Food Drive, band concert

The weather report last night indicated that between now and Saturday Thursday is the only day anticipated to be sunny in any way. Well, the sun will make its attempt to burn through the spring showers on Wednesday for sure, maybe Tuesday... but for the foreseen future by the weather prognosticators, it'll be a stormy Monday and rest of the week.

The rain started yesterday afternoon, monkeywrenching any wistful thoughts I'd had for a nice hike for Mother's Day. We sat around the house and Geoff was noisy. Doug made lunch. I made dinner. We all went to bed.

It was kind of a downer.

The rest of the weekend before it was great though. Aaron and Michelle's presence always improves the fun ratio. The can drive went great. It was a Godsend having Aaron there though, he made it his personal mission to out carry all the trash talkin' braggarts in the line saying that last year they carried 100 pounds and 110 pounds.

Aaron carried 104 pounds on his first heft. Subsequent trips to the trucks brought back 134 pounds.

Some of the trash talkin' braggarts in the line were getting pissed.

"Well, it's his FIRST year doin' this. I've been doin' it for seven!"

Like it matters whether or not its your first or fiftieth. Aaron rocked the party. When he'd get to the weigh table, the postal service dude would weigh his stuff and then yell, "YOU DA MAN!!!" It had me in stitches.

We didn't get nearly as much food as in years past, because only two people from our own congregation showed up to help. It's that way with our church. People don't get into things, and that is okay... I'd rather have people who show up willingly than people who groaningly feel obligated to help.

Next week after church is when they will get their opportunity to help when they go down to sort all the food out onto the tables.

I worked with the professor at the college on Saturday night for about 2 hours. It went really well. I always moan about having to go down there and work with her but I always have a great time... I should just learn not to moan about it and just go with a willing heart.

She has 1000 in grant money that she is giving me and has to use it by the end of May. I'm pretty psyched. I need to figure out how to do the whole paying taxes thing. I think I'm supposed to pay quarterly taxes on the stuff I'm making, but it really isn't that much. I don't know who to even talk to where it isn't going to cost me a lot of money. Sigh.

I'm clueless.

Well, I'm going to sign off. Geoff has been pretty much an angel for the last several days. He was the best kid ever at the can drive. Lucky for us our table was right in front of the Kindergarten Sunday school classroom. That kept him busy for 6 hours. And yesterday he was cooped up all day.

He allowed me to rest and snooze all morning, without trying to mix chocolate milk or writing on the walls. I got out of bed when the first of my three UPS deliveries showed up.

I may just let him go out to play today in the pouring rain. It doesn't seem to bother him, and he has a great imagination. I told him we'd bake cookies because he's been so good. And I have to swing by the church to pick up the box of donations for the local women's care center. So we have errands to do. I also have pictures to post, but I think that Jessica accidentally took my camera to school. This morning she was wearing the jacket I wore yesterday. My camera was in the front pocket. I'll crap my literal and metaphorical pants if she loses it. I have to go check the dining table to see if she was conscientious enough to remove it from the pocket.

2:24pm - addendum

Jessica did indeed have the sense that God gave geese and left my camera home. I found it in the kitchen after I posted this entry. God love her. Sometimes she is without a clue, other times, she's on top of it and then some.

Here are some recent pictures. Unfortunately, I didn't have the camera during the can drive. Don't know what I was thinking, but... here are some other pictures nonetheless.

	Last Wednesday night I'd mentioned that Jessie had a beginner band concert. I didn't get to mention my thoughts on it yet. Suffice to say, she's a cutie with her dad's saxophone. She wanted to take violin, but I told her she could take flute or sax, because we already owned the instruments. She's the only girl taking sax. She does a good job... hopefully someday she'll be as good as her daddy was!
After Church on Sunday I went down to assess the basement and Jess and M. came with me. M. is the one who got bit by Missy back last year... she and Jessie are still really good friends. And her dad and mom are people I love dearly and fully appreciate for being in our lives. Here, the pals show off with boxes of goods. All the tables down there are covered with boxes of food right now. Before, just the blue shelves in the way back. We've got a lot of work ahead of us to organize!
Michelle found some rather bizarre items in the food sort at the can drive. Here she models a can of Sprats, a product of Estonia. She also found duck pate, and some other wacky shit. We laughed and laughed. I've renamed her "Mischprat." We laughed and laughed...
We actually had to look up online what sprats are. It was a mystery to the four of us. Are they like sardines? Smelts? What? ... Notice that they are imported from Estonia by a company in Ft. Lauderdale. Linda, if you're interested, I'll mail you their address and you can maybe get a good sprat related career going there!
After church got out, we noticed a parade going up the street of First Communioners on their way to the Catholic church's hall, which is up around the corner from our church. The kids had to walk 2 blocks in their dresses and suits up through the neighborhood. I'm sure some felt like tools. Some of the boys were wearing sneakers, which cracked me up... but the girls looked lovely in their dresses. We waved at them... I stood with Jessie and M. and watched them walk by. We had a long talk about differences in faith between the Catholic church and the Episcopal/Protestant Churches... how at age 7 in the Catholic church sees your first communion, but most protestant churches want you to be in 7th grade or so before making the committment, because you should be making an adult choice... It was a good discussion. The girls were interested in learning, because both wondered why they didn't get to do this. M. said her cousin gets to do this in two weeks... most of her family is Catholic, but her parents started attending our church because it was across the street from their house. Jessica said she is relieved that we are not catholic. She said she'd hate to have to wear a dress like that. I thought it was really sweet to have First Communion Sunday on Mother's day. And this was kind of nice to see. Children so sweet, innocent and refreshing, in light of all that the Boston Media puts forth on the Catholic church right now. There's a lot of bad about it, but here you've got some sweetness. And I hope they continue to grow in fellowship and faith, and don't do what most of my catholic friends did when they were little -- quit going next Sunday.
Here's a picture I took in M.'s parents' yard. We dropped in to wish her mom a happy mother's day. They had spent the whole weekend prepping the yard for the mother's day festivities which are held annually at their home. The yard looks spectacular. I thought this was a pretty sight. She's a killer gardener, and makes my leaves droop with envy. I want to go through later in the summer and take more pictures of her yard for her. And for me. She gave me the bleeding hearts that I took a picture of a few days ago and used in the top left corner. She gives me cast offs from her garden sometimes. The bleeding hearts are the only things that seem to be doing well. She's awesome. Alright. That's my little picture show. Addendum fini!

Unemployment Retraining....

There are more whack birds in my yard than I've ever seen. Things I can't identify. I need a guide... there is this gorgeous little thing with a burgundy underbelly and black back, and he is gleamy and shiny and so sweet. He looks sleek and fast... and his mate is just like him, only instead of dark burgundy she's a pale yellow... not as shiny, but she's lovely too. The orioles were in the tree at 9 singing, and bluejays were all over the place. And we've a herd (yeah, a herd... I did that on purpose to paint a picture of cow like masses of birds hopping along) of chickadees pecking the grass. Eat all the fucking grubs you want boys and girls! They're killin' my yard.

That's why I think the yard is so full of birds, we're a feeding station. Bugs o plenty.

My unemployment saga that I mentioned Wednesday is ready to be told. Here is the short version of why bureaucracy sucks.

I get this letter in the mail informing me that I am required to go to this employment retraining seminar. I've been randomly selected to be a participant. So I'm like a piece of paper out of a hat... randomly chosen. The kicker is that I am required to attend this thing, or lose my unemployment benefits outright.

How fair is that? You randomly pick me and then penalize me for not going by taking away my benefits. What kind of shit is that? It makes NO sense. I should randomly decide if I want to randomly participate. Jeesh.

Anyway, I call them up, make an appointment to go to the seminar. I arrange for Jen to watch Geoff. I go to the office in Haverhill, not too big a drive but the closest one to my house. I get there, and they have me fill out this ridiculous "Application" to become a "Member" of the Retraining Office.

???

Application for something that you people DEMAND I attend, and then calling me a "Member" as if I've willingly joined and want to participate? What is wrong with this picture? It would have been like the Concentration Camp director handing out applications to be members of the work camps. Whatever.

I filled out my "Application" and thank you for extending an invitation to me to get joined up y'all, and on the application it says "What services did you hope to get out of the Center?"

I didn't hope to get out of the center. I didn't WANT TO COME TO THE CENTER so asking me what I want out of it is the biggest bullshit question in the history of humankind.

I want my unemployment benefits to continue.

That's what I put. Only nicer. "Seeing as I was required to come here, I don't have any preconceived expectations from the center. The only thing I'd like is a resume critique."

I really wanted to put: "I want to continue to stay home, not shower until 10am, eat ring dings and play with my son. I want money to do nothing for the first time in my life and if "joining" and "becoming a member" of the center is the only way I can get that then baby, that's what I want out of the center."

Asking me what I want out of the center. HA! I started laughing.

I finished filling the application out, hurrah! I'm a member now! And the girl leading the seminar says "Is anyone here working part time at all?"

I raise my hand and say that I'm designing some websites and working for catering man...

"Well, you don't have to be here," she says, looking at me like I am some sort of dingus for showing up.

"What do you mean by 'you don't have to be here?' " I ask, stunned, and looking at her with the equal dingus accusation gaze.

"How many hours a week are you working?" she asks.

"Maybe five to ten. Not sure. But each week that's about what I'm doing."

"And you are being paid?"

"Yes."

"And you fill out your time card each week saying that you are being paid."

"Yes."

Well she explains that the state of Mass says that working 2 hours a week is part time employment. 2 hours a week? Perhaps she means 2 hours a day. But anyway, she tells me I'm off the hook. I can leave.

Another guy across the table says to me, "uh, I'm working too! About 10 hours a week."

Bullshit. You are concocting a ruse. The lady let him go too. The thing that chaffs my britches is she didn't even ask the name and phone of the company/ies he/I were working for. How can they verify this?

Losers. Incompetent losers.

So I got home as Jen and Geoffrey were leaving to go run errands that Jen needed to do. He insisted on going with her... she accepted without grudge, and they went off into the morning.

I was at the unemployment office for 20 minutes. It was unreal.

Well, I got the woman's email so I could get that resume critique. I need to email it to her and see what she says.

Aaron and Michelle are here for the food drive help. I'm psyched. They got here at about 9 last night. We all were pretty pooped. Tonight I'm going to the college to work with the professor I used to work with designing an online course. She started putting it together in 1999, with me, and the college kept denying her request to teach it. This fall, they gave her the go ahead, so she's pressed for time. She has 3 months to polish what we did. And I'm disenchanted with what we did. I think it sucks. I want to redo the whole damn thing... I've learned so much more about layout and design, and don't think that it's a good course to teach online anyway. I'm reticent to go down to the college... Doug is going to flip when I remind him. I am unsure how late A&M are staying... so he's going to give me shit about abandoning my friends. Like he can't be the person in charge or something.

So it should be a very long and very tiring day. I'll let you know, obviously. I feel good about doing the food drive thing, but wish I had someone to hand Geoff off to so I could be at full involvement. I'm not sure how crowded/insane it will be there today, so one of us will probably stay somewhere with Geoff at all times. When we get the stuff back to the church, it will be okay for him to run around and play and whatnot, but while we are at the distribution center, it will be best if he's tethered to a human.

Alright. It's 8:45am. I wrote most of this yesterday, but this is my entry for the day. More later, and very happy mother's day to all the moms out there who have come across this journal and read it. We're "good eggs," to steal from P.G. Wodehouse.

Freely Giving Hugs

Today is my dad's birthday, and if you recall, yesterday was my mom's. She isn't a day older, but a couple years younger, so it isn't like she robbed the cradle or nothing. Not like me. Doug is 14 months younger than I am. Whooo Doggie! There should be laws against this kind of thing.

My initial goal for today's entry was to go on a complete raving lunatic rant about the unemployment "department of education and training" system... I think I'll save that for later though.

This entry, I'd like to talk about Wil Wheaton's entry for last night.

In case you don't feel like following the link, in a nutshell here's the synopsis. Wil was in traffic and looked over to see a young girl on the phone in her car, visibly upset, and arguing with someone. He was overwhelmed by her sadness, and also taken aback that we as a species are detached from one another in such a profound way. We see each other, we never speak; we are aware of another's pain, but rarely if ever do we reach out and ask if there is anything we can do to help.

All this hit him like a ton of bricks, and he sat there and cried. This traffic light, this moment, a metaphor for life. And I thought this was one of the better entries he's done in months... instead of sucking up to Michael Moore or detailing how no one wants him to act in anything, he really pulled together a great observational entry. The comments below the entry are mostly decent, but even there, you'll see people are just reacting like idiots, the way we always do.

I recalled the summer trip we took to Arizona. Geoff's first plane trip, we're going to the Super Desert to have fun with Doug and Jessie, who have been on the road for the better part of two weeks. We'll see them in just a couple hours. I'm thrilled to death to be going... and we're on the plane, waiting as passengers board. Southwest airlines has a no-seat assignment policy, so in a row of three seats, when there are two of you traveling, it's an interesting process as to who will sit next to you.

Instead of a ticket processing predestination, where the a credit card purchase by phone, or a travel agent, or through the web, will be the person next to you, the people come on board and size you up... deciding if you'll be the lucky neighbor for that flight. I know people were looking at me, fat chick with hyper little boy, and continuing right along... eventually, there was one seat left.

A girl got on the plane, looking as if she was running late. She was wearing brown corduroy hip huggers, an indian shirt, and mock bierkenstock sandals. She carried a bed pillow with a worn pillowcase that used to be purple but was now a very light pink. Our row was the only location where she could sit.

She sat next to me, I scootched my butt over so she could feel around for her seat belt. We didn't make eye contact, although I tried, and I said hello as she sat down. Geoff was busy playing with Grandma, so he didn't say anything or start in with his litany of personal questions like "what's your dog's name?" "what's your middle name?" etc.

The girl sat quietly, and then pulled her knees up to her chest, and burrowed her face in the pillow and softly sobbed.

Initially I'm sitting there thinking 'Crap on a cracker, I have to deal with some hippie chick weeping the whole way to Kansas City?' but I checked myself. The plane wasn't going anywhere yet... we sat and sat... and I did what I think Wil Wheaton would have been proud of... what he wishes he could probably do.

Wil said at the end of his entry: "I wonder how different the world would be if we made an effort to roll down our metaphorical windows and say hello more often."

Well, I did just that. I lowered my metaphorical window. I turned to her, and I said, "Baby, you look like you could use a hug," and I put my right arm over her shoulder and wrapped my left arm around her knees and her pillow. She cried heavily for a minute or so, felt longer... I didn't really know what to do or say. She looked as if she were 20 or 22, not at all old, not at all young. And I think at 22 I knew exactly how she felt. Whatever was wrong, I knew it. I'd been there. And I wished then that some old fat stranger had reached out and hugged me... I brushed her long blonde hair with my fingers, and she wiped her tears on her pillowcase. She said thank you, and pulled back from the hug.

I patted her shoulder a few times, and I felt sort of okay about just hugging someone, and sort of weirded out. What did I just do? I'm a mom with a 4 year old... I'm on vacation. I don't pick up hitch hikers, I don't smoke weed offered to me by strangers at concerts (don't do it at all as a matter of fact), I don't make prank phone calls, I don't walk up to strangers and ask them if they have a relationship with ourlordnsavior Jesus.

I'm reserved. When I was 22, perhaps not... but I'm a lot wiser, and a tad more careful about dealing with strangers. She, was like I was.

And she was thankful. I asked her if she was okay. She put her feet down on the floor, I noticed a pretty silver toe ring on her "index" toe, with a pretty turquoise and red stone in the middle. I liked this girl. She was very vulnerable, but she looked smart. She was sad, but looked like she'd be fine. She told me that she lives near Lake Tahoe, and was home for a few weeks to visit her family.

"I've lived away from home since I was 16, I've lived all over the country. I've traveled everywhere. And saying goodbye to them is still the hardest thing I ever have to do. I love living far away from them, I love being out in the country... but I wish that I was close enough to drive over on a Sunday afternoon and say hi."

Homesickness. Family Ties. The lure of the open road and adventures aplenty vs. the comfort of family and familiarity of the hearth. I sound like Professor Paul Borgman, doing his lecture on Ulysses.

We talked a lot about our similar backgrounds. I told her that it doesn't get any easier when you get older, that there is still a sadness when you drive or fly away from family. They can drive you nuts-o, make you angry, crazy and old before your time, but they are yours as much as the apartment you live in far away is yours. Enjoy them both. Revel in them. Pray for them. Your life where you are, fully grounded in you and your life in them, fully grounded as a sister or daughter of another person.

We shared our grapes and blueberries, and it was a good flight. At the end, Geoff and I got up to change flights to continue to Phoenix. She was flying through to Sacramento where she'd "deplane" as they say in the aviation industry, where her boyfriend was meeting her. By ground they'd travel the rest of the way to where home was for her, with him and with their friends, their community... their lives. I looked back over my shoulder and she'd spread across to the window where Geoff had been sitting, had her knees curled up to her chest in the position she was in when I hugged her, the only thing that was different was there were no tears running down her tan face.

---

Have you seen the video for the Dave Matthews Band song "Everyday"? It is a stupid song, I don't like it. I don't like much that is on the new album, but ... the video makes the song so much better, and I smile from ear to ear when I see it.

Essentially, there is this heavy guy wearing a red T-shirt, ugly eyewear and a weird hat. He is walking around town as the song plays in the background, approaching people and doing that universal gesture for "How 'bout a hug?"

You know the gesture. Eye contact, head kind of tilted to the side, arms open, palms exposed, shoulders give a little upward heft. How 'bout a hug?

People just look at him, walk the other way. He is undeterred. He approaches tons of people, flagging them down. Doing his gesture. Finally, someone hugs him.

Then someone else.

Then, fewer and fewer people are shunning the hug. They're hugging the guy, exuberantly! Heck, they are even hugging each other. He's a sensation sweeping the city... everyone doing the "How 'bout a hug" shrug.

Blue Man Group and Hailey Eisenberg hug him. Men hug him. Women hug him. He walks into Dave's studio where the band is playing, and hugs the band. They hug each other. Everyone is smilin'. Everyone is happy.

Hugging Guy is getting covered by the local morning news program and does a walk-on to give the anchor people hugs. I think he gets Conan O'Brien to hug him too.

At the end of the video, he goes to his apartment alone. He takes off his hat and glasses, gets under the covers and sighs. Goodnight, Hugging Guy!

All in a day's work.

What's your day's work going to be? Will you have an opportunity to lower a metaphorical window? Will you add some more mortar to your metaphorical brick wall?

"All you need is
All you want is
All you need is love.
Up from the bottom, everyday
Up to the top love, everyday
Pick me up love
Lift me up love
Pick me up love
Everyday."

---

Like I said. The song is kind of lame... but the video has purpose. Funny how the MTV changes perception, makes that which is banal interesting, that which is interesting art, that which is decent somewhat unnerving and confusing.

My son's in the sink in the kitchen. Sounds like he's trying to do dishes. Better go give him a hand.

Happy Birthday Grandma; picnic and spiders

Today is My Mother's Birthday. Happy Birthday Grandma!!! I'd post her email here and demand you go show her love, but, she'd so kill me. So instead, here's a birthday card for Grandma! Oh, she'll so love me!

It's not my best work in photoshop, more of a quickie "What can I throw together to be a turd to my mom..." kinda thing. With some forethought and more caffeine, this could have been a masterpiece of animation with her blowing out the candles... But she'll kick my ass nonetheless just for this paltry effort. That and I sent her a beatgreets card of Barenaked Ladies jumping off a cake to the sounds of Jim singing "Happy Birthday" Lounge Lizard style...

If you'd like to send goddamn birthday wishes to goddamn grandma, email me and I will goddamn forward them along.

---

The picnic yesterday was awesome. Geoff and I had a lot of fun, although he only ate his potato chips. Didn't eat his sandwich. He was to psyched just to be outside eating. I think it has been a lifelong dream of his.

I had some musings on Tess' entry today about spiders, recalling an episode of life where my roommate Laurie and I were driving down the road in her car and a bee flew in. We almost crashed... it's a funny story.

I've got to police Geoff and get a shower, so I'll expound later. I'm full of funny stories, and should really get back to putting them down the way I'd intended.

So for lack of an actual entry this morning, this is turning out to be a picture show... and here's a picture for Tess. This was outside my window at about 5 pm yesterday evening.

Looks bigger than it actually is, based on perspective etc... Our home's exterior is covered with spiders on the outside. They sleep during the day in the vinyl siding, and emerge at night to rebuild the dainty webs that I brush off each day. In the height of summer, there usually is a Monster Spider up on the powerlines in front of the house and under the street light. He/she/it is very wise, because of course the light attracts bugs, hence... good eats. I'll see if I can snare a picture of him/her/it... but lately my intention of getting pictures of things has been wrought with failure. I wanted to nail a picture of the wild turkey hanging out in the stream but once I realized it was there, it vanished. Haven't seen the swan since the last time I mentioned him/her. And the oriole is taunting me. I hear him singing, but he's hiding in a tree someplace. Oh well.

More later.

To Do List; Orioles and Hugh Laurie

An update on The Immediate To Do list:

Today:

1. Contact the mortgage company first thing in the morning to get fax number to send my homeowner's policy to them so they'll pay my bill. it's due the 17th. Call the insurance agency to make sure that's all I need to do. Must do. Or we lose policy.

2. Get the form from HUD notarized to get the money (about 1000 clams) from our refinance last year. Didn't realize we hadn't done that.

3. Check with tenants on where the rent is.

4. Verify Geoff's next eye appointment date in June because I think it conflicts with his CORE eval.

5. Contact Dart folks to tell them who to host with and get final info to finish site. They've been awfully patient. And I'm 99% done with cateringman, so that site won't take up nearly all my time anymore.

This week:

1. Download the professor's site I'm working on.

2. Get boxes for the food drive next Saturday, organize church basement so there's plenty of room to bring the stuff in. It'll be fun. Also, ask Pete if we can use his GMC Jimmy.

3. Send mother's day cards to certain mothers. Grandmothers. Matronly aunts... etc...

4. Call Gammy, she fell and broke her arm.

5. Remind Doug about taking Wednesday morning off to be with Geoff while I go to some ridiculous unemployment "retraining" crap. Jeesh.

This morning Jessica was getting her shoes on and I was still abed, and she called me from the livingroom in a soft, almost nervous voice. I told her I couldn't hear her so she tiptoed in to see me.

"Mom, there's this huge orange bird in the apple tree. I'm trying to be quiet so he doesn't hear me," she hushedly intoned and came into my bed quietly, on her belly, to look out the window at the tree. I rolled over and looked with her, sure enough he was there. A huge oriole, I think. I'm not good with bird identities, but he and his mate were here last spring. Just yesterday I'd mentioned to Doug that I was sad they weren't back this year. Last year was the first year we'd seen them.

So I was happy to hear his loud song this morning. I thought I was imagining things, because I was so tired. I got about an hour and a half of sleep before Doug came to bed, and when he did he was noisy, complainy that he broke his glasses... so I ended up being awake for several hours.

Here's a picture of many orioles, I had a hell of a time FINDING a picture of a feathery oriole instead of a Baltimore Oriole. But I did it all Scholastic Book Service with a blow up excerpt and spotlighty pull out. You like that?

Oh I'm pathetic today.

I am going to drink more coffee and figure out what to do with Geoff. He desperately wants to picnic, so perhaps we'll do it in the yard or go someplace for a picnic. He's doing his pokemon battle thing... and I'm going to do a little more work on cateringman's site.

Right ho! as Bertie Wooster would say. Who is Bertie Wooster, you ask? Aah. I forget. You were an English Major in college focusing on British Literature, but they didn't let you read anything FUN... right?

Jeeves and Wooster are characters which spring (sprung?) forth from the mind of P.G. Wodehouse. In addition to very funny BritLit, which should be taught in college, but NOOOOOOO, (I digress) they are immortalized on the screen by Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry. Excellent, funny stuff.

Right ho!

I mean, just look at Hugh Laurie. I love him! His face alone makes me guffaw. There are very few people who make me laugh just with a facial change, Eric Idle, Hugh Laurie and Weird Al... But again, I digress. Back to Hugh Laurie... I truly enjoy him in many different series, specifically Black Adder where he is the Prince Regent. Damn funny actor, very talented man. Super under appreciated as long as he keeps getting roles in things like 101 Dalmatians. Ugh. Dreck.

Doug started reading Wodehouse a few months ago. I was very familiar with the TV show, and knew it had to come from some literature, and sure enough, Doug brings home some Wodehouse from a bookstore. Indeed. So I've been addicted since. Check out that Jeeves & Wooster page, and also go check out his Ashland Oregon page. Doug and I went to school there for a semester, and I'm tempted to drop this guy a line and just say hi.

I'll write more about Ashland another day. I've got some great stories, kind of Frontier Housey in a way, only with electricity and Dostoyevsky.

And a side recommendation, if you've never seen Stephen Fry in the movie Wilde, I highly recommend it. The story of Oscar Wilde, amazing as it is, is even more astounding as Mr. Fry plays the lead role. If you are squicky about homosexuality though, you may want to rent but avert your eyes during certain scenes... for the most part, it is an astounding movie. I cried, I laughed. I appreciated my britlit degree ever so much more. (Jude Law is very good here too...)

---

(side note, Geoff just did "Talk to the Hand" attack in his Pokemon battle with me and I just about spit my coffee. Oh my God, that's funny. I countered with the "Don't Go There!" attack. Which for Simpson's Fans makes total sense, right?)

Doctor Appointment

When Geoff was in school we decided that he needed to be behaviorally tested. We made some phonecalls, got bossed around by bitchy hospital secretaries, begged for an appointment, finally got one even though this one particular bitch claimed that the "doctor says" annd the "doctor indicates" that Geoff doesn't need behaviorally assessed, he needs to see a psychiatrist.

Well, I'd agree with that if I had some sort of behavioral test to take with me to the psychiatrist, bitch. Give us an appointment.

Today is the day of the appointment. 10am in Salem. Our family practitioner really wanted us to go here, and for some reason they didn't want to see us. When I called our doctor's office back after dealing with the initial bullshit, she was angry and called THEM.

We got the appointment.

Geoff is getting dressed and told me he'll do everything the doctor asks him to do. He's actually really excited about this.

But here's the thing... in the last several weeks, his behavior has improved markedly, I'd say 10 fold. He's more obedient, blows up only when really really tired, has learned to control his temper, express his feelings without throwing things. He's doing really well. Doug doesn't think we need to go through with any testing at this point. My rationale is that he's great NOW because I'm home with him, we've been working on his behavior management, he's happier than he was 5 months ago. What happens when he needs to go back to school, and NOT be with mommy all day.

Hmmm?

Will the same behaviors rear their collective fugly heads? Will he turn back into Angry Geoff? What can we expect? I'd like to have a CORE eval done, and then figure out which direction we need to move in.

We shall see what happens. I will of course blab my heart out here. Don't I always?

Par-Tay Checklist; Frontier House

The immediate To Do list:

Tomorrow:

1. Contact the mortgage company first thing in the morning to get fax number to send my homeowner's policy to them so they'll pay my bill. it's due the 17th. Call the insurance agency to make sure that's all I need to do. Must do. Or we lose policy.

2. Get the form from HUD notarized to get the money (about 1000 clams) from our refinance last year. Didn't realize we hadn't done that.

3. Check with tenants on where the rent is.

4. Verify Geoff's next eye appointment date in June because I think it conflicts with his CORE eval.

5. Contact Dart folks to tell them who to host with and get final info to finish site. They've been awfully patient. And I'm 99% done with cateringman, so that site won't take up nearly all my time anymore.

This week:

1. Download the professor's site I'm working on.

2. Get boxes for the food drive next Saturday, organize church basement so there's plenty of room to bring the stuff in. It'll be fun. Also, ask Pete if we can use his GMC Jimmy.

3. Send mother's day cards to certain mothers. Grandmothers. Matronly aunts... etc...

4. Call Gammy, she fell and broke her arm.

5. Remind Doug about taking Wednesday morning off to be with Geoff while I go to some ridiculous unemployment "retraining" crap. Jeesh.

It is a gorgeous day, I just wanted to do a quick life update, write those things down because I always remember things better when I write them out. I've gotten kind of forgetful in the past few months... eep. Can't be a forgetful nelly in this life. We went to Wayne's birthday party on Friday night. We got there about 20 minutes late because of traffic on the Spaulding Turnpike. We were at Newick's Seafood on the Great Bay of the Piscataqua River in Dover New Hampshire... it was GORGEOUS there. I love living in New England... the sun was setting in the west up the river, and there were all these cute little boats and serious lobster boats, lovely dark pines lining the river and beautiful stately homes across the water in what I guess is Newington, not sure... but I loved it. The boy was kind of well behaved. For as good as he's been the last two weeks, he gets way excited when he gets with his buddy Pete.

Pete always looks at Geoff like "okay, what new trouble can you lead me into here!?" and seems to get such a kick out of him. Wayne enjoyed his cake immensely. It was lots of fun. We had a blast.

Before, when the cake was new...

After... when none of us got any. D'oh!

Kidding! We staged this after all the cake was dealt out. It made me laugh. Good cake too. Kudos to Marcia.

I was supposed to go to this reunion party for one of the companies that I used to work for in Marblehead, but Doug was in a kinda poopie mood, and Geoff was giving me a hard time about leaving. I knew I was screwed if I left Geoff there with Doug in a poopie mood, that I'd get grief for it later. So I decided not to go. At about 8pm Doug says to me "when are you going to this thing?" Mind you, it started at 6 and was 45 minutes away. I told him, obviously I'm not going. Cited my reasons. He kind of shrugged and said "whatever."

I hate going to stuff without him, even if it is something that is primarily MY friends or MY history. He gets all bitchy and moany about going, but then he always has a great time. We went on a harbor cruise once that this same company paid for and had for us, and he didn't want to go. Didn't want to get a sitter. Didn't feel like it blah blah blah.

Halfway through it, he's having a blast talkin' shit with my buddies.

Whatever.

Anyway, I feel badly about skipping it. I'm a schlub. I should have gone and just had him deal.

Marriage: Sometimes it isn't fun. And sometimes it is hard work. But you're a team. And teamwork is necessary. So sometimes there are concessions.

Which brings me to my next topic (nice segue, eh?) I've been watching marathon sessions of this PBS show "Frontier House." Perhaps you've seen it, heard of it? You can't go NEAR PBS without it being on lately.

Essentially it's "Survivor" meets "The Real World" meets 19th Century Montana.

Three families, starter provisions, period clothing and tools, and the homestead act. The goal isn't family vs. family, but family vs. requirements to meet for making it through the winter. Only one of the three families end up having proper stores of supplies, and that's just barely, by the time the whole thing is over. And it is interesting to watch how they changed, grew, transformed... I enjoyed this program a lot, and like my addiction to "The Real World" and "The Real World Road Rules Challenge" programs, this is another "reality" program that I will proudly declare as a guilty pleasure.

The only complaint I have is that I wish they had filmed an episode a week the way "The Real World" does it... but there are like eight episodes total I think. The website gives a lot of detail that you miss out from the overview programming, so if you've watched the show and haven't checked the site, please do.

The first family on the frontier is the Brooks family, initially just Nate and his dad. Nate's bio said he was employed at Fisher College in Boston... so he's my local favorite! Yeah Team Brooks!

Nate and his dad Rudy head out to the west and are preparing a homestead for Nate's bride Kristin to come out in July and have their wedding (by the way, yes, I cried and cried, it was gorgeous. I'm a friggin' sap. But I loved it).

How hip and cool and sweet and wonderful is this guy?

The cabin he built for her, the dress he sent to her, ugh! Gorgeous and romantic, and so grounded. He's a damn riot too, very funny. I'd have all the Brooks family members over for a beer and hang out anyday. Especially compared to the other two loser families.

The next family is the Glenn Family, from Tennessee. She's Karen, and is divorced with two kids, Logan and Erinn. She's there with them and her 2nd husband, Mark. Initially it's all peaches and cream. They all four seem to get along great. But eventually the marriage and all the interpersonal relationships in the family start to fail. It's really incredibly sad to watch. Karen is controlling and unyielding, Mark doesn't feel like he's a part of her "family," because it's her and the kids and then him on the outside, so watching him distance himself and begin a resentment at being treated like an 8 or 12 year old was difficult. The boy Logan was so funny, full of great little comments like "My best friend is Work. You met him yet? Nah, cause yer a 21st century slacker!" The daughter Erinn rocked, and I thought she was the most normal person in that house, but you can tell in the future her mom's going to pollute her mind. They'll have a hard relationship as she grows.

The Glenns officially separated, after they got back to Tennessee.

Finally, the team from Malibu California, all Hollywood stuck up attitudes and all, the Clunes. A husband, wife, their three kids and a Clune cousin.

They cheat, and break laws, and basically don't really learn anything from the experience but they are convinced in the end that they did and would have survived the winter with one pile of "wafers," Gordon's nickname for unsplit rounds of firewood.

The wife, Adrienne, begins the journey all heartbroken about not having makeup, skin cream, shampoo etc... the girls are just as shallow. They smuggle 'contraband' into the past with them, which they later realize was stupid and they bury the stuff under a tree. Gordon, the dad, is upset and angry that life is so hard. And "you mean to tell me that 19th century man wouldn't have come out here more prepared than our so called "history experts" sent us out here?"

The two boys seem to get the most out of things, and really love being with their dad on the frontier. By the end, the girls who started out naughty seem to have learned the absolute most.

They all would have died lonely miserable deaths in 1883.

The thing that pisses me off the most about these people is they are the most highly educated of the bunch, but the dumbest when it comes to reality of things.

They came into the project thinking "this is going to be fun, romantic, and so cool." The wife "has a degree in food science" so they obviously planned on living off her skills. She is an excellent baker, wonderful in the kitchen, and makes great baked goods with her time. But they miss the point. The first winter out there would have been the hardest, and being most prepared with essentials instead of peach pies would have been the important task.

They needed wood split and hay cut for their animals. Not scones with raisins. She ended up building a romanticized 1883 life as their crops come in and their hunger abates after the spring, but this does nothing to prepare them for the future, for the winter. It was kind of sad to see her get all into it and happy, only to know in the back of your mind that nothing she is doing is going to benefit the clan in the months of cold to come.

So this show sucked me in, and I really liked it. It's one of those things that I can't pass on the dial without seeing what's up.

I'm glad I didn't watch from the start though, because the very first episode where Adrienne is crying because she put rag curls in her hair, and wasn't allowed to wear makeup for the olde tyme photograph they were having done, pissed me off and I couldn't take it seriously at all. If that was the first episode I saw, that would have been the last. Glad I tuned in when they were milking cows and the Glenns were a fightin'.

Anyway. Geoff is head to toe mud out there. It's spring. I have some seeds I want to plant, get a garden going out there... And during the week we'll go pick vegetable plants out. I saw where one of the squash seeds that Geoff had planted is growing up. Aah, frontier life.

A Lady Named Ada...

I'm working on the catering man's site.

I'm very very close to being done. And I can put this sucker to bed, get paid, and finish the dart people. Whew. It's been a long month or so. I thought this morning that I may have screwed up my unemployment. I was supposed to mail in my time sheet chit thingie into their office on Friday of last week, the day of the funeral, and didn't realize I'd forgotten to do so until Monday afternoon.

So I called my representative, a kick-ass, awesome Latina named Ada, who laughs at the drop of a hat and thinks my kids are a riot (they're usually up my butt when I call her, so she laughs and laughs at how cute they sound).

I informed her that I thought I screwed myself up by mailing in the time card late, she looked me up and said they got it and the check is being processed. I told her normally by now I have already received my time card for this week and next week, she said I should get it today.

I told her I love her.

She laughed and said "you know sweetie, I need more people like you in my day!" I told her I need more people like her, who don't treat me like I'm an idiot when I am an idiot, so perhaps we need to start our own company called "More People Like You Enterprises," and make the world a happy place.

Man, she thought that was just the funniest.

I love Ada.

Anyway. I got on the PC at 8:15am right after Jessie left for the bus, and I'm just doing this journal entry and I'm done over here. It is 11am. I am waiting on a couple small things from Cateringman and the site is done. Bonnie's husband helped me with a wicked nice web mail form action thingie, so the site auto returns a cool thank you email, and all sorts of shit. So I'm stoked.

All this for five hundred clams.

I'm working for the cheap.

I wanted to do him a favor because they did me a favor by hiring me to do catering stuff with little experience, so I feel it is worth it.

It's not a bad day, so my lament from yesterday about the rain has been answered by sunshine. It's chilly though. Geoff got to play outside, which he so needed to. The 50 degree temperature reading on my deck thermometer is a lie. It feels like 30. Jessica insisted her sweatshirt was warm enough. Ha.

My feet are freezing, so I have on my favorite Bubbles Slippers. (cue PPG theme song as the day and my toes are saved). I also have these cool Homer Simpson Slippers, but one of them is hiding from me, so I have to wear these. They are perfect, just warm enough, and not at all big. Just like nice socks.

We spent about an hour at the Saturn dealership yesterday. Discovered we have two bent rims. The tune is $280 bucks. Stupid road in northern Maine, bending my rims with its retarded potholes! I told Doug I had them replaced and he was pissed, because at about 13,000 miles we had the front two rims replaced because they were bent. He's never in his life had a car with shoddier rims, so he thinks I should write a bitch-gram to General Motors to whine about their sub-standard rimmage.

Sure, why not. If it gets me some sort of discount on something in the future, I'll whine.

We did hit that hole wicked hard though. Michelle will agree. I was surprised it didn't disable the car... so I don't feel like bitching too much. I'd rather bitch at the town in Maine and see if their town hall will reimburse me for part or all of the cost. Some towns do.

We have a surprise birthday party to go to tonight for a friend who may or may not be reading this at some point, so I'll not mention it. Suffice to say, the digital camera is coming. It's at a seafood restaurant, and I'm simply jonesing for some scallops! So, woo hoo! Tomorrow afternoon the company I used to work or in Marblehead is having a reunion as they do their final shut down. I'm looking forward to that, seeing some old friends I have totally lost track of, people I adored but once I left seem to have forgotten and they've forgotten me. Again, digicam is coming. I've kept in very close contact

Gotta go back to the Saturn dealership to get the car aligned, which they didn't have time for yesterday due to my need to split by 3:30 to get home to meet Jessica's bus. I don't mind her being home for a few minutes, but I didn't want her home alone for over an hour. I'm such the good mom.

I got email today from my friend's long-ago college girlfriend who is still processing a lot of her thoughts and feelings about his death.

She was so sweet and all I wanted to do was just hug her. She told me she actually works with teenagers who are having drug problems, working through their addictions. She yelled at them, told them that they are going to end up in the same boat as he did. Felt that somehow he was speaking through her to them..

I'm totally amazed at how life paths wander, change... how she ended up on that end of the spectrum, and he on the other. I think I could write a book about the two of them, and life. But I'd break my own heart. And hers. And other people's.

I also thought it was so funny to look at my inbox this morning and have an email from her, and an email from the girl he loved who sort of introduced him to the heroin life, not by having him use but by having him fall in love with her... side by side on the list. I am the bridge between both worlds.

Sometimes people get to have visits from those they have recently lost. Shelleyness talks about how her grandmother visited her M., and how she dreamed of her mom's Dickie... both entries are really moving from a spiritual standpoint, and part of me longs for that kind of a communication with my friend. Which is why watching the Sixth Sense was so bad for me. I want to be able to have that one more I Love You, that one more "did you know that I wanted to help you more than anything but you didn't want me to?" kind of thing. I want to know he's fine. I trust he is, I believe he is, but KNOWING would be so nice. I would never go to a psychic, or to that TV scheister who allegedly communicates with people on The Other Side. It would have to be just because. And I'd welcome that. I doubt it would ever happen though.

I actually think, don't laugh, that he's communicated with me through the radio stations as I scan them. When I can hit buttons and hear all of his songs, at any one given point, perhaps that's insane of me to even think... but music was his medium of communication in life. Why wouldn't it be in death.

Anyway. I have to shower so I can go back to the dealership. This entry has been brought to you by the rambling freestyle thoughts of an overtly caffeinated mom, first thing in the morning, and Spongebob. And slippers.

Pencil Stabbing Freak

In light of Geoff's behavior over the past couple of months, I just read this news story and it kind of unnerved me. Is this our future? I think the pudding throwing kid could have done this, and I don't doubt that Geoff is capable.

Meh! I'm not psyched about the possibilities. Geoff's behavior has improved markedly in the past couple of weeks, but once he gets into a school situation again, I can hardly imagine what he may do. Read on... and pray for this kid and my kid. [Emphasis added below is mine].

ANTHONY, Fla. A 7-year-old boy has been charged with aggravated battery, a felony, for allegedly stabbing four elementary school classmates with a pencil after he was asked to share his crayons.

No one was seriously hurt during Tuesday's incident about 70 miles north of Orlando, police said.

The boy began yelling during class after he was asked to share his crayons, police said. The 7-year-old then began chasing students and stabbed a classmate in the back, causing a puncture mark. The boy also stabbed three other children, causing red marks, authorities said.

"Everyone went ballistic," Kristin Irvin, the substitute teacher overseeing the class, told the Ocala Star-Banner. "All the other students were afraid of him. He was making threats."

The boy said he stabbed his classmates because he "didn't like them," police said.

...

The boy has had discipline problems in the past but has never attacked other students, school officials said.

...

In January, an 8-year-old boy at another Marion County school, Fessenden Elementary, was arrested after school officials said he stomped on his principal's toe.

The stomping on the principal's toe thing is kinda funny. I mean, principals ask for it sometimes. Principals should get combat bonuses in certain schools. But this is kind of scary to think that a kid is going to go ape and stab people with a pencil.

Geoff got mad at a kid who picked on him one day but waited three days to punch him in the nose when the kid didn't expect it. I sure hope we can have his behavior in full control by the time he starts school for real.

He has an appointment June 5 to see a behavioral neurologist and have a CORE evaluation done. They told me they didn't think they needed to see him, I argued back and said he did need to see them because I needed to start the screening process.

They recommended we take him to a psychiatrist. I agree. He should be seeing someone. And we're waiting to hear back from a few people, notably our insurance company, as to whom we should see. I'll keep you posted.

Seriously though, his behavior has been so much better since I've been home. So getting laid off was more of a blessing than I ever think I could have admitted or accepted before. Let's hope he keeps up the good work.

When I was subbing, (note, the teacher above was a sub as well. I feel her pain; I wore her pudding) I noticed that compasses don't have points anymore.

They have these dull, stubby, metal tips which look absolutely useless.

When I was in school, back in the days of dangerous playgrounds, hooded sweatshirts with strings and no seatbelt laws, compasses had these two-inch long death points which were awl-sharp, eye-piercing in appearance and shape.

I always thought then, and still think now, that they were the most dangerous classroom based instruments aside from the Bunsen Burner, which I later grew to fear greatly.

I remember dropping a compass on the top of my foot in elementary school one day while wearing sandals. I recall the point puncturing the flesh, the swift pain and astonishment, and seeing the spot of dark red blood appear around the tip.

My teachers always had band-aids in class, I remember getting my share of them over time.

We used to have to put cardboard under the paper when drawing circles because they would damage the desks.

These things were wicked. I am not amazed that someone finally said "Jesus H. Christmas, lookie here at these dangerous math and science related tools!" The new ones don't look like they require cardboard to stay on the page. They look like they'll slide all over if you go to whip up a good circle... but at least, they are now less dangerous than the old Ticonderoga Number Two. I wonder what they'll do next for kid protection in the class. Pencils = Death.

I shouldn't joke.

Propane and Propane Accessories....

Jen is on a Nikka Costa kick right now. She comes home from work promptly at 9am, hits the stairs right over my head and bursts through the door, and presses play on the CD player. I don't care for Nikka Costa. I think she's horrid and over rated. And who cares if she's related to friggin Frank Sinatra. Nepotism only has its privileges with Jakob Dylan in my book.

At least most of her musical taste is good. She's also on an ABBA kick, so she's been playing the same two songs over and over. It's funny, makes me think of Linda.

---

Again with the rain here. It is pouring out. And it isn't going to stop until maybe tonight or tomorrow at latest report. We need the rain, sure. But it'd be nice if there could be a few minutes where Geoff could run around outside for a while. He has so much energy... that indoors for a full day turns into a lot of pent up Geoff.

He invented a game which we can play while I'm working on websites. It doesn't require a lot of my attention, just enough that I can participate and type at the same time.

I just spent the better part of 3 hours working on cateringman's site, and the better part of it was an hour of pokemon battle. I'm so close to being done that I could scream. But there's just so much I can do with Geoff, so at least this little game he made helps.

He hands me a pokemon card, and tells me we're having the battle. I have to say things like "Lapras! Use your water gun attack!" and he yells "Geodude! Use your punch stone!" and then he jumps around for 30 seconds and I have to then call out the next pokemon strike, for him to counter strike, and then do his sound effects and make all sorts of action happen. It's kind of funny to watch, and I can type and think and do photoshop and he's having a blast.

And he'll patiently wait when I forget it is my turn to yell crap like "Weedle! Use your horn attack!"

When I can't think of anything else to "attack" with, I say "I'm down and out and I'm up and splat," and he rejoices because he won the battle.

Down and out and up and splat is something he and Jessica invented. I have no idea how to really play it, but it is one of two games they play together lately. It usually involves Jessica pissing him off and yelling that, so he has to yell "Aw!!! Now I have to start over!" And he starts whatever he is doing over... and she yells it again, and he freaks... it is a riot until he starts hitting her.

The other one is "Winner, in your face!" which is kind of a race game. She yells "Whoever gets to the [whatever she is standing closest to] first is the winner!" she touches it while he runs over, and then she yells "Winner, in your face!"

He yells it too, she argues that he cheated and she really won, he fights with her. She does it again. It can go on for hours.

I'm usually the target of what to get to first. "Whoever gets to mom first is the winner" and she's standing next to me, so I have both kids tagging me and yelling "Winner, in your face!"

He rarely wins. But at least she'll play with him.

I told her she has to change it so it isn't something she's standing next to. Doug told me "That's no fun. Then she has to work to get there. Defeats the older sibling purpose." Seeing as we're both oldest siblings I see the truth in his statement and her philosophy. But sometimes I feel she should give him more of a chance, so sometimes I pick the goal. When we're out on a hike, "Whoever gets to THIS tree first is the winner!" And I have Geoff standing next to me. He likes to win.

---

We have to take the car into the shop today and get the oil changed and some work done to the front end. We were in Maine and had a total full load in the car, and I hit a pothole that I thought broke our front axle. I didn't see it in the dark. Now the car shakes and pulls to the right. So that needs adjusted. I hate the idea of taking Geoff to the dealership, but they could get me in today, and I totally need to get it done.

---

We grilled out last night on the Weber. I love grilling, as I've praised the activity before in the past here. It smells good and takes a minute. I marinated some chicken in an Emeril garlic lemon pepper marinade, and it rocked steady. I felt like a pro. It was a good meal. There are left overs.

I really prefer the charcoal grill to a propane grill. For some reason I feel like a propane grill is going to explode in fiery death if I use it, plus I just like the taste of charcoal grilled meat. Hank Hill would hate me. I've heard all his arguments on the propane vs. coal debate and I still am not swayed.

---

Last night a friend of mine from the old neighborhood called me. She has been reading the journal for a while and wanted to call me and express her sympathy.

What a nice surprise... what a gift it is to get an out of the blue call from someone. It was great to talk to her, almost two hours catching up on the phone... sometimes that's just one of the best things to do. I totally used to worship and admire her when we were kids, and in high school we kind of grew apart but were still friends. She was so cool when we were growing up. I could write a whole bunch of crap about what we used to do growing up but she'll get all embarrassed, and I want to keep her as my buddy. So I'll refrain.

I will say that she was a wicked good Charlie's Angels player.

We would run around with this other girl Barbara and I'd be Kate Jackson (she was the smart one, so I wanted to be like her...) and pretend to shoot guns at people and save the day. It was a riot. I have this distinct recollection of us running along the top of a humongous snowbank after a blizzard, and Barbara had on a brown corduroy coat. And a long scarf. Nothing greater than the fantasy minds of a chubby blonde girl, a Costa Rican beauty and an Orthodox Jewish girl pretending they are Hollywood's finest.

Funny how you can see things clearly, but totally forget everything else about things, like what year it was... what else was going on in life... I think it must have been 1978 or 79.

Anyway, it was great to catch up with the her. She is one of those people I look back on with such great fondness and adoration. So thanks J... you rule.

---

We're still thinking of getting another dog, in case I haven't yet mentioned that. Kinger has become a neurotic mess when we leave him. I went outside with Geoff to get in the car yesterday to go pick up Jessie for a dentist appointment in the middle of the day and opted not to take him. He SCREAMED in the house as we walked away. You'd swear someone was beating his wife in the neighborhood based on the noise this dumb dog makes.

I think it would do him good to have someone else here when he has to be left. Oy. I'd get another rottie in a minute. Gotta get that Rottweiler Carpeting thing going again. But perhaps just a mutt puppy. We shall see.

Alright. Gotta get ready for our errands. Geoff will be happy to do errands. Wanna know what we have to do in addition to the car repair? I need half and half. I forgot to get garlic cloves for the roast I'm making... so It's Market Time! And I have to pick up the roll of film we dropped off the other day. Lots ta dooo lots TA dooooo. Crap it's really 12:30. Oh man. Gotta get going!