Sunday, April 24, 2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
Making a list and checking it elevendy million times.
7:15 a.m.
Almost all of the laundry is finished, even the laundry we're not taking with us. I don't like the idea of a pile of stinky clothes sitting on my bathroom floor for seven days. All must be washed. I have a tendency to clean the house MORE when we are about to LEAVE it, rather than when we're hanging about inside of it.
One would think I'd want to hang out in a house which is nice, organized and clean, but I've discovered that I really would rather play video games with the boy or joke around with my daughter than spend time mopping. Call me a Slacker Mom if you will. But. My kids are fairly happy folk, well adjusted, seem to be sane. And that's all I can ask for in life when it really comes down to it.
The great thing about tidying up before leaving is that we come home to empty trash and no moldy dishes trying to climb up out of the sink. And that is a beautiful thing.
I talked to Aaron for about an hour about fishing and kite flying, went in the basement and found our stunt kite, which has horribly tangled strings but both handles were attached -- and that is a good thing. Aaron said he can rewire it and make it fly. He's leaving his place at about 10am, and hopefully will be here by the time the kids get home from school so they can hang with him for a bit. I think I plan on bailing from work early. I'm more than 3 weeks ahead in the scheduling, and I have so much to do, that I bet G won't mind me bailing at lunchtime.
I'm glad MB is back from maternity though... hopefully everything will be perfect while I'm gone.
It's funny -- I don't really work there yet. I'm a contractor girl. I can walk away at any time. But I feel personally invested in what I've done and I get really anxious if I think there might be something wrong with stuff. I will re-preview all of next week's content and just make sure everything is beautiful, and will encourage MB to re-preview the following week because I don't want to come in that Monday morning after vacation to see a mistake.
I take this all very seriously.
Bonnie e-mailed me and let me know that her dad, Walt, is doing much better. His L-VAD device is keeping the old ticker regulated, but he is number two on the adult transplant waiting list right now. Thank you for your continued mojo for him... and please continue to keep him in mind.
Bon said that there are two babies ahead of him on the transplant list. Baby hearts and grown up hearts are two totally different sizes, so it isn't like they are in competition for the organs. In her email, Bon said that it really blew her away that there are babies waiting for hearts... as the mother to a fairly new-model little boy (Happy late birthday Liam. Ooops! I typed "Lima" by accident. Heh.) the realization that someone so small can have such a need is overwhelming.
A few years ago, long time readers will remember that a friend of ours lost a baby. He was about 7 days old, and suddenly just ... stopped working. He stopped breathing and his heart stopped. They rushed him to the hospital, where he held on for a few days and then died in his daddy's arms. A few years before that, a college friend of mine and her husband lost their son to a congenital heart defect. They had a few loving days with him, and lost him while... waiting for a heart.
Walt has lived a long and productive life, with four kids, a bucket of lovely grandchildren... it's been a good life. Contemplating the fact that as an adult, he needs for another adult to die in order for him to live... really blows my mind.
But realizing it from the baby perspective -- that another baby has to die in order for this other infant to survive... that's enough to shatter the most granite heart.
So -- continue to mojo Walt. And think of the babies. Whoever those two babies are, waiting on the list with Walt... Lift them up.
Doug finished our taxes last night while I folded laundry and made lists of what we need to bring and take and move about and do.
I have an issue with folks who get all crazy happy that they're getting a refund. If you're one of them -- hear me out brother or sister. You need edumacated.
See, that's your money. YOUR money. And the government has had it for months, earning interest on it. It isn't sitting in your bank account earning interest. It's in theirs. Your little refund, along with the eighty gazillion other little refunds, just netted the government a shit ton of extra money, thank you very much.
You should underpay your taxes. Figure things out, fill out your W-whatever forms right, and underpay by about 1000 bucks. Save the 1000 in your account where it earns you a couple o'bucks interest over the course of time.
And then write them their check and mail it on April 15th.
The way we work it is Doug takes all the different things that he's entitled to like Head of Household and the two kids and whatnot. I take Zero Higher Single Witholding. And in the end, we ususally owe about 800 bucks. It works out just fine.
We don't owe nearly as much as I'd anticipated we would, what with me contracting an average of 30 hours a week for the past six months... but we will next year, when this quarter is factored in. It was under $2000, because Doug made some adjustments to his witholding while I am contracting. And we were prepared for the worst, so writing the check we just wrote wasn't as scary as I thought it would be when I began contemplating these things back in November.
Working as a contractor semi-sucks. I mean, I get paid a nice chunk of money. I can write off my travel. I really should get a cell phone and write that off. I should buy a new laptop, and write THAT off. Maybe our tax burden next April won't be what I'm expecting it to be. I'll be happy to be brought on as a real employee, and that looks like it'll be in May. And we can adjust our witholdings and take care of everything so next year we hit the same easy check.
Geoff got up this morning and was devastated that I'm making him go to school today. He so doesn't want to go. He's on vacation. He's got Spring Break-itis (for an -itis, it's not a bad thing to have. My sister gets lots of -itises, and this one is one I'm sure she wouldn't mind). It is taking a lot of coaxing to get him to even eat his breakfast or get dressed. I can't say as I blame him. He's had a rough couple of months, and school is just another obstacle to fun at this point. I can't believe we still have 2.5 months to go. Gah.
I need to go encourage him, and get myself some more coffee, and find my shoes. It's going to be a long day, kids. Wish me luck.
Almost all of the laundry is finished, even the laundry we're not taking with us. I don't like the idea of a pile of stinky clothes sitting on my bathroom floor for seven days. All must be washed. I have a tendency to clean the house MORE when we are about to LEAVE it, rather than when we're hanging about inside of it.
One would think I'd want to hang out in a house which is nice, organized and clean, but I've discovered that I really would rather play video games with the boy or joke around with my daughter than spend time mopping. Call me a Slacker Mom if you will. But. My kids are fairly happy folk, well adjusted, seem to be sane. And that's all I can ask for in life when it really comes down to it.
The great thing about tidying up before leaving is that we come home to empty trash and no moldy dishes trying to climb up out of the sink. And that is a beautiful thing.
I talked to Aaron for about an hour about fishing and kite flying, went in the basement and found our stunt kite, which has horribly tangled strings but both handles were attached -- and that is a good thing. Aaron said he can rewire it and make it fly. He's leaving his place at about 10am, and hopefully will be here by the time the kids get home from school so they can hang with him for a bit. I think I plan on bailing from work early. I'm more than 3 weeks ahead in the scheduling, and I have so much to do, that I bet G won't mind me bailing at lunchtime.
I'm glad MB is back from maternity though... hopefully everything will be perfect while I'm gone.
It's funny -- I don't really work there yet. I'm a contractor girl. I can walk away at any time. But I feel personally invested in what I've done and I get really anxious if I think there might be something wrong with stuff. I will re-preview all of next week's content and just make sure everything is beautiful, and will encourage MB to re-preview the following week because I don't want to come in that Monday morning after vacation to see a mistake.
I take this all very seriously.
Bonnie e-mailed me and let me know that her dad, Walt, is doing much better. His L-VAD device is keeping the old ticker regulated, but he is number two on the adult transplant waiting list right now. Thank you for your continued mojo for him... and please continue to keep him in mind.
Bon said that there are two babies ahead of him on the transplant list. Baby hearts and grown up hearts are two totally different sizes, so it isn't like they are in competition for the organs. In her email, Bon said that it really blew her away that there are babies waiting for hearts... as the mother to a fairly new-model little boy (Happy late birthday Liam. Ooops! I typed "Lima" by accident. Heh.) the realization that someone so small can have such a need is overwhelming.
A few years ago, long time readers will remember that a friend of ours lost a baby. He was about 7 days old, and suddenly just ... stopped working. He stopped breathing and his heart stopped. They rushed him to the hospital, where he held on for a few days and then died in his daddy's arms. A few years before that, a college friend of mine and her husband lost their son to a congenital heart defect. They had a few loving days with him, and lost him while... waiting for a heart.
Walt has lived a long and productive life, with four kids, a bucket of lovely grandchildren... it's been a good life. Contemplating the fact that as an adult, he needs for another adult to die in order for him to live... really blows my mind.
But realizing it from the baby perspective -- that another baby has to die in order for this other infant to survive... that's enough to shatter the most granite heart.
So -- continue to mojo Walt. And think of the babies. Whoever those two babies are, waiting on the list with Walt... Lift them up.
Doug finished our taxes last night while I folded laundry and made lists of what we need to bring and take and move about and do.
I have an issue with folks who get all crazy happy that they're getting a refund. If you're one of them -- hear me out brother or sister. You need edumacated.
See, that's your money. YOUR money. And the government has had it for months, earning interest on it. It isn't sitting in your bank account earning interest. It's in theirs. Your little refund, along with the eighty gazillion other little refunds, just netted the government a shit ton of extra money, thank you very much.
You should underpay your taxes. Figure things out, fill out your W-whatever forms right, and underpay by about 1000 bucks. Save the 1000 in your account where it earns you a couple o'bucks interest over the course of time.
And then write them their check and mail it on April 15th.
The way we work it is Doug takes all the different things that he's entitled to like Head of Household and the two kids and whatnot. I take Zero Higher Single Witholding. And in the end, we ususally owe about 800 bucks. It works out just fine.
We don't owe nearly as much as I'd anticipated we would, what with me contracting an average of 30 hours a week for the past six months... but we will next year, when this quarter is factored in. It was under $2000, because Doug made some adjustments to his witholding while I am contracting. And we were prepared for the worst, so writing the check we just wrote wasn't as scary as I thought it would be when I began contemplating these things back in November.
Working as a contractor semi-sucks. I mean, I get paid a nice chunk of money. I can write off my travel. I really should get a cell phone and write that off. I should buy a new laptop, and write THAT off. Maybe our tax burden next April won't be what I'm expecting it to be. I'll be happy to be brought on as a real employee, and that looks like it'll be in May. And we can adjust our witholdings and take care of everything so next year we hit the same easy check.
Geoff got up this morning and was devastated that I'm making him go to school today. He so doesn't want to go. He's on vacation. He's got Spring Break-itis (for an -itis, it's not a bad thing to have. My sister gets lots of -itises, and this one is one I'm sure she wouldn't mind). It is taking a lot of coaxing to get him to even eat his breakfast or get dressed. I can't say as I blame him. He's had a rough couple of months, and school is just another obstacle to fun at this point. I can't believe we still have 2.5 months to go. Gah.
I need to go encourage him, and get myself some more coffee, and find my shoes. It's going to be a long day, kids. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Warmer, Beerier, Hot Tubbier.
So last night Aaron and I were talking about our vacation. He called quite giddy and excited with all these evil genius plans about the crazy things we're all going to do, and wondering how he can transport his stunt kite to us while riding his motorcycle. It may not be easy.
We started thinking about the weather. What is the weather like in the zipcode where we are headed. I hit weather dot com to check the 10 day forecast, and it isn't looking pretty.
I'm hoping the weather prognosticators are wrong. It is scheduled to be partly cloudy and never out of the mid 60s. We were thinking the weather would be like it was this weekend here -- 70s and hot and sunny. Hrmm, this could dampen our fun. Especially if the partly cloudy turns to mostly cloudy with rain and thunder... like they're having right now.
Although, I would so dig a huge thunderstorm.
The great thing about the house we're staying in is that it has a fussball table and an air hockey table. Between that, the playstation that we'll bring with us, and the hot tub... I'm sure we can pass a rainy day or three.
And, if it isn't too rainy but is just cloudy, my body still has not acclimated to the warm weather. It was in the lower 40s here yesterday, so mid 60s is nothing to whinge about. My body, filled with winter fat and thickened slow blood, may just believe it's Africa Hot at 64 degrees. So it won't be too bad.
No matter what, it'll be warmer than it is here. And beer-ier too. And Hot Tubbier too.
In the end, that's all that matters.
Jessica had a half day at school today for some unknown reason. Professional Development day... which is stupid 2 days before vacation. Why not last week or the week before? She referred to it as Administrative Hoo Haa day. Sums up the whole academic experience from a 12 year old's perspective. She got home around noon, and I left work at about 2:45 to come up and hang with her and Geoff. I let my babysitter off the hook today and Friday. Pretty soon her semester will be over, and we'll lose her to her homeland of Canada. Sigh, she's nice. I wish she was here more, but it's a haul for her to come up here.
The kids seem to like her, and she said they're the easiest kids on earth to babysit. They do their homework and hang out, play video games, and watch cartoons. That's all I expect from them.
I remember being a baby sitter and the mom telling me that the kids were NOT allowed to EVER watch TV, and I had to... play with them all the freaking time.
I never got any homework done. Stupid Demandey Rotten Brat Kids. So my kids are a babysitter's dream. TV, video games, hang out, behave. That's about it.
I don't like the idea of having to look for another sitter for the summer, or having to pick where they're going to camp and for how long. Jessica wants to go to sleep over camp for two weeks. It's the next town over, but dude. Two weeks!? I'll miss her like mad! And Geoff wants to go to Cub Scout camp, so I have to see when his buddy from his den is going. I'd like to have them go together. If I can swing it, Jess can go to camp those two weeks too, and it'll be an easy two weeks down.
Hopefully, before we know it everything will be scheduled and all set. The effort kills me though. Meh. Anyway -- I promised Jessie a little trip to Kohl's to pick something up for vacation. I need to fold laundry, get organized. Sigh. I have 48 hours to get ready.
Can I do it?
We started thinking about the weather. What is the weather like in the zipcode where we are headed. I hit weather dot com to check the 10 day forecast, and it isn't looking pretty.
I'm hoping the weather prognosticators are wrong. It is scheduled to be partly cloudy and never out of the mid 60s. We were thinking the weather would be like it was this weekend here -- 70s and hot and sunny. Hrmm, this could dampen our fun. Especially if the partly cloudy turns to mostly cloudy with rain and thunder... like they're having right now.
Although, I would so dig a huge thunderstorm.
The great thing about the house we're staying in is that it has a fussball table and an air hockey table. Between that, the playstation that we'll bring with us, and the hot tub... I'm sure we can pass a rainy day or three.
And, if it isn't too rainy but is just cloudy, my body still has not acclimated to the warm weather. It was in the lower 40s here yesterday, so mid 60s is nothing to whinge about. My body, filled with winter fat and thickened slow blood, may just believe it's Africa Hot at 64 degrees. So it won't be too bad.
No matter what, it'll be warmer than it is here. And beer-ier too. And Hot Tubbier too.
In the end, that's all that matters.
Jessica had a half day at school today for some unknown reason. Professional Development day... which is stupid 2 days before vacation. Why not last week or the week before? She referred to it as Administrative Hoo Haa day. Sums up the whole academic experience from a 12 year old's perspective. She got home around noon, and I left work at about 2:45 to come up and hang with her and Geoff. I let my babysitter off the hook today and Friday. Pretty soon her semester will be over, and we'll lose her to her homeland of Canada. Sigh, she's nice. I wish she was here more, but it's a haul for her to come up here.
The kids seem to like her, and she said they're the easiest kids on earth to babysit. They do their homework and hang out, play video games, and watch cartoons. That's all I expect from them.
I remember being a baby sitter and the mom telling me that the kids were NOT allowed to EVER watch TV, and I had to... play with them all the freaking time.
I never got any homework done. Stupid Demandey Rotten Brat Kids. So my kids are a babysitter's dream. TV, video games, hang out, behave. That's about it.
I don't like the idea of having to look for another sitter for the summer, or having to pick where they're going to camp and for how long. Jessica wants to go to sleep over camp for two weeks. It's the next town over, but dude. Two weeks!? I'll miss her like mad! And Geoff wants to go to Cub Scout camp, so I have to see when his buddy from his den is going. I'd like to have them go together. If I can swing it, Jess can go to camp those two weeks too, and it'll be an easy two weeks down.
Hopefully, before we know it everything will be scheduled and all set. The effort kills me though. Meh. Anyway -- I promised Jessie a little trip to Kohl's to pick something up for vacation. I need to fold laundry, get organized. Sigh. I have 48 hours to get ready.
Can I do it?
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Me bum hurts!
Yeah -- it does. I am sore. Especially across my lower back and me bum. Sunday afternoon we hooked up with Michael down in Littleton to do some caches.
We did three caches in the Oak Hill reservation, and then went over to another one near the Cisco Systems campus on the Littleton/Boxborough line. The trail started out in a less than auspicious way, fenced in on both sides like a cattle run at a ranch. But eventually it opened up and brought us up a huge esker ridge. And 3 miles later, my thighs, butt, and back are sore.
Three miles ain't nuthin, when it comes down to what we do to ourselves on a regular basis, but for some reason this ridge trail whipped us like red headed step children. On the way out, I was feeling whiney. And was proud of both of my kids for not being whiney. Mine was comedic whiney-ness "What is THAT!? It's a HILL!???? Who put THAT THERE!"
Pizza, water and beer later were the icing on the cake, and made me bum hurt less... but. Heh, "butt" I'm going to be feeling this all day today. What a work out.
It was so fun going out with Michael, because neither of my kids (especially the big one) put on the "I hate geocaching!" attitude and bitch and moan if an outsider is with us. When we take their friends, or when we cache with one of our friends, especially Aaron, they seem to enjoy themselves better.
So I think we need to take a fifth wheel with us from here on in.
When I arrived home last night, Doug had a campfire roaring. Oh the bliss and joy. He was reading by the fire and Geoff was sitting with him, playing his gameboy. I saw the two juxtaposed, the old column and the new -- yet both of them enjoying the basic happiness of something burning.
I love the campfire. I mixed up a vodka tonic, and kicked off my shoes and joined them. It was cold out this evening -- about 40 degrees. So the fire was refreshing and perfect. We chatted long into the night, grilled burgers and just enjoyed each others' company.
It's campfire season, y'all. Oh, that you could all join us in the plastic adirondack chairs this year... perhaps a few of you in local readership can. I should have an (a)musing party. Have all my (a)musing readers over to chill by the fire and discuss life, the universe and everything.
It could become a conference, bigger than SXSW! Ooooh.
Nah.
Well, this is count-down week... I have so much to do that it is boggling my mind. Cleaning, laundry, organizing, planning. It is a bit much. I'm glad I'm way ahead of schedule at work, or I might have an aneurysm.
Aaron called on Monday night to say his Uncle has sport fishing equipment for us to borrow if we swing a bit east of our south through Connecticut. I'm looking forward to the possibility of catching a little something. Geoff has wanted to go fishing. I'm hoping this will convince him it is BORING and purge him of the desire to do so in future.
We did three caches in the Oak Hill reservation, and then went over to another one near the Cisco Systems campus on the Littleton/Boxborough line. The trail started out in a less than auspicious way, fenced in on both sides like a cattle run at a ranch. But eventually it opened up and brought us up a huge esker ridge. And 3 miles later, my thighs, butt, and back are sore.
Three miles ain't nuthin, when it comes down to what we do to ourselves on a regular basis, but for some reason this ridge trail whipped us like red headed step children. On the way out, I was feeling whiney. And was proud of both of my kids for not being whiney. Mine was comedic whiney-ness "What is THAT!? It's a HILL!???? Who put THAT THERE!"
Pizza, water and beer later were the icing on the cake, and made me bum hurt less... but. Heh, "butt" I'm going to be feeling this all day today. What a work out.
It was so fun going out with Michael, because neither of my kids (especially the big one) put on the "I hate geocaching!" attitude and bitch and moan if an outsider is with us. When we take their friends, or when we cache with one of our friends, especially Aaron, they seem to enjoy themselves better.
So I think we need to take a fifth wheel with us from here on in.
When I arrived home last night, Doug had a campfire roaring. Oh the bliss and joy. He was reading by the fire and Geoff was sitting with him, playing his gameboy. I saw the two juxtaposed, the old column and the new -- yet both of them enjoying the basic happiness of something burning.
I love the campfire. I mixed up a vodka tonic, and kicked off my shoes and joined them. It was cold out this evening -- about 40 degrees. So the fire was refreshing and perfect. We chatted long into the night, grilled burgers and just enjoyed each others' company.
It's campfire season, y'all. Oh, that you could all join us in the plastic adirondack chairs this year... perhaps a few of you in local readership can. I should have an (a)musing party. Have all my (a)musing readers over to chill by the fire and discuss life, the universe and everything.
It could become a conference, bigger than SXSW! Ooooh.
Nah.
Well, this is count-down week... I have so much to do that it is boggling my mind. Cleaning, laundry, organizing, planning. It is a bit much. I'm glad I'm way ahead of schedule at work, or I might have an aneurysm.
Aaron called on Monday night to say his Uncle has sport fishing equipment for us to borrow if we swing a bit east of our south through Connecticut. I'm looking forward to the possibility of catching a little something. Geoff has wanted to go fishing. I'm hoping this will convince him it is BORING and purge him of the desire to do so in future.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Somewhere Beyond the Sea
We just watched "Finding Nemo" for the one millionth time, and I still love it. It's fabulous. I can watch it a million times. My daughter's friend is a huge Ewan MacGregor fan, and the movie "A Life Less Ordinary" includes the same Bobby Darin song that closes out the credits for "Nemo."
So we just watched the credits eleven times, and the girls both know all the words to the entire song, and the musical stops, and ... everything.
It's pretty funny. But now it's stuck in my head.
Last night was a ton of fun. We met Carrie a little later than I initially intended because traffic heading north to get the girls was horrid. I really hate I-95 from Peabody to Georgetown. It is all torn up, a total disaster. And the speed limit is posted at 45, which is retarded. It's like driving on a dirt road, but is even and smooth enough that you don't have to go slowly.
The cops patrol it hardcore -- pulling people over left and right. So when I look down and I find myself doing 90... I do the mental math on what it's going to cost me when they bust my ass. And I slow down. And it takes forever to get anywhere.
We had dinner at Joe's, and then went over to get our toes done. It was lovely and relaxing. The girl who did my toes wasn't nearly as nice and friendly as the last girl who did it. And she went very fast... no long soaks in the blue foamy water. She was all business and all done in no time.
I felt... like I had been shorted.
While we were there, a girl came in to get a manicure and pedicure.
She was obviously a regular, and kept a jovial and teasing tone going on with the young men and women working there. She was loud, had huge fake boobies, a spray on tan and this annoying Fran Drescher like laugh. You know the type. You've seen her.
She was young, but looked totally used, spent... worked over by life. She was funny, she seemed nice, she liked that she drew attention from the other people (like us) in the salon. She made eye contact with each of us as she ribbed the guys about auditioning for American Idol, and laughed and beamed like she'd just killed on the stand up comedy circuit with her well crafted comedic lines.
She had this shopworn quality to her that made me kind of sad.
There were a ton of people in the mall that all looked exactly the same. Girls wearing the exact same kinds of pants and shirts. Lots of Abercrombie & Fitch and American Eagle Outfitter clothing and "I'm growing my hair and deliberately styling it so I look like I just got out of bed" appearances on the boys.
I hate malls. I like shopping... but I always feel sad when I look at all these people who buy their identities. All in the same store. All at the same price when it's on sale.
My daughter and her friend aren't anything like the other kids we saw in the mall last night, and I want it to stay that way. I know for a fact Jessica couldn't buy her clothes at A&F or AE, they don't make her size. Same with her friend. They liked walking around and looking at "shiny things." This is some sort of running inside joke with the two of them. Jessica likes acting the retard and staring at shiny things with this look of utter fascination and bemusement on her face, while her friend pretends to drag her away. They cracked me up.
We came home and watched Moulin Rouge (again, see the Ewan MacGregor addiction mentioned above). I went to bed at about 1am, the girls stayed up -- I have no idea when they finally went to sleep.
At 10:30 the phone rang. Woke us all up. No one left a message. It was God's alarm clock, letting us know not to burn the day. I hooked the dogs up with some outdoor peeing action, put on some laundry and Geoff and Doug showed up. I was surprised to see them home so early, but Doug was tired and wanted to just get home. I guess it was an arduous drive down there, and he slept okay but not wonderfully. So he's crashed out and napping.
I think I'm going to take Geoff up to Sam's Club and see if we can get some plants for the garden... get that started and in the ground before we go away on vacation. I need to seed some sunflowers and get them growing before we go. Arrange for someone to water things while we're out of town.
The fact that we are going to be in the truck for our drive in 1 week really boggles the mind right now. It looks more and more like Aaron will be joining us by himself... so I'm psyched to have his company and have him along. I wish they'd both join us but it looks as if this is just going to work out for him solo.
Tomorrow I think we're going geocaching with Michael. Doug looked up some good spots for us to meet at in the Lowell area, so it'll be fun. Looking forward to it already. And then, in a week we will geocache in North Carolina.
Boggles my mind, honestly.
Alright -- the girls are nagging me, saying they want to go to the friend's house. And it's on the way to Sam's so I'll take them there. Get my plantings on. Til the Earth. Stuff like that.
So we just watched the credits eleven times, and the girls both know all the words to the entire song, and the musical stops, and ... everything.
It's pretty funny. But now it's stuck in my head.
Last night was a ton of fun. We met Carrie a little later than I initially intended because traffic heading north to get the girls was horrid. I really hate I-95 from Peabody to Georgetown. It is all torn up, a total disaster. And the speed limit is posted at 45, which is retarded. It's like driving on a dirt road, but is even and smooth enough that you don't have to go slowly.
The cops patrol it hardcore -- pulling people over left and right. So when I look down and I find myself doing 90... I do the mental math on what it's going to cost me when they bust my ass. And I slow down. And it takes forever to get anywhere.
We had dinner at Joe's, and then went over to get our toes done. It was lovely and relaxing. The girl who did my toes wasn't nearly as nice and friendly as the last girl who did it. And she went very fast... no long soaks in the blue foamy water. She was all business and all done in no time.
I felt... like I had been shorted.
While we were there, a girl came in to get a manicure and pedicure.
She was obviously a regular, and kept a jovial and teasing tone going on with the young men and women working there. She was loud, had huge fake boobies, a spray on tan and this annoying Fran Drescher like laugh. You know the type. You've seen her.
She was young, but looked totally used, spent... worked over by life. She was funny, she seemed nice, she liked that she drew attention from the other people (like us) in the salon. She made eye contact with each of us as she ribbed the guys about auditioning for American Idol, and laughed and beamed like she'd just killed on the stand up comedy circuit with her well crafted comedic lines.
She had this shopworn quality to her that made me kind of sad.
There were a ton of people in the mall that all looked exactly the same. Girls wearing the exact same kinds of pants and shirts. Lots of Abercrombie & Fitch and American Eagle Outfitter clothing and "I'm growing my hair and deliberately styling it so I look like I just got out of bed" appearances on the boys.
I hate malls. I like shopping... but I always feel sad when I look at all these people who buy their identities. All in the same store. All at the same price when it's on sale.
My daughter and her friend aren't anything like the other kids we saw in the mall last night, and I want it to stay that way. I know for a fact Jessica couldn't buy her clothes at A&F or AE, they don't make her size. Same with her friend. They liked walking around and looking at "shiny things." This is some sort of running inside joke with the two of them. Jessica likes acting the retard and staring at shiny things with this look of utter fascination and bemusement on her face, while her friend pretends to drag her away. They cracked me up.
We came home and watched Moulin Rouge (again, see the Ewan MacGregor addiction mentioned above). I went to bed at about 1am, the girls stayed up -- I have no idea when they finally went to sleep.
At 10:30 the phone rang. Woke us all up. No one left a message. It was God's alarm clock, letting us know not to burn the day. I hooked the dogs up with some outdoor peeing action, put on some laundry and Geoff and Doug showed up. I was surprised to see them home so early, but Doug was tired and wanted to just get home. I guess it was an arduous drive down there, and he slept okay but not wonderfully. So he's crashed out and napping.
I think I'm going to take Geoff up to Sam's Club and see if we can get some plants for the garden... get that started and in the ground before we go away on vacation. I need to seed some sunflowers and get them growing before we go. Arrange for someone to water things while we're out of town.
The fact that we are going to be in the truck for our drive in 1 week really boggles the mind right now. It looks more and more like Aaron will be joining us by himself... so I'm psyched to have his company and have him along. I wish they'd both join us but it looks as if this is just going to work out for him solo.
Tomorrow I think we're going geocaching with Michael. Doug looked up some good spots for us to meet at in the Lowell area, so it'll be fun. Looking forward to it already. And then, in a week we will geocache in North Carolina.
Boggles my mind, honestly.
Alright -- the girls are nagging me, saying they want to go to the friend's house. And it's on the way to Sam's so I'll take them there. Get my plantings on. Til the Earth. Stuff like that.
Friday, April 08, 2005
GNO & Battleship Cove
My boys are going to Battleship Cove on Friday Night. With the Cub Scouts. 40 Boys, and about 37 dads and moms. I'm not going. This kind of thing befalls the daddy. I feel for him -- but it is the price to pay for having a boy and saying "We should get Geoff into Cub Scouts!"
Heh.
So, while they're away doing boy things on a Battleship, I'm going to take Jessica and a friend to get pedicures and go out to dinner. We'll be joined by my good friend C, and it will be lovely, thank you very much.
I'd never had a pedicure before early February. I don't know what I was thinking not going and doing this. I thought it was stupid and fruity and a waste of damn money.
Now, I want one weekly. No. Daily. I want a daily pedicure. With foot rub and soak and calf massage. I want to be treated like the queen that I am. Worship me. Lavish me with attention and relaxation. Hit that pressure point on the base of my foot, no, the one there at the arch -- yes. That's it.
I live for this.
I hope Doug enjoys his Boys' Night on the Boat. I know I'll enjoy being out with the girlies.
I'm allowing Jessie's friend to sleep over. Jessica is going over her house after school and then I have to drive up here and get them. Too much driving for my liking but it is what it is, and it has to be done. The price I pay for working in Marblehead.
Speaking of Marblehead, I went to go get lunch today. Normally, we don't go out for lunch, but D was going to McDonalds and I didn't want anything from there.
There were electricians, and noises, and distractions a-plenty in my office today, so I ran screaming for the door. I ended up stopping by Amy's apartment, hoping to get some kitty love from Shirley Blue and Mr. Buford, but neither of them lavished me with the attention I crave. And to see Amy because, like, she was there and is cool and whatnot.
Amy walked with me over to grab a salad at the local Roast Beef joint. When I walked in, I instantly recognized the lady behind the counter. She's a little older than your average counter girl, and very well dressed. She used to run the sub shop near the college where I used to work.
"Didn't you used to work at Dina's?" I asked her.
"Yes! I know you!" and after a few minutes she said "Where are the guys? You don't have your boys with you?" Meaning Ben, Brian and Dan. I explained that I didn't work at the college anymore but was having lunch with them tomorrow.
"Bring them by! Tell them I said hello!" She hasn't seen us in probably four years, but she remembered. Funny. It cracked me up. And it made me sad. I missed seeing her and having her ALWAYS know exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it. Extra feta on my salads, steak tips or chicken right on top so the feta gets all melty. She was the best. I'm so psyched she is nearby.
How sad is my life that I'm psyched to find Dina the Sub Lady again? Jeeesh. Someone smack me.
It could be worse. I could have exciting deadly horrible scary things happening. I could be having an ongoing brawl with my boss' wife about grammar. That'd be impossible to deal with.
Right now I need to go pack stuff for the boys for their big trip tomorrow. Get them as organized as I can. Be a helpful den mommy. And I have to find the flip flops for my pedicure. ta for now kiddies.
Heh.
So, while they're away doing boy things on a Battleship, I'm going to take Jessica and a friend to get pedicures and go out to dinner. We'll be joined by my good friend C, and it will be lovely, thank you very much.
I'd never had a pedicure before early February. I don't know what I was thinking not going and doing this. I thought it was stupid and fruity and a waste of damn money.
Now, I want one weekly. No. Daily. I want a daily pedicure. With foot rub and soak and calf massage. I want to be treated like the queen that I am. Worship me. Lavish me with attention and relaxation. Hit that pressure point on the base of my foot, no, the one there at the arch -- yes. That's it.
I live for this.
I hope Doug enjoys his Boys' Night on the Boat. I know I'll enjoy being out with the girlies.
I'm allowing Jessie's friend to sleep over. Jessica is going over her house after school and then I have to drive up here and get them. Too much driving for my liking but it is what it is, and it has to be done. The price I pay for working in Marblehead.
Speaking of Marblehead, I went to go get lunch today. Normally, we don't go out for lunch, but D was going to McDonalds and I didn't want anything from there.
There were electricians, and noises, and distractions a-plenty in my office today, so I ran screaming for the door. I ended up stopping by Amy's apartment, hoping to get some kitty love from Shirley Blue and Mr. Buford, but neither of them lavished me with the attention I crave. And to see Amy because, like, she was there and is cool and whatnot.
Amy walked with me over to grab a salad at the local Roast Beef joint. When I walked in, I instantly recognized the lady behind the counter. She's a little older than your average counter girl, and very well dressed. She used to run the sub shop near the college where I used to work.
"Didn't you used to work at Dina's?" I asked her.
"Yes! I know you!" and after a few minutes she said "Where are the guys? You don't have your boys with you?" Meaning Ben, Brian and Dan. I explained that I didn't work at the college anymore but was having lunch with them tomorrow.
"Bring them by! Tell them I said hello!" She hasn't seen us in probably four years, but she remembered. Funny. It cracked me up. And it made me sad. I missed seeing her and having her ALWAYS know exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it. Extra feta on my salads, steak tips or chicken right on top so the feta gets all melty. She was the best. I'm so psyched she is nearby.
How sad is my life that I'm psyched to find Dina the Sub Lady again? Jeeesh. Someone smack me.
It could be worse. I could have exciting deadly horrible scary things happening. I could be having an ongoing brawl with my boss' wife about grammar. That'd be impossible to deal with.
Right now I need to go pack stuff for the boys for their big trip tomorrow. Get them as organized as I can. Be a helpful den mommy. And I have to find the flip flops for my pedicure. ta for now kiddies.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Team Geoffrey Report
I cannot, for the life of me, get out of bed before 7:30am any longer. I hate this. And because I cannot get out of bed earlier, I can't beat Doug into the shower, and thusly must wait until he's done, which is too late for me to get Geoff out onto the bus... so I'm not getting ready until 8:30. And it sucks.
I was getting up at 7, or 6:30 without fail... for months. I blame all of this on the change in time. Sure, I love the evening light. But... not making it to the office until 9:45 is a total drag.
I've been incredibly busy. I've got thousands of things I want to write about but just cannot find the time to sit down and formulate the thoughts (mostly because I can't get up in the morning and I do my best writing while Doug is in the shower and I'm waiting).
The big item on my agenda, my thought-plate is Team Geoffrey.
This week we had a Team IEP Meeting for Geoff. It could not have gone better, and could not have been more reassuring. I have this team of people, "Team Geoffrey," and they're surrounding him not with an attitude of punishment or derision, but with helpfulness, support, brainstorming and problem solving.
The district behavioral specialist was brought in to observe Geoff and offer recommendations, and she said Geoff's not a "behavior case" in the traditional sense of the term. His problems, in her opinion are not behavior based, but learning disability based, and working through issues surrounding his LD will help clear up the behavior. She had some great suggestions, and it was awesome to sit there and watch people like his aide and the Occupational Therapist (I've told you -- I love her) writing stuff down, and thinking, and planning what they'll do next for Geoff when they need to apply different strategies.
His learning disability of Nonverbal Learning Disorder is "textbook"... and if we treat him as a behavior case, it won't help him in the long run. Teaching him to work through the problems he encounters that are based in his disability will diffuse the behavior issues. Educating the staff and teachers more on what Nonverbal Learning disorder requires is essential, and she offered to "join" the team and have the IEP amended to put her in so she can work with him, and us.
As I read a lot of blogs dealing with parenting, school, learning issues, problems and the like, I've learned that the vast majority of people are suffering through their experiences with their special education teams. I can't possibly be having a more different experience unless I were to find myself on Mars. Then, things might be MORE different than what my peers and fellow parents are experiencing. For instance, following Rob's trials and tribulations in what he's trying to get done for Schuyler. What the hell is going on there?
Rob -- move here. This team wants to work with kids. Like Schuyler. Like Geoff. Like anyone with a problem. I have never seen a more willing team. Even his teacher, who back in November and December seemed like she had no desire to work on this team, is on fire for helping Geoff out. She's coming up with suggestions, trying new things for him. She's learning and we're all learning and ... it's amazing. It's scary.
It used to annoy me that they'd call and ask me "what do you do for Geoff when he is in this situation?" or "what kinds of things work at home for him?" But the more I see it now, they're looking for my guidance because they've not had to experience a kid like Geoff ever before in their professional existences. And they're including me on the team, instead of saying "We're the professionals. You go sit down over there and we'll tell you what we'll do for him."
Even within our district, talking to other parents has been slightly humbling. They're not getting the help they need or want. Why am I feeling so supported and surrounded by people who want the best for Geoff? Is it that they're not sick of him yet? He hasn't gotten on that last nerve that drives the specialists and teachers batty?
I guess I'm lucky and thanking those stars. And I can breathe easy knowing that for right now at least we're where we need to be with Geoff, and working on making it much better.
Breathe, just breathe.
There were some questions thrown to me the other day in the comments that I really want to ponder and answer... mostly surrounding how one deals with the minor disagreements one has with an organized religion. I've lived through some of them, I still have some of them. I want to really sit down and comb through my responses and make something coherent with them, instead of just pounding them out.
So that'll be an entry for another day. Hopefully soon. I also have thoughts on a different comments and email based discussion I had with Bill recently surrounding one of his entries.
I love the blogsphere -- when there is thought, discussion, interchange of ideas. It's so damn cool.
Right then -- work is cool too, and I should get over there and ... earn me some money. Have a great day, all y'all. More later.
I was getting up at 7, or 6:30 without fail... for months. I blame all of this on the change in time. Sure, I love the evening light. But... not making it to the office until 9:45 is a total drag.
I've been incredibly busy. I've got thousands of things I want to write about but just cannot find the time to sit down and formulate the thoughts (mostly because I can't get up in the morning and I do my best writing while Doug is in the shower and I'm waiting).
The big item on my agenda, my thought-plate is Team Geoffrey.
This week we had a Team IEP Meeting for Geoff. It could not have gone better, and could not have been more reassuring. I have this team of people, "Team Geoffrey," and they're surrounding him not with an attitude of punishment or derision, but with helpfulness, support, brainstorming and problem solving.
The district behavioral specialist was brought in to observe Geoff and offer recommendations, and she said Geoff's not a "behavior case" in the traditional sense of the term. His problems, in her opinion are not behavior based, but learning disability based, and working through issues surrounding his LD will help clear up the behavior. She had some great suggestions, and it was awesome to sit there and watch people like his aide and the Occupational Therapist (I've told you -- I love her) writing stuff down, and thinking, and planning what they'll do next for Geoff when they need to apply different strategies.
His learning disability of Nonverbal Learning Disorder is "textbook"... and if we treat him as a behavior case, it won't help him in the long run. Teaching him to work through the problems he encounters that are based in his disability will diffuse the behavior issues. Educating the staff and teachers more on what Nonverbal Learning disorder requires is essential, and she offered to "join" the team and have the IEP amended to put her in so she can work with him, and us.
As I read a lot of blogs dealing with parenting, school, learning issues, problems and the like, I've learned that the vast majority of people are suffering through their experiences with their special education teams. I can't possibly be having a more different experience unless I were to find myself on Mars. Then, things might be MORE different than what my peers and fellow parents are experiencing. For instance, following Rob's trials and tribulations in what he's trying to get done for Schuyler. What the hell is going on there?
Rob -- move here. This team wants to work with kids. Like Schuyler. Like Geoff. Like anyone with a problem. I have never seen a more willing team. Even his teacher, who back in November and December seemed like she had no desire to work on this team, is on fire for helping Geoff out. She's coming up with suggestions, trying new things for him. She's learning and we're all learning and ... it's amazing. It's scary.
It used to annoy me that they'd call and ask me "what do you do for Geoff when he is in this situation?" or "what kinds of things work at home for him?" But the more I see it now, they're looking for my guidance because they've not had to experience a kid like Geoff ever before in their professional existences. And they're including me on the team, instead of saying "We're the professionals. You go sit down over there and we'll tell you what we'll do for him."
Even within our district, talking to other parents has been slightly humbling. They're not getting the help they need or want. Why am I feeling so supported and surrounded by people who want the best for Geoff? Is it that they're not sick of him yet? He hasn't gotten on that last nerve that drives the specialists and teachers batty?
I guess I'm lucky and thanking those stars. And I can breathe easy knowing that for right now at least we're where we need to be with Geoff, and working on making it much better.
Breathe, just breathe.
There were some questions thrown to me the other day in the comments that I really want to ponder and answer... mostly surrounding how one deals with the minor disagreements one has with an organized religion. I've lived through some of them, I still have some of them. I want to really sit down and comb through my responses and make something coherent with them, instead of just pounding them out.
So that'll be an entry for another day. Hopefully soon. I also have thoughts on a different comments and email based discussion I had with Bill recently surrounding one of his entries.
I love the blogsphere -- when there is thought, discussion, interchange of ideas. It's so damn cool.
Right then -- work is cool too, and I should get over there and ... earn me some money. Have a great day, all y'all. More later.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Early Morning, April Fourth...
This entry might piss some folks off. But. I remind you -- this is my journal. If you agree or disagree, feel free to use the comments to the left. I encourage discourse. Longtime readers will know that I profess Christianity, love the Lord, have this "personal" relationship with God... but I don't like the policies of the Catholic Church. I'm not Catholic, and the fact I have issues with Catholicism is often shrugged off by friends who ARE Catholic as something I don't have a right to have. Because I'm not one of them, I'm somehow not entitled to have an opinion about certain things. I've been told this repeatedly by regular readers and casual stoppers by.
"You just don't understand what it is like... You need to lay off us, it's not any of your business what we do."
But it is my business, and it is everyone's business when there seems to be this huge... hypocrisy surrounding the faith.
I especially take umbrage with American Catholics who complain about the policies of the Catholic Church in the World and its stance on abortion, homosexuality, sex before marriage and the like.
They demand that the Catholic Church change its stance on many issues near and dear to them. The want the Church to bend to their progressive beliefs, their "modern" beliefs.
I tell them, these friends who claim Catholicism but don't do ANY of the things required of them by their faith, these friends who fuck before their wedding or who eat meat on Friday or who get abortions or want priests to get married of have women priests, that instead of bitching about the Church policies that they find another church that fits their philosophies.
You're not Catholic. Face it. Instead of demanding the Church itself change to fit your needs and wants, opinions and philosophies, find one that fits you better. Perhaps you are Episcopalian. Perhaps you should take an online "Which Religion is Right For You?" quiz(*). Find a new shoe that fits, Cinderella. Let the faith of your choosing be your Prince Charming.
The Pope, the Holy Father, in my opinion was a good man. A conservative man. A flawed, human man. Not some actual diety, but a man who tried incredibly hard to do good works in the world, and in my opinion fell short in a few places. But. Overall, I think he did a great job at being Pope Guy. From incredibly humble beginnings, from poverty and from communism, he came forward and helped change the landscape of an entire portion of the globe.
He was a man dedicated to the support and stability of his philosophies and his Church's staunch conservative roots. He was unwavering and uncompromising in what he believed as Right (with a capital R).
He also was a man who gave refuge and sanctuary to Bernard Cardinal Law, saving him from the ravages of what the Boston Area Faithful and Not So Faithful would have done to him had he been left out to face our legal system for the things he allowed to happen to young boys over the past several decades.
On the whole, I always admired Pope John Paul for who he was and where he came from, overlooking some major differences in opinion he and I may have had. To be honest, my Catholic friends are right that I don't have a right or a claim to anything in regards to the Catholic church and its policies in the world. I am a neighbor though, and am encouraged to Love My Neighbor, even if they put bathtubs in their yards with Mary statues in them. Which I just think is plain gaudy.
About one fifth of this planet subscribes to the philosophies of the Catholic Church. I trust my American Catholic Neighbors are looking forward to a Pope who will fall in line with their progressive beliefs. To them, I say -- do not be surprised if you get someone as conservative and hard-line as John Paul over there. And if you don't like it, Unitarianism is really friendly, nice, and all embracing. You'll be welcome there. Find something that makes you happy, brings you joy, and connects you to the divine. As America goes, the rest of the planet does not necessarily follow suit. Keep that in mind.
Time to mutter, you know. Sundays. or Mondays as this may be the case. I say ... and you think ... ?
1. Renewal:: Spiritual
2. Someone to talk to:: Best Friend
3. Count:: of Monte Cristo
4. Expiration:: Registration
5. Upload:: Webpage
6. Publish:: Webpage
7. Holy:: See
8. Change in the air:: Springtime
9. Titillating:: Tease
10. Glorious:: Sunshine
I'm so boring. And unlike Mikey, there are no mentions of boobies.
Seeing as my life lately has been filled with William Shatner, I thought I'd share my ketchup label with you.
I had to laugh when I saw it, and had to buy it.
Just thought you should know.
I don't know if it tastes any more amazing or incredible from having this Kirk endorsement on it. But it does make me laugh.
Saturday it rained harder than I've seen it rain in ... months. But Praises Be, it wasn't snow. I don't know what I would have done if it had been cold enough to sustain snow. They were saying we were to get about five inches of rain, in reality it was less than 3.
We were cooped up inside for the whole day on Saturday, and so when we turned the clocks ahead on Sunday we were especially cranky and aware of the painful cabin fever that was gripping each of our souls. We set out for Geocaching in Ipswich, and wouldn't you know it that the trails were flooded and it was messy and the dogs gut mucky and wet. And it was glorious.
It was warm enough to shed the winter coats, warm enough to sit out at a bench at one cache and really enjoy the view of the marshes and the sun breaking through the sky.
It feels like spring is here. Finally. Next, we'll get ticks when we hike. Then I'll be wishing for the cold again!
My ride home tonight was spectacular. The first Monday after Daylight Savings is always astounding. I'm aware that if I want to, I can go for a nice walk after work, in an area other than my neighborhood. There will be enough light to get me over to the woods or the park or the state forest, and enough to be with me while I walk. It is so refreshing and delightful. I feel my heart sing.
This is the day that I'm aware that summer is coming. And again, the singing heart thing happens. Oh Frabjous Day! I worked exceptionally late this afternoon, leaving the office at 6:30. And it was still light outside. Normally, I would be leaving before 5. But. This late, and this light, and ... oh singing heart.
It makes up for the fact that I so couldn't drag my ass out of bed this morning because of the effects of the hour change. This whole week takes me a while to get used to, and I hate it.
But I love the commute home. Love it.
"You just don't understand what it is like... You need to lay off us, it's not any of your business what we do."
But it is my business, and it is everyone's business when there seems to be this huge... hypocrisy surrounding the faith.
I especially take umbrage with American Catholics who complain about the policies of the Catholic Church in the World and its stance on abortion, homosexuality, sex before marriage and the like.
They demand that the Catholic Church change its stance on many issues near and dear to them. The want the Church to bend to their progressive beliefs, their "modern" beliefs.
I tell them, these friends who claim Catholicism but don't do ANY of the things required of them by their faith, these friends who fuck before their wedding or who eat meat on Friday or who get abortions or want priests to get married of have women priests, that instead of bitching about the Church policies that they find another church that fits their philosophies.
You're not Catholic. Face it. Instead of demanding the Church itself change to fit your needs and wants, opinions and philosophies, find one that fits you better. Perhaps you are Episcopalian. Perhaps you should take an online "Which Religion is Right For You?" quiz(*). Find a new shoe that fits, Cinderella. Let the faith of your choosing be your Prince Charming.
The Pope, the Holy Father, in my opinion was a good man. A conservative man. A flawed, human man. Not some actual diety, but a man who tried incredibly hard to do good works in the world, and in my opinion fell short in a few places. But. Overall, I think he did a great job at being Pope Guy. From incredibly humble beginnings, from poverty and from communism, he came forward and helped change the landscape of an entire portion of the globe.
He was a man dedicated to the support and stability of his philosophies and his Church's staunch conservative roots. He was unwavering and uncompromising in what he believed as Right (with a capital R).
He also was a man who gave refuge and sanctuary to Bernard Cardinal Law, saving him from the ravages of what the Boston Area Faithful and Not So Faithful would have done to him had he been left out to face our legal system for the things he allowed to happen to young boys over the past several decades.
On the whole, I always admired Pope John Paul for who he was and where he came from, overlooking some major differences in opinion he and I may have had. To be honest, my Catholic friends are right that I don't have a right or a claim to anything in regards to the Catholic church and its policies in the world. I am a neighbor though, and am encouraged to Love My Neighbor, even if they put bathtubs in their yards with Mary statues in them. Which I just think is plain gaudy.
About one fifth of this planet subscribes to the philosophies of the Catholic Church. I trust my American Catholic Neighbors are looking forward to a Pope who will fall in line with their progressive beliefs. To them, I say -- do not be surprised if you get someone as conservative and hard-line as John Paul over there. And if you don't like it, Unitarianism is really friendly, nice, and all embracing. You'll be welcome there. Find something that makes you happy, brings you joy, and connects you to the divine. As America goes, the rest of the planet does not necessarily follow suit. Keep that in mind.
Time to mutter, you know. Sundays. or Mondays as this may be the case. I say ... and you think ... ?
1. Renewal:: Spiritual
2. Someone to talk to:: Best Friend
3. Count:: of Monte Cristo
4. Expiration:: Registration
5. Upload:: Webpage
6. Publish:: Webpage
7. Holy:: See
8. Change in the air:: Springtime
9. Titillating:: Tease
10. Glorious:: Sunshine
I'm so boring. And unlike Mikey, there are no mentions of boobies.
Seeing as my life lately has been filled with William Shatner, I thought I'd share my ketchup label with you.
I had to laugh when I saw it, and had to buy it.
Just thought you should know.
I don't know if it tastes any more amazing or incredible from having this Kirk endorsement on it. But it does make me laugh.
Saturday it rained harder than I've seen it rain in ... months. But Praises Be, it wasn't snow. I don't know what I would have done if it had been cold enough to sustain snow. They were saying we were to get about five inches of rain, in reality it was less than 3.
We were cooped up inside for the whole day on Saturday, and so when we turned the clocks ahead on Sunday we were especially cranky and aware of the painful cabin fever that was gripping each of our souls. We set out for Geocaching in Ipswich, and wouldn't you know it that the trails were flooded and it was messy and the dogs gut mucky and wet. And it was glorious.
It was warm enough to shed the winter coats, warm enough to sit out at a bench at one cache and really enjoy the view of the marshes and the sun breaking through the sky.
It feels like spring is here. Finally. Next, we'll get ticks when we hike. Then I'll be wishing for the cold again!
My ride home tonight was spectacular. The first Monday after Daylight Savings is always astounding. I'm aware that if I want to, I can go for a nice walk after work, in an area other than my neighborhood. There will be enough light to get me over to the woods or the park or the state forest, and enough to be with me while I walk. It is so refreshing and delightful. I feel my heart sing.
This is the day that I'm aware that summer is coming. And again, the singing heart thing happens. Oh Frabjous Day! I worked exceptionally late this afternoon, leaving the office at 6:30. And it was still light outside. Normally, I would be leaving before 5. But. This late, and this light, and ... oh singing heart.
It makes up for the fact that I so couldn't drag my ass out of bed this morning because of the effects of the hour change. This whole week takes me a while to get used to, and I hate it.
But I love the commute home. Love it.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Invasion Iowa - "Love Bomb"
"Shatner, I'd fight William Shatner."
- Ed Norton, Fight Club
Last night was the two hour finale of one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my life, Invasion Iowa. It was fabulous, not just because they punked an entire town, but because it was touching, bad, evil, funny, redemptive and just plain weird. And you know I love when all those things can be rolled in together. For those of you who don't want to know specific details and "spoilers" to this (ie: if you're waiting to see it when SpikeTV rebroadcasts it, if they do) skip this entry. For those who missed it, or haven't heard anything about it, or want to read -- here's the synopsis and my detailed thoughts about what went down in Riverside Iowa, Population 928.
William Shatner brings a movie crew, actors and a script to a small town in Iowa. This small town is the fictional future birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise, so of course it is a fabulous place to film a Shatner outer space alien invasion themed movie.
The movie, titled "Invasion Iowa" concerns a man sent back in time to stop the impregnation of a local young lady. The young lady is to become the mother of a race of Human/Gerclon monsters who bring on the end of the universe, and the ultimate death of Earth. Shatner's character, Shane, must stop this from happening -- he's the only survivor from the future.
That groundwork having been set, they audition locals for roles in the cast and production crew. And the filming begins.
What happens over the next 10 days is short of miraculous. Shatner and his wacky Hollywood "crew" of supporters are taken in fully by the people of the town. This little midwestern burgh embraces the open and blatant weirdness (Steve the Spiritual Avisor "Sympathetic" especially) and makes them a part of their daily lives. Even when the cast, crew, and Shatner request things that most folks (like me) would outright walk away from, laugh at, or question, these folks join right in and say "yes."
And it is more than "These are famous Hollywood people so they know what they're doing so okay!" kind of attitudes. These Iowans are genuinely interested, and want to help and participate because they LIKE the people they are dealing with.
The most amazing and poignant part of this program was the relationship that developed between Shatner and a local elderly man, Don Rath. Each day, Shatner would start his day with coffee at the local Kwik n EZ. Don Rath really reaches into the heart of Shatner, and ends up taking him out to his wife's grave to "meet her." And this sassy old man, stands at her gravesite while William Shatner kneels down by her tombstone, and says something along the lines of "Ma, I'd like you to meet Bill Shatner." And they cry together, and it is just... crazy painful and sad and beautiful. It shows Shatner not as some big celebrity, but a friend to this old codger who "blesses" people with his racoon penis (yes, I said racoon penis) which he carries in his pocket. It shows this amazing bridge between levels in American culture. And keep in mind -- this is when Shatner and his crew aren't "acting." This is real.
Conversely, when Shatner is "acting" his part he pushes it too far with the local Catholic priest. He wants to film a scene in the church that will require blowing out one of the priceless stained glass windows. That went over like a lead balloon with the priest and you could see that this kind and gentle man, who genuinely was willing to help out (and totally not "acting") to provide whatever the cast and crew needed or wanted, was genuinely put off. Shatner's character's shallow philosophy of "it's just a material thing and you shouldn't be attached to material things now should you?" really shows the very real vapid nature some people have in respecting the faith and philosphy of others. The exchange between the two (followed up by another equally painful exchange between the Priest and Shatner's Spiritual Advisor) showed the chasm between different factions in America when it comes to faith and value. The 'Traditional' versus the 'Hollywood' philosophy.
The truth in the experiment is mostly found when Shatner and others are not "acting" very hard. When they are sitting down, face to face with people, talking and engaged in relationship. But they are playing two roles, and the townsfolk are playing just one -- themselves.
The days pass and it becomes more obvious that this is going to hurt more than they thought it would. There are many fearful meetings where they know they have to confess the truth - come clean, be honest and let the town know they've been "had."
In the end, it goes over better than I expected. Partly because Shatner is incredibly sweet and honest and no one does it MTV Generation-Kutchter Punk'd style jumping up and down while pointing, screaming and laughing in the faces of the foils. Shatner sits everyone down to a beautiful dinner in the backyard of one of the assistant to his assistant, Scotty Riggan, and lets people know. Only one person in the town's "inner" circle, Wayne, takes it badly and leaves.
Another reason why the town isn't as pissed at Shatner and Friends as they should be is that they aren't left empty handed after the joke. Shatner gives each of the local members of the team a monetary gift. Having gotten to know them very well, he gives them gifts to benefit their exact needs, dreams, and desires. Brooke, his leading lady, has a horse that she can't afford to keep boarding any longer. Shatner tells her that he wants her to use the money to board the horse. Scotty Riggan has always wanted to go to Hawaii. In the winter when Iowa is unbearable. Shatner cries, and very eloquently and poetically wishes for Scotty and his family a beautiful escape to the warmth of the islands when the winds and dark of the hometown are too much to bear. And they all cry. And it is beautiful, sweet, and money certainly aids forgiveness.
I think these folks would have forgiven the hoax without the money. They seemed genuinely okay with the trickery on the face value of things. But one cast member was really ticked, Wayne Simon, local farmer. He leaves the dinner and it is questioned as to whether or not he will return for the 'reveal' later on. But he's there. He forgives.
One of Wayne's big fears is that Shatner and his Hollywood Pranksters will portray them as dumb bumpkins, yokels, and idiots when this makes it to air, as if saying -- "Look at these poor dumb dimwits! They fell for it! We're awesome! They're suckers!"
But Shatner wants to do nothing of that, and from the outset he makes it clear to us, the audience, that it is not his intent. He stands up in front of everyone and states that is not his goal -- he isn't there to play them for fools and hold them up to the rest of the world as easy marks... quite the opposite. He wants to show them as the fabulous and loving people he got to know. And when they 'reveal' the truth to the entire town, most of the town laughs and is okay with it. The gift of $100,000 is a nice bandaid on any hurt they may feel.
The crew of the show took up a seperate collection and raised $12,000 to give to the local elementary school book project, which shows how the ancillary members of the project were so into these people -- and that was extra touching.
The greatest part of the reveal was when Shatner called out his friend Don Rath, thanked him for the racoon penis blessings, and let him know they'd be placing a park bench in town dedicated to the memory of his lovely wife Nita, so that "all can enjoy the beautiful Iowa landscape."
Overall, this was one of the most fun and amazing pieces of "reality TV" I have ever seen in my life. I loved this town, and the people in it. Everyone came across as having such willing and giving souls and hearts, even when they were confused as to why they were doing something. Only one person involved in the process figured things out, Bill Blank, one of the town "punks" who is actually an actor from another town. And in the long and short of it, I think it sums up what is really nice about this country. People, kindness, happiness, fun, forgiveness and friendship.
And that's my official "Love Bomb" for the show.
- Ed Norton, Fight Club
Last night was the two hour finale of one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my life, Invasion Iowa. It was fabulous, not just because they punked an entire town, but because it was touching, bad, evil, funny, redemptive and just plain weird. And you know I love when all those things can be rolled in together. For those of you who don't want to know specific details and "spoilers" to this (ie: if you're waiting to see it when SpikeTV rebroadcasts it, if they do) skip this entry. For those who missed it, or haven't heard anything about it, or want to read -- here's the synopsis and my detailed thoughts about what went down in Riverside Iowa, Population 928.
William Shatner brings a movie crew, actors and a script to a small town in Iowa. This small town is the fictional future birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise, so of course it is a fabulous place to film a Shatner outer space alien invasion themed movie.
The movie, titled "Invasion Iowa" concerns a man sent back in time to stop the impregnation of a local young lady. The young lady is to become the mother of a race of Human/Gerclon monsters who bring on the end of the universe, and the ultimate death of Earth. Shatner's character, Shane, must stop this from happening -- he's the only survivor from the future.
That groundwork having been set, they audition locals for roles in the cast and production crew. And the filming begins.
What happens over the next 10 days is short of miraculous. Shatner and his wacky Hollywood "crew" of supporters are taken in fully by the people of the town. This little midwestern burgh embraces the open and blatant weirdness (Steve the Spiritual Avisor "Sympathetic" especially) and makes them a part of their daily lives. Even when the cast, crew, and Shatner request things that most folks (like me) would outright walk away from, laugh at, or question, these folks join right in and say "yes."
And it is more than "These are famous Hollywood people so they know what they're doing so okay!" kind of attitudes. These Iowans are genuinely interested, and want to help and participate because they LIKE the people they are dealing with.
The most amazing and poignant part of this program was the relationship that developed between Shatner and a local elderly man, Don Rath. Each day, Shatner would start his day with coffee at the local Kwik n EZ. Don Rath really reaches into the heart of Shatner, and ends up taking him out to his wife's grave to "meet her." And this sassy old man, stands at her gravesite while William Shatner kneels down by her tombstone, and says something along the lines of "Ma, I'd like you to meet Bill Shatner." And they cry together, and it is just... crazy painful and sad and beautiful. It shows Shatner not as some big celebrity, but a friend to this old codger who "blesses" people with his racoon penis (yes, I said racoon penis) which he carries in his pocket. It shows this amazing bridge between levels in American culture. And keep in mind -- this is when Shatner and his crew aren't "acting." This is real.
Conversely, when Shatner is "acting" his part he pushes it too far with the local Catholic priest. He wants to film a scene in the church that will require blowing out one of the priceless stained glass windows. That went over like a lead balloon with the priest and you could see that this kind and gentle man, who genuinely was willing to help out (and totally not "acting") to provide whatever the cast and crew needed or wanted, was genuinely put off. Shatner's character's shallow philosophy of "it's just a material thing and you shouldn't be attached to material things now should you?" really shows the very real vapid nature some people have in respecting the faith and philosphy of others. The exchange between the two (followed up by another equally painful exchange between the Priest and Shatner's Spiritual Advisor) showed the chasm between different factions in America when it comes to faith and value. The 'Traditional' versus the 'Hollywood' philosophy.
The truth in the experiment is mostly found when Shatner and others are not "acting" very hard. When they are sitting down, face to face with people, talking and engaged in relationship. But they are playing two roles, and the townsfolk are playing just one -- themselves.
The days pass and it becomes more obvious that this is going to hurt more than they thought it would. There are many fearful meetings where they know they have to confess the truth - come clean, be honest and let the town know they've been "had."
In the end, it goes over better than I expected. Partly because Shatner is incredibly sweet and honest and no one does it MTV Generation-Kutchter Punk'd style jumping up and down while pointing, screaming and laughing in the faces of the foils. Shatner sits everyone down to a beautiful dinner in the backyard of one of the assistant to his assistant, Scotty Riggan, and lets people know. Only one person in the town's "inner" circle, Wayne, takes it badly and leaves.
Another reason why the town isn't as pissed at Shatner and Friends as they should be is that they aren't left empty handed after the joke. Shatner gives each of the local members of the team a monetary gift. Having gotten to know them very well, he gives them gifts to benefit their exact needs, dreams, and desires. Brooke, his leading lady, has a horse that she can't afford to keep boarding any longer. Shatner tells her that he wants her to use the money to board the horse. Scotty Riggan has always wanted to go to Hawaii. In the winter when Iowa is unbearable. Shatner cries, and very eloquently and poetically wishes for Scotty and his family a beautiful escape to the warmth of the islands when the winds and dark of the hometown are too much to bear. And they all cry. And it is beautiful, sweet, and money certainly aids forgiveness.
I think these folks would have forgiven the hoax without the money. They seemed genuinely okay with the trickery on the face value of things. But one cast member was really ticked, Wayne Simon, local farmer. He leaves the dinner and it is questioned as to whether or not he will return for the 'reveal' later on. But he's there. He forgives.
One of Wayne's big fears is that Shatner and his Hollywood Pranksters will portray them as dumb bumpkins, yokels, and idiots when this makes it to air, as if saying -- "Look at these poor dumb dimwits! They fell for it! We're awesome! They're suckers!"
But Shatner wants to do nothing of that, and from the outset he makes it clear to us, the audience, that it is not his intent. He stands up in front of everyone and states that is not his goal -- he isn't there to play them for fools and hold them up to the rest of the world as easy marks... quite the opposite. He wants to show them as the fabulous and loving people he got to know. And when they 'reveal' the truth to the entire town, most of the town laughs and is okay with it. The gift of $100,000 is a nice bandaid on any hurt they may feel.
The crew of the show took up a seperate collection and raised $12,000 to give to the local elementary school book project, which shows how the ancillary members of the project were so into these people -- and that was extra touching.
The greatest part of the reveal was when Shatner called out his friend Don Rath, thanked him for the racoon penis blessings, and let him know they'd be placing a park bench in town dedicated to the memory of his lovely wife Nita, so that "all can enjoy the beautiful Iowa landscape."
Overall, this was one of the most fun and amazing pieces of "reality TV" I have ever seen in my life. I loved this town, and the people in it. Everyone came across as having such willing and giving souls and hearts, even when they were confused as to why they were doing something. Only one person involved in the process figured things out, Bill Blank, one of the town "punks" who is actually an actor from another town. And in the long and short of it, I think it sums up what is really nice about this country. People, kindness, happiness, fun, forgiveness and friendship.
And that's my official "Love Bomb" for the show.
Friday, April 01, 2005
April Fools Day
I got to speak with Bonnie for quite some time last night. The hospital operated on her dad and installed an LVAD heart pump to keep the ole ticker working for the time being. Bonnie said his coloring is 1000 times better. She was used to him being... grey.
He still needs a transplant. But. To quote the "dead" man in Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "I'm not dead yet. As a matter of fact, I feel better!" The statistics for heart transplants are pretty grim, this hospital only does 10 to 15 a year... and I'm sure there are thousands who die waiting.
This whole week, with the Terri right to die thing and Walt getting a second chance -- all these things have given me time to pause and ponder. I'm glad to have Walt around for a while yet, so my cold can clear up and I can go into the dreaded city and smack him and say "Knock it off! Quit Almost Dyin' on us Pops!" It's nice to know that sometimes there are second (third, fourth) chances. I wonder where God is sometimes, when a little girl has to make a 911 call because she finds her parents shot dead in their bedroom; where God is when Asia continues to be rocked by earthquakes; where God is while people on two sides of an issue are using His Will as their own.
God is quiet in all of this sometimes. Ultimately, I know there is a plan for each of us -- and sometimes one doesn't know what the will of God is. It remains mysterious, locked and hidden from our eyes. Sometimes it is evident for a moment -- that we continue to have someone in our lives when they could be dead. So things can be said, hugs can be shared, waterworks can flow. Take everything as an opportunity. Exercise your will to choose, live, lead, help and love while knowing your path is guided, and ultimately, His will is done.
I was going to write this morning about the stupid truck driver who ruined my afternoon on I-95 yesterday afternoon, but bitching and ranting about it wouldn't do me any good.
I was going to start with "Dear selfish jerk. Thank you for ruining my day..." but my day wasn't ruined. It was temporarily soured. I survived, I got home, we grilled. I watched Invasion Iowa and South Park (oh my GOD, don't get me started on last night's South Park just yet. Did you SEE that!!!), and crashed. Like a truck on I-95. I'm off to work now. Have a good day.
He still needs a transplant. But. To quote the "dead" man in Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "I'm not dead yet. As a matter of fact, I feel better!" The statistics for heart transplants are pretty grim, this hospital only does 10 to 15 a year... and I'm sure there are thousands who die waiting.
This whole week, with the Terri right to die thing and Walt getting a second chance -- all these things have given me time to pause and ponder. I'm glad to have Walt around for a while yet, so my cold can clear up and I can go into the dreaded city and smack him and say "Knock it off! Quit Almost Dyin' on us Pops!" It's nice to know that sometimes there are second (third, fourth) chances. I wonder where God is sometimes, when a little girl has to make a 911 call because she finds her parents shot dead in their bedroom; where God is when Asia continues to be rocked by earthquakes; where God is while people on two sides of an issue are using His Will as their own.
God is quiet in all of this sometimes. Ultimately, I know there is a plan for each of us -- and sometimes one doesn't know what the will of God is. It remains mysterious, locked and hidden from our eyes. Sometimes it is evident for a moment -- that we continue to have someone in our lives when they could be dead. So things can be said, hugs can be shared, waterworks can flow. Take everything as an opportunity. Exercise your will to choose, live, lead, help and love while knowing your path is guided, and ultimately, His will is done.
I was going to write this morning about the stupid truck driver who ruined my afternoon on I-95 yesterday afternoon, but bitching and ranting about it wouldn't do me any good.
I was going to start with "Dear selfish jerk. Thank you for ruining my day..." but my day wasn't ruined. It was temporarily soured. I survived, I got home, we grilled. I watched Invasion Iowa and South Park (oh my GOD, don't get me started on last night's South Park just yet. Did you SEE that!!!), and crashed. Like a truck on I-95. I'm off to work now. Have a good day.
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