the table, telling me to put his plate there.

He's not even two! Those with more experience--am I raising a veritable genius, or is this a case of Mommy being easily amazed by normal development?

Wrong Number

2006-09-10T20:43:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this by saying that since I don't speak Spanish, it's a safe bet that anyone calling me who speaks Spanish doesn't mean to call me.

I don't know why I answered the phone--I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hi!"

"Who is this?"

"Eh?"

"What?"

"Que?"

*Click*

Two Posts in One Weekend?

2006-09-10T15:36:00.000-07:00

It's almost too good to be true!

Still heavily into the nesting we've been doing this year. This morning, I took CJ to Target and got some odds and end--real cat food bowls for my kitties, diapers, new shoes, new trash can, and new office chair.

I'm not the type to revamp the way the house looks on complete whims every year. I tend to keep things until they complete break down. My husband just lugged a couple Queen Anne chairs into the garage a few weeks ago--we bought them from a consignment shop about 9 years ago, and although they are shredded from the cats, I've been vacillating on whether to toss them or pay the money to upholster them. A full reupholstry job might cost as much as simply buying a new chair, but I really like the style--they're open arm with lovely carved wood and simply clawed feet. I'm still not sure what to do with them, or even where to put them once I get them done, but I'm reluctant to get rid of them in case I need them.

The previous cat food and water bowls were the plastic ones that came with the carriers we used to move them into the house over 4 years ago. They were never supposed to be permanent, but they worked--I recently decided I needed real, nonskid bowls after I kicked one of the water bowls three feet across the floor for the hundredth time as I went to the pantry. The trash can serves two purposes--one, it has a lid which may help CJ stay out of the trash (although he loves to throw things away). Second, our garbage program is changing to one day a week with recycling very soon, and I'll need a second can for recyclables.

The office chair is the replace the one I currently have that kills my back. The new one, which I put together earlier and am sitting in now, has lumbar support and adjustable height. I have the laptop on a little table in the living room and am currently typing while Tom and CJ sit on the couch snacking and watching football.

I'm trying not to think of the work I have to do when I go in tomorrow. It will be a very busy month, but hopefully I'll have some time to post during football games since the new season just began.

Still left to do in the house--I have my heart set on this sectional sofa I saw with a recliner and a chaise built in. It's at a very good price, too. Still need to order CJ's big boy furniture, although I now know exactly which set I want to get. I need to move my desk from the den into the living room, get a new computer to replace my aging beast running Windows ME with its 800MHz processor and staggering 128MB of memory, and get some sort of wireless hub that will let me plug in my work laptop at my new living room work area and work there. Then the couch, chair, and ottoman go into the den for a nice, comfy, hanging out type room, and a few bookcases to go here and there. One nice thing about Arizona construction--the tend to resolve around the "Great Room" concept (living room, dining area, entry area, and kitchen in one open space). The challenge is figuring out how to effectively use the space since traditional rules don't apply.

Alright, enough about my boring plans to accumulate some consumer debt--CJ can count to three! I was playing with this puppet--it's basically a glove with a monkey head at each finger tip--and I was counting off the monkeys. Anyway, I said, "One...," and CJ said, "Doo."

I was shocked, but told him that's right, Two! So I said, "Two...," and CJ said, "Bee."

I was really surprised! He did it consistently, though, adding four ("doh") only twice. "One, doo, bee, doh." Mostly he just goes to three--but still, I bet not many 20 month olds can do that!

He's also decided that he will no longer use his highchair--he climbs up into one of the dining chairs and sits rather nicely in it. We have to tell him to sit down occasionally, but he behaves. He still tells us when it's bedtime, and potty training is going well--he tells us he wants to use the potty, but I don't think he has the ability yet to make himself go. We let him sit on the potty till he wants to get down, then we put his diaper back on. Usually he goes a little while later, then he comes to tell us he needs a diaper change.

We've also begun the battle for "nakedtime". He's figured out how to take off his shirt and shorts, and shows a clear preference for bare skin on the weekends. He takes off whatever clothes we put him in, and sometimes takes the diaper off too (a little easier since we're using pullups now). It's taken as much as ten minutes to chase him around to get a new diaper on him. I didn't know it started this early, but I know it will last for a while. I'm waiting for the call from daycare to come and pick up my streaking son.

I Want to be ElastiGirl!

2006-09-09T10:45:00.000-07:00

Tom's watching The Incredibles, and ElastiGirl just went somersaulting over buildings, and that looked really cool! I wanna do that!

I have recovered from my temporary hypothetical finger paralysis and found a bit of time, so I thought I'd post on what's been going on for the past couple weeks.

Sorry, got wrapped up in the movie.

We had intended to settle down to a nice long weekend over the Labor Day holiday. Didn't quite happene. Friday night the air conditioner broke down. It was blowing, but it wasn't cooling anything down. We made it through the night despite the rising temperature, then I called the A/C company our neighborhood is contracted with early Saturday morning. They weren't able to send a tech until after noon, so we went out to breakfast and then bummed around Linens and Things until it was time to meet the tech at our house.

It was actually very nice to get out, but the lack of sleep from our hot night slowed us down for the rest of the weekend. Sunday, we were supposed to go out for cow in celebration of Jay's new job (she starts in my department on 9/18), but CJ was just being a big handful and we were so worn out by 5pm I had to call and cancel.

The good news is the A/C repair was a relatively quick and cheap one--just a blown capacitor.

I wish I had something more exciting to report. Still working on getting my work published next week, still ensconced in conference rooms for marathon analysis sessions, and still trying to balance time needed at work with time needed at home. But my project team still likes each other despite 7 hours together a day and my boss is very appreciative of my efforts. In fact, thanks to an approach I suggested, we've already saved almost $200K and might save close to a million by the time we're done. That's gonna look good on my review this year.

Guess Who's Teething?

2006-08-25T17:05:00.000-07:00

And it's not my little boy!

I went to the dentist this morning--when I was on vacation, my perfect mug of clam chowder contained a bit of sand and I chomped it. Chomped it good. I was afraid I might have cracked a back molar, but I didn't feel any pain, so I filed it away as one of things to take care of when I got home.

A few nights since getting back, I've woken myself up by biting something hard, but not finding anything in my mouth. I thought it might be parts of a tooth. This week, I realized I had a dull ache on the left side of my face (same side I thought I'd cracked), and when it started getting worse yesterday I called my dentist.

OK, so I went to the dentist this morning prepared for the worst. I was thinking cracked tooth, exposed root, and root canal time! I brought two books and my mini-disc player just in case (no, I haven't gotten an iPod--I love my outdated years ago Christmas present of a mini-disc player even though it's today's equivalent to Betamax). During the x-rays, we found a surprise--a wisdom tooth!

Three years ago, I had full mouth x-rays that showed I had no wisdom teeth. I also found out I still have two baby teeth (and if I lose those, the Tooth Fairy better pay me handsomely for 30 years of care without cavities!). Anyway, the wisdom teeth must have been too far up to see, since today, I could clearly see one against my molar, coming up and in at an angle and pressing against the root of the molar as it makes its way above the surface of the gum. Turns out the pain I'm feeling is the attempted eruption.

Curious, we took some more x-rays, and found two more wisdom teeth in similar positions, about to erupt. The soreness in my right bottom gum, which I thought was from chewing too much on that side, is the from the gum trying to open to let the tooth through.

31 years old, and I'm teething! I'm way too old for this!

The good news is that my molar is just fine, no crack, no worries. And since I had my cleaning done, my dentist was able to identify a minor gum infection along my front crown work from three years ago. I say minor, but I have referrals to an endodontrist and periodontist to check all that out to make sure if doesn't get worse and I don't lose the crowns. And also, I'm going to get fitted occlusion guards to wear at night--that way, if I grind my teeth, I won't cause any more wear than I've already done. I had a root canal seven years ago after breaking a molar from grinding in my sleep--I don't want to go through that again.

And an unrelated note, I got my car back this week. The warranty company approved all the repair and I picked my car up this Wednesday morning. I can feel the difference in the steering and I kick myself for not noticing it before. But, now it's fixed and I should have another good year of driving, barring any unforeseen problems. I think if something else goes wrong, it may be time for a trade in.

On another note, because I'm proud of the work we did--this Tuesday I participated in a delivery project to give students at an impoverished school all the supplies they need for the year. My company does this every year, and this was the first time I got to see the students' reactions. Oh, my, what fun! So many smiles and thank yous, and the efforts from my company were outstanding! Thanks to our school supply drive, we provided enough supplies for 5000 students! We were able to cover two schools here in the Valley, and the rest went to the Governor's back to school program to be distributed throughout the state to similar poor schools.

Last year, we helped over 2000 students, including children who came to Phoenix after Hurricane Katrina, setting a record. This year, we broke that record. I can't wait to see what we're able to do next year!

Misquoting Paul?

2006-08-21T16:47:00.000-07:00

CNN reported that a woman has been dismissed from teaching Sunday school--after 54 years--because her church adopted a literal interpretation of 1 Timothy 2:11-15:

Let a woman learn in silence with full submission. I permit no woman
to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent. For Adam
was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but Eve was deceived and
became a transgressor. Yet she will be saved through childbearing,
provided they continue in faith and love and holiness, with modesty.

I recently read Misquoting Jesus by Bart Ehrman, and this story jumped out at me since this interpretation is directly dealt with in Ehrman's text. It is his assertion, based on a examination of the style difference of this passage and the contradiction it presents to Paul's claim that there are no male or female in Christ, that Paul did NOT write this passage. There is evidence that Paul was joined in his ministry by women, and would not have felt that women could not teach within the church. I find it really odd that this church is choosing THIS passage, since it's dissected pretty thoroughly in a book available to laypeople, not just Biblical scholars.

Apparently, women of the first centuries after Christ's death found His message quie popular--it offered a different role than that seen in the community and promoted a sense of community within the church that brought more responsibility and encouraged leadership roles in the church. The opinion is that monks, looking to preserve the subservient roles of women in some cultures, inserted this text as social comment. This revision would have happened long ago, before the concept of a canon or official copies. There are other comments discussed in the book that may have been inserted into Paul's letters to serve a similar purpose.

And now you see one of the reasons why I have not gone to a church in over a decade (this past May excluded). When it comes to the organization of religion, the organization is performed by man, and when man is involved, imperfection is the only certain factor. Some differences may be subtle (like the old joke about Methodists taking showers while Baptists prefer baths) and have little bearing over proclaimations of a true faith or honest practice of what is believed to be right. Other differences, like this situation, are more profound and have a distinct, powerful effect on the congregation that follows those differences.

Is this woman any more or any less Godly than the reverend making the decision? I don't think so, since she's likely been teaching since before the reverend was born. But because he is in the position of power, he decides the church doctrine. The result is a congregation following not the Word of God, but the word of a man. To me, that seems awfully misguided.

I'm not anti-Christian or an athiest. Agnostic, maybe. Lazy? Certainly. But I have an inner sense that tells me what is right and good and what I should and shouldn't do. That inner sense tells me that this decision is not right, and not something I would want to follow.

While My Used Car Gently Weeps

2006-08-21T15:28:00.000-07:00

I took my car in on Friday for scheduled maintenance. I asked for the 15K service since I'm about to hit 75,000 miles, check of the brake pads since I thought they'd need replacing, and a check of my tires to confirm the tread since I'm completely paranoid after my blowout in Tom's car. I left the car, caught the shuttle home, and waited for a phone call with the price (which I had already ballparked in my head).

Friday afternoon, I get a call from the service manager--I do need new brake pads and a flush of the brake fluid, and my tires are only in need of alignment. Sounds fine until the manager says, "But we found a few other things upon closer inspection." I brace myself and ask what the problems are.

Leaking rach and pinion steering. Leaking power steering hose. Collapsed front engine mount and collapsed transmission mount.

Yikes!

I pick my jaw up off the floor, and remember to ask if my warranty will cover the work. I bought the car used 3 years ago, certified pre-owned, and bought the 4year/48K mile warranty after a disastrous repair relationship with my previous car.

I'm only 5000 miles from warranty expiration. I drive a lot--my daily commute is 80 miles.

The service manager called me later Friday afternoon--because of the overall cost of the repairs, they want to send an insurance adjustor out to inspect the car before giving the approval, and the adjustor won't be out until Monday.

Luckily, I got a call this afternoon--the warranty company will pay for all repair (as they should! I have the maintenance records!) but I won't get my car back till tomorrow. Maybe.

So today I worked from home, and tomorrow, I'm carpooling with a coworker to our volunteer activity--distributing school supplies to children at an impovrished elementary school. Tomorrow afternoon, I hope to have the car back.

I told my boss today that between the toll on my car from the commute and the prospect of oil at $100 a barrel, he may want to buy a webcam if he wants to see me. If oil gets that high, I won't be able to afford to drive to work.

Call Off the Search Parties

2006-08-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

Boy, a gal gets busy with work and the next thing you know, the hounds are baying! No, I didn't hurt myself getting down from my soapbox. I just have a huge project report due on 9/1 and have been in meeting after meeting nailing down the information I need to get the report done. Then I can breathe for a couple weeks, and it starts all over with the next phase of the project. Typical stuff for me, and I won't bore you with details.

I did talk to a certain someone on the phone briefly today, though, and I'll recap--I'm fine.

Tom and I have been working on nesting. Odd, I know, since I'm not pregnant and have no plans to become so. We've just decided that our house isn't like a home, and we're trying to turn that around. I can see the floor of our den for the first time since we moved in. Also, Jay's sister went to college, and I used the opportunity to unload some clothes, a futon, two endtables, a folding bookcase, and a TV/Stereo stand that were taking up space in the house. I supposed I could have asked for cash in exchange, but since she and her brother drove out to my house in the burbs to load everything into their truck on a hot July day, just getting rid of it was payment enough.

The past few weekends have been spent brainstorming what the house should look like--getting organized, mainly, since I'm a packrat with little use for structure but under a great need to straighten things out. Work is stressful enough--my house doesn't need to stress me more, and things like filing bills and updating the car registration are not things that should slip. We have a full list of what we'd like to get, ideas on designing our den and CJ's room (CJ is ready for big boy furniture now), and some projects already underway. I've got one project done already! Took me a few weekends, but I cleaned out my kitchen and made it workable--I created one space for baking/prep work, another space for cooking and serving, and a smaller space for dirty dishes and washing them (instead of having pots and pans spread across my whole counter). I got smal but servicable cart for additional counter space when needed, and put up a dry-erase calendar and board and a cute bulletin board for noting groceries, to-do items, important dates, etc. I even hung up a few chrome baskets for pizza coupons, other papers, CJ's artwork from daycare, and whatever else I need handy. So far it's working very well, and it's made dinnertime much easier. Now, I have to clean out and reorganize my fridge and freezer--the freezer is bursting at the seams!

So we are deeply into the nesting. The idea is to spend a good deal of time making storage space, setting up systems, making things nice and comfortable, and then on weekends it shouldn't take too long to tidy up. Then we can relax and maybe even do stuff as a family! This is a good time for it, too, since it's too darned hot to go outside. Poor CJ, he wants to play outside almost every day, but he can't--not when it's still 100 degrees in the backyard and the patio blocks are hot enough to steam veggies.

Speaking of CJ, he started a new routine that has us completely baffled, but rather happy. Instead of kicking and screaming at bedtime each night, he now TELLS us, "Nigh-nigh!" and wanders off to his room. We make sure he has his blanket and his monkey and a book and a small toy, and put him in his crib. Then he'll tell us, "Bye!" and that's our cue to turn out the light and shut the door. He'll play for a bit, then falls asleep on his own. Unbelievable! I think part of it must be something he picked up at daycare. Another part could be that we got the futon and a couple odds and ends out of his room, so he can actually play in there. The biggest part, I think, is the feedback loop--we're finally getting to a point where he understands a good deal of what we say, and he's forming words to get across what he means. He knows "Nigh-Nigh" means bedtime--probably from us saying Goodnight or Night-night when we put him to bed. He's also learned how to get across that he wants more milk and how to let me know he's asking for something--"Mom? Moe?" while holding his cup out.

He can also quack like a duck and meow.

CJ started another new room at daycare this week, just zipping through the lower levels. He's now with several pre-2yos who are very active and working on potty training. The room is bigger than his previous rooms, with a climbing slide set inside and a larger toddler playset outside. There's also a huge pillow on the floor, perfect for running and making a good dive! He was a bit hesitant about the new room Monday morning--he held onto my shirt while I crouched next to him. One little girl who's been in every room with him since infancy came over to say hi, play with my work badge, and pat my hair. Then another little blonde girl I didn't know came over and handed CJ a giant stuffed fish. At that point, CJ didn't need me anymore. He had two cute blondes and big fish; what more could any little boy need?

I think that's about it for now. I'm sure as soon as I post I'll think of something highly amusing and kick myself and then promptly forget whatever it was, but oh, well. At least I've bought myself a small respite from the baying.

Got Some Things to Talk About Here Beside the Rising Tide

2006-08-11T12:42:00.000-07:00

Ned Lamont trounces Joe Lieberman fairly strongly in the Connecticut primary, sending a clear message from the "rabid venom-spewing lambs" in the blogosphere that change is afoot regarding the war in Iraq.
Lieberman mulls over the idea of running as an Independent, and Harry Reid announces he would seek to strip Lieberman of his committee appointments if that happens.
Yesterday, British and US agents uncover a terrorist plot and declare a red status for Homeland Security--a status that Press Security Tony Snow said the president had approved the day before.
Lieberman announces his intention to run as an Independent to little fanfare as the current White House Administration rally behind the idea of attacking Iran and renewing the vigor behind the war on terror.

As the Church Lady might say, "How conVENient!"

I've no doubt that there are people out there hell-bent on destroying the United States, and the current Bush agenda gives ample kindling to that fire. But why wait till these people are on planes to swoop in and arrest them? Why not make the arrests once the plot was uncovered rather than risk lives by waiting so long? Why start making your case to invade another country when an exit strategy (hell, a measurement of success) hasn't been drafted for the war you're currently in?

Why? Because it's an election year, my friends, and this year the House seats and a third of the Senate seats are up for grabs. The Connecticut primary is just the start--the litmus test of how the warmongers will fare this year, and they failed. They failed big time. If a 3-time incumbent loses the race in his home state and faces an unlikely prospect of winning a 4th term AND that incumbent was once the Vice-Presidential nominee for the DEMOCRATIC party, what chance will the Republicans have?

Very little. And the Republicans know it. And they're scared. So they're pulling out all the stops:

Iran is now the "single threat" to democracy in the Middle East and to the United States. Let's forget that we were dealing with Iran in the 1980s to undermine Saddam Hussein and sowing seeds to invade them in the 1990s. Or that a member of the Office of Special Plans under Douglas Feith was indicted for sharing state secrets with Iranian officials to drive the country into war with Iraq. Suddenly, Iran is a threat.
Lebanon and Israel have erupted again into war over control, hostages, and military prisoners, while Israel continues to deal militarily with Hamas over questions of legitimacy and land borders in Gaza. The U.S. vetoed a resolution from the United Nations condemning the Gaza actions, and states that Israel has a right to defend itself against the Palestinians—despite the fact that the current Gaza conflict began when Israel seized two Palestinians.
It is interesting to note that Hezbollah is supported by Iran and Syria—the two countries Bush has been focusing on this year to broaden democracy in the Middle East.
Oh, did you know we’re supporting Israel with jet fuel and bombs in our quest to solidify peace? Yeah, I thought you might not. Those New York Times reports in July slipped through the cracks in our mainstream media.

Given what we know now about the PNAC’s desire for upheaval in the Middle East dating back to 2000 and their need for a catastrophe EXACTLY like 9/11 to rally support, and what we know about the manipulation of intelligence by our own officers to support an attack on Iraq, is it any wonder that I have to question the timing of our current terror alert with the general election coming up in November? The Republicans have already dusted off the ultra-conservative aces in the hole--flag burning, estate tax, and gay marriage—yet Bush’s approval rating continues to sink, Republican support continues to fracture, and Lieberman lost his bid for reelection in the Connecticut primary. The death knell for partisan, war-supporting, deficit-spending, big money politics has sounded, and the people of this country are awakening to the corrupt stink of what’s been left behind.

So don’t forget to put your deodorant in your checked baggage, don’t forget to whisper a quick prayer to God or whomever to protect you and your family and your country, and don’t forget about the troops in Iraq who would love to take a break from the oppressive heat and see their families again as soon as someone can figure out how to make it happen.

Most importantly, this November (or earlier for the primaries), don’t forget to VOTE!

If I were a bell, I'd be ringing.

2006-08-02T14:35:00.000-07:00

OK, I think I can finally take a break and begin writing about the vacation. The longer I wait, the more I forget, and that just can’t happen.

We stayed in Brewster, which is near the elbow of the Cape on the bay side. The house (owned by my brother-in-law and occupied by my mother-in-law) is intended as a getaway for the whole family and a place where we can all get together on occasion. Unfortunately, some of the family couldn’t join us, but we did have a nice weekend with my BIL, his wife, and their two kids. The house has deeded rights to a private beach a quarter mile away where it’s nice and flat and one can walk out quite a ways at low tide. At high tide, the water depth is only about 10 feet and nice and clear. The flats are also a clam bed, which means low tide stinks to high heaven. There are markets and restaurants and little shops within walking distance, so we did a lot of walking. People on Cape Cod are almost disgustingly healthy with all the walking and biking.

The Friday before my birthday, Tom and his brother surprised me very well. They had gone golfing and planned dinner. Mom got swordfish, per BIL, and Tom stopped for a Boston Cream Pie. My BIL had brought up a bottle of sparkling Riesling from an old office celebration that he had been saving for a special occasion. After dinner, they surprised me by bringing out the pie with candles and popping the cork!

My BIL told me he had asked Tom how old I was turning, since he thought I was in my 30s somewhere. Tom immediately answered, “29,” so my BIL knew I was turning at least 30. I got a good man, though—at least he tried!

The next day, we went to the ocean beach where Tom tried boogie boarding and CJ and I played in the sand. The water was cold and rough, so we didn’t go in. That night, Mom babysat CJ while Tom and I went out to dinner, alone, for the first time in over a year.

That’s right. Over a year. We have to find a babysitter.

I had clam chowder and split my Oscar Sirloin (sirloin with crab and béarnaise sauce) with Tom to sample his Salmon Steak with Hollandaise sauce. We had a bottle of Pinot Grigio with dinner and coffee after, and took a nice long walk through some back roads to get home.

On Monday (my birthday), Tom and I went to this harbor café that was cute and scenic, but the food sucked. My fish and chips were an oil slick, the fries weren’t fresh cut, and Tom’s fried oysters were too big and still cold in the middle. Plus the cole slaw was bland. At least we can say we went. That night, we walked to the Woodshed, this old bar a mile down the road where we listened to a band called the Slackers (three middle-aged white men with cool covers) and drank Sam Adams Summer Ale. I had four. The band played Land Down Under and one of the guys played flute and it rocked! We left during the second set while they were playing and I stumbled down the rock singing Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard, openly wondering just what it was that Mamma saw. Tom just kept replying, “Whatever it was, it was against the law!” and we giggled like kids, shushing ourselves as we got to the house. Mom had locked us out, accidentally, but woke from the living room sofa to let us in while Tom and I did the universal pee dance on the porch—after all, we did drink four beers apiece.

My MIL did a lot of babysitting—she insisted on it, since she doesn’t have much opportunity. CJ loved playing in the kitchen with her old-school copper measuring cups, old Tupperware, and wooden spoons, making up his own one-man band. Tom and I plinked around on the piano, and I picked out Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star while CJ joined me to sing it (oh wa oh wa oh wa oh, ah wa wa, ah wa wa). The kid picked up the notes and key immediately—this kid will be gifted at music, I say it now.

We took several walks to the beach and the organic market where I think the girl behind the counter kind of liked me. We walked to the bookstore where I picked up a book of Sudoku and got obsessive about it, finishing half the book and working my way up to blue belt. We let CJ play in the surf until his hands and feet were all pruney and he still howled like a banshee when it was time to leave and we picked him out of the water. We all got tans. I drove to Chatham one day and had the best mug of clam chowder I have ever had at this café called Anytime Café, eating the chowder while studying the funky physics mural on the wall.

Tom and I went to see Guys and Dolls at the Cape Playhouse in Dennis. I mentioned earlier that it’s in its 80th season, and the show was phenomenal! The sets were minimalist and designed in blue and white; painted flats wheeled in and out of the wings by the actors as the scene changed without dropping the curtains. The men’s dancing was exquisite, unbelievably liquid, which completely made the show. The sewer backdrop, flown down from above the lights, was rather Seussical in design, and the designer, in a nod to the era and Al Hirschfeld, incorporated the name, “Ally” everywhere—traffic light glass pattern, the bunching of a tablecloth at the Hot Box, the curtains’ billows at the Hot Box, in the grid of the trashcans and the crosshatching of shadows on the flats. I fell in love with the design instantly, especially since the stage was very small. Somehow, I missed this musical in my training so it was a real treat, and I finally understood why Susan would look at Andy Connerly so wistfully and regret having done Guys and Dolls before our freshman year.

I guess that was about it. Lots of fun, lots of family time, and beautiful weather even when it rained. Not you can see why I wish I were still there.

Things You May Not Know About Me--Music Edition

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

I accidentally hijacked another blog's comment section for a music discussion, and I feel badly. So I've decided to bring it over here. Following Suze and Jenn, here's an installment of things you may not know about me, but around music. Enjoy!

I mentioned this in the aforementioned comment section, but my son's nursery is decorated with John Lennon illustrations inspired by the birth of John's son, Sean.
I weep when listening to the classic rock station in town since they've added Peter Gabriel and U2 to the playlists.
The last CD I purchased for myself was Weird Al Yankovic's Poodle Hat. I play "Bob" incessantly as a result.
The last CD I bought before that one? Al's Running with Scissors.
The first song I learned to sing was "You Are My Sunshine" from a Don Williams tape.
I am very familiar with the oeuvre of Boxcar Willie.
I did not know any kind of music other than country, gospel, and bluegrass existed until I was about 8 years old.
The first rock album I ever heard was Van Halen's 1984.
The second rock album I ever heard was Purple Rain.
I saw Prince during his Musicology tour in late March, 2004. I found out in May 2004 that I was pregnant. Draw your own conclusions.
I discovered over vacation that my son can sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star despite not knowing the words, and may have perfect pitch.
I commonly cite song lyrics, much to the consternation of my friend, Jay, who is not always familiar with the songs I quote.
I wanted to see Toad the Wet Sprocket play with Big Head Todd and the Monsters in Hyannis while I was on the Cape, but couldn't find anyone to go with me.
My brother in law was silent for a few moments when I asked if I could take his 15 year old daughter, my niece, to the above concert. Then he asked me to please repeat the band names.
My niece asked me to repeat the names as well. I just told her they were popular when I was about her age, then realized that darnit! I am getting old.
Ben Folds is amazing on piano. That's not about me, but you may not have known it.
My cats have their own theme songs. Zeke's is from the Talking Heads: "Psychokitty, quest-que c'est? Meow meow-meow meow, meow-meow meow-meow-meow meow--Run run run run run run run away!" Shadow's is the Dreidel song: "Shadow, Shadow, Shadow, I made you out of clay; And when you're dry and ready, with Shadow I will play."
I stopped listening or paying attention to most mainstream music when Britney Spears began becoming popular. Otherwise, I felt like throwing the radio.
I really miss working in the college radio station sometimes.
Why I don't have a copy of Jagged Little Pill is beyond me, but I should go find one.

Told You I'm Still On Vacation

2006-07-27T13:13:00.000-07:00

Even if it isn't really so. I love lighthouses, so I saw this new template and had to pick it! I'll fix the links and such later.

Elvis Has Left the Building

2006-07-25T15:08:00.000-07:00

I'm still insisting I am on vacation, even though I'm sitting at my office at work. Well, not office. It's cube farm, and I have my own little cube. But it's a cube more like the one Ron Livingston had in Office Space, not like the one Michael Bolton and the Indian guy had. Definitely not like Milton's cube, although I do have a spiffy red Swingline stapler. Two, in fact--one still in plastic as a collector's item, and one for actual use. I don't keep them here, though. Too many people here are WAAAAAAAY into Office Space and my stapler would disappear if I brought it in. And if someone took my stapler, I swear, I'd burn the place down.

So, time for the first missive after the big vacation to Cape Cod. The problem with being on the Cape for two weeks is that after a few days, the siren song begins to drift down from Chatham and hover subconsciously around one's ears. I began to look at real estate ads, first out of curiosity, then out of real desire to move. "Look, honey! If we sank all the proceeds from our home sale as a down payment on this cottage, and got jobs that pay what we make now, maybe we could afford to live on the Cape!"

After a week, the siren song becomes more persistent, more beautiful, pulling like the tides on my soul. I begin looking at want ads, puzzling over some of the terms. "Sweetheart, they need an able-bodied relief seaman for the new ferry. Could I do that?"

By the 12th day, all thoughts of the airport and packing are stabbing little needle pains in my head. I begin to think of calling my boss and quitting, and just moving into my brother-in-law's house with my mother-in-law and waiting tables and painting watercolors of the beach, like a lot of other people do. Maybe knitting a uterus or a liver and seeing if it will sell despite the fact that I can't knit, much less crochet a simple chain. The siren song is intense and taunting, reminding me that I have few marketable or creative skills and people like me can't live in a place like this for more than a few weeks out of the year.

So here I am, back at work, catching up on email and other topics, and killing a bit of time before leaving a bit early (but not too early).

I'll expound with more detail later, but here's a snapshot of our vacation, Everett-style:

Land. Nap. Beach. Clam Chowder and bluefish. Beach. Playing with CJ in the backyard. Fried clams. Bookstore. Sudoku. Beach. Birthday dinner with sparkling Riesling and Boston Creme Pie. Sleep. Beach. Dinner out, shopping, more playing with CJ in the backyard. Bar. Sam Adams Summer Ale, stumbling a mile home in the dark. Happy birthday! Beach. Guys and Dolls. Nap. Clam chowder and more fried clams. Beach. Rain. Sudoku. Goodbyes, detours, delays, and home. Home Sweet Home.

When I Am Old I Shall Wear Tie-Dye

2006-07-06T13:07:00.000-07:00

Which I already do, so no one will know when I grow old!

It's raining here. Big fat steady drops falling from the sky. It rained this weekend, briefly, and CJ was fascinated by it.

When Jay and I were out on Saturday, she was telling me that her husband and his family were packing up his grandmother to go to Oregon with his mother. Grandma, at 92, has been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and has only six months left.

His mom thinks it will be easier to care for Grandma toward the end if she's with family. I said I wouldn't want to move--I'd only have six months left, and wouldn't want to make new friends. "Hi, nice to meet you! I'm dying!" So Jay asked me what I would do. I thought for a few moments and began this list:

First, I'd go on long term disability from my company so I wouldn't have to work but could still make some of my salary.
I'd make sure my affairs were in order and my family would be taken of after I'm gone.
I'd hire a maid. Full time. No chef, since I love to cook, but I'd have a maid come in and do dishes and laundry. I don't want to spend the end of my life cleaning.

Then I thought a little further. I'd start writing letters. Scathing ones, telling people what I really think. I've only got a little of time, right? Why continue being polite about some of those things?

I'd write that girl in 8th grade who made my life miserable by teasing me for having a crush on our 8th grade math teacher and tell her she was right, but she didn't have to be so nasty about it.
I'd write Sandra Lee from Food Network and tell her she's a no talent bimbo without taste buds and I want to know who she slept with to get her show on every day after Paula Deen. That may seem harsh, but Sandra Lee's idea of "cooking" is to frost an Angel Food Cake for Hannukah after stuffing it with non-kosher marshmallows, then topping it with an 8 pointed Star of David fashioned out of faux pearls on wire. And no one will know it's not completely homemade! Ass.
I'd write my Congressman and let him know what a jackass he is for screwing his constituents by voting against seniors' issues and taking money from Jack Abramoff.
I'd write George Bush and enclose a copy of "English for Dummies".
I'd find the address of the idiot who cut me off the other day trying to get into the turn lane for Wal-Mart and tell him I don't care how low the low, low prices are, use a freaking turn signal!

Then, to balance my karma, I'd write some nice letters:

I'd write to my 8th grade math teacher and thank him for spending the extra time with me to teach me algebra and showing me what an inspiration good teachers could be.
I'd write to Alton Brown and thank him for his show and teaching the science behind cooking and helping me understand recipes in a different way and enjoy feeding my family.
I'd write to Paul Hackett and tell him better luck in Ohio next time. If he decides on a next time.
I'd write to Jon Stewart and enclose a copy of my letter to George Bush.
I'd write to my friend, the policeman, and tell him where to look if he needs to write some traffic tickets.

After all that is done, I'd enjoy the rest of my moments with my husband and son, relieved that I got some of that out.

Stream of Consciousness for Today

2006-07-06T08:02:00.000-07:00

I was reading on Lydia's blog about Lima Bean getting hiccups, and I was remembering how CJ would get hiccups when I was in the middle of a meeting, and my tummy would start hitching upward, just a bit, barely enough to notice. Once, CJ had the hiccups and my boss at the time noticed my belly jumping and I caught him staring with a slight smile on his face before moving on to something else.

Sometimes I get hiccups, the loud ones that hurt because of the amount of air that gets sucked into your chest with each one, and I stomp and curse and try drinking water in various impossible yoga positions until I can get my diaphragm to cooperate with me. I wonder if CJ ever got upset at my hiccups while he was still inside me? I can see him, warm and cozy, dozing in his little amniotic sac, when suddenly the uterine walls begins bouncing and he starts bouncing, and seething because he's trying to sleep through all the racket and what did Mommy just say? until he finally kicks in frustration and the hiccups stop.

Then I think of a Beavis and Butt-Head video I loved by a guy who called himself MC 900Ft Jesus, where he packs himself in a box to ship himself somewhere. The song is called If I Only Had a Brain, and it has this cool electronic line that goes, "Duh. Duh-duh. Duh-duh. Duh-duh-duh-duh, na-na-na-na-na, na, na-na...Duh-duh. Duh-Duh. Duh-duh-duh-duh, na-na-na-na-na...." for the whole song. Beavis starts singing the line, repeatedly, while the guy is bouncing around his box, until Butt-Head smacks him upside the head, and then Butt-Head starts singing it.

I used to watch Beavis and Butt-Head a lot in high school--brilliant satire because I knew these guys in school and they were my friends. Mom used to rail about how awful a show it was until I asked her if she'd seen it and she said no. So I made her watch it one night, and it was The Great Cornholio, and halfway through she was laughing so hard I thought she was going to pee herself in her chair. "Lake Titicaca!"

She got me the B&B DVD collection for Christmas this year.

One night, in the computer lab at Tusculum, I was signed in under the name White Dwarf and joined a chat about B&B, defending it as satire. Only one other person agreed, a guy with the handle Jungle Jim. He seemed a nice enough fellow. We chatted a bit, and that was that. A week later, while signed in under the name exotique, I met another guy named Gilamonster who later captured my heart. It wasn't until Tom and I had been together sometime that I learned he had been Jungle Jim, and he learned that I was White Dwarf.

And that, dear friends, is how hiccups make me think of my husband.

Splashy Splashy

2006-07-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

I posted previously while CJ was napping, and then contemplated which tactic to use in the fight against his toddlerism.

CJ has decided that it's fun to hit, bite, or scratch Mommy and Daddy when he doesn't get his way (that is, can't climb on the couch and over the back, can't bang on the laptop, can't kiss the light sockets, you get the idea). It's frustrating. While we were out shopping, he was a perfect little angel. We get home, and I give him milk instead of orange juice and he's throwing the cup at me and screaming. I tell him no, and he giggles and reaches out to pull my hair. He seems to do it more to me, usually when I don't drop everything to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider RIGHT NOW!

We're trying our best to be consistent, and hoping that soon, he'll be old enough to realize what we're saying and to understand the concept of time-out. Currently, he's this raging little ball of id with no impulse control. I admit that a part of me is very curious about what he's feeling; I know zip about kids, and never really saw children this age. It's interesting to watch the wheels turn in his head as he bops from one thing to another, and sometimes, that makes it easier to predict his next move, or his next outburst.

Emboldened by my visit to the lackluster Tio Art's on Saturday, tonight I made enchiladas. Not bad for a first effort. I needed more sauce and a bit more spice to the beef and beans I made, but I got the technique down on the tortillas. That's what had me worried. Tom took CJ outside to play with bubbles while I cooked, and a nice family time was had by all.

Now, Tom is with CJ while he plays splashy splashy in the tub, and I take a few moments before getting my stuff ready for tomorrow. Five days of sleeping in (OK, only till 9 at the latest) has me spoiled, and I'm not looking forward to the alarm tomorrow.

Long Weekend

2006-07-04T12:30:00.000-07:00

Nothing too exciting to report this weekend, despite my extended absence from the blog. I have no excuse other than laziness.

Friday, I took the day off work and took CJ to his specialist checkup. He received a clean bill of health, and the bloodwork showed that the earlier liver abnormality was cleared. His ultrasound was normal, too. So he's very happy to be back on dairy, and has been sucking down milk as fast as I can give it to him. We still think he could be lactose intolerant, so I'm giving him lactose free milk. It's pricier, but lasts three times as long in the fridge.

Saturday, Jay and I had a girls' day out, beginning with lunch at a new Mexican place. Living in Phoenix, I'm always surprised to find unspectacular Mexican restaurants, and this was one of them. Somewhat bland, and not enough to make me go running back. After lunch, we went to Lowe's, and I bought a grill--FINALLY! We had our backyard done last year, and have just now gotten the grill. Fewer dirty dishes for me! Then, we kicked around Kohl's where Jay bought some clothes because she's slimmer and can actually wear cute stuff. I browsed the womens' section, but it was mostly old lady stuff.

I have to say, though, that Daisy Fuentes has no business designing clothing for fat women. If I wear a tank top, I'll need a bra, and very few larger women can carry the strappy tank look. Of course, I see them try anyway, which is why I think Daisy Fuentes should be stopped--at all costs. Wrap her in ticking and gauzy fabric and make her watch every Divine movie ever made. That should do it.

After our fun at Kohl's, Jay and I scored mocha frapuccinos and wandered through Costco. Someone needs to figure out how to merge the creamy goodness of a Chik-Fil-A shake with the yummy jolt of a mocha frapuccino. I would pay dearly for that.

Sunday and Monday were spent at home, working on home projects and getting the house in shape. Sunday, I used nail polish remover to remove the stickers from the glass of 18 picture frames, then organized a bunch of photos to into them. Monday, Tom handed frames up to me while I climbed the ladder and hung them, and the result looks really good! We covered a section of wall near the front door that has one of those spotlights in the ceiling for display. I think there's nearly 30 pictures up there--I don't know why we hadn't put them up earlier.

Today, CJ and I went shopping while Tom tried to get some work done. We went to JC Penney and got a set of luggage for 50% off. We finally decided that now that we're doing family trips each year, our old mismatched bags need a break. Plus, it's very nice to have the bags on wheels, which our old bags don't have. Then CJ and I went grocery shopping and he happily ate a Granny Smith apple while I stocked up on good sales.

So that's it! I did find out how much stuff the trunk of my car holds, including the stroller, and I have plenty of cow for breaking in the grill.

We fly out Saturday night, so I should be able to make another post before we go. Keep in mind that I won't have any internet/PC access on the Cape, so if you start singing for posts, you'll be singing for a while!

Recipe for AnnieLouAluruDooDoobieDoo

2006-06-30T18:38:00.000-07:00

I figured this recipe out while I was pregnant and sometimes didn't feel like cooking. It's one of my favorites because it's done in one pan and only costs about $5, if you catch good sales.

4-6 chicken thighs, boneless and skinless
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1 cup white long grain rice
1 cup frozen mixed vegetables (I like the baby veg medley with the sugar snap peas, baby carrots, and baby corn cobs)
1 pinch kosher salt
Seasoning to taste (I use shakes of garlic powder, ground sage, tarragon, cumin, dry mustard powder, and minced onion)
1-2 T butter

In a 10-12 inch skillet, melt butter under medium heat. Place chicken thighs, rinsed and patted dry, flat side down for 1-2 minutes, or until browned. Turn chicken over and add chicken broth, then season to your liking. Add rice, and stir to make sure seasoning and rice are submerged into the broth. Add veggies, and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until chicken is done, rice is tender, and broth is absorbed (You may remove the lid for the last few minutes to let the broth soak in).

Serves whoever is in the house and might even produce leftovers.

Everybody's Working for the Weekend

2006-06-30T15:23:00.000-07:00

And mine has already started. I took today off since I got my work for the week done last night, and took CJ for his checkup. Completely happy and healthy. We had taken him off of dairy as an experiment, per the doctor, for the past month, and he has clearance to start again.

Mommy's making some macaroni and cheese tonight!

On the way back, we ran into clogged traffic on the I-10--people headed west getting early starts on the weekend. So I got off a couple exits early and we stopped at Chik-Fil-A for lunch. They have these new milkshakes that are just as good as the milkshakes at Steak and Shake. Those are gonna get me in trouble.

I had never had a Steak and Shake shake until my last visit to the folks this past May. After a shopping trip to Wal-Mart, I suggested it to Mom and Dad since they don't have that restaurant out here. I had to order a kid's meal for Dad (his appetite isn't what it used to be), and got him a small shake while Mom and I got burgers and big shakes, with whipped cream and a cherry on top. With Dad's diabetes, he really shouldn't have these things often, but with his limited time left with us, like we're gonna deny him a simple shake.

The day after we went, I stopped at the house after going to church with Tooz and the clan. Dad's watching TV, and Mom had gone in for a nap. Dad was playing with his new lift chair; he presses one button, and the chair slowly reclines back and lets him kick his legs up. Press another button, and the chair goes from reclined to a raised position, letting him get out more easily. Dad spends a good chunk of his day "riding" the chair--so much so that Mom has nicknamed him the Urban Cowboy.

Dad and I were watching TV while he was riding his chair, and he looks over at me and says, "I sure wish I had a shake like the one I had last night."

I chuckle and ask him, "Is that a hint or a request?"

He responds by pressing the up button on the chair's remote, which starts raising him up. "You wanna go to Steak and Shake?" I ask, and he nods, still rising.

I go into the bedroom to tell Mom, but she's sound asleep and I can't wake her, so I decide to leave a note. When I go back in the living room, Dad's gone. His chair is empty, his cane is missing, and the front door is open. I look through the screen door, and there's Dad, sitting in my rental car, fishing for the seatbelt.

Laughing, I scrawl a note to Mom, grab my purse and keys, and head out the door. Dad still has his slippers on, he's in such a hurry for a milkshake.

We get there, and I ask him if he wants a vanilla shake--he shakes his head no. I ask if he wants chocolate, and he declines again. Then I remember he loves strawberry ice cream, but he says, "I don't want anything." He's staring at the dashboard of the car, looking somewhat far away.

"Dad, are you sure? We came here because you asked for a shake like last night."

He furrows his eyebrows, searching, then snorts. "Oh, yeah. Vanilla."

We get our shakes after a wait in drive thru. Dad curses a few times, wondering why it's taking so long since he only wants a damn shake. Once he gets his shake and straw, it's silence on the ride home. He's too busy sucking it down to speak. As he gets out of the car, he gives me his best mischievous grin and I realize, I've been snookered.

Snookered good.

Ah, well. I didn't have my son to spoil that weekend; might as well take the time to spoil my father.

Random Silliness

2006-06-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

The vacation countdown is beginning to take over, I think. I can hardly think of anything else than stretching out in my mother-in-law’s backyard with a crossword puzzle, a glass of grape juice mixed with lemonade, and watching CJ play in the grass.

I think Sara’s attempt on Hell’s Kitchen to sabotage her team is a stupid one. Rachel and Virginia (the two she lied to about having dishes ready) are gonna talk to each other and figure it out. Her desperation to be a leader is matched only by her inability to read others’ emotions and know when she’s being an annoying little tool, and lurking behind the prep carts, smirking like the Cheshire Cat, as Gordon Ramsay reams her teammates is not a good way to keep her cover. I think she’ll be the next one to go. At least, I hope so.

I don’t watch American Idol, and haven’t seen a single episode, but is the white haired guy in the Ford commercial *really* the most recent winner? His singing is bland and his attempts to add “soul” are horrible. If he can’t sound better in a 30-second spot when editing to cut down to the optimal material, I have little hope for any career.

Which reminds me—she bang, she bang; oh baby, when she move, she move—whatever happened to William Hung?

I saw a woman with a 20 inch waist walking back from the cafeteria with a plate heaped with fries and chicken wings. Hmm.

I have a theory about weight loss—matter cannot be created nor destroyed, right? So the Earth must always maintain a certain mass to keep its orbit around the Sun. This means the mass of those of us living here must equal the mass of earlier critters, like dinosaurs and wooly mammoths. The ideal beauty used to be women who were Rubenesque, but our ideals have changed to prize women who look like 12 year old boys. It’s no coincidence that our country is experiencing an obesity epidemic on the heels of fashion’s “heroin chic”. It all boils down to this—until Nicole Richie eats a freaking sandwich, I’m not losing a pound.

Vacation Countdown Has Begun

2006-06-26T08:04:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, vacation time was taken for granted in the summers and around winter break. I still long for those days, having a whole summer free, and sometimes regret not becoming a teacher as I'd originally planned when it's 110 degrees outside and I'm shlepping around in my business casual.

The best vacations were the trips to see Grandma (my mother's mother) in Pennsylvania, since we'd go for Thanksgiving and I'd get to miss a few extra days of school. Sure, those trips guaranteed that I wouldn't win a silver dollar for perfect attendance, but at least I was having fun!

It seemed like we would bring the Northern snow back with us on those trips--we'd arrive in the wee hours of the morning, since Dad usually insisted on doing the 16 hour drive in one hop with very few stops. We'd wake sometime the next morning to a blanket of snow covering Fairfax, and I'd beg to go out back with my plastic sheet sled. Mom would say no, since she was warm and cozy in bed, so I'd ride the sheet sled down the carpeted stairs over and over and over until Mom finally got up, got me dressed, and tossed me out the backdoor so she could get some peace.

And yes, I have been thinking that my son will be doing that to me, under some different circumstances, in the next few years.

Any trips outside of where we lived were always family trips. I hadn't traveled with anyone else until Junior year of high school, when the Clan took Lydia and me to Cumberland, Carson-Newman, and Tusculum, and then to Gatlinburg for my first visit there. I think that may have been my first real visit to Tennessee, with the exception of going over Jellico and back on a couple of occasions. I suppose one could say I'm still on vacation, since I haven't really returned from my "visit" to Arizona to meet that crazy Internet guy.

I wonder whatever happened to him? Since he left for work this morning, I mean.

Tom and I began a tradition of "just because" vacations during our carefree years. We've been to Vegas several times and got married there. It'll be a few years before we go back; I want to wait till CJ is old enough to enjoy the silly things, like the Manhattan Express at New York, New York, or the lions at MGM Grand, or the white tigers at the Mirage, Coca-Cola land and that big M&M place I've been dying to go to but Tom has no interest in seeing. I want to see the jousting at the Excalibur and watch my kid try to tackle a turkey leg, waiting for the moment when he realizes he can let the id go and tear into that sucker without worrying about utensils or a napkin.

Last year, we took an intense trip to introduce the newest grandchild. CJ was just over six months old and had luckily learned to sit up. He handled the airplanes well. We flew into Louisville, rented a car, and drove to see my folks in Georgetown for a few days. Then it was up to Ohio for a day to see my brother-in-law and his family, then up to Burlington, Vermont, to see Tom's alma mater and spend a day wandering down Church Street, watching the sunset over Lake Champlain, and marveling at how much the real estate market exploded since he lived there 20 years ago.

That was squeezed into a week. CJ was already sick of his carseat. Then it was down to the Cape for a few days to see Tom's parents, check out more lighthouses, and walk down to the private beach and stick our toes in the surf. I have a picture of CJ's little footprints in the sand--just the balls of his feet and toes since we had to hold him up. My other brother-in-law who lives near Boston drove down and grilled bluefish, which is strong, but very tasty when basted with olive oil and mustard. My mother-in-law always has a supply of bluefish since her neighbors love to fish for it, but hate eating it.

Then it was back across Mass Pike and the NY Thruway to Georgetown, with a travel stop in Buffalo, for a few more days until we drove back up to Louisville, returned the rental car in need of an oil change, and flew back home.

We were at the Cape again this winter for Tom's father's funeral, so as packed as our trip was last year, I wouldn't change a minute of it.

In two weeks, we leave for Massachusetts, again, flying into Boston and heading down to the Cape for two full weeks. I've been looking forward to the trip since we booked it two months ago. The time before we go will be busy, spent wrapping up reporting and sending out of office delegation notices and arranging for someone to watch our cats while we're away. But I cannot wait until we can walk down to the bay beach, pulling a wagon with towels, plastic buckets and shovels, and cooler of water bottles, so I can settle down under a nice shade tree and watch my son play in the surf.

A Comedy of Errors

2006-06-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

Man, it's been a fun couple of days!

Wednesday, I commenced my drive 50 miles away to the meeting that was taking place for my largest project. Luckily, I was covered on the logistics and setup--one of the benefits of living in the southwest valley is that my coworkers understand my miserable commute and don't ask me to get anywhere earlier than the expected start time. Halfway there, and I mean the exact halfway point, I realize I forgot something very essential--my laptop. See, I was the designated notetaker/action item keeper/documentation maven, so the laptop is crucial. Plus, I was chagrined as this is the first time I've forgotten to bring my laptop from home (and it comes home every night) and I picked a helluva time to space it.

I called my admin, told her what happened, and turned around. I reasoned that finding a loaner laptop wasn't going to happen, and although she was going to make some calls I should start heading back for mine. Luckily, I only got about three miles before she called me back and told me one of the developers would let me borrow his!

I love our developers!

My boss loved this--see, I don't give him anything to complain about since I do my job very well. He told me we'd have to brainstorm some good analogies--like, my leaving my laptop is like a carpenter forgetting his pencil, or a trucker forgetting his CB.

I said, "Like a plumber coming to fix a clogged toilet without a snake?" My boss thought that was excellent.

I got up on Thursday, concentrated on getting dressed and going through my routine, and grabbed my purse and laptop as I ran out the door--I figured that Thursday, nothing was going to stop me!

Heh. This is where it gets good.

I'm coming up on Bell Rd. on the freeway, close to my halfway. In fact, I had just passed the exit I would normally take to get CJ to daycare. Tom had that duty this week. I'm in the middle lane of the three, going with the flow at about 75 miles an hour, when a plumbing truck passes me on the left. I hear a clang, then a muffled pop.

My first thought is the truck dropped something that got thrown to my car, but the truck was on the left, and the sound I heard was on the right. Then the back of my car (actually, my husband's car but we both pay for it) begins to try to fishtail, wobbling back and forth.

I realize I have a flat, and grip the wheel with both hands at 10 and 2, gently working it to compensate for the back movement. Then I throw my right blinker on and gradually reduce my speed by easing up on the gas. Of course, the traffic coming up behind me is parting and passing on both sides, so I have to wait for a gap before I can get into the right lane toward the shoulder.

I move into the right lane as I pass the Bell Rd. offramp, and the movement causes the flat to blow completely. I hear the fump fump fump of rubber flapping on the road as I continue slowing and moving to the right, and I'm really fighting the fishtailing as the rubber flaps out of the way and my rim grinds on the shoulder asphalt. Finally applying my brakes gently, I slow to a halt before coming the Gore point of the Bell Rd. onramp, a little past the bridge that goes over the road itself.

I call AAA and report my problem and location. Then I call my admin, and we laugh hysterically at the bad luck of this morning. Then I call Tom, who is relieved that I am OK and tells me to go ahead and get a new set of tires on the car--we reasoned if one tire was weak enough to blow, the other three are, too.

Tow Truck Man arrives and rescues me from the heat after admiring the blowout. He calls ahead to the repair shop with the tire size so they can locate a set, loads my car onto his flatbed, and we're on our way. He asks what I do for a living, making small talk, and has some good insights into what makes an effective website from a user's point of view. I make mental notes as my admin calls back to check on me and let me know that I'm covered, again, for my absense. My boss has no analogies for this; he's just glad I'm not hurt.

After we get to the repair shop in Sun City, a retirement community in the northwest valley near where I pulled over, I get my first good look at the tire. The sidewall is gone, just completely gone. The tread is intact but has been ripped from the steelbelt and is attached only on the far side. The tread and steelbelt are hanging limply around the rim, bunching and buckling like loose fabric. My fender and wheel well are untouched, and the mechanic determines that the rim is unbent, which is very lucky indeed.

The mechanics and the bay manager gather around me to get my AAA information, and also to ask me about the blowout--where was I? How fast was I going? How did I manage to get over without losing control? I answer and they nod, approving of my actions and perhaps a bit impressed that a female driver in Phoenix can actually handle a moving vehicle safely. Heaven knows there are precious few of us out here.

I spend about two hours at the shop as they find tires, wait for delivery, and fix the car. This AAA shop in Sun City is quite the social hotspot for a Thursday morning. Elderly man stop by with coffee and sit on shaded benches out front, watching the traffic and the customers stopping for gas. I see quite a few golf carts, the preferred vehicle of Sun City, come in to line up at the pump. There is still a full service pump getting some action. One gentleman pops his head in to ask for Harold, who is apparently on vacation, and the gentleman is disappointed as he just wanted to say hello. Another man strikes up a conversation with me, telling me he comes here every month and a half for his oil change.

I got to the business meeting just in time for lunch and to share my interesting morning. I'm surprised at how I kept my cool for the whole thing--the surprise and frustration of blowing a tire, the adrenaline of getting off the road, the chagrin of missing my meeting, the boredom of waiting, and, finally, the unexpected expense of a new set of tires. I'm not sure. I think I just accepted it as being outside my control, so there was no sense in working myself up at all--that anger and frustration would have accomplished nothing. Instead, I just chose to accept it and deal, knowing that at least when I got my car back, I wouldn't have to worry about getting a flat tire on the rest of my commute.

A Few Fashion Tips for the Corporate World

2006-06-20T08:59:00.000-07:00

It's summer in Phoenix, and common sense while dressing is inversely proportional to the temperature during this time of year. Summer hasn't even started officially, but I have some advice based on what I've observed so far:

If you are female, dressed from head to toe in matching pink, including the cute polish on your buffed toenails, and above the age of 6, I'm sorry that I can't take you seriously during our meeting. I'm trying, I really am. It's not you--my inner feminist won't let me.
If your toes and feet are more gnarled and twisted than that tree root I'd prefer sucking to reading Tolkien, please don't wear open toed shoes. Slip-ons are made for a reason.
If your shorts are so short that I recall Nair jingles from the early 1980s, you do not qualify as "business casual".
Linen is quite a comfortable fabric for our climate--very thin and light. Keep this in mind when choosing among your thong, your striped bikini briefs, and your Hello Kitty underroos before donning that white linen skirt.
If you are wearing enough perfume to give a fibromyalgic a migraine from three states away, please don't sit next to me in our closed door meeting. I'm too polite to tell you that you reek, but I'll blog about it later.
Oh, and Linen Lady, remember that the fabric of that skirt is thin--please take care while "posing" in front of the picture window near the front doors.

OK. I feel much better now.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

2006-06-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

But if you whine sometimes, you might find the person posts a blog anyway just the quiet the unruly.

Wait, that doesn't rhyme.

So, I've been working today on producing a deck--in my language, that means creating a PowerPoint document of talking points as the flow for a huge business meeting I have all-day Wednesday and Thursday. So don't bother clamoring for blogging on those days; I'll likely be wiped and not want to look at a computer until I log in for work on Friday.

Caught up on my sleep on Saturday. Tom let me sleep till 1pm, which is a rare, rare occurrence with a baby in the house. Unfortunately, I got caught up by some side effects to my antibiotic which were, um, er, highly unpleasant, shall we say. I would up lying down at 6pm, waiting for the waves to pass, and feel asleep again till about 930. So Saturday was a lost day.

Sunday was better. Woke up at 830, and I meant to get a jump on the day with a run to Costco and maybe some baking. Instead, I spent the day cuddling Christopher. He got his shots on Friday, and was rather subdued. Of course, with five different diseases coursing through his veins building antibodies, I can understand the sluggishness.

Despite not feeling up to snuff, CJ did manage to master climbing up and down off the couch on his own and to learn a new word--big toe! First, he came up to the couch and bit my big toe, then he climbed up and grabbed his feet to pull his big toes into his mouth. I grabbed them and wiggled them, saying, "Big toe!" and he repeated, "Bih doe!"

He even remembered this morning, as I was putting his shoes on his feet. He yelled, "Bih doe!" and pulled his foot to his mouth. Of course, he got a mouthful of sneaker leather, but that didn't seem to faze him much.

Today, I got up after several smacks of the snooze button, went to work, produced my deck--and now I'm home, making dinner and posting about absolutely nothing. Hopefully, I'll come up with some better stuff later, but at least I posted.

I Return to You a Changed B

2006-06-15T14:15:00.000-07:00

I went to the doctor's office this morning for the sinus infection. The PA I normally see was out today, so I actually saw my doctor! How novel.

We were able to confirm that it is indeed a sinus infection, and he gave me a prescription for Zithromax to take to knock it out. We talked about how brutal the spring has been for me--this winter was very dry (five months without rain), raising the overall pollution and particle levels of the air around the valley. He prescribed Nasonex to me--the idea is to spray it once in each nostril, once a day, to keep the sinuses open, prevent bacteria from taking hold, and hopefully eliminate future sinus infections. It won't be of help to me on this infection as it takes a week to kick in, so I'm still taking Sudafed to get rid of the congestion.

The good news is this infection didn't completely settle in my ears yet, so that's a relief. I've been in three times since the end of March for colds, bronchitis, and mainly dual ear infections. The last ones I had in May were so bad I was deaf for about two weeks.

The deafness was bothersome, and somewhat alarming. I know that when I hit my old age I will have reduced hearing, just from the damage I've suffered during my first 30 years. But everything sounded like I was underwater; I had to turn on the closed captioning on my TV to understand anything I watched. Even turning my TV up to maximum receiver volume didn't help. For those two weeks, I wondered if this is what it's like to get old, and I didn't like it one bit.

I've seen from catching up on the blogs that age is a common worry. I worried a bit about turning 30, but it hasn't bothered me much. I gave up on preconceived notions of age and maturity a while ago. It seems to me that one does not receive any special knowledge based on a particular year; cumulative knowledge gained from one's mistakes and one's path in life is much more important. Choices we make today may seem inconsequential, but can have significant importance, and second guessing can be toxic. I'll give you a little case in point:

My time in college, for the most part, was not a happy time. I worked through a lot of identity issues, faith issues, and social issues that crippled me at times, and left me barely able to function. I made choices that were stupid; I used people, hurt them, and tossed them away with barely a second thought. Then I left in silly, spectacular fashion, dropping out of sight.

A few years ago, I went through a "making amends" phase. No, I wasn't in some anonymous support group or dealing with substance issues. I was thinking about some of things I had done and the people I hurt, and I had what I thought might be a profound thought: If only I had gone to college someplace else, maybe I would have gotten my degree, and maybe I wouldn't have done such hurtful things.

Seems like a safe thought, right? If I hadn't gone, if I hadn't met those people, that part of my life wouldn't have happened. But then I started following the logic--what if I hadn't gone to Tusculum?

I wouldn't have those few, cherished memories of spending breaks in Atlanta with Wade, doing my radio show, and driving to Asheville in February with Alicia and Jesse to see Ani DiFranco.
If I had a degree, it would likely be in History. I only switched to Theatre based on the people I knew in my theatre department.
Big parts of who I am today were formed from the freedom I had in college to make those difficult choices and sow my wild oats, so to speak. Many lessons may not have been learned, and the patience and temperance I see in myself today might not have developed.
I never would have gone to the computer lab when we got internet access, and I wouldn't have met Tom.

That's the big kicker. Tusculum got World Wide Web access at a specific time, and the 'Net is large place. I doubt I would have met Tom through a different site at a different time. Where would I be today without that? Sure, leaving school and flying halfway across the country to meet someone I barely knew was a dumb, dumb, dumb thing to do, but I got lucky, and it worked out, and I can't imagine what my life would be like without such a wonderful husband, a beautiful boy, and employment that has provided us with a nice house, a comfortable lifestyle, and a good life.

Tooz commented that she knew I had grown up during my visit to the house Derby weekend because I wasn't going straight to the poop jokes. She's right. I still enjoy good poop jokes, but I haven't "grown up" because I performed some rite of passage or turned a magical age. I am who I am today because of the hurtful, impetuous person I used to be; while I regret the hurt I caused, it was necessary. Don't think that I'm advocating some "ends justify the means" approach with carte blanche to stomp on people willy-nilly--that's missing my point.

Sometimes, when we travel, I think we have to go through the brambles and deal with the scratches, the bug bites, and the poison ivy, not just to make it to our destination, but to make the destination worthwhile. I think the pain and struggle helps us appreciate what we have more than if it were just handed to us. And I think it's a necessary part of the journey for us to continue to grow and accept what life gives us, attain the maturity to continue going, and the patience and will to enjoy a life well-earned during our "old age".

Think Before You Speak

2006-06-15T13:32:00.000-07:00

Last night, I'm driving on my way to pick up Tom from work (I drop off the boy, then Tom, then go to my office on the days I go to the office), and I hear this intro on the radio. Thank goodness I wasn't drinking anything:

"99.9, playing all your favorites. Sheryl Crow--she's recovering from surgery, and I know we wish her all the best. The First Cut is the Deepest, only on KEZ!"

Bubble Boy

2006-06-14T17:58:00.000-07:00

Like most children of working parents, our son spends a good chunk of his week in daycare. There are some benefits and drawbacks to this; one benefit is that they keep the room on a kind of curriculum that changes before the kids get bored with it, so songs and games change regularly. The kids learn some routine around snacks, meals, and naptimes, and they get to know the teachers pretty well.

As far as drawbacks...well, this week CJ came home with scratch marks on his face. Apparently, one of the other children *really* wanted a toy CJ had. He's been bitten (but he's also been the biter on an occasion or two), but for the most part, the kids get along. Lately we've been discovering another drawback we didn't expect:

He's learning.

Learning is great, don't get me wrong, but it's a little disconcerting to discover that your child has things locked in his head that you don't know about. Two examples from the past few weeks:

CJ had been acting up badly during the weekends, and frankly, being a brat. Screaming, tantrums, biting, hitting--typical stuff. Looking around the living room one day while he was having a screaming fit resisting naptime, I realized his toys were way too simple for his age. I hadn't really bought him anything since Christmas--could he be acting up because he was becoming bored?

I talked it over with Tom and headed out to Wal-Mart, because really, getting new toys for bratty behavior is always a sound parenting technique. But we were pretty sure that something new would catch his attention and maybe keep the peace.

One of the items I got was a bubble gun--this plastic gun-shaped toy into which you screw a bottle of bubbles, insert a couple AA batteries, pull a trigger and voila! 300 bubbles in 60 seconds! I knew they used bubbles in daycare, and I thought this might be something fun for using in the backyard. After I got home and we got CJ up from his nap, I picked the toy up up from the kitchen table to take it out of the package--

And my son comes running from across the room, clapping his hands and yelling, "Bubble! Bubble!"

CJ's speech is mostly random syllables--this was the first real word, beyond mama, dada, and kee-kat that we had heard. And I was dumbfounded! Not only could my son say bubble, but he recognized the toy on sight, knew its exact purpose, and let me know that he knew.

As proud as I was, I was also a little hurt--he'd learned something without me.

After giving this a lot of thought (and telling a lot of coworkers since it's a cute story), I decided to let it go. I can't be there with him all the time, and never really can be, especially once he starts school. I figured I'd just keep an eye out and share his joy when sharing something new with me. His next opportunity came this past weekend.

CJ loves to sing and dance. Granted, it's still just swaying and jargoning in this tuneless lilt, but it's singing, and he's been doing it since he was four months old. The other night, he was doing it again, but as we watched him, we realized this was different.

He was doing this exagerated bowlegged dance, stepping side to side. He held his hands sideways and clapped them, chanting, "Ba. Ba. Ba." Then he brought his hands down while saying, "Dow. Dadow." Then he lifted his hands over his head, and brought them back down for the sideways clapping.

After he finished this, he laughed and clapped, then started the routine again. As I watched, it occured to me that there was something familiar to it, even though I hadn't seen him do it before, when I realized what he was doing.

"Christopher?" He looked at me, clapping sideways. "Itsy-bitsy spider?"

His eyes opened wide and I began to sing the Itsy-bitsy Spider, complete with hand motions. CJ bobbed up and down, smiling and clapping, and mimicking the movements. It was so cool! He did his routine with me again, as we sang the song in our own ways, and my son had the biggest grin on his face, so happy I'd figured out what he was doing.

Again, I had a brief moment of jealousy--something else he had learned without me. But now that I think on it, I think his learning during these years cuts both ways--not just his learning of new things, new words, and new songs, but also our discovery of these things with him and affirming that we understand where he's coming from, even if he doesn't speak our language yet.

I Should Be Sleeping...

2006-06-12T22:58:00.000-07:00

But I'm so hopped up on cold and sinus meds that I can't yet. Finally, my sinuses have opened and my head no longer feels completely clogged with sawdust. I'm sure the people at Safeway think I'm insane. I stopped there this morning after taking my son to a couple of appointments and I purchased seven boxes of tissues with lotion, Benedryl, NyQuil Sinus, and Afrin. Oh, and bananas, apples, grapes, 8 boxes of my favorite chili which was on sale, and three liters of mouthwash. See? Insanity. I know my club card tracks all my purchases and someone at corporate has some handy report of all my preferred products and brands. I don't want to know what they think; at least the card is still in my maiden name and I can deny all knowledge if need be.

Anyway, I tried the Afrin, despite the fact that I have never used a nasal spray in my life. I was desperate enough to try about anything to open up my head. I've always been a wimp about things up the nose though. Pool water makes me sputter, and I remember once when I was about 14, my sister and I were eating cold pizza and playing Monopoly and she made me laugh after I took a bite and I accidentally snorted a piece of pepperoni up into my nose. I couldn't say what had happened, since the pepperoni was lodged onto my soft palate; I could only hop and dance and grunt into the living room, pointing at my nose while Dad shook his head, Mom stared, and my sister peed her pants with laughter.

Anyway.

So I bucked myself up, made sure CJ was sound asleep, and went to the bathroom to try the nasal spray. Took a few wasted attempts to get the hang of the delivery method, then BANG! WHOOSH! Solid hit of menthol straight to the sinus tissue. Man, talk about a kick in the pants. It burned, but almost pleasantly so, and I snorted a few times to make sure I could actually feel the mucus parting away. Whaddya know, it actually worked! I've been keeping up with the Benedryl to make sure those sinuses stay open, and now I'm waiting for the NyQuil Sinus to kick in.

I can't remember the last time I craved sleep so badly--probably during my pregnancy, when drinking a glass of water was enough to tap my energy for the day. The problem is I haven't been able to sleep more than two hours, and more likely, one hour, before waking up drowning in snot and needing to blow my nose. I've had very little REM sleep during that time, so I'm feeling better, but freaking beat. I'm intending to sleep in bed tonight--the last two nights I slept on the couch so I could prop myself up and avoid waking Tom all through the night. Last night, I managed to hit REM and was having a lovely dream:

I was bantering with Gregory House, but I don't think it was the TV show. I don't recall any other characters there, but it was definitely not Hugh Laurie, since he was speaking with the American accent. Anyway, he was being all flirty with me because in my dreams I am irresistible even to misanthropes, and just when the dream was getting good--and I mean, whispered, whiskered kisses to the nape of my neck good--time to wake up and BLOW! Gah!

I am so sick of being sick.

Spent the evening watching the premiere of the new Hell's Kitchen after getting CJ to bed (pause to say I love my TiVo) and I have to admit I love this show, even though Gordon Ramsay is one messed up individual. I watch this year like I did last year, wondering how I would fare if I tried, especially since I've gotten pretty good at cooking over the years. I know the first thing I would do if I were accepting to be on the show--I'd get my hands on every Good Eats episode I could and watch nothing but Alton Brown for 16 hours a day--honing my knife skills, understanding the science, and getting ready to cook my pants off. I've already got his tomato sauce (the one with canned tomatoes, not the one with Romas), chicken pot pie, and thin and crispy chocolate chip cookie recipes in the ol' repetoire. What's a few more to learn?

Hello

2006-06-10T20:16:00.000-07:00

So Tooz sent me an email with links to blogs from the extended Meadors clan, and as an unofficial member, I figured I ought to follow suit. I'd been following Lydia's Baby Blog for a while, and was pretty stoked to see Jenn posting comments as I think of her every now and then. So, here goes. Lots of topics come to mind, but I think I'll break them up rather than tap myself with on long post.

Catch up for anyone who doesn't know--Tom and I marked 10 years together last Thursday, and Monday marks our second wedding anniversary. Our son, Christopher, is approaching 19 months old and I can barely keep up with him. Not only is he a runner, but he's a climber, and I am constantly turning around to find him perched on a coffee table, the ottoman, an end table--I'm surprised he hasn't made it to the top of the curtains yet.

I've been sick since Wednesday after the big duststorm hit the Valley of the Sun. I've basically been in bed for three days fighting fever and pondering what to do with the tissues and toilet paper wasted from blowing my nose. I have to think that there's something there--maybe a fuel source? Not as efficient as biodiesel, but there are so many people out there with allergies that at least it would be renewable. I suggested to my husband that I could the tissues in construction--replacing wood glue, or compressed into bricks. That's when he felt my forehead and asked if I had another fever.

I actually took some rare sick time from work this week. I'm working at a large global company in their technology division, behind the scenes on our customer website. I'm a Senior Business Systems Analyst, which basically means I act as a liaison between the tech guys and the MBAs so they understand each other. It was very nice meeting Daniel a few weeks ago when I was in Kentucky--he's the first person I met in a while to whom I didn't have to explain my job. We had a very conversation on Sunday morning waiting for Ann before the service started. I decided I like Daniel a lot.

I'm going to go ahead and post this, and see if anyone cares, and then I work on getting some pics of my son up, some funny stories about my visit last month, and some other odds and ends. Tom just got a bowl of ice cream and I'm finding it very tempting.