Last night while Doug was at the market and I was working on the laptop the power went out. It was a little after 7pm, and we were on the fringes of a huge thunderstorm, according to the weather map on weather.com.
So, I didn't think anything of it. The power goes off all the time. Doug brought the food home and we quickly jammed essentials into the freezer and a few things into the fridge. The salad items could wait. The cheese could wait... butter hopefully wouldn't melt to liquid before the power returned.
We settled down to wait. Geoff asked a lot of questions about pioneers and settlers and their lifestyle... Doug started the grill so we could have dinner. It was about 7:30.
By 8:30 we still didn't have power. I was getting kind of stir crazy in the hot house and opted to go to Blockbuster to just drop off a movie that I hadn't viewed yet but knew it would be overdue momentarily. I quickly realized that two doors up they had power, and across the street they had power. But we didn't have any. I then wondered if the power drought was us popping a circuit breaker.
So I took a little ride through the neighborhood.
On my street, five or six houses were without power. Everyone else in town was juiced. Hmmm. That's interesting.
I then began to wonder about my neighbors, if they knew that the power was on elsewhere, and we were a little oasis of darkness in the midst of an electrified burgh. So I called the police dispatch to ask if there was an emergency number for the power company, I'd like to report our power out. The dispatcher told me that the repair guys were on the way. She asked how extensive it was. I told her and she said she'd make note. She said there were other clusters in the area that were out, on Gardner Street and Seven Star.
I came home and got the kids and took them out for ice cream. We'd been trying to convice Geoff that the pioneers lived by candle light and cooked on open flame too, and he should pretend he was a pioneer. But he wasn't having it. He was lamenting "Oh, there will never be technology again!" Doug and I try not to laugh in his face when he is like this but we couldn't resist. The drama of no power! I can't play video games! my life as I know it is over! It's like the damn Planet of the Apes!
Going out for ice cream cheered him up, and he wanted to know if pioneers went out for ice cream. As often as they played video games.
When we arrived home the electric guys were up on the pole working their magic. Within minutes the lights came on, then went off. Came on again, and as quickly went off. Each time a cheer and a moan from my kids. And then they came on and stayed on and we all breathed a sigh of relief.
I, especially, because Real World/Road Rules Inferno II was about to come on. And I really wanted to see Tonya stick it to the bitches on her team...
Oh, technology! Where would I be without you!
Anyway -- the power returned, life goes on. Neighbor girl told me that her parents threw out all their food from the fridge last night because of the power outage. I was stunned. The power was out for three hours. It wasn't the Great Blackout of 2005 or anything. We kept our fridge closed. I figured if the power was out in the morning that we'd have to chuck some things. But all the food?
Wow.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Sunday, June 12, 2005
I am schwetty
Wow. It's hot. Today the ACs go into the windows, and by Wednesday we'll be back down in the upper 60s. But at least I'll get a great night's sleep under the comforter tonight. Last night was a bear. But I survived and there will be no weather related whining.
I think last year or during the winter or summer or something I got on a whole "don't bitch about the weather" tear because too many bloggers were just going nuts with kvetching about it being too hot or too cold or too whatever. Shutup and deal with it. That's what I say. I will also say that it sucks to take a shower, get out of the shower, and the effort to dry and get dressed results in your being just as drenched in sweat as you were before you got in the shower. That bites.
And to give credit to my daughter, yesterday I could not recall the second award that she got. It was honor society. She missed high honors by a bit, but was incredibly happy to get into honor society. May she stay there, long may she run indeed.
We took the cub scouts hiking yesterday in Andover. From the parking area to elephant rock and back is close to a three mile loop. Doug thought it would take us a lot longer than it did, but even with a long, leisurely lunch break we were done an hour faster than he budgeted the time for. Geoff was joined by three of his mates and they all did a tremendous job.
Pictured here is one of the boys, with a friend found on the trail... he found five toads on the hike. This was the only one I managed to capture with him. He'd pick them up, say hi, and let them go.
I had a really great time talking with another mom who came, and with the den mother. She cracks me up -- and I really like spending time with her. Her husband and 2 year old daughter came with us too, and they were awesome.
The mini-Super Hiker grabbed herself a hiking stick and lead the way. She only had to get in the backpack a couple of times, much to her father's relief.
It was a really great time. I'm glad this den is staying together next year. They're good kids and I really am having fun being involved.
Pictures in Flickr if you're interested in the few I managed to get.
We picked Jessica up after the hike and went to Chunky's Cinema Pub in Haverhill for dinner and a movie. We brought K with us for the third straight year... remember from prior posts that K. is the friend with the brain thing going on (by the way, the big surgery is June 21st, so continued mojo in her direction please).
We haven't been there in years, and I can't imagine why we don't think to go there. Two birds, one stone. Dinner and Movie. The food is good and there is beer (Hallelujah!) for me and Doug. The last time we were there was when Jess turned 10. Three friends and the movie Spirit. I think that once I get to June in the archives for 2002 I will find the full review.
So the dinner and movie thing was fun, and everyone had a great time. We saw Madagascar which wasn't nearly as bad as some of the critics have made it out to be. I found David Schwimmer's giraffe annoying. I really liked the king of the lemurs... he was crazy funny. The interplay between Alex the lion (Ben Stiller) and Marty the Zebra (Chris Rock) was great. There were a lot of funny pop-culture jokes going on in the film but the best is when Alex the lion does a kind of Zoolander "Blue Steel" look over his shoulder. I almost laughed my ass off -- it was there for a split second, and I don't think that anyone else in the theatre got it. At one point, Marty starts running away from Alex when he knows Alex is going to kick his ass for getting them lost at sea, and he yells in slow motion "Sugar Honey Ice Tea!" And you all know what that means. THAT was something I haven't heard since I was maybe ... 12 years of age.
I think I'm going to start using it often. It's funny.
When the movie finished, the little boy from the table beside us got up and ran down front to dance to the credits. He was obviously handicapped -- but he had this air about him that I found incredibly irresistible. I turned to his mom and said "He's not happy or anything, is he?" and she cracked up. "Do you mind if I join him? I have to dance too." So she gestured for me to go ahead.
And I did.
I danced with this little kid, who at first was shocked that someone else was with him, but he warmed up to it and the both of us did The Airplane. We shook our groove things, and K. and Jessica died laughing.
I don't know what came over me, but I swear sometimes I see little kids who are so in the moment and it infects me and takes over my soul. It's why I would make a horrible elementary school teacher, because I'd just go nuts with the kids and they wouldn't learn a damn thing.
Jessica and Geoff are kind of used to this incredibly stupid behavior on my part. Doug didn't yell at me to sit my ass down, but they probably sat there shaking their heads. And I don't care. I had a blast and it was so fun and he was so happy and made my heart fly.
On the way out K. said to me "I don't know you. I'm not with you." while laughing her ass off. I grabbed her, hugged her and said "Oh yes you do. You are One Of Us!"
The poor child.
After the movie and dinner thing we stopped for birthday ice cream at a little place on River Street in Haverhill. I was still feeling a bit silly from my dancing. When we were all served at the window, I handed the girl my money and she brought me back my change.
"Thanks hon, and can I ask you guys to do me a favor?"
"Sure, what is it?" the window girl responded.
"I gestured to Jessica and said "Today is her birthday. Would you guys sing to her for me?"
"Yeah, all of us?" she asked, and I nodded. So four girls came over to the window and sang with me to Jessie while her friend K just about died. They both think I'm certifiably insane... and you know I am too. See the sidebar quote of the moment for even more evidence.
Doug has started installing the ACs, which means in about five minutes he'll be calling me to hold something still while he whacks the Sugar Honey Ice Tea out of it with a hammer. So I'd best finish up and move along.
Have a good day.
I think last year or during the winter or summer or something I got on a whole "don't bitch about the weather" tear because too many bloggers were just going nuts with kvetching about it being too hot or too cold or too whatever. Shutup and deal with it. That's what I say. I will also say that it sucks to take a shower, get out of the shower, and the effort to dry and get dressed results in your being just as drenched in sweat as you were before you got in the shower. That bites.
And to give credit to my daughter, yesterday I could not recall the second award that she got. It was honor society. She missed high honors by a bit, but was incredibly happy to get into honor society. May she stay there, long may she run indeed.
We took the cub scouts hiking yesterday in Andover. From the parking area to elephant rock and back is close to a three mile loop. Doug thought it would take us a lot longer than it did, but even with a long, leisurely lunch break we were done an hour faster than he budgeted the time for. Geoff was joined by three of his mates and they all did a tremendous job.
Pictured here is one of the boys, with a friend found on the trail... he found five toads on the hike. This was the only one I managed to capture with him. He'd pick them up, say hi, and let them go.
I had a really great time talking with another mom who came, and with the den mother. She cracks me up -- and I really like spending time with her. Her husband and 2 year old daughter came with us too, and they were awesome.
The mini-Super Hiker grabbed herself a hiking stick and lead the way. She only had to get in the backpack a couple of times, much to her father's relief.
It was a really great time. I'm glad this den is staying together next year. They're good kids and I really am having fun being involved.
Pictures in Flickr if you're interested in the few I managed to get.
We picked Jessica up after the hike and went to Chunky's Cinema Pub in Haverhill for dinner and a movie. We brought K with us for the third straight year... remember from prior posts that K. is the friend with the brain thing going on (by the way, the big surgery is June 21st, so continued mojo in her direction please).
We haven't been there in years, and I can't imagine why we don't think to go there. Two birds, one stone. Dinner and Movie. The food is good and there is beer (Hallelujah!) for me and Doug. The last time we were there was when Jess turned 10. Three friends and the movie Spirit. I think that once I get to June in the archives for 2002 I will find the full review.
So the dinner and movie thing was fun, and everyone had a great time. We saw Madagascar which wasn't nearly as bad as some of the critics have made it out to be. I found David Schwimmer's giraffe annoying. I really liked the king of the lemurs... he was crazy funny. The interplay between Alex the lion (Ben Stiller) and Marty the Zebra (Chris Rock) was great. There were a lot of funny pop-culture jokes going on in the film but the best is when Alex the lion does a kind of Zoolander "Blue Steel" look over his shoulder. I almost laughed my ass off -- it was there for a split second, and I don't think that anyone else in the theatre got it. At one point, Marty starts running away from Alex when he knows Alex is going to kick his ass for getting them lost at sea, and he yells in slow motion "Sugar Honey Ice Tea!" And you all know what that means. THAT was something I haven't heard since I was maybe ... 12 years of age.
I think I'm going to start using it often. It's funny.
When the movie finished, the little boy from the table beside us got up and ran down front to dance to the credits. He was obviously handicapped -- but he had this air about him that I found incredibly irresistible. I turned to his mom and said "He's not happy or anything, is he?" and she cracked up. "Do you mind if I join him? I have to dance too." So she gestured for me to go ahead.
And I did.
I danced with this little kid, who at first was shocked that someone else was with him, but he warmed up to it and the both of us did The Airplane. We shook our groove things, and K. and Jessica died laughing.
I don't know what came over me, but I swear sometimes I see little kids who are so in the moment and it infects me and takes over my soul. It's why I would make a horrible elementary school teacher, because I'd just go nuts with the kids and they wouldn't learn a damn thing.
Jessica and Geoff are kind of used to this incredibly stupid behavior on my part. Doug didn't yell at me to sit my ass down, but they probably sat there shaking their heads. And I don't care. I had a blast and it was so fun and he was so happy and made my heart fly.
On the way out K. said to me "I don't know you. I'm not with you." while laughing her ass off. I grabbed her, hugged her and said "Oh yes you do. You are One Of Us!"
The poor child.
After the movie and dinner thing we stopped for birthday ice cream at a little place on River Street in Haverhill. I was still feeling a bit silly from my dancing. When we were all served at the window, I handed the girl my money and she brought me back my change.
"Thanks hon, and can I ask you guys to do me a favor?"
"Sure, what is it?" the window girl responded.
"I gestured to Jessica and said "Today is her birthday. Would you guys sing to her for me?"
"Yeah, all of us?" she asked, and I nodded. So four girls came over to the window and sang with me to Jessie while her friend K just about died. They both think I'm certifiably insane... and you know I am too. See the sidebar quote of the moment for even more evidence.
Doug has started installing the ACs, which means in about five minutes he'll be calling me to hold something still while he whacks the Sugar Honey Ice Tea out of it with a hammer. So I'd best finish up and move along.
Have a good day.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Warm Spell
Like I predicted, as I prognosticated, we went from 50 degrees to 90 degrees in like one week. It is brutally hot with no soft, gentle ramp-up to hot. And I'm cranky but... I gotta say. I prefer it to freezing my big A off. Bug spray and sweat while hiking beats regretting not putting that other fleece layer on a mile from the truck when the wind rips through my flesh.
I have been crazy busy at work, and crazy busy at home. There hasn't been much to update since my last writing, and I've been uninspired and sad. Focusing on my job has kept my mind off of sad.
Friday there was an end-of-year presentation at Geoff's school and at the exact same time the 7th grade award ceremony for Jessie. Doug went to hers, I went to Geoff's. Doug was reluctant to go, he didn't think parents were invited to this and Jessica said she didn't care if we came or not that it was stupid and a waste of time.
She got an award for French, and for something else that I cannot recall and she's gone to bed.
Geoff was well behaved in his presentation, but the heat and the noise really got to him after a while. Can't say as I blame him. After it was over we all went to all the classrooms and had snack. I had a long talk with his one-on-one aide and she told me that all the sped aide staff is being laid off in 2 weeks, and they may or may not be re-hired to their positions for the fall. I'm semi-freaking out, because if he does not have a one-on-one aide, third grade is going to be just as sucky as most of this year. The only saving grace this year was his 1-1 aide. Otherwise, it would be a wash in many ways in my opinion. I'm going to have to make some phone calls, and I'm incredibly glad I have not signed his IEP for next year. I'll hold that until I have a guarantee that someone will be assigned to my son. So help me, Jebus.
Today Jess is 13. We don't have anything planned for her for a party or any sort of marking of the occasion. She didn't want anything. She asked specifically for three things, two of which I could find, the third can wait. We may take her out to dinner.
Today she is going to her friend K's house to hang out while Doug and I lead a hike for the cub scout den. Yes. It is 90 billion degrees and we are taking the cub scouts on a wicked long hike. Thing is, they have to do this before Monday or they can't get their World Conservation badges... and only the boys who go will be receiving the badges.
It's a busy time of year and I wanted to make sure everyone could make time for this, so we planned it out and I tried to communicate with the parents clearly. I gave people plenty of notice that we were doing this. I asked specifically "does this date and time work for you. If it does not, please let me know and we can work something else out..." and NONE of the parents responded. So yesterday at the assembly I asked all but two kids' parents (I didn't see the other two). "Oh, yeah. he's got a baseball game at 1 so that doesn't work out."
Well, we could have left at 8 instead of 10 and he could have come with... why didn't you let me know?
"I forgot."
Okay. Whatever.
I don't think I'd be a good den mother. I think I'd get pissy because there is nothing I hate more than when people don't even respond at all, and the participation in the group is seen as something that is ancillary to the rest of life.
But my son will get his badge and we'll have a good hike, even with the heat. I just packed his lunch and have to stop and get plenty of water.
I think three out of nine boys will be there. Just as well. It might be hard to watch all nine on the trails. They are a nightmare when all nine of them are together.
Well, I'd best get my act together and get ready. I bought Geoff a bureau at a yard sale yesterday and it is in the back of the truck. Lots to do so I'd best do it.
I have been crazy busy at work, and crazy busy at home. There hasn't been much to update since my last writing, and I've been uninspired and sad. Focusing on my job has kept my mind off of sad.
Friday there was an end-of-year presentation at Geoff's school and at the exact same time the 7th grade award ceremony for Jessie. Doug went to hers, I went to Geoff's. Doug was reluctant to go, he didn't think parents were invited to this and Jessica said she didn't care if we came or not that it was stupid and a waste of time.
She got an award for French, and for something else that I cannot recall and she's gone to bed.
Geoff was well behaved in his presentation, but the heat and the noise really got to him after a while. Can't say as I blame him. After it was over we all went to all the classrooms and had snack. I had a long talk with his one-on-one aide and she told me that all the sped aide staff is being laid off in 2 weeks, and they may or may not be re-hired to their positions for the fall. I'm semi-freaking out, because if he does not have a one-on-one aide, third grade is going to be just as sucky as most of this year. The only saving grace this year was his 1-1 aide. Otherwise, it would be a wash in many ways in my opinion. I'm going to have to make some phone calls, and I'm incredibly glad I have not signed his IEP for next year. I'll hold that until I have a guarantee that someone will be assigned to my son. So help me, Jebus.
Today Jess is 13. We don't have anything planned for her for a party or any sort of marking of the occasion. She didn't want anything. She asked specifically for three things, two of which I could find, the third can wait. We may take her out to dinner.
Today she is going to her friend K's house to hang out while Doug and I lead a hike for the cub scout den. Yes. It is 90 billion degrees and we are taking the cub scouts on a wicked long hike. Thing is, they have to do this before Monday or they can't get their World Conservation badges... and only the boys who go will be receiving the badges.
It's a busy time of year and I wanted to make sure everyone could make time for this, so we planned it out and I tried to communicate with the parents clearly. I gave people plenty of notice that we were doing this. I asked specifically "does this date and time work for you. If it does not, please let me know and we can work something else out..." and NONE of the parents responded. So yesterday at the assembly I asked all but two kids' parents (I didn't see the other two). "Oh, yeah. he's got a baseball game at 1 so that doesn't work out."
Well, we could have left at 8 instead of 10 and he could have come with... why didn't you let me know?
"I forgot."
Okay. Whatever.
I don't think I'd be a good den mother. I think I'd get pissy because there is nothing I hate more than when people don't even respond at all, and the participation in the group is seen as something that is ancillary to the rest of life.
But my son will get his badge and we'll have a good hike, even with the heat. I just packed his lunch and have to stop and get plenty of water.
I think three out of nine boys will be there. Just as well. It might be hard to watch all nine on the trails. They are a nightmare when all nine of them are together.
Well, I'd best get my act together and get ready. I bought Geoff a bureau at a yard sale yesterday and it is in the back of the truck. Lots to do so I'd best do it.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
"Hello Bithes!"
Before I got sad news (see last entry) I was all set to do this funny entry on a bit of graffiti that I saw on Sunday. We were up in New Hampshire, Geocaching as usual, and there was this fire tower in Stratham.
The fire tower had graffiti all over it, but most especially at the top level, where the best views were to be found and obviously the best place to sit, hang, and get high and play with a Sharpie.
And where there are drunk/high kids and Sharpies... well. Hilarity ensues.
There were several references to Nikki and who she loves currently. There were references to the very same Nikki, and her friends Alexis, Jaquie, Jannelle and Rachel, who allegedly are going to be whores 4 ever.
And on the railing in giant letters it said "Hello Bithes!" With the "c" missing from the word "Bitches." Say it out loud - Bithes. It's funny. Walk into a room and intone loudly to your friends "Hello Bithes!" And see if you don't laugh.
Drunk Girls with Sharpies. That's some quality entertainment.
There were other items of graffiti up there. One was "If I can get drunk, y is it against tha law to get hi?" Because it kills your brain cells, bith, and makes you unable to spell. And there was another one that said "Graffitti is dumb. Graffitti is for krazy ppl." Yes. Yes it is. Glad you realize that. As Alanis sings, "Isn't it ironic? Don't you think. A little too ironic? Yeah, I really do think."
I'm experiencing a weird sort of spike in visitorship.
I've gone from an average of 65 hits a day to over 90, and today I'm up around 99 and it is only 8pm. I'm using Sitecounter, I can't really tell who is coming to the site because it only shows me the URL sources of about 20 of the most recent visitors, and there are no search engine keyword hits in the logs to account for the spike.
So one of you bithes (heh) must be visiting an extra 30 times a day. Thank you. Either that, or something wacky is going on!
I described the weather in the office to people today as "Monkey Hot." And that got me a huge laugh. I know that many of you have used the term Monkey Hot, or Tarzan Hot or Africa Hot... Monkey Hot is my favorite of them all. And no one in my office had heard the combination of heat and humidity such as what we are experiencing today as such.
G turned to the new employee and said "Christine often just comes up with things that are so weird and we just run with it." Another one that they weren't aware of was "Assy" as an adjective. I know Taunia and Amy both use Assy... and it is oft my favorite. It is simple. It is fun to say. Almost as much fun as Bithes.
Today at work, we got a laptop for the operations group to share. I'm primarily going to be taking it for the floorplan project. I find that sitting in here for 10 hours a week is a drag, and the laptop would make it easier on Doug and Jessica when they need to use the PC. Jessie has had several end-of-year project things that have had her needing the PC for longer than what I'm used to, so I haven't been able to get as much done over here as I like. I'm psyched to use it. Yay productivity!
Monday, June 06, 2005
My Grace...
"Excuse me please, one more drink. Could you make it strong cause I don't need to think. She broke my heart. My Grace is gone. One more drink and I'll be gone..."
- Dave Matthews
There's something I can't write about yet. Suffice to say -- something happened in our circle which causes me deep grief, but nothing compared to what our friends are feeling. And nothing compared to what my sister is feeling. I didn't get any sleep last night. I am sad to the core. And there is nothing I can do.
I cannot yet write in detail and address what happened or how I feel about it. But I do want to say something. Because I will not sleep tonight unless I let these words out.
I want to tell you about my sister. I want the world to know the kind of person she is. And I want you to think about people in your life, and the kind of friend you are.
I want to tell you that if you are my sister's friend... she will be the first person to drop everything and rush to be at your side in your dire time of desperate sadness and need. She will feel what you feel, and feel it in a way that you probably never could imagine someone outside of your shoes could possibly experience. But it will be as close to your real pain and surprise and suffering as if it were hers to own.
She will put her life on hold to come hold you. She will give everything she has and everything she is for you, her dear friend. She will thumb her nose at work and conventional wisdom, and she will weep with you. She will be your guiding light, she will do things for you that most people will not even get from their families.
She is your angel, she is your best friend, she is the light of your soul and while she cannot remove your pain or make anything better, she is right there beside you and holds you up until you can be better on your own.
She will do the same for you in your moment of joy. Giving and doing and helping in ways that boggle the mind.
And this is the truth, my dear reader: If there is a heaven, I know she will be there because there is no selflessness like hers. There is no ego that needs fed in her. There is only this beacon of what God wants each and every one of us to be like.
The big part of why I am so sad right now is because I know what she is feeling, and I know that there is nothing more in this world that she can do to help -- and that hurts me... to know she's helpless in this situation.
What kind of friend are you? Are you the saint? Are you the one who does what Linda does, who gives as Linda gives? To the point of foolishness at times, yes?
Please let her be your model. When someone you love needs you, please be there like Linda. Be the one that turns mourning into dancing, if you can.
I love and admire her so very much for what she does and who she is, that it hurts. This is not the entry I wanted to write tonight. But this is going to keep me awake for the next few nights, and letting a little of it shine for her -- in praise of her and what she is and does -- is all I can really share.
- Dave Matthews
There's something I can't write about yet. Suffice to say -- something happened in our circle which causes me deep grief, but nothing compared to what our friends are feeling. And nothing compared to what my sister is feeling. I didn't get any sleep last night. I am sad to the core. And there is nothing I can do.
I cannot yet write in detail and address what happened or how I feel about it. But I do want to say something. Because I will not sleep tonight unless I let these words out.
I want to tell you about my sister. I want the world to know the kind of person she is. And I want you to think about people in your life, and the kind of friend you are.
I want to tell you that if you are my sister's friend... she will be the first person to drop everything and rush to be at your side in your dire time of desperate sadness and need. She will feel what you feel, and feel it in a way that you probably never could imagine someone outside of your shoes could possibly experience. But it will be as close to your real pain and surprise and suffering as if it were hers to own.
She will put her life on hold to come hold you. She will give everything she has and everything she is for you, her dear friend. She will thumb her nose at work and conventional wisdom, and she will weep with you. She will be your guiding light, she will do things for you that most people will not even get from their families.
She is your angel, she is your best friend, she is the light of your soul and while she cannot remove your pain or make anything better, she is right there beside you and holds you up until you can be better on your own.
She will do the same for you in your moment of joy. Giving and doing and helping in ways that boggle the mind.
And this is the truth, my dear reader: If there is a heaven, I know she will be there because there is no selflessness like hers. There is no ego that needs fed in her. There is only this beacon of what God wants each and every one of us to be like.
The big part of why I am so sad right now is because I know what she is feeling, and I know that there is nothing more in this world that she can do to help -- and that hurts me... to know she's helpless in this situation.
What kind of friend are you? Are you the saint? Are you the one who does what Linda does, who gives as Linda gives? To the point of foolishness at times, yes?
Please let her be your model. When someone you love needs you, please be there like Linda. Be the one that turns mourning into dancing, if you can.
I love and admire her so very much for what she does and who she is, that it hurts. This is not the entry I wanted to write tonight. But this is going to keep me awake for the next few nights, and letting a little of it shine for her -- in praise of her and what she is and does -- is all I can really share.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Hot hot heat
Not the band, but the weather. So we did exactly what I thought we would do, weatherwise. We've gone from 50 degrees and raining to 90 degrees and sweltering in one week. Yesterday we went out geocaching in the Exeter area, and it was gorgeous hot. The woods were humid with the moisture seeping out of the fresh leaves of the trees, and the smell of damp earth and sweet flowers was intoxicating.
Yes, in Exeter.
There were two nice trails that we went on. One was on the backside of the Phillips Exeter campus, the other was in the Oaklands Forest up on 85.
The only reason I say this is because I tried to call our friend Mr. Garfield (a frequent commenter and should-be blogger) but when I called the number that Verizon Wireless gave me, it was some guy Fareed's house. Unless Mr. Garfield is a silly man who has "Hi, you've reached Fareed. Leave me a message" on his answering machine as a goof, I couldn't leave a message. I didn't want to invite Fareed hiking with us.
Should have brought your number and address with me. Mea Culpa.
Yesterday was great. In the Oaklands forest there were mountain bike trails, and this system of ramps and jumps along the granite shoulders of the trail... Napoleon Dynamite would want to know if you took your bike "off any sweet jumps" and you could say "Yeah. This one."
When we were in Exeter at the Powderhouse, there was this gianormous crane or heron or something, and it was flying all around. I got one shot of it, because we never knew where it would be. And we saw an otter. First time we've ever seen anything like that especially not out in the wild where one might expect to see some wildlife like that. The view from the Powderhouse trail is really nice. Exeter is a cute town and it was fun to visit there yesterday.
It felt really good to be out. We didn't get too many miles logged because we left late in the afternoon, and only hit three caches. But at least we didn't get caught in a thunderstorm this time.
Last night I spent a ton of time going through the archive folders for 2001 and fixing all the broken relative links... the content has gone from one computer to a CD to another for storage, back onto a different CD... so all the links were broken, and some of the graphics are missing but I'm sure I can find them.
I finished June through November 2001. What a difference three or four years make in a kid. I especially like this picture of Geoff from back in the day:
Anyway... I'll keep whacking at the archives and getting them up on the server. I'm sure that you're just dying to read them. In the meantime, I'm afraid I actually have to water my garden today. Haven't had to do that lately!
Yes, in Exeter.
There were two nice trails that we went on. One was on the backside of the Phillips Exeter campus, the other was in the Oaklands Forest up on 85.
The only reason I say this is because I tried to call our friend Mr. Garfield (a frequent commenter and should-be blogger) but when I called the number that Verizon Wireless gave me, it was some guy Fareed's house. Unless Mr. Garfield is a silly man who has "Hi, you've reached Fareed. Leave me a message" on his answering machine as a goof, I couldn't leave a message. I didn't want to invite Fareed hiking with us.
Should have brought your number and address with me. Mea Culpa.
Yesterday was great. In the Oaklands forest there were mountain bike trails, and this system of ramps and jumps along the granite shoulders of the trail... Napoleon Dynamite would want to know if you took your bike "off any sweet jumps" and you could say "Yeah. This one."
When we were in Exeter at the Powderhouse, there was this gianormous crane or heron or something, and it was flying all around. I got one shot of it, because we never knew where it would be. And we saw an otter. First time we've ever seen anything like that especially not out in the wild where one might expect to see some wildlife like that. The view from the Powderhouse trail is really nice. Exeter is a cute town and it was fun to visit there yesterday.
It felt really good to be out. We didn't get too many miles logged because we left late in the afternoon, and only hit three caches. But at least we didn't get caught in a thunderstorm this time.
Last night I spent a ton of time going through the archive folders for 2001 and fixing all the broken relative links... the content has gone from one computer to a CD to another for storage, back onto a different CD... so all the links were broken, and some of the graphics are missing but I'm sure I can find them.
I finished June through November 2001. What a difference three or four years make in a kid. I especially like this picture of Geoff from back in the day:
Anyway... I'll keep whacking at the archives and getting them up on the server. I'm sure that you're just dying to read them. In the meantime, I'm afraid I actually have to water my garden today. Haven't had to do that lately!
Saturday, June 04, 2005
These Dreams
In the past few weeks, I've had several very bizarre dreams. Because this is not a dream journal, and I don't really think blurting out the contents of my subconscious is a good thing to do in an online arena, I avoid sharing the images of the night with you, dear reader. But the dream I had last night brings some thoughts to mind, which are things I should think about and wonder during the daylight hours. Plus, I'm at a loss as to what to write about today.
Many of you know my mom. Swirlie is a good nickname for her, bestowed upon her by my dear friend Wob from High School. Swirlie is a great grandma, a fun person. She lets me and my sister make fun of her all the time, and she can dish it out as well as she takes it. I credit her fully for my sense of humor (dark and sinister as it may be) and thank her wholeheartedly for supporting me, helping with our stupid weiner kids when she can, and for just being the best mom she could be.
The one thing I have a problem with is her smoking. My whole entire life she has smoked. I had horrible allergies. Mom took me to several ENTs who said "she's allergic to smoke." But no one in the house quit smoking. I went through a bottle of actifed a week instead.
I locked myself in my bedroom for four years and didn't come out because I just couldn't stand smelling smoke anymore. I'd go to youth group meetings, and the holier than thou kids would wrinkle their noses at me, thinking I was the smoker when I really just carried the stench from the car ride, which my mother was gracious enough to provide for me. I felt judged because of her habit. I really hated that.
She quit for a while in 2003/2004. For quite a while as a matter of fact. And then she started up again. It really bothered me when she did. I mean, she was in the hospital for like a week one winter, and quit out of necessity... and did a great job of staying smoke free for a good long time. But with any addiction, there is the backslide. And she didn't maintain her "sobriety" as it were.
She gets defensive about her smoking habit, and often times says "It's my only vice. I don't drink, I don't gamble, I don't do a lot of bad things. This is all I've got as a vice so lay off..." While it is true that video games are her only REAL vice, dude -- she's such an addict -- she does the smoking thing, and I guess there's nothing I can do to change it.
A long time ago, I asked her if she realized what she was doing to herself. Again -- the defensiveness, and she brought up that I'm overweight and turned the tables asking me if I'd considered what I'm doing to myself. Touché. She doesn't seem concerned or worried that she'll end up like Auntie H who passed away in February, refusing to use an oxygen tank or any other COPD breathing assistance when she is horribly emphyzemic and suffering.
This all brings me to my dream. In my dream, she finds out she's got advanced lung cancer and it has spread to her bones. And that two years ago when she was sick and in the hospital, the cancer had started and they didn't detect it at the time... and so she's gone untreated for two years.
And she is crying.
She is crying, weeping and sobbing, which in and of itself surprises me... for someone who has always been "Ces't La Vie" about her smoking. Whatever will be will be. But now, faced with the undeniable truth that she is going to die a very painful and horrible death... much sooner than later, she's devastated.
And she is ranting. She is SCREAMING... not taking this very well. She is blaming the doctors, the nurses, the entire hospital system for not catching it when she was in there. She is blaming off-shoring, "some goddamn Indian in some backwater lab reading her chest X-rays in 2003 didn't catch it" and it's all their fault. She's blaming my father for quitting in 1993... because he continues to stress her out and MAKE her want to smoke. Stress is more to blame than the doctors now. And now the neighborhood in which they live is to blame. It's a horrible place and so it stresses her out even more and she smokes to deal with it.
And I'm sitting there in the dream, growing more and more furious...
... because what I don't hear her saying is what I expected. That "Whatever will be will be" attitude that she wore so well for so long.
"Oh well. I guess it is all my fault for smoking in the first place and continuing to do so for 50 years."
I hear everyone else on the planet is to blame except for her.
And I lose it.
I start SCREAMING back at her. I am shocked as I'm sitting here just recalling this dream and the fury that I unleash upon her as she's reduced to crying and tears and pain... and I'm screaming at her that it is all her own fault. She cannot have the unmitigated gaul to blame an X-ray technician for misreading her film. She needs to own this. She needs to embrace it... it's her creation, not some sort of "Call Attorney Jim Sokolove and get all the money humanly possible out of the medical malpractice suit that you can!" situation.
I call her a stupid selfish bitch. And I leave her there.
I wake up. I'm deeply aware... of how horrible I was in this dream. That I am not the person I play myself to be. Where the hell did this absolutely violent freak-out against my mom come from?
More often than not, I believe very strongly that I am a giving, supportive and kind soul.
I'll hold your hand when you stub your toe or your house burns down. I'll donate money to your kid's Big Box Of Words fund. I'll give you money for your cat to have surgery. I'll write about your problem and send you all the mojo and prayer I can. I'll hand your resume to everyone I know when you lose your job. I will listen to you bitch about your boss, and try and add humor to lighten the situation. I sit in incredibly busy and stressful office situations and always try and be the one who steps up, takes jobs, helps out -- take one for the team.
I do so not out of some sort of "I feel so much cooler about myself when I help people!" deal -- but because I believe so deeply that God wants us to love and support one another at every possible turn. As much as he wants us to praise him in thanks when things are going wrong, he wants us to be his vessel of love and lift one another up. That is how God works miracles. That is love. That is what makes the world go round.
And there's my mother.
How do I treat her in my dream? Like filth. When she needs me to put my arm around her and say "oh, honey..." I verbally rape her heart and soul with the most vile emotional beating that I can give out. It's beyond "Hey, I told you so." It's outright damnation.
I don't doubt for a minute that in the next 20 years I'll truly face this situation. How will I handle it? We joke around, my sister and I, that Tree is the one who will get to deal with Swirlie when the time comes to pick a home... and then Doug says "But I work for a nursing home chain, so I get a 10% discount if you put her in one of ours." As always, we deal with what may be the harsh reality with a lot of inappropriate humor. When the time really comes though... I hope I will handle the situation with a bit more kindness and dignity.
But really -- am I wrong in my dream? My position is the truth. Did I just deliver the truth with a bit too much loud, angry honesty and not enough gentle, political aplomb? "Gee honey, sorry you have such a rotten and horrible disease but... you yourself should have seen it coming and it's no one's fault but your own. There, there. Have a tissue."
Because it is a dream, I don't know where it leaves off. It's not a movie, a DVD that I can pick a scene and watch over again to spot the flaw in my action. It is a leak in my true feelings towards my mom, and what I may be left to deal with because of choices she made in the 1950s... and continues to make today. I'm afraid I may not like the ending... but will try and do better in playing my role when the time comes.
I love my mother. I truly and honestly do. I want the best for her... not the easiest out for me when her time to shed the mortal coil comes. And really, who knows -- I could die before her, and even though she smokes up until her dying day she could be an 90 year old grumpy old lady yelling at people in Doug's nursing home (10% discount! Woo hoo!) when I'm dead and in the ground 10 years from some fat lady disease.
And she'll be able to say "I told you so."
Many of you know my mom. Swirlie is a good nickname for her, bestowed upon her by my dear friend Wob from High School. Swirlie is a great grandma, a fun person. She lets me and my sister make fun of her all the time, and she can dish it out as well as she takes it. I credit her fully for my sense of humor (dark and sinister as it may be) and thank her wholeheartedly for supporting me, helping with our stupid weiner kids when she can, and for just being the best mom she could be.
The one thing I have a problem with is her smoking. My whole entire life she has smoked. I had horrible allergies. Mom took me to several ENTs who said "she's allergic to smoke." But no one in the house quit smoking. I went through a bottle of actifed a week instead.
I locked myself in my bedroom for four years and didn't come out because I just couldn't stand smelling smoke anymore. I'd go to youth group meetings, and the holier than thou kids would wrinkle their noses at me, thinking I was the smoker when I really just carried the stench from the car ride, which my mother was gracious enough to provide for me. I felt judged because of her habit. I really hated that.
She quit for a while in 2003/2004. For quite a while as a matter of fact. And then she started up again. It really bothered me when she did. I mean, she was in the hospital for like a week one winter, and quit out of necessity... and did a great job of staying smoke free for a good long time. But with any addiction, there is the backslide. And she didn't maintain her "sobriety" as it were.
She gets defensive about her smoking habit, and often times says "It's my only vice. I don't drink, I don't gamble, I don't do a lot of bad things. This is all I've got as a vice so lay off..." While it is true that video games are her only REAL vice, dude -- she's such an addict -- she does the smoking thing, and I guess there's nothing I can do to change it.
A long time ago, I asked her if she realized what she was doing to herself. Again -- the defensiveness, and she brought up that I'm overweight and turned the tables asking me if I'd considered what I'm doing to myself. Touché. She doesn't seem concerned or worried that she'll end up like Auntie H who passed away in February, refusing to use an oxygen tank or any other COPD breathing assistance when she is horribly emphyzemic and suffering.
This all brings me to my dream. In my dream, she finds out she's got advanced lung cancer and it has spread to her bones. And that two years ago when she was sick and in the hospital, the cancer had started and they didn't detect it at the time... and so she's gone untreated for two years.
And she is crying.
She is crying, weeping and sobbing, which in and of itself surprises me... for someone who has always been "Ces't La Vie" about her smoking. Whatever will be will be. But now, faced with the undeniable truth that she is going to die a very painful and horrible death... much sooner than later, she's devastated.
And she is ranting. She is SCREAMING... not taking this very well. She is blaming the doctors, the nurses, the entire hospital system for not catching it when she was in there. She is blaming off-shoring, "some goddamn Indian in some backwater lab reading her chest X-rays in 2003 didn't catch it" and it's all their fault. She's blaming my father for quitting in 1993... because he continues to stress her out and MAKE her want to smoke. Stress is more to blame than the doctors now. And now the neighborhood in which they live is to blame. It's a horrible place and so it stresses her out even more and she smokes to deal with it.
And I'm sitting there in the dream, growing more and more furious...
... because what I don't hear her saying is what I expected. That "Whatever will be will be" attitude that she wore so well for so long.
"Oh well. I guess it is all my fault for smoking in the first place and continuing to do so for 50 years."
I hear everyone else on the planet is to blame except for her.
And I lose it.
I start SCREAMING back at her. I am shocked as I'm sitting here just recalling this dream and the fury that I unleash upon her as she's reduced to crying and tears and pain... and I'm screaming at her that it is all her own fault. She cannot have the unmitigated gaul to blame an X-ray technician for misreading her film. She needs to own this. She needs to embrace it... it's her creation, not some sort of "Call Attorney Jim Sokolove and get all the money humanly possible out of the medical malpractice suit that you can!" situation.
I call her a stupid selfish bitch. And I leave her there.
I wake up. I'm deeply aware... of how horrible I was in this dream. That I am not the person I play myself to be. Where the hell did this absolutely violent freak-out against my mom come from?
More often than not, I believe very strongly that I am a giving, supportive and kind soul.
I'll hold your hand when you stub your toe or your house burns down. I'll donate money to your kid's Big Box Of Words fund. I'll give you money for your cat to have surgery. I'll write about your problem and send you all the mojo and prayer I can. I'll hand your resume to everyone I know when you lose your job. I will listen to you bitch about your boss, and try and add humor to lighten the situation. I sit in incredibly busy and stressful office situations and always try and be the one who steps up, takes jobs, helps out -- take one for the team.
I do so not out of some sort of "I feel so much cooler about myself when I help people!" deal -- but because I believe so deeply that God wants us to love and support one another at every possible turn. As much as he wants us to praise him in thanks when things are going wrong, he wants us to be his vessel of love and lift one another up. That is how God works miracles. That is love. That is what makes the world go round.
And there's my mother.
How do I treat her in my dream? Like filth. When she needs me to put my arm around her and say "oh, honey..." I verbally rape her heart and soul with the most vile emotional beating that I can give out. It's beyond "Hey, I told you so." It's outright damnation.
I don't doubt for a minute that in the next 20 years I'll truly face this situation. How will I handle it? We joke around, my sister and I, that Tree is the one who will get to deal with Swirlie when the time comes to pick a home... and then Doug says "But I work for a nursing home chain, so I get a 10% discount if you put her in one of ours." As always, we deal with what may be the harsh reality with a lot of inappropriate humor. When the time really comes though... I hope I will handle the situation with a bit more kindness and dignity.
But really -- am I wrong in my dream? My position is the truth. Did I just deliver the truth with a bit too much loud, angry honesty and not enough gentle, political aplomb? "Gee honey, sorry you have such a rotten and horrible disease but... you yourself should have seen it coming and it's no one's fault but your own. There, there. Have a tissue."
Because it is a dream, I don't know where it leaves off. It's not a movie, a DVD that I can pick a scene and watch over again to spot the flaw in my action. It is a leak in my true feelings towards my mom, and what I may be left to deal with because of choices she made in the 1950s... and continues to make today. I'm afraid I may not like the ending... but will try and do better in playing my role when the time comes.
I love my mother. I truly and honestly do. I want the best for her... not the easiest out for me when her time to shed the mortal coil comes. And really, who knows -- I could die before her, and even though she smokes up until her dying day she could be an 90 year old grumpy old lady yelling at people in Doug's nursing home (10% discount! Woo hoo!) when I'm dead and in the ground 10 years from some fat lady disease.
And she'll be able to say "I told you so."
Friday, June 03, 2005
G, E and a snake!
Today I got to leave work early because Jess was out with her school chorus at a competition and then a trip to Canobie Lake Park. So there was no one here to meet Geoff. I didn't get ahold of the neighbor girl upstairs in time this morning, once I realized that he'd be home alone... so I got to pull leave early on a Friday for boy duty.
I had plans when I got home. There was vacuuming to be done. And dishes were waiting. And a journal entry. And floorplans. And I wanted to take Geoff out for an hour and maybe fly his pirate kite, which hasn't been flown since the shores of OBX a month and a half ago.
Geoff got home, and he didn't want to go out and play, he didn't want to do anything. He was tired... so he curled up on the couch and played some video games. Doug came home, and I realized I just really didn't feel like doing anything either. I folded three loads of laundry, just to get them off of the bed so I could take a nap.
And I napped.
Oh, Lordy, did I nap. I died for about an hour. Barking dogs. Huge semi-trucks. Paving equipment and loud radios across the street. Geoff getting pissed at Sly Cooper. None of these thinks disturbed this sleep of deep death. I woke in time for Doug to come into the bedroom and mumble at me that I needed to move so he could nap. I was on his side of the bed, and that was just ... unacceptable.
I felt pretty crappy before I took a nap. Now I feel stupendous.
It's good that I feel so great. Because I have been taught the next step in the floor plan operations, and M has asked me if I would be so kind as to assist him with that part of the project. I now have the power to determine where our screens will be placed in grocery stores, and can go ahead and position them in the document.
Mwah ha ha ha.
Our neighbor Emily found a snake.
She kept it in a bug cage for a couple of days, and finally this morning her mother told her to let it go. I do not know what garter snakes are interested in eating, and I'm sure that in the bug cage, whatever she could provide for it wasn't what it wanted, so I'm incredibly glad her mom went nuts and yelled at her to release it.
So she brought it over to release in our yard. Naturally.
Now, many of you know that my husband Doug hates snakes with a mad, burning passion. His inner Pappy Snyder comes out and he goes insane when he sees a snake... the Kittanning Hillbilly deep in his core emerges, and he starts yelling in Pittsburghese and he gets a hoe or starts the lawn mower and is bent on destruction of the slithery beast.
Picture Groundskeeper Willie with a beer belly and less of a crazy head of red hair... and no Scottish accent.
A herpetologist he is not. A herpemurderer he is.
I didn't get mad at E for bringing it over here (or her mother for suggesting she do so... It's nature. It's all good to me) but I was sure to tell E to release it down by the creek (or, crick for you WPA folk). What does she do? She lets it out at the foot of our deck and she and Geoff lean over and watch it slither around in the grass, not heading anywhere fast.
Duh?
"Um, E honey, you best take that down to the creek, LIKE I SAID TO, or if it's still hanging out there when Mr. G comes home, it won't live long."
Man.
So the kids took it down the creek (aka crick) and let it go. It gleefully slithered to the fast moving water and was gone before I could wish it good luck and good riddance.
And we almost missed the bus. But it was fun and worth it, just to be outside, settin' free the snake. I had this happy feeling that we were all living so nicely with nature in these parts, and it joyfully welled up in my heart.
Then, I saw the dead fox.
He was the next town over, on the side of the road. He looked as if he was positioned there carefully after his death by whomever hit him or perhaps another passerby. I don't think he crossed the road and laid in his final repose so perfectly. Plus, there was a tell-tale drag mark across the road, and his feet were arranged rather politely.
An animal in death throes does not arrange feet politely upon collapse.
He was large, and very very beautiful and reddish brown. My heart sank when I saw him. I've never seen a fox in this area, much less one this size, with beautiful fur and a lovely, healthy body. I can only imagine how the person who hit him must have felt. Surprised, I'm sure... reverent enough to stop the vehicle and move him so he wouldn't be run over again and completely splayed across the road, like the turtle that is out by our driveway right now (making me swoon with nausea each time I pass it). Guilty. Sad. I know I felt sad.
When I drove home, he was gone. Animal control must have come out to remove him. Funny... they'll leave a squirrel, a racoon and a billion turtles, but in less than five hours they're out collecting the carcass of a fox with gorgeous fur.
I wonder what will become of him.
I had plans when I got home. There was vacuuming to be done. And dishes were waiting. And a journal entry. And floorplans. And I wanted to take Geoff out for an hour and maybe fly his pirate kite, which hasn't been flown since the shores of OBX a month and a half ago.
Geoff got home, and he didn't want to go out and play, he didn't want to do anything. He was tired... so he curled up on the couch and played some video games. Doug came home, and I realized I just really didn't feel like doing anything either. I folded three loads of laundry, just to get them off of the bed so I could take a nap.
And I napped.
Oh, Lordy, did I nap. I died for about an hour. Barking dogs. Huge semi-trucks. Paving equipment and loud radios across the street. Geoff getting pissed at Sly Cooper. None of these thinks disturbed this sleep of deep death. I woke in time for Doug to come into the bedroom and mumble at me that I needed to move so he could nap. I was on his side of the bed, and that was just ... unacceptable.
I felt pretty crappy before I took a nap. Now I feel stupendous.
It's good that I feel so great. Because I have been taught the next step in the floor plan operations, and M has asked me if I would be so kind as to assist him with that part of the project. I now have the power to determine where our screens will be placed in grocery stores, and can go ahead and position them in the document.
Mwah ha ha ha.
Our neighbor Emily found a snake.She kept it in a bug cage for a couple of days, and finally this morning her mother told her to let it go. I do not know what garter snakes are interested in eating, and I'm sure that in the bug cage, whatever she could provide for it wasn't what it wanted, so I'm incredibly glad her mom went nuts and yelled at her to release it.
So she brought it over to release in our yard. Naturally.
Now, many of you know that my husband Doug hates snakes with a mad, burning passion. His inner Pappy Snyder comes out and he goes insane when he sees a snake... the Kittanning Hillbilly deep in his core emerges, and he starts yelling in Pittsburghese and he gets a hoe or starts the lawn mower and is bent on destruction of the slithery beast.
Picture Groundskeeper Willie with a beer belly and less of a crazy head of red hair... and no Scottish accent.
A herpetologist he is not. A herpemurderer he is.
I didn't get mad at E for bringing it over here (or her mother for suggesting she do so... It's nature. It's all good to me) but I was sure to tell E to release it down by the creek (or, crick for you WPA folk). What does she do? She lets it out at the foot of our deck and she and Geoff lean over and watch it slither around in the grass, not heading anywhere fast.
Duh?
"Um, E honey, you best take that down to the creek, LIKE I SAID TO, or if it's still hanging out there when Mr. G comes home, it won't live long."
Man.
So the kids took it down the creek (aka crick) and let it go. It gleefully slithered to the fast moving water and was gone before I could wish it good luck and good riddance.
And we almost missed the bus. But it was fun and worth it, just to be outside, settin' free the snake. I had this happy feeling that we were all living so nicely with nature in these parts, and it joyfully welled up in my heart.
Then, I saw the dead fox.
He was the next town over, on the side of the road. He looked as if he was positioned there carefully after his death by whomever hit him or perhaps another passerby. I don't think he crossed the road and laid in his final repose so perfectly. Plus, there was a tell-tale drag mark across the road, and his feet were arranged rather politely.
An animal in death throes does not arrange feet politely upon collapse.
He was large, and very very beautiful and reddish brown. My heart sank when I saw him. I've never seen a fox in this area, much less one this size, with beautiful fur and a lovely, healthy body. I can only imagine how the person who hit him must have felt. Surprised, I'm sure... reverent enough to stop the vehicle and move him so he wouldn't be run over again and completely splayed across the road, like the turtle that is out by our driveway right now (making me swoon with nausea each time I pass it). Guilty. Sad. I know I felt sad.
When I drove home, he was gone. Animal control must have come out to remove him. Funny... they'll leave a squirrel, a racoon and a billion turtles, but in less than five hours they're out collecting the carcass of a fox with gorgeous fur.
I wonder what will become of him.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Dinner sans children
There are very few opportunities that Doug and I have to spend time alone without the kids. God bless our neighbor and friend S for taking both of them in exchange for me driving her daughter to soccer practice. They only needed to be there for two hours or so... but it was enough for me and hubby to have time to ourselves and enjoy a meal in a restaurant that caters to grown ups and not the "family" crowd. I'm not against dining with kids, but once in a while, it's nice to just go out with us... no kiddies, and no one elses' kiddies there either.
And last night was perfect.
We were going to go to Newburyport to the Black Cow. Not sure if it is related to the Black Cow in S. Hamilton, MA ... but 14 years ago on the 31st we sat at the Black Cow with our entire wedding party sucking down beers and having a ton of fun. Some of you reading this were there. Cheers to you!
Before getting hitched the following morning (not sure if I ever blogged about it, but I got married barefoot because I lost my shoes ... nice!)
We ditched that plan because Doug got home at six, and it would be late and yadda yadda. So he suggested we go to Haverhill to Bistro 45.
That table there in the corner by the windows? That's where we sat (yes, I lifted the pic from their website... but it was lovely and I loved being there and wanted to show you exactly where we sat). We went there last year when the kids were staying with my folks down in NY, and figured it would be a good time to go without them again. The menu has no chicken fingers or hotdogs or other kid things, and it is definately "haute" cuisine for the area... and we love it.
The salad was field greens, bartlett pears, goat cheese and a strawberry dressing. Ummmy yummy yes! We had crostini for two -- six pieces with different toppings ranging from melted goat cheese and red pepper to roasted garlic and brie. Very nicely done. For the entree, I had the beef tenderloin in pan sauce with potatoes and carmelized onions, the sauce was to die for. Doug had the pan seared tuna on couscous with roasted red peppers and green beans. Dessert was for me -- a chocolate mousse, for Doug the orange cheesecake with creme fraische (sp?) in an oreo crust. With a chocolate martini.
They have crazy beers from weird far-away places, and we had some of those. All told, no better way to mark 14 years than this meal, in this lovely restaurant, by ourselves, early in the evening.
This is the kind of place I'd want to bring my swanky city-acquainted friends to show them how wonderful and well the Merrimack Valley does haute cuisine. Any takers? Let me know when you wanna meet! It is right near the commuter rail stop. You can come up from town easy. Nice!
We were home before the sun set, got the kids, watched some Looney Tunes and Tom & Jerry while Jessica finished writing a paper that was due today, and all were asleep by 10pm.
Life is good.
And last night was perfect.
We were going to go to Newburyport to the Black Cow. Not sure if it is related to the Black Cow in S. Hamilton, MA ... but 14 years ago on the 31st we sat at the Black Cow with our entire wedding party sucking down beers and having a ton of fun. Some of you reading this were there. Cheers to you!
Before getting hitched the following morning (not sure if I ever blogged about it, but I got married barefoot because I lost my shoes ... nice!)
We ditched that plan because Doug got home at six, and it would be late and yadda yadda. So he suggested we go to Haverhill to Bistro 45.
That table there in the corner by the windows? That's where we sat (yes, I lifted the pic from their website... but it was lovely and I loved being there and wanted to show you exactly where we sat). We went there last year when the kids were staying with my folks down in NY, and figured it would be a good time to go without them again. The menu has no chicken fingers or hotdogs or other kid things, and it is definately "haute" cuisine for the area... and we love it.
The salad was field greens, bartlett pears, goat cheese and a strawberry dressing. Ummmy yummy yes! We had crostini for two -- six pieces with different toppings ranging from melted goat cheese and red pepper to roasted garlic and brie. Very nicely done. For the entree, I had the beef tenderloin in pan sauce with potatoes and carmelized onions, the sauce was to die for. Doug had the pan seared tuna on couscous with roasted red peppers and green beans. Dessert was for me -- a chocolate mousse, for Doug the orange cheesecake with creme fraische (sp?) in an oreo crust. With a chocolate martini.
They have crazy beers from weird far-away places, and we had some of those. All told, no better way to mark 14 years than this meal, in this lovely restaurant, by ourselves, early in the evening.
This is the kind of place I'd want to bring my swanky city-acquainted friends to show them how wonderful and well the Merrimack Valley does haute cuisine. Any takers? Let me know when you wanna meet! It is right near the commuter rail stop. You can come up from town easy. Nice!
We were home before the sun set, got the kids, watched some Looney Tunes and Tom & Jerry while Jessica finished writing a paper that was due today, and all were asleep by 10pm.
Life is good.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Today is a special day for Doug and me. It's our wedding anniversary. Some of you were there. You may recall. It was a gorgeous spring day. The weather was perfect. The pine pollen was flying. The rhododendrons were in full screaming bloom. Fourteen years. I'd trade it for nothing.
Jessica says the sentiment "I'd trade it for nothing" is grammatically incorrect.
She may be right.
What I mean is, I wouldn't trade my marriage, my life, for anything in the world. So I wouldn't trade it for anything. Instead of I'd trade it for nothing.
Stupid, wiseacred 12 almost 13 year old second guessing my writing. Go away! (there. she's gone!)
Last night , my husband and my first born were watching some home shopping TV channel and laughing their asses off at a chocolate fountain thing. The hawkers were talking about what a great and classy, romantic and lovely gift it is to have this three-tiered volcano of chocolate running on your living room table as you dip all kinds of craft into the sugar lava flow.
I'm so glad they were laughing. That is why I love them. But the longer they watched it, the more I feared the likelihood they'd lose resolve, break down, call and order it, like Opus Penguin and the turnip twaddler and salad spinner from back in the day (from Bloom County, for those who do not get the reference).
The past few days have been incredibly busy. On Monday, we decided since we'd gotten literally nothing done all weekend, that it was useless getting started (another reason why Doug and I get along so incredibly well...) and opted to head out geocaching. We planned seven. We ditched Jessica with a friend and headed up to southern NH. The first cache we headed to was in Rock Rimmon state park. Doug found a trail to go to the summit of the "hill." But the trail vanished for absolutely no reason, and we ended up bushwhacking about .24 to the main trail that we should have taken had we stayed on the path we were on... I was bitchy for a few minutes but as far as bushwhacking goes, it was no Norton Cemetery. We got to see this humongous rock which was truly insanely huge. Had we been on the trail, we would have missed that.
See, I'm ever the optimist.
We got to the top... the view to the south and east was stunning, gorgeous -- filled with light fluffy clouds and the sense of happiness. But I turned around and behind us was ... thunder. Huge, oppressive black clouds were coming from the north west... and we were doomed.
We found the cache and skeedaddled. After getting onto the trail that we should have taken on the way up, it started to rain. We stood under a tree and convinced Geoff that it was Nature's Umbrella... for about a minute, until it began to deluge.
It was a shitstorm of rain. Sheets of pouring rain. Doug and I just looked at each other and said, well... we are wet whether or not we stand still or walk, so... we started walking. We thought it would be a passing shower, but hell no. It rained.
This is the third summer we've been doing this game, and this is the first time we've ever been caught by surprise and hit with the rain. We didn't do the other six caches. We came home and I worked on floorplans instead.
The weekend was an off and on washout. But as I told someone at work today, no one got hurt, no one got into a fight, some laughs were had and we survived.
It beat being in a tent somewhere.
My tenant's daughter has moved in with them.
C, the mom, told me today that last weekend they went down and got all her stuff from where she was living with her grandmother, and brought her up here. All this school year she'd been getting into fights with some people, and this time it got to the point where she had a size 13 boot bruise on her leg and the police arrested all involved, and she was expelled from school. She tried to hold her own all year, but finally -- she just couldn't.
So, with two weeks left in the academic year, she's here... and started at our high school today. Much to my daughter's surprise and glee. She likes D a lot, and is psyched to have her here.
She's really sweet, and I like her... and I'm incredibly glad she had an out. Our school district is much much better than where she was. But her moving up here monkey wrenches the hell out of my plans.
Doug and I were going to let P and C know (the husband/wife team) that in September we were hoping they'd move out, and we'd even help them find a place or do whatever necessary to help them.
You see, we have TOTALLY grown out of this space. When we picked this house in 1996 we decided that we would turn it back into a single family house once we were in a financial position to do so. When Clayton moved out in 2001, we didn't rent out his apartment. We took over his unit. His old kitchen is our "study" where I'm sitting now. And his old livingroom is Jessica's bedroom... but it should be a formal living room, and have a nice staircase going up to three bedrooms and a full bath upstairs.
I have a total vision on a plan. We just needed for us to be in a financial position to make it possible, where we didn't rely on their small rent just to make the ends meet each moth. And, I was banking on us being in that position in September... at the earliest.
Now, I'm feeling kind of bad. They just brought this girl up here, she's enrolling in our school system, she's a good kid -- and what. I'm going to ask them to leave just as she's getting settled?
Had they spoken to us first, or had we brought our thoughts and desires up with them, perhaps things might have been different.
I know they'll be cool about it. They love living here, but C has expressed to me that the neighborhood is fifty times noisier than it was a year ago when she moved in with P. And it is. Our neighbor with his truck, and the neighbors across the street are under construction and start at ungodly thirty in the morning... and the dog kennel two doors up with their freaking barking beasts is making her mental ... so she might be keen on the move. I know that her business just failed, and she's got a new job she's starting on Monday, so money might be shaky for them, especially now that D is with them.
I was thinking the summer would give them enough time to get their stuff together and be stable for a move, just the two of them. But if they couldn't find a place here in town... the daughter would have to change schools again.
Housing in this area is insanely expensive. They pay next to nothing in rent. The rental income isn't even really an issue to me... I don't raise their rent because we aren't landlords to make money hand over fist. We charge what we feel is fair for an apartment that size. Combine that with the fact they are hella good people, and we're quite happy.
I know they won't find ANYthing remotely affordable in this town or the next five around us. I'm feeling guilty for even pondering this. Perhaps this time next year would be better, and would give them a full 12 months notice... and if something awesome came into play between now and then, I'd so bless their going.
I am not sure what to do. Any advice? It's always welcome, you know that.
Jessica says the sentiment "I'd trade it for nothing" is grammatically incorrect.
"Here's my married life, wanna trade?"
"Here's nothing in exchange"
"Thank you."
Doh.
She may be right.
What I mean is, I wouldn't trade my marriage, my life, for anything in the world. So I wouldn't trade it for anything. Instead of I'd trade it for nothing.
Stupid, wiseacred 12 almost 13 year old second guessing my writing. Go away! (there. she's gone!)
Last night , my husband and my first born were watching some home shopping TV channel and laughing their asses off at a chocolate fountain thing. The hawkers were talking about what a great and classy, romantic and lovely gift it is to have this three-tiered volcano of chocolate running on your living room table as you dip all kinds of craft into the sugar lava flow.
I'm so glad they were laughing. That is why I love them. But the longer they watched it, the more I feared the likelihood they'd lose resolve, break down, call and order it, like Opus Penguin and the turnip twaddler and salad spinner from back in the day (from Bloom County, for those who do not get the reference).
The past few days have been incredibly busy. On Monday, we decided since we'd gotten literally nothing done all weekend, that it was useless getting started (another reason why Doug and I get along so incredibly well...) and opted to head out geocaching. We planned seven. We ditched Jessica with a friend and headed up to southern NH. The first cache we headed to was in Rock Rimmon state park. Doug found a trail to go to the summit of the "hill." But the trail vanished for absolutely no reason, and we ended up bushwhacking about .24 to the main trail that we should have taken had we stayed on the path we were on... I was bitchy for a few minutes but as far as bushwhacking goes, it was no Norton Cemetery. We got to see this humongous rock which was truly insanely huge. Had we been on the trail, we would have missed that.
See, I'm ever the optimist.
We got to the top... the view to the south and east was stunning, gorgeous -- filled with light fluffy clouds and the sense of happiness. But I turned around and behind us was ... thunder. Huge, oppressive black clouds were coming from the north west... and we were doomed.
We found the cache and skeedaddled. After getting onto the trail that we should have taken on the way up, it started to rain. We stood under a tree and convinced Geoff that it was Nature's Umbrella... for about a minute, until it began to deluge.
It was a shitstorm of rain. Sheets of pouring rain. Doug and I just looked at each other and said, well... we are wet whether or not we stand still or walk, so... we started walking. We thought it would be a passing shower, but hell no. It rained.
This is the third summer we've been doing this game, and this is the first time we've ever been caught by surprise and hit with the rain. We didn't do the other six caches. We came home and I worked on floorplans instead.
The weekend was an off and on washout. But as I told someone at work today, no one got hurt, no one got into a fight, some laughs were had and we survived.
It beat being in a tent somewhere.
My tenant's daughter has moved in with them.
C, the mom, told me today that last weekend they went down and got all her stuff from where she was living with her grandmother, and brought her up here. All this school year she'd been getting into fights with some people, and this time it got to the point where she had a size 13 boot bruise on her leg and the police arrested all involved, and she was expelled from school. She tried to hold her own all year, but finally -- she just couldn't.
So, with two weeks left in the academic year, she's here... and started at our high school today. Much to my daughter's surprise and glee. She likes D a lot, and is psyched to have her here.
She's really sweet, and I like her... and I'm incredibly glad she had an out. Our school district is much much better than where she was. But her moving up here monkey wrenches the hell out of my plans.
Doug and I were going to let P and C know (the husband/wife team) that in September we were hoping they'd move out, and we'd even help them find a place or do whatever necessary to help them.
You see, we have TOTALLY grown out of this space. When we picked this house in 1996 we decided that we would turn it back into a single family house once we were in a financial position to do so. When Clayton moved out in 2001, we didn't rent out his apartment. We took over his unit. His old kitchen is our "study" where I'm sitting now. And his old livingroom is Jessica's bedroom... but it should be a formal living room, and have a nice staircase going up to three bedrooms and a full bath upstairs.
I have a total vision on a plan. We just needed for us to be in a financial position to make it possible, where we didn't rely on their small rent just to make the ends meet each moth. And, I was banking on us being in that position in September... at the earliest.
Now, I'm feeling kind of bad. They just brought this girl up here, she's enrolling in our school system, she's a good kid -- and what. I'm going to ask them to leave just as she's getting settled?
Had they spoken to us first, or had we brought our thoughts and desires up with them, perhaps things might have been different.
I know they'll be cool about it. They love living here, but C has expressed to me that the neighborhood is fifty times noisier than it was a year ago when she moved in with P. And it is. Our neighbor with his truck, and the neighbors across the street are under construction and start at ungodly thirty in the morning... and the dog kennel two doors up with their freaking barking beasts is making her mental ... so she might be keen on the move. I know that her business just failed, and she's got a new job she's starting on Monday, so money might be shaky for them, especially now that D is with them.
I was thinking the summer would give them enough time to get their stuff together and be stable for a move, just the two of them. But if they couldn't find a place here in town... the daughter would have to change schools again.
Housing in this area is insanely expensive. They pay next to nothing in rent. The rental income isn't even really an issue to me... I don't raise their rent because we aren't landlords to make money hand over fist. We charge what we feel is fair for an apartment that size. Combine that with the fact they are hella good people, and we're quite happy.
I know they won't find ANYthing remotely affordable in this town or the next five around us. I'm feeling guilty for even pondering this. Perhaps this time next year would be better, and would give them a full 12 months notice... and if something awesome came into play between now and then, I'd so bless their going.
I am not sure what to do. Any advice? It's always welcome, you know that.
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