Cranberry Sauce

Because my last entry was such a drag, I figured all y'all need some sweetness and light from your humble narrator. So I'm sitting here pondering what on earth is worth writing about this Thanksgiving night.

This morning, Doug put the turkey in the oven at 8:30am and at about 10am we went out for a long pre-dinner walk. Doug cooks the turkey at like 220 for 6 hours, with 90,000 cloves of garlic crammed under the skin and onions, celery and carrots stuffed in the cavity to make a nice gravy. He's done it this way several times over the years, so we knew dinner wouldn't be ready anywhere before 2pm. A good long walk is good for the appetite and soul. We had a long talk on the trails, while the dogs ran ram shot (or is it ram shod?) all over the Georgetown Rowley State Forest. Not another soul was seen the entire time we were out.

I did an inventory, and came up with the following. This is what I'm thankful for this year.

For one I'm incredibly thankful that I have a job, a husband with a job (even though it isn't paying as much as it could), and that we've managed to keep afloat for as long as we have. So many of my friends are being laid off or losing their homes. The losing the homes part of things seems to have let up a bit because so many mortgage companies do not want to repossess houses and are willing to work with people through the rough times that they're experiencing.

I am thankful that Doug is looking for a new job and that his skill set equals 20 calls right off the bat from recruiters and agencies. For me? I would not get a single one, no matter how awesome I think I am. Praises be for Doug's skill set. He had a really good interview, and it would be a very short commute. If they will pay him what he would like to earn, he is going to take the job. Another option that he has is to travel. Agencies are always ALWAYS looking for short-term placements of 14 weeks all over the country. There are tons of them in Louisiana, and he could make a lot of money. A lot. So he's even considering that, even though it means that he'd be away. Part of me sees the dollar signs, and part of me thinks it will suck to be home alone dealing with the Geoff nonsense that we've been dealing with for the past several weeks. The fact he's open to doing whatever needs done is a relief.

I am so incredibly and unmitigatedly thankful for Keri and Rebel Shakespeare. Not just for my kids, both of whom seem to thrive on the Rebel existence, but for me. This past summer, Keri gave me work to do and I embraced it and loved every second of it. I got to put my feet back in deeply in the Bard, the story, the action, and all that I find so amazing about all of it. I got to be surrounded by amazing students and directors and people willing to support the program. I got to see how my two wonderful children are perceived by others. And to be honest, I got the taste for what should be for me and it made me so happy.

My summer? It was the most amazing summer I've had in years.

I constantly thank God that I ran into Keri by accident right before she was heading to Russia to adopt Nas a few years ago. I constantly thank Him that Keri took Jess in back in the summer of 2007 without ever SEEING her and allowing her to do Midsummer and King Lear. I constantly cry and thank Him for the kindness she and the program showed Geoff this summer. And oh -- oh I am so thankful for the rekindled friendship I have with her. My faerie queen. My personal Titania. I am your ... servant. Your Cobweb. Your Mustardseed. Thank you for being part of my life, you amazing star.

I am thankful for Jess. Who constantly shocks me with her smartness, her wisdom, what people think of her and her skill, and her humor. Oh my God is she only my best friend? Yes. And I'm already very afraid of missing her when she goes away. Because that is sooner than we think. She has good eyesight too because she's reading this from a mile behind me and is like 'uh, okay?' And that makes me laugh.

And Geoffrey? Oh how I do love him. And fear for him. And adore him. I am thankful that his teacher and assistant principal (so far) support and love him. I am thankful that when I watch other kids with him, they seem to genuinely like him. Wish he could see and feel that. I am so thankful for Boy Scouts and Rebel in his life. I'm relieved that he has friends and people who understand him. But I desperately pray for him daily that he not lose those people. I am thankful that thusfar he's managed to keep things together and HOPEFUL that things can get better.

Case in point ... last night Geoff wanted to help me make the pie, and he has been obsessed with making videos so he wanted to make a cooking show of the videos. So we did. It is stuff like this that makes me laugh, makes me cry, makes me happy. And I give thanks that we have these special moments.

I share with you, Cranberry Sauce:

On that note, I hope everyone had a relaxing and wonderful Thanksgiving. Count all your blessings. I hope that things are well and good by you and that your Thanksgiving was (and upcoming holiday season is) filled with love and joy. Above all else, that's all that matters. Hopefully the year ahead will be filled with more sweetness and light.

42

"Every article by Christopher J. Kelly of the Scranton Times Tribune contains five to seven swear words hidden amongst the letters of other words."
-Dwight K. Schrute, "The Office"

Once we got back from Pennsylvania, the weeks got busy. Jess had her play, and I took a mess of pictures (as usual). I had a great deal of fun sharing the pictures with the kids... I found that one should not play The Wall character and steal the entire show, but one of the girls did, and she was amazing and I adore her. I'm glad she's part of my daughter's life.

Photos are here and here if you're interested.

Jess' experience with the high school cast was a lot different than her experience with Rebel. I don't think she found it as satisfying. In fact, while the play was amazing and great and looked good, she hated it and hated everything about it, and I feel bad for her.

The theatre director allowed her to assistant direct, which you would think would be the best thing ever but I think she found it more frustrating than she ever imagined possible.

She was relieved when it was over and didn't go to the cast party. She went to a friend's house instead and spent the night watching Simon Pegg movies and just being done with the play. I felt badly for her, because I know that she locked herself out emotionally because of her frustrations. It was hard to watch.

---

Geoff got into some trouble at school, once again, and we're dealing with him on that.

Keri told me I need to blog it so we don't forget things, so we can look back in 20 years and have a good laugh but to be honest, I would rather not remember 15 minutes ago or last week or anything 20 years from now. I'm rather weary of dealing with him. More weary than a soul should be.

---

In the midst of all this, I turned 42 last week. My facebook page was ridiculously adorned with love and adoration from millions of friends and whatnot. Compared to a year ago at this time when I got 20 well wishes, it was funny to sit there and watch the little red notifications bubble go up and up and up. I think if it weren't for the birthday reminder on facebook it would have been a non-eventful day.

According to Douglas Adams, 42 is the answer to the question "what is the meaning of life?" in the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. So I've decided that 42 is indeed a good number to be. Last year, 41 was a good year because it is the title of one of my favorite Dave Matthews Band songs. So if this year I embody the meaning of life, that's a good thing.

We didn't go out because we're desperately trying to save money. Doug did make a really nice dinner and we ate by candlelight as a family, which was enjoyable. The kids went 20 minutes without yelling SHUT UP at one another. That was refreshing. MB gave me a bottle of wine and fresh eggs from her chickens, and my sister mailed me a nice Shakespeare magnet and deck of playing cards of poets and playwrights.

---

I never talk about finances and politics on my blog, so this is a rare occurrence.

Like most of the rest of the planet, we're struggling with money right now. Some of this is our own fault for sure, but some of it can be blamed entirely on Doug's former employer for laying him off in early 2007.

When we bought the house in May 2006, we both were making good money and had savings in the bank. We were beating back our debt and smiling the whole time. We did a couple improvements on the house, like the doors in the woodstove room, and life was good.

Then, Doug's company got bought and the new company axed him. He spent several weeks unemployed, and he eventually found a new job and started that in May 2007. A job that he seems to enjoy, but which pays him $20k less than what he was making before.

That's a pantload of money in the greater scheme of things.

Shortly after he took that job, I had to start dipping into the savings to pay the mortgage. We started using our credit cards again to buy stuff like groceries and gas, which we normally would never do. Jess had expenses in the form of her trips to Germany and England, both of which we signed on for when the money was better. The cost of gas skyrocketed, and it began to cost us, and I'm not joking here, $500 a month just to get to our jobs.

Drip by drop the buckets filled and now we're having a tremendous time. The entire time I have been picking up side jobs, a few print design jobs, worked for Rebel to barter the fees off so Jess could go to camp for free (and admittedly, had the time of my LIFE!), and cried at Doug the whole time that he needed to get a part time job, because he has every Wednesday free.

I've been so stressed out about this that I wake up hyperventilating in the middle of the night. I turned into a Shrieking Cassandra thing on Doug a few weeks ago, wrote out what we owe, what we pay out, and how we're basically screwed. He finally got it.

We decided a few weeks ago that the money coming into the house wasn't sufficient enough for us to stay living here so we started looking at selling the house. And I know I said I'd never move, but the cost of heating this place, the size of it, and what it costs us for a mortgage every month is an albatross. We can buy something else in the regional school district for $230k and totally not have to get consumed by what it costs to live here.

But we can't sell the house.

Home values in our area (like most everywhere else) have dropped so far that we wouldn't make enough money on it to pay off the mortgage that we currently owe (ie: we owe $363k and if we were lucky right now we'd get about $350k for a house we paid $415k for. How lovely).

Doug started looking for per diem or part time work but is not finding any. My web design side jobs have pretty much stopped. I have one that I'm working on but am having a really hard time doing because I can't figure out the whole online bill pay portion of the job that they want done.

Tomorrow, Doug has a job interview.

He doesn't want to go back to doing speech therapy, but the reality is that there are jobs in the field and they pay a hell of a lot more than what he's getting now. And, on top of that, there are jobs closer to home.

He took his job in Boston in 2007 to get his foot in the door at a big city hospital and to get experience in a different field, to make him more marketable as perhaps a rehab director or manager... but 18 months later there are no jobs for him to step into.

So he's interviewing in a local town, which would cut his commute down to 20 minutes instead of the hour or more it takes him to get to the city. No more paying to park, no more filling the gas tank every week... he can go back to the every other. Combined with the drastic drop in gas prices in the past couple of months, and a salary close to what he was making when we bought this house, we'll be fine. But if he doesn't get this job, I'm not sure what we're going to have to do here.

On that sunny and cheery note, off to work! Yay! I am thankful that I have a job to go to, and that Doug does too. I keep telling myself it could be worse, and like good friends I know I feel thankful that we're healthy and well because we seriously could be one medical diagnosis away from homelessness.

More later -- I have more to say and ponder on the subjects at hand. But I have to get the boy to school on time.

The Pennsylvania Wedding Shuffle

We're home and I'm still kind of super stressed. I'm tired and feel like another day would be so nice, a day to do nothing and go nowhere. I took today off because Geoff had a doctor's appointment this morning. We were done at 9 and home at 9:45. I could have gone into work, but I really need today to just catch up on stuff and do things like find out why my mortgage payment didn't clear on the 17th of October when there WAS money in the account at the time (there isn't now... so I'm kind of screwed and scrambling, and the banks aren't open due to the holiday...)

But that's neither here nor there. An update would be nice, don'tcha think?

Our trip was good, better than I thought it would be, and we made it there and back in record time. We left here on Friday morning at 9:30 and took an hour for lunch in central PA. And we still made it to the hotel at 8:30pm. Amazing. Normally it is a 12 hour trip. On the way home, we only stopped for gas and to "rest" as it were, and made it home in 9 hours.

Doug noted that this is the first time in his recollection of driving this trip to and from that there wasn't a highway crew anywhere, or a series of ramps taking you over into the oncoming highway to run a scary skinny two-lane interstate for 8 miles. All of the cut across ramps are overgrown with grass, and the asphalt up the median is crumbling. So perhaps the twenty year road project... maybe is finally done.

We did see a million dead deer though.

And some of them were incredibly revolting.

We saw one near Nuangola PA where the carcass was there, but the head was gone. Doug figured it had to be a trophy buck with a beautiful, giant rack of antlers, and that someone came with a saw or chainsaw or something and just removed the head off the beast.

I threw up in my mouth a little bit just thinking about someone coming out there in the dark and sawing the head off in the middle of the highway median.

Can you imagine?

Ugh.

But then I started thinking about the individual, and the bragging that would go along with this giant head. "You see this one? Yeah, I stalked that bad boy for three season up in there, waitin' for the points on the antlers to just keep goin'. He fought me good too. I done shot him elevendy times until he finally dropped!" (cue spittoon noise).

And no -- I don't think that all the people through Pennsylvania act like that or hunt or talk like that. I'm just saying that a guy who would cut the head off road kill just might be the kind of guy who ... might.

I started laughing a little imagining him going to the taxidermist with it. You can't just do that. You can't just go somewhere and say "Hey Bill, how's the wife? Can you mount this'un for me? The rest of it got away..."

Unless it's your cousin Karl (on whom you got a big dirty secret, and can lord that over him so he keeps YOUR secret...), I doubt you can get someone to clean that up and mount that for you.

So it perplexed me and gave me something to ponder all the way deep into Black Moshannon forest.

But seriously people, there were deer carcasses everywhere. One every mile of the 630 mile trip. Pretty much. Well, only in Pennsylvania. So maybe 270 miles of the trip were strewn with a deer every mile. Even in the city areas, like where we were in Nuangola near Wilkes-Barre. Legs akimbo, heads and necks totally turned the wrong way, some just looking like they were asleep nice and orderly on the side of the road, others lasting for about a quarter of a mile before you got to the end of it.

Not a pretty scene, so it was easier to look up at the sky, the trees, the sun, the foliage, the farms... keeping the corner of my eye on the side of the road lest another one jump out in front of us and become the next victim on the roads...

---

I have a couple favorite parts of the trip when we take it.

I like heading down (and up) in the area around the Lock Haven exit. That is really cool geologically, the way the highway is sliced through the mountain and you can totally check out the rocks and strata and whatnot. I love the layer cake of the earth that you get to see through there.

Once down the hill (and avoid the speed trap, because there is ALWAYS a cop there. Doug's gotten nabbed there twice) down around Rte 220 there, the farms at the foot of the mountains are so pretty with the trees on the hills behind them, and knowing there is this little town right through that gap between the hills where the road goes always makes me smile.

Same thing around Clarion and Emlenton, the height of the highway up over the rivers and knowing that just over that bump to your right (or left, depending if you are coming or going) there is this little town. I love seeing the steeple peeking up from Clarion, and thinking about how if you didn't see that, you'd never know there was a town there. I think someday I may get Doug to get off the highway and take me over to one of those towns, but we're usually trying to get home before a storm or pitch darkness, so we don't detour off the road for much other than food and "rest."

I love Zelienople, it's such a cute town. And I enjoy Rte 68 down into Rochester. I think about how cool it would be to live in one of the houses and have the view down into the valley below, with the sunset and the vista waiting for me daily.

It's a fun ride. Except for the dead deer.

Anyway -- the wedding itself was something I was kind of dreading. As with most families, there was drama building up to the event and I won't get into it lest someone read and get upset. Self censorship is very important at times.

I hated leaving the kids behind, but I'm glad I went and had time alone with Doug and his family. Part of me thinks I only went because I honestly wanted to see what would happen. Would it work out okay, or would it be a jaw-dropping ghastly event with screaming and yelling.

Oh, the human drama.

Well, to my balanced relief and disappointment, nothing happened.

Nothing that I saw, anyway. There could have been some behind the scenes action that I wasn't privy to, but all told it was lovely. The bride was lovely, I met the groom for the first time and he was lovely. It was truly nice.

I took a picture of Doug and his cousins specifically to send it to the one cousin who couldn't be there because he's in Iraq (his sister is the bride). I didn't get to take a lot of pictures at the ceremony because Doug doesn't like to sit up front and hates when I'm all paparazzi at things.

So I sat with him and restrained myself. I did get some fun shots at the reception and all told it was worth the trip. Photos are here if you like to see.

We spent Sunday with the grandmas.

In the morning we went to see Doug's mom's mom at her assisted living facility and spent a good couple hours with her.

It is so much easier to talk to her in person than on the phone, but the great thing is her vision is fine, so I may start sending her cards and photos so she can see the kids... because we have a hard time communicating with her otherwise.

We then went to visit Doug's dad's mom in Ohio, and cruised the long way via the backroads up into Negley, Rogers and East Palestine. Grandma was surprised to see us, she said that she didn't know we were coming. Doug's dad rolled his eyes and made a face because he told her at least ten times we were coming out that day.

Doug's sister and her husband came out too, and we had a blast with the kids. The day of the wedding was my nephew's fourth birthday, so Doug and I picked him out a good, noisy, complicated toy that he would master and then become obsessed with playing all day, every day.

I ended up outside with him for quite a while just to keep him happy and entertained with the glider, so I did my duty and then we parted ways, with him loving the toy and us planting the seed of driving mom and dad NUTS until it breaks.

Heh. What are aunts and uncles for if not that?

It was a good time.

---

Best part of the trip was the hotel room.

We went to check in, and the room they gave us was not made up at all. It was a disaster. I actually thought we were walking into an occupied room, the amount of stuff that was up in there.

Anyway, Doug went downstairs and smiled and said "uh, hi?" and the girl said "Oh, sorry!" and gave us a suite. With a jacuzzi and walk in shower kind of dealie, two flat screen TVs and whatnot.

It was very nice.

We have never gotten a room like that in our lives and I stood there saying "um, no?" and Doug said "uh, yeah!"

I went downstairs and asked the woman if there wasn't some sort mistake. She said no, that she upgraded us because she felt that it wasn't fair that our room wasn't ready. I asked her if she wanted us to move into the right room the next day and she said no, it was ours. And I asked if it would cost more... and she said no. It was fine.

So yeah. Sweet! Jacuzzi! King Size Bed so Doug is a mile away from me! Yay!

I don't think I can ever actually stay in an assy room again. Ever. I'm spoiled for all eternity.

Anyway -- Geoff wants the computer, so I'm going to get off and go do dishes or take a nap or something. I have a project to work on but it can wait. I guess.

Needing True Hope

"True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings."
-William Shakespeare

Doug and I are leaving to go to his cousin's wedding out in western Pennsylvania. I don't want to go, not because I don't want to see family and have some time away from home, but because I don't really feel comfortable leaving Geoff behind right now.

This past week has been rough for him. I haven't sat down and blogged any of it because it really isn't that big a deal some of the things that have happened but his inability to process things like hurt and disappointment are what is the true problem. And we are leaving him and Jess here, not bringing them, so he's feeling exceptionally abandoned right now and it is sad. Doug said I cannot allow him to manipulate me, but I'm just feeling that he really needs family right now. And leaving him today is hard because heck... I'm family.

We've tried to explain to him that yes, he's family -- but weddings are expensive and this is a second-cousin relationship and she has only met Geoff once in her life... he just isn't wrapping his head around it. He said "yeah, but I could spend time with my FIRST cousins who aren't GOING to the wedding and we can BE together..." and he has a point but my sister-in-law made alternate arrangements for her kids that didn't factor in mine. So that put us in a position where either Doug went alone and caught grief for me not being there, or we went together and the kids stayed here with my mom. So my mom is here -- and Geoff is pissed. So our discussion went as such:

"But honey, she's FAMILY too, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but I see her all the time, and she smokes and that's so disgusting."

"I hear that Barak Obama smokes, and you like him a lot... maybe you can cut Grandma some slack. Maybe she smokes because you stress her out so much. Maybe you can be more compassionate to her, and realize that people are people first and that she has a habit that is hard to break. Maybe if you're kind, you'll be easier to deal with."

He's not buying it. He's pretty pissy about it. And it isn't my mom's fault... he's just taking it out on her because he feels abandoned, alone, and not family.

I'd rather send him in my stead to the wedding. I really don't want to go.

---

So yeah. I'll write more about it later when we get back. I'm sure this will be an interesting wedding, what with the father of the bride not going because his daughter is marrying (gasp!) a CATHOLIC!!! And just the whole family drama thing that gets so full of the crazy every time we go there. My brother in law and I look at each other and ask how we got involved in this scene... it's truly fascinating.

While we're away, I won't have access to this blog so all I'll ask of you is to pray for Geoff. Pray that he won't make my mom's head explode.

I gotta pack.

Halloweeners

So tonight is Halloween. My office is in Salem MA, and I actually had visions of horror in what would be my commute home. Most of my office bailed at about 2pm. I ended up working on a little sudden emergency project that kept me there until almost 4pm. On my way into work this morning, there were already tourists in costume stumbling through the streets. Are you kidding me, people? Grow the hell up! It's 9am. Don't you have JOBS or some shit??? Good Lord.

And, I was kicking myself for not bringing my camera with me this morning. I figured I'd have no time to actually walk around town because I was looking to leave at a reasonable hour and had several hours of work ahead of me.

But on the way in, sitting in traffic, I could have taken dozens of pictures of goofy goobers just lolling about town.

This in mind, b y 4pm I could hardly imagine what horrors would await me when I got out of the building.

All told, I was pleasantly surprised. The crowds were minimal, streets weren't yet closed, and I beat feet out of Dodge through Pickering Wharf with little difficulty.

Whew.

By the by, I do have one comment to make.

People, when someone stops to let you cross the street, move your everlovin' ass.

I'm not kidding.

I didn't just invite you to take a Sunday Stroll with me, hand in hand, through Central Fucking Park.

Move your fucking, fat, distracted, ASSES out of my way.

You wandered out into traffic, by all rights, being outside of the crosswalk I should have mowed you down like Deathrace 2000.

I am David Carradine, and you are worth 200 points.

So get the hell a move on.

This afternoon, no fewer than ten people did this to me. I actually rolled my window down at one woman and yelled "While We're YOUNG! or at least while I am."

Bite me. Fucking Tourists.

Oh, I was so pissed off.

But it only took me an hour to get home, when it usually takes me about 45, so all told, it could have been worse. Totally.

---

I got home at 5pm, and Geoff and I got ready for the halloweeners. I'd purchased about 20 dollars worth of my favorite candy (yes!) because my kids weren't trick or treating this year. Jess is at Lizzy's celebrating her 17th birthday (tonight!) and Geoff wasn't interested in going out. He wanted to hand out candy. So we went out and I wore my witch hat/wig thing and we squeezed our glowing rats in the candlelight. We had several dozen halloweeners come by, and I was able to get some nice pictures of kids from the neighborhood.

Doug got home incredibly late. His Friday traffic nightmare is usually pretty bad, and so he brought wine and some hot dogs and we sat out until 8pm, a full half hour after the halloweeners were done, just talking.

It was such a beautiful night, that it is actually a shame I didn't stick around Salem and enjoy the festivities. And watch some tourists getting mowed down.

But it was better being home, though.

I'm heading downstairs to watch Zombie movies with Doug. Geoff is heading to bed. Jess is with her friends.

To steal from PG Wodehouse, God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.

More later.

Mr. Buckeye, The Sweatshirt and the Ajax Mobile

"In old Ohio there's a team that's known throughout the land, Eleven warriors brave and bold whose fame will ever stand. And when the ball goes over, our cheers will reach the sky, Ohio field will hear again the Buckeye Battle Cry!" -Ohio State Fight Song

Back in Early September, one of my best friends on Earth suddenly lost his dad. And my memories of this man are forever tied to an old Ohio State University sweatshirt.

The news of Al's passing came as a big surprise to me. Rob had called me on a Wednesday afternoon and his message didn't sound pressing. He said "give me a call, when you get a chance."

I had just talked to him on Monday, and he was flush with happiness with his new job and new community and all the cool things he was experiencing. On the Wednesday voicemail, his voice wasn't sad or down or different, so I kind of back burnered the call, thinking he was going to simply tell me just another wicked cool thing about the new job. Not that I didn't care or want to talk to him, it was a crazy time for me. I was stupid busy with work for the rest of that week, and then the weekend came and I simply forgot to call back.

On September 12th, he called me back again and said, "Well, we buried my dad yesterday..." which stunned me.

"Rob, why didn't you say that it was urgent, or pressing, or that there was something wrong... Why didn't you call me back again after the first call?" I kind of cried at him, and realized quickly that I was being whiny and selfish. My attitude was wrong. My ego was in the way. I felt left out of the loop as his father was dying, and really would have liked to have known. But... It wasn't my place to be kept informed of up to the minute decisions and events as things were going on so I checked myself quickly. I felt like there maybe would have been something I could do for Rob to provide an ear and comfort... and maybe I would have gotten in the car and headed down to Charlottesville to hold his hand and hug him after Al was gone.

"I did call you. I called you a bunch of times and talked to you," he answered.

"Um, no, you didn't, honey ..."

"Oh, well then it felt like you were there with me and I was talking to you through everything."

That overwhelmed me ... that somehow he felt connected enough to me even though we hadn't yet spoken. I'm constantly praying for him, he's on my short list of daily concerns and lift ups for mojo and joy and peace, so perhaps yeah... I was doing something for him. But I didn't know it.

Rob told me the story of what happened to his dad. He collapsed in his driveway in the on Wednesday morning before heading out for his daily walk with his neighbor. After some time in the hospital and medical efforts that were attempted to bring him round, they knew that it was futile, it wasn't going to work. Rob and his mom made the decision to let him go. But before they removed support, Rob had one more thing he wanted to do with his dad.

Saturday during the day, Rob watched the Ohio State football game with Al, who obviously couldn't see it or hear it. Al was a rabid Ohio State fan. So Rob wanted to watch the game with him, one last time. He sat in the chair next to his dad's bed and gave his father the play by play. Ohio State was losing, and Rob said "Come on dad, we gotta help them win!"

Rob told me that he was cheering, yelling and talking to his dad as if his dad was sitting on the couch next to him in his Ohio State Sweatshirt. He said anyone who would have walked past at that moment would have thought him insane. But he was rooting for the Buckeyes, with his dad... and believe it or not, Ohio State made a remarkable comeback and won the game.

It all sounds so very Mitch Albom, or so very "a special Hallmark Channel movie," and one would at that very moment hope that Al would wake up and reach for Rob's hand and the victory of the Buckeyes would be Al's victory over death. 

If I was writing the script... that is exactly what would have happened.

But it wasn't meant to be. The following morning he was gone.

The hospital chaplain came in to spend time with Rob and his mom. She asked Rob, "Tell me about this man."

Rob answered, "This is my dad, and he loved me."

And that is the truth.

---

When we were in high school, Rob and I would get together an assortment of other good friends and drive all over Huntington, Long Island.

We'd occasionally imbibe beverages legally intended for people older than we were and act goofy. We'd hang out at Coindre Hall, overlooking Gold Star Medallion Beach. We'd go to the Huntington Bay Beach Club and try to fool the cops by pretending one of us was a member. We'd drive backwards through the drive through at Burger King, mostly to let ME place the order, since I never got the chance to do so, not having a driver's license. We'd cruise up and down Rte 110 an Rte 25A, beeping the horn of the car and stamping on the brakes in rhythm to "Heartache Tonight" by the Eagles. We were just enjoying our little big town and the nightlife available to 17 and 18 year olds in the mid-80s.

We had a lot of fun in high school, especially the summer after we graduated.

Over the course of our high school years we spent a great deal of time in a USS Nimitz sized station wagon owned by Rob's dad. Mr. K worked cleaning offices, and his station wagon smelled like cleaning solution, so we lovingly (and sarcastically) referred to the beast as "The Ajax Mobile."

One night, we stopped by Rob's house because it was rather cool out for what should have been a hot August night. Rob ran upstairs to grab sweatshirts for us, because we were headed to the beach for yet another night of being silly. I made chit chat with Robs folks while the warmer clothing was retrieved from upstairs and we beat feet out the door to go have fun.

Rob chucked me a red sweatshirt that was nice and big (wouldn't fit me today because I'm ... twice as nice and big) and it was worn perfectly. It was his dad's old Ohio State sweatshirt, and I think it was at least 10 years older than I was at the time. We had our fun out in the world, and I got dropped off at home, with the sweatshirt.

Said sweatshirt went to college with me, and I wore it a lot at the beginning of my Freshman year ... I was totally missing Rob, but not his dad. I didn't really give a second thought to the man who owned it, and who probably would have liked to have worn it on a nice fall afternoon watching his favorite football team. I loved that sweatshirt. It became a part of my life there for a few months.

At Thanksgiving I went home, and par for the course went to Rob's one night during that long weekend so we could go out again and have some fun and talk about our new lives at different schools.

I made the mistake of wearing the sweatshirt.

I'll never EVER forget the look on Al's face. "I've been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt!" He bellowed.

Oh, sweet merciful crap.

"Where'd you get it! How'd you get it!" He pointed at me with his eyes flaming.

Pooping my pants in abject terror because I totally thought that Al was going to kill me, I threw Rob under the bus and pointed at him. He started berating Rob and I took the sweatshirt off and folded it up and returned it to its rightful and very grumpy owner.

Again, we beat feet out of there and I felt small and stupid and terrified and also had a good laugh at a grown man flipping out over a sweatshirt...

God, I wish I hadn't worn it that night. Dimes to dollars I'd still have it. I loved that thing, and I could see why he was all bent out of shape five ways to Sunday for having "lost" it when his kid loaned it to one of his stupid rotten friends who ran away to college with it.

Anyway, for years and years after that all I could think of when I thought of Ohio State was him and that sweatshirt.

I so wish I had it now.

---

Al died a month and a half ago.

I've been processing the events that Rob and his mom and his siblings have had to go through, and where they are now. I talk to Rob every couple of weeks, and I feel there is such an emptiness in his life. His dad was a presence.

Rob said recently that his dad was a hard man to get to know. I think that is the God's honest truth. I always felt very connected to Rob's mom, Kathy, and could spend days and days talking to her. But was always a bit intimidated by his dad.

When I would talk with him I always felt pressure. He'd ask me questions like what I was planning to DO WITH MY LIFE and why I wanted to study English in college, where did I think that would get me, and why I was doing this and why I was doing that. Where did I see myself in five years, ten, twenty. Who thinks of that kind of stuff at 17?! And who needs someone else's dad pressing them about it... yikes. I totally freaked me out and made me nervous.

At the time, I felt like a blithering idiot and not a very smart person. I felt that any answer I would give wouldn't be sufficient, smart, good decision. I felt kind of judged. What I didn't realize he was holding my feet to the invisible fire made of making good decisions and doing good things to lead to a really good rest of my life.

At 16 or 17, I just thought he was mean and overlordy.

No one ever asked me questions about what I wanted to do and why. No one made me offers or gave me things to think about. I wish I'd paid closer attention to him and not ended up terrified of him. I wish I'd recognized his brusk attitude was actually him caring about where his son's good friend was going to end up one day.

He was a presence, for sure... commanding, demanding, blunt and direct.

After the sweatshirt incident I basically avoided him when I came home from college and would get together with Rob, not because I was afraid of him but because I was embarrassed.

For making a bad decision and walking off with a man's beloved sweatshirt.

A few years back, Al and Kathy moved to Virginia.

Rob would tell me about their cool house, how it was exactly what they always wanted. I wanted very much to go visit, especially when Rob was a student at Mr. Jefferson's University, but I had kids by then, and was working my butt off at jobs that I didn't like or want thinking about the decisions I'd made that didn't have me on a path towards a Ph.D. in Shakespeare Studies somewhere.

But I had my kids, and my awesome husband, and my life was here and Rob's family was elsewhere. If they were still on Long Island, I think I would have stopped in to see them more than the two times I did once I had the kids, while my folks were still living there. But they'd moved away, and I never got to see him again.

Hey Al, just so you know, I think I turned out okay. I may not be rich, or perfect, but I'm probably much happier than I was in 1984 or so back on Long Island when I stole your sweatshirt.

I've got some good kids, you might like them.

And I'm still friends with your son, and hold him close to my heart forever as one of the best friends I have ever had or ever will have.

So thank you for not killing me for stealing your OSU sweatshirt and for tolerating me those many years ago. And I'm sorry I never had the opportunity to say now that I get it. I get what you were trying to do back then in the pre-sweatshirt stealing days when you scared the crap out of me.

I'll miss you. And I'll never forget you.

Especially when watching College Football.

It takes a village to make an Eagle

We have a very active Boy Scout Troop here in town, and I'm pleased to have my son involved with it. One of the boys is working on a very excellent Eagle Scout project and before the winter swoops in with her cold and bitter winds, a lot of work needed to be done. J asked at the last meeting for volunteers and I told him I'd come.

Boy, that was a lot of work. And I'm glad I went.

J started the project Labor Day weekend, and is enhancing an already existing pathway down to the pond, putting in gravel and picnic tables and little BBQ grills, one on either side of the path. One is handicapped accessible in design, and the path is good for fishermen and people who want to put in canoes. The entire area was overgrown, and no one was really using the path to put in canoes because they were going down around the bend to put in.

This is adjacent to where J lives, and he uses the area a lot, and felt that getting it cleaned up and set up would tie in with the Mass Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, and our town, and it would benefit people who just want to come and have a nice picnic... not just to fish or canoe. There's no swimming in the pond, and no motorized boating, because it is back up water supply for the city of Haverhill... so there isn't a need for a boat launch or what have you.

His plans were all accepted by the town and only one person in town pushed back... a guy who lives down the road who feels this is "his" pond and calls the police when someone is fishing because he feels that the pond shouldn't be fished. The police officer who stopped by today told us they logged 3,000 complaints FROM this one man in the last year. About people fishing. Or driving on his street, or turning around in his driveway.

He is against the plan, and I kind of anticipated that he'd be the kind of jerk who would come undo stuff, or push stuff over or do some damage, but so far all he's done is complain and not act on his complaints. He inists that the plan will bring pollution into the pond. The town says that people already use the pond and that they will take care of emptying out the trash barrels. J's plan states the the Boy Scout troop will police the location and keep it clean as part of the project going forward into the years, so he has no complaint about whether or not it will be cleaned up on a regular basis...

Regardless... the project is underway, and he can grump all he wants about HIS pond being used. It's already used. May as well make the space look nice and have less poison ivy.

I went over at 10:30 am (after waking up at 10:25 am) and had my shovel and rake in hand. The boy's mom met me with a cup of coffee, and we set to digging. I was the only volunteer there. I guess that starting back in August other people came and helped do a lot of clearing and work, but this particular weekend it was J, his mom and dad, and his two younger brothers... both of whom spent a lot more time taking swipes at one another than actually working. One actually left to go fishing with a friend. And that worked out well because the youngest brother left behind turned out to be my partner in crime and he and I did a lot of work together.

We moved tons and tons of dirt, tons of gravel, filled in the pathway almost to the road with the gravel, filled in at least one of the two picnic squares with gravel. I called Doug at about 1:30 and asked if he wanted to come help because there was no way I could keep going at the rate I had been from 10:30... and the rain was coming so we had to get as much done as possible. I think that aside from the one post hole not being dug deep enough because the auger got fried, that they got to just shy of everything being done. The picnic tables and BBQ grills will arrive sometime next week, and will go into the ground either as soon as they come in, if weather allows, or they will go in sometime in early March. J turns 18 in March and the project has to be complete before his 18th birthday.

Cross your fingers that it can happen.

They got us lunch and we sat around chatting for about 20 minutes about how they love to fish the pond and work their farm. They are a wonderful family and I love their kids. J makes me laugh a lot... he's such a kind and wonderful guy with the best smile. It was an honor taking the time to help him out. I left at 4:15, doug stayed until about 5

The way I see it, it's essential for me to help. Someday my son may want to do a complex Eagle Project. I hope that the families in our troop will help us out the same.

J's younger brother has his Eagle project coming up this April. It's a one day thing, so in comparison it's not that big a deal. His youngest brother told me that he hopes that his Eagle project is a "one hour project!" because J's is so big, then his brother C's is one day, so logically it follows that his will be the shortest. We had a good laugh at that...

So yeah. Working for someone else's project as hard as I think I worked today was rough on my fat, old body. But the end result and benefit is something I'm proud to participate in. And hopefully, our willness to help will shine goodness down on Geoff when it's time for him to do one.

It takes a village to make an Eagle.

Getting off my butt to write an entry

So Keri left a comment on my last entry encouraging me to write every day, even just a little bit. I've actually considered doing that nanowrimo types of things but to be honest, after sitting at a PC all dang day sometimes the last thing I want to do is sit at one here at home. But for Keri, I will write. And for Bree too, who sends similar goadings in my direction. "You need to update your blog, woman." Yes, I do.

The past couple of weeks since Gordon's passing have been busy. I feel sad when I come in and he isn't there to greet me, standing up in the cage and chewing on the bars to get me to come over and give him some love. Geoff is starting a merit badge in Boy Scouts that focuses on pet care... but we don't want to do dogs as the pet he's caring for because there is a Dog Care badge as well, and you can't overlap the requirements. It is against the rules.

We may end up getting another small furry friend sooner than later...stand by for more details on that.

---

Doug and I are going to his cousin's wedding in Western PA in early November.

The kids weren't invited to the wedding, which posed a problem for us as to what we were going to do with them.

And the dogs.

There were a number of scenarios... If the kids were coming with us, we'd have to pay $90 a day to kennel three dogs. So that didn't fit in our life's budget for sure. We could pay our dogsitter $60 a day, but still that is too rich for our blood right now.

Bringing said kids with us meant that we'd have to stay at a hotel. Leaving them to hang out somewhere unfamiliar while we go out to a family function isn't my idea of fun or fair. Jess said she didn't care, she'd be glad to go and just sit in a hotel room and watch cartoon network and read books, but I think there may be some rules and laws about leaving a 16 and 11 year old alone in a hotel room... and I had visions of Geoff disobeying her, her screaming at him, and him running out into the hallways and lobby all higgledy piggledy crazy like. That wasn't going to have the opportunity to happen. Nope. No kids alone at hotel room.

We offered to have Jess babysit for Doug's sister. Which would guarantee they were in a house, safe, and Geoff would have fun with his cousins and Jess would get climbed on by the two little ones who absolutely adore her. But my sister in law wasn't sure that her 4 year old would be comfortable being left with Jess, because he doesn't know her. So she made arrangements for her kids to go to their other grandparents' house. I couldn't just say "hey, can MY kids go there too?" because I don't know these folks at all... so that got dashed.

Which brought us to scenarios of leaving them here. Jess is old enough that I'd leave her here solo to watch the dogs if there were something we could do with Geoff out in Western PA... (and Nance -- it's just a little too far from where you live for us to drop him off and chillax and play with Felina for the evening, not that I'd force ya to take him or nothing... heh). But I wouldn't leave her alone with Geoff. She's a little too cruel, a little too mean, and a little too ignorey towards him (not to other kids, just him...) so I don't like the idea of her being in charge of him longer than a few hours in the evening. Four days would be impossible.

I don't think she'd hurt him or neglect him, but she would bitch about it all the live long day and I'd never ever hear the end of it. So I couldn't even deal with that noise.

Plus, Geoff needs a ride to school on Friday and Monday, and she doesn't drive. So ...

Long and the short of it is, we're having my mom come up and stay with the kids for a couple of days.

Football season is over that weekend, and Jess got her rehearsal schedule and thankfully she doesn't need to be anywhere on Saturday or Sunday.

So it all works out. Thank you mom.

I don't even necessarily want to go to the wedding, and my laundry list of reasons beyond the fact that we're leaving the kids home is long.

We have no money for hotel, gas, gift, clothes (for me, Doug got a brand new suit for the last wedding we went to in September 2007). I don't really know Doug's cousin, I think she was like 8 when Doug and I got married, and in 20 years I've seen her a handful of times... so I don't know her adult personality, what to give as a gift, what her friends are like. It's an evening wedding and all y'all know I can't hang like I used to and I like to be curled up in bed at 10pm. And because it is just the two of us, I think we're staying with Doug's parents. At their house. Not at a hotel with a pool and hot tub. So I feel sad that I don't get to soak and swim and relax.

But we're going for Doug's family. I know his grandma wants to see us, and she'll be disappointed that the kids aren't there but that's what happens sometimes. They're not invited because it is a kid-free wedding (to save money, and because it is at night, and stuff) so it's something that we're just gonna have to do. Sigh.

---

Geoff's football team is has 2 wins under their belts so far in an 8 game season. Two games are left. Geoff tells me he doesn't want to play again next year because it hurts too much. I didn't know he could be such a softie. But the thing is, the kids like him. They really like him. They get excited when he shows up, they rally around him when he can't run as fast and they cheer for him. I noticed this last year. And this is the kind of thing I think he needs... because Lord knows in other situations in life he isn't going to be surrounded by such fraternal love and support. I told him that he can't make the decision to quit during the season. At the beginning of the summer next year when registration time rolls around, that's when we can make the call. And I'm hoping he'll choose to stick with it.

He tells me "I've got so much going on. There is so much stress. I'm thinking about next summer with Shakespeare and Boy Scout Camp and then football starts and it is way too much."

I kind of had to laugh a little.

I compare what he's got going on with other kids in his grade and he's got nuthin' comparatively. There's one boy in his class who is playing football, is on 2 travel hockey teams, is doing CCD at his church twice a week and Boy Scouts ... When does that kid have time to do his homework?

Geoff's got it easy. I think we've got him involved in just enough. Boy Scouts is once a week and occasional weekends. Football is seasonal with two practices a week and one game on a Saturday or Sunday. Shakespeare runs for four weeks in the summer (eight if you do both sessions) and that's a world away right now so he can't really factor that into what he's doing as "stressful..."

Kid needs to get over it.

And if he wants to talk about stress, let's look at my life. There ya go.

Speakin' of stress -- I'm now late for work. Gotta jet. More later.

leaf peeping, babies, and zombies

Today was our college homecoming. I don't think we've gone to homecoming since before I was pregnant with Geoffrey, which would be like 1996 or 1995. We tend to stay away. Not because we don't like our alma mater. It's just way too insanely crowded, and thanks to the power of the Internet, I'm in touch with a lot of people I want to be in touch with. Thank you Al Gore, inventor.

So today, Doug decided we should go leaf peep. We started quoting this newer TV show the kids are into called "The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack," when one character tells Flapjack they're going peeping, and Flapjack says "But you said peepin' was wrong!!!"

If peepin' is wrong, I don't wanna be right!

We ended up driving out to Ashby MA, to the Willard Brook State Forest. We've been out here millions of times over the years, from before kids to changing a baby on the hood of the car in the parking area ... it's a beautiful place. There was a lot more fall color around out house than there was in Ashby, which was weird. We had the dogs with us, and decided to let them out to take a run. We ended up taking a MUCH longer hike than we intended, and now I'm sore head to toe. I am so out of shape.

But -- it was so beautiful and amazing. I'm glad we got out of there before sunset. We didn't bring any warm clothing, or the backpack (because we weren't supposed to be out there that long!) but I had visions in my mind of us being way off trail and lost and hating life overnight with three hungry dogs and a very cold, cranky me mixed in.

We drove up into Keene NH, drove over to Peterborough, and surrounds. We accidentally discovered Pickety Place deep deep deep in the woods (they didn't look open so we left), and Parker's Maple Barn. On these way deep inna woods dirt roads, there are these two places, buried way back in the leaves. Dude. If we were dog free I would have liked to have had dinner at Parker's. I saw them profiled on Phantom Gourmet and it looked good!

It was a good day out. Fun. Pretty. Not quite peak leaves but gives me hope for this time two weeks from now. Horray for fall. My favorite season.

In other news...

My girl C had a baby.

The baby, Hannah, came on Monday of this week and she is amazing and beautiful, and my girl C is amazing and beautiful. I'm really happy for her.

She'll be out on maternity for a while and already I'm feeling her absence. I miss her coming into the office I share with Tammy and saying "What up, bitches?" and flopping her pregnant ass down in the chair for a visit. I will miss her. I'll miss playing practical jokes on her (we got her good twice in a couple months... and she didn't cotton to it, so that made us laugh harder. Tammy and I are indeed bitches).

But she's got this beautiful little baby, and I'm really happy for her and Jamie. I feel like just yesterday was her wedding, but it was so much longer ago. Tempus, it fugits.

Gretchen and I took lunch on Thursday and went to the hospital for a visit. Of course, camera was in hand. There are a pantload of pictures if you're at all interested in looking at smooshy newborn cuteness. Go visit and see.

Welcome to the World, Hannah. Nice to meet you and I look forward to many years of your amazing cuteness, evolving and changing and becoming even more cute. Welcome. And God bless you, kiddo.

The Topsfield Fair is running in our neighboring town.

We normally wouldn't go because of the cost, but we know people who do the bee house... and who are all around amazing folk. They gave us a couple passes, and some free ride tickets for Geoff. I took a pantload of pictures. Thank you Kathy. You rule.

I wanted to get there with more light, but I'm happy to say my new camera does an amazing job in low light... so my night photography abilities just skyrocketed. The photo set is here if you wanna go see.

Geoff got to ride a pantload of rides and I got some fried dough, and that, my friends, was all I wanted. A happy boy and a face full of fried dough. Mmmmm. Yay.

And finally, last Sunday afternoon Jess and I joined up with Henry and Mia, and we went to the First Annual Salem Massachusetts Zombie March.

The announcement on the website said that the gathering would begin at 2pm at Collins Cove, where there would be Zombie games like kickball and frisbee and stuff, and the march would commence to downtown Salem at 4pm.

We arrived at around 3pm, and there were about 20 zombies, and just about as many people standing around, gawking.

I approached some people and a guy said "oh great. More photographers." So I asked who the organizer was, because I'd emailed back and forth. I figured out quickly the organizer was the poor gent who bemoaned the fact I was there without zombie gear on but with my camera in hand. I wanted to buy a T-shirt to support the cause, because the city insisted he pay for a police detail... and I didn't think that a couple of zombies would really NEED a freaking police detail.

I don't like it when small organizers get the shakedown from The Man, know what I mean?

So he smiled and shook my hand, sold me the t-shirt and we had fun watching zombie kickball and taking tons of pictures. I got a couple zombies to reenact a scene from Romeo and Juliet, seeing as we were at a playground and it was Salem and all... it brought back some good memories from the summer, and they were willing to play along.

I noticed, if nothing else, no one there was unwilling to be photographed. If you're going to make a public spectacle of yourself, your willingness to have someone take your picture is usually high. Most everyone there didn't roll an eye (in or out of socket) or object if I asked.

I also joined into the fun and took some fake blood and poured it all over my face and shirt, because I'm nothing if not a joiner. I figured, hey... I won't just be a gawker. I'll get into the fun. I didn't come prepared, but luckily someone had plenty of fake homemade blood and I was able to "borrow" some for the occasion.

The march was to begin at 4pm, and at about 3:45, zombies and zombie resistance fighters were filing in from all over the place.

There was a zombie bride and zombie banana. Zombie soldiers and zombie hippies. Zombie hoboes and businessmen. There was a whole freaking zombie family... I would guestimate there were 300 zombies there by 4:15pm. The organizer didn't get things marching (or shuffling or stumbling, whatever it is that zombies actually do) until almost 4:30. Mia had to get home by like 5, so we marched with the zombies to Salem Common and then turned around and went back to the car.

I was suddenly rather self conscious about my fake blood being all over my face and sweatshirt. Surrounded by other blood coated undead beasties I felt rather comfortable. Walking around with just Jess, Mia and Henry, well... I felt like an ass.

A good time was had by all, I do believe. I hope they do it again next year.

Right then. If you want to see all the zombie photos, and trust me -- there are some good ones... click here.

On that note, jeeesh it's late. My parents are coming up in the morning for Geoff's football game. I have to get up and tidy and stuff because all this running around with the undead and looking at babies and leaves has made me rather not here to clean. So that must take place in the morning.

More later.

Fer Cryin' Out Loud Already; the official really dead honestly I'm not kidding he's gone Gordon Obituary announcement

I haven't updated since the last exciting Gordon news, because I have been all super busy taking care of him three times a day. My dishes, my laundry, heck even my kids didn't get any attention over this past week because I was all about the guinea pig. My great news of Sunday has shifted to Bad News Thursday.

I just got home from work, and Gordon was in his cage, on his side... unresponsive. So I did what I did the last time. I lifted him up, he's stiff as a board and ice cold, hard as a rock.

It's officially official and not a zombie/Lazarus kind of situation. He's dead.

It's so sad really. He was working so hard over the last four days. Actually, I should say that I was working so hard over the last four days. And I thought yeah, if he's crippled and can't walk right and flops around all the time, I'm okay with that. I can hand feed him forever. I can give him syringes of water and orange juice concentrate. I can hand wash him so he doesn't stink of piss, and then lovingly dry him, twice a day. I can continue to squeeze his little butt so all the poo is out.

But it isn't to be.

My willingness and accepting heart as Nursemaid to a Rodent meant nothing in the greater unknown science of God and things. Gordon just wasn't able to recover from whatever it is that kicked his ass. I think maybe he had a stroke or something, because only his front right leg worked. The front left was stuck pointing straight down his body, and guinea pig physical therapy just wasn't helping. I'd position him in a nice stance, put a piece of orange or a kiwi or some cabbage in front of him and hold him upright. He'd eat, with gusto. He'd cuddle. We'd clean up and sit on the couch. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's over. And I'm sad. But I'm not sad that he's not suffering anymore.

And on that note, my friends, that's all I gotta say. My sails have no wind in them. I'm wiped the hell out.