I am a reading demon over vacation. So far I've polished off a book or two a day. My dad accuses me of skimming and skipping entire pages, despite the fact that I can and will discuss the books read in detail with anyone who so desires to discuss them with me.
Finally read Diamant's The Red Tent. I bawled my eyes out at the end. Devoured the latest Harry Potter book. Kari was not very happy that I read it before she did, but who could wait a week for her to finish? Yes, I enjoyed Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix -- immensely. I like the way his story has evolved and how it grows deeper and darker with each birthday that Harry attains. The other books read weren't worth mentioning. Sad, huh?
Mom is after me to read Ferrol Sams short stories. I've never enjoyed short stories, but perhaps I'll cave. Eventually. Give me another day to finish the last two of Lescourt's novels that I have not read and then I'll be at loose ends.
pictures
Family picture day! No, this doesn't mean that we all head to some photographer's studio for a family portrait. This statement means that I will be digging through one hundred and twenty years of family photos and picking my favorites to copy.
My brother and his wife are making a family photo wall, so they have given me permission to find photos for them. Their only request is that I find some of our great-grandmother Augusta Coley, their daughter's namesake.
Mom and I know that there just aren't many photos of Gus laying around. At least not here. There are all over at my great-aunt Eva's house and she is on speaking terms with no member of my family. But last night I rummaged through a box of uncataloged pictures, pictures that the above-mentioned Eva was going to toss, and guess what I found! A picture of Gus standing between her two sons: Laurance (Eva's husband) and Buck (my grandfather).
I just love when my quests start off right.
6/29/2003
Katherine Hepburn
I have always liked Kate. Her voice, her intelligence, her sense of self. My perception of who she was.
I'll miss her.
And as my dad pointed out not an hour ago, I even named one of my cats after her. Should I mention that he named one of his after Spencer Tracy?
me and my birthday
What does my birthday say about me? What does yours say about you? You can find out by heading over here
Me
Unrelenting strange and full of contrasts often egoistic aggressive noble broad horizon unexpected reactions spontaneous unlimited ambition no flexibility difficult and uncommon partner not always liked but often admired ingenious strategist very jealous and passionate no compromises.
Mama's floors creak. A comforting creak that follows me from her front porch all the way thru her house. Her front parlor is where the family gathers to chat and laugh. Mama holds court from her chair in the corner. She can see everyone in the room and whomever may pass by on the front sidewalk. Uncle Norman sits quietly in his chair, smiling, not saying a word, a lit cigarette in his left hand. Mom and Nana sit on the sofa with their backs to the window. I don't know what my brother is doing. I'm fidgety.
Mama creaks up from her chair. Sometimes she sounds just like her floors. Mom says it's because Mama wears a corset. Mom wrinkles up her face whenever she says corset. Mama smiles down at me and holds her hand out. I grab her hand and we walk from the front parlor thru the dining room and into the kitchen. Mama did stop by the candy dish with its everpresent lemondrops and let me pick one.
I love Mama's kitchen. She has a table pushed up against one wall underneath a window. Mother's-in-law tongue is growing in a shallow dish on the window sill. Her stove is a big huge contraption that takes up most of the space. But the best part of her kitchen is the pantry. Mama's pantry is huge. Big enough for a Hoosier cabinet. She keeps all her dry and canned goods in there. Her mixing bowls and measuring cups are in the cabinet.
She and I are going to make biscuits. Well, Mama is going to make the biscuits. I'm just there to watch, and if I'm lucky, she'll let me help. Her biscuits are the best in the whole world. No one can make biscuits like hers... light, fluffy, delicious whether hot with melting butter or cold with a slice of ham and a dab of mustard.
Mama makes a pile of flour in the middle of the counter and scrapes out a shallow spot in the top. Looks just like a volcano. She adds the rest of her ingredients. I recognize the crisco and buttermilk. She starts kneading. Not too much. Just enough to combine everything. She rolls out her dough with her old rolling pin and cuts out biscuits with a jelly jar. She and I put the biscuits on a baking sheet, but she has to put them in the oven. I'm not old enough yet.
Then we wait. Mama chats with everyone. I keep an eye on the stove. The aroma of baking biscuits spreads thru the house. Everyone starts getting hungry and imagines those biscuits and how they'll taste.
Finally, the magic moment when Mama opens the oven door and pulls out yet another batch of picture-perfect, mouthwatering biscuits.
30 years later
I still have a copy of Mama's biscuit recipe. She had to think hard to write it down. After all she never measured, she just baked. No matter how many times I've tried to make her biscuits, they never come out quite right.
But that's okay. I can still close my eyes and remember their smell and their taste. And I can keep trying.
One day... perhaps...
6/28/2003
bike race
We stayed in a house on a twisty-turny road outside of Blowing Rock. The speed limit was 35 on the road for a good reason. People driving on the road tended to drive as close to the center of the road as possible for a good reason. Many times we would start around a curve and meet someone who was driving in both lanes, which would start Robert to cursing them and wondering where they had learned to drive.
Today -- at 7:30 am -- 700 plus cyclists headed up that twisty-turny rain-slickened road. Just a fun bike race in the mountains on a rainy Saturday morning.
We didn't think much of it. We figured they would pass fairly quickly and then head on thru Blowing Rock and parts unknown about the time we were ready to leave town for the wonders of the Research Triangle area. And we were partly right. Except for 2 stragglers, we didn't pass any cyclists on our way to the Blue Ridge Parkway.
The Parkway had low visibility due to low clouds this morning. We figured the cops that had lit flares alongside the roadway and were barely visible figures in front of us were going to tell us to turn back and go thru Lenoir instead. No. They were informing us of a bike race that was taking place along the Parkway today. Since we were only going another 7 miles before turning off, we didn't think that the cyclists would slow us down too dramatically.
WRONG!
We didn't pass a single cyclist while we were in the straight-aways, just on the curves. The cyclists did a great job of communicating with each other and with us. They let us know when it was safe to pass and when to wait. So what was the problem?
A camper had also chosen to drive the Parkway, despite the race, despite the low-lying clouds, despite the drizzling rain. The camper' driver was terrified of the cyclists. He refused to pass. He refused to drive in his lane. He drove 5 MPH down the center of the road. People who were pedaling UPHILL were passing us.
Finally we came to a straightaway that had no cars heading in our direction and Robert floored the accelerator. We blew by the camper at 15 MPH.
It only took us 40 odd minutes to drive 7 miles up the Parkway.
I would love to know where the endpoint for the race was. I'll have to ask my nephew to find out for me.
ILUVBRNC
We were driving down the main street of Blowing Rock when a license plate caught Robert's eye. He immediately pointed it out to me.
Robert: Do you think he really loves Bernice?
Me: What are you talking about?
Robert: That license plate. Do you think he really loves Bernice?
Me: Umm, sweetie, that stands for Blowing Rock, NC. He doesn't love Bernice. He loves Blowing Rock.
Robert: Oh. I didn't think of that.
Other license plates spotted on our trip: DAI-Z BUG, BUG OFF, PHATENUF, SEE YA, WITTS END...
6/27/2003
wonderland trail
I am not fond of heights. Never have been. I love the mountains... but driving on those mountain roads...
Not fun. Not for me.
My dad thinks my fear of these roads with no guardrails and steep drops is funny. He tormented me yesterday by driving up Wonderland Trail in Blowing Rock. His reasoning was that we were nearby and he wanted to see if he could find a house that he visited once or twice over thirty-five years ago.
Yeah, right. I don't think so.
He was delighting in watching me squirm. And squirm I did. I just cannot handle roads with no shoulders, no guardrails, just -- as Richard put it -- a 2000 foot drop onto rocky ground. Dad even paused just above a house named "Seven story".
Yes, the house is 7-stories of abode clinging to the side of a mountain. No yard. No driveway. People park their cars on a little parking balcony in front of the house. I kid you not.
Tonight Robert thought he'd be daring and go up Wonderland Trail with me in the car with him. I stopped short of pitching a fit. He was kind enough to offer to stop and let me out while he drove on a road he considers tempting. I was smart enough to refuse to give him directions.
6/26/2003
Grandfather Mountain
When I was a toddler, my parents took me to Grandfather Mountain. I remember blue skies, fog burning off and chilly winds. I remember my dad trying to convince me to cross the swinging bridge, but I was terrified. The bridge was far too long and way too high.
When Kari was beyond toddlerhood, we took her to Grandfather Mountain. She remembers blue skies and winds so strong they threatened to pick her up. She remembers her father and brother walking across a bridge that was far above the trees and moving with the heavy gusts of wind.
Now Michael is a few months shy of four years old, and we are back in Blowing Rock. From our rented house we can see Grandfather Mountain and the Linville Bluffs. If we use binoculars we can just make out the swinging bridge. Every night a hot pink sun ducks down behind Grandfather.
Yesterday we drove up to the mile high swinging bridge. Rick was nervous about crossing the bridge he had bounded across 6 years earlier. Kari marched across no problem. Even I went across the bridge with ease shocking my parents who still remember my wails from 33 years past.
And Michael --- Michael thought the bridge was great fun, even when Robert made the bridge swing slightly. He felt that he was more than old enough to not require a parent holding his pudgy dimpled hands.
6/25/2003
one year ago today
Michael has grown a lot in the past year, but he doesn't look much different now than he did then. He's still a cutie though, and he still loves to play piano duets with me. "Mommy, I'll play the quiet notes. You play the loud ones."
6/24/2003
cameras galore
I ordered a Lomo SuperSampler camera. Do I need another camera? Most decidedly not, but who can resist? Not me!
Besides this one looks like fun. Doesn't everyone need a bit of fun?
So now I have a Nikon N65, a Nikon FG, an HP 315, several point-and-shoots and a Lomo on the way. A veritable treasure trove of cameras. We won't discuss the camera my dad was trying to pawn off on me or the kids' cameras.
Now to find the time to play with them all.
6/23/2003
hi!
We're in the mountains for the week, so will see you again around Saturday afternoon. Maybe. ;)
For example, I live 813.5 miles from my brother. We visit several times a year. This trip we will be there from 28 June thru 6 July. He knows this. He has known this for awhile. Quite a bit of time.
What did I find in my mailbox? An invitation to Gina's birthday party. For the following weekend. He knows we cannot be there. He knows that I'm sensitive about this. But he sent the damn invitation anyway.
Did I mention that Coley's christening is the weekend after that one?
Pisses me off. I miss tons of things and my family misses tons of things in my childrens' lives.
Do something spectacular to celebrate your birthday, Karan!
overused phrases
There are 2 scenes in Bull Durham that crack me up. The first is when Crash takes Nuke under his wing and teaches him the various phrases that are acceptable to use during an interview. The second is towards the end when Nuke shows what he was learned, starting with "I'm just happy to be here."
Being that we live in Florida, FSU coach Bobby Bowden is always being interviewed on the news after games. If you've never been blessed (so not the right word) enough to hear one of these interviews, you aren't missing anything. But I love, adore, look forward to and wouldn't miss one of his briefings. The best part is the cliche-meter that one of the local tv stations puts in the lower right hand corner. It counts every overused phrase that comes out of Bowden's mouth.
I'm easily amused
As a side note: In 1993 my dad's book, Eddie Neville of the Durham Bulls, was published. That same year was the final season that the Durham Bulls played in the old DAP. Dad helped organize a weekend of events that brought former players to the ballpark. I was lucky enough to meet the real "Crash" Davis.
6/21/2003
Run!
I wonder if we'll see any bear in the mountains on this trip...
a new tea addiction
Steph and I have a running joke about my love of Earl Grey tea. She has been after me and after me to broaden my tea horizons. If only she were here to see my tea stash. It's quite varied.
Yesterday morning I was in the grocers, wandering down the tea and coffee aisle, when a box fell off a shelf. Being the courteous customer that I am, I picked up the box and went to put it back on the shelf. Hmmm. Vanilla-infused tea. *NEW! Hmmm.
The tea ended up in my basket. Hey, it went thru all that trouble to get my attention, the least I could do was try it. Right?
And I love it. Earl Grey is on the shelf temporarily, but he's okay with that. He knows I'll come back to him. I always do.
The day before vacation always sucks. Always. I have a list a mile long of things to do. Yesterday morning it was a mere hundred feet -- pack the bags and wash the van. That was it. So what happened?
Kids happened. Neighborhood kids running thru my house all day long. They couldn't go outside because of the lightning. They messed up all my nice clean rooms. Now the rooms are kid straight and dirty. Do they drag dust and grime with them or something?
Toby's vaccination record has disappeared from my desk. My original has disappeared from my files. What the heck is with that? Now I have to trot back to the vet's office and ask for a fresh copy. They must think I'm totally nuts.
He's going to the kennel as soon as I get that record. No dog asking for a walk every hour on the hour will help me out timewise.
6/20/2003
on kidneys
Quite a few years ago my mother worked in a renal unit. She was the person who had the stressful task of typing up the dictated notes of various doctors and nurses. She set up appointments for the patients at the unit and in its clinic. She worked hard.
Occasionally she'd have a story to share: like the excitement that comes with the arrival of a matching kidney for a desperately ill person, the joy when the transplant goes how everyone hoped, the story of a little girl on dialysis and how well she handled it. She could talk about how devastating renal disease can be, how insurance sometimes isn't enough, how a patient would have to find an astronomical sum of money to pay for a transplant if they had no insurance, how people on the transplant list would die because so few people were donors.
My favorite story has to be one that involved a patient at the clinic. Mom sent him home with a container to collect his urine. He was instructed to fill it and bring it back with him at his next appointment. The results of the labs on his sample were thoroughly confusing and, once the reason was discovered, had the entire renal unit in laughter for weeks.
The container was huge. A person with normal urine output would have difficulties filling up the jar. This patient with his compromised kidneys had no chance, but all he heard was "Fill it." So he did. He had his family members contribute their urine to his jar. Mom had to rephrase all the doctors' directions concerning the jar after that.
********** There's a possibility that some day down the road I will be stricken with Autosomal Dominant Polycystic Kidney Disease (ADPKD). My grandmother was, but only one kidney was lost. When I was pregnant with Kari, my mom told me to have them check her kidneys when they did the sonogram for this reason. My cousin C was pregnant at the same time. Since my grandmother was her aunt, she had the doctors check her baby's kidney development. Her little girl had one kidney removed before she was two. So far her remaining kidney is healthy. She and Kari will turn 11 in just a few months.
ADPKD is an inherited disease. Blech. Fluid-filled cysts develop in clusters on the kidneys, causing the kidney to enlarge and destroying the tissue of the kidney. Eventally this will cause the kidneys to shut down: end-stage renal disease/chronic renal failure requiring dialysis and organ transplant. An estimated 1-in-400 adults have ADPKD.
********** I have the "organ donor" box checked on my drivers license. My family knows that I would like my organs to be donated if they are viable and I am not.
We leave for vacation on Sunday. I've just been puttering around and have done little to nothing to get ready. At least the private part of the house is nice and clean. The rest of it? Oh, perhaps wearing a blindfold would help, but then I'd worry about tripping, falling and breaking a necessary body part.
On one hand, the laundry is done. On the other, Robert has only 2 pair of shorts that fit and/or still have their buttons attached. I have no short-sleeved shirts that aren't t-shirts. Sucks. And somehow every single pair of Kari's socks have disappeared. Completely! I'm almost tempted to post signs around the neighborhood asking if anyone has seen a band of wandering, obviously lost, socks. Unfortunately Kari would not find this as amusing as I would.
At least Toby is ready to go to the doggie resort, and Frog and Binky have met the people who will be taking care of them. Hopefully Frog will not get stuck up in the dining room window again and require a ladder be set up to rescue him. Hopefully Binky will not eat all the food in sight in her anxiety about being abandoned or pull out all her fur in a fit of pique.
I'm also praying that all my houseplants survive without me. I have this feeling that my macho fern requires a female presence to survive.
a Michael cuteness
Michael and I went to Barnes & Noble in search of books to take on our trip. When we were searching for any of the books on Robert's list of wants, I accidently knocked another book off the shelf. Michael reached out and grabbed it just before it hit the floor. He laughed and put it back where it fell from. He then stared at his left hand and said, "Ooh, catchy."
6/18/2003
summer reading for up and coming 5th graders
Kari is an excellent reader. She isn't afraid that any book is too hard to read or too far beyond her abilities. She'll attempt to read anything. Several weeks ago she picked up my copy of Empire Falls and read for a bit. Her comment -- "Sounds like the author is talking about Livermore Falls." She wasn't too happy to find out that her grandmother borrowed the book. Oh well.
Lower level books draw her in though. When we go to the bookstore on Saturday nights or to the library, she inevitably heads for beginning reader type books. Why? I'm not quite sure. Perhaps because they have pictures. I was so relieved that the 5th grade teaching team sent home a reading list for the summer. Now the two of us have a deal, she can't read any of the 4th grade level books until she's finished all of the 5th and 6th.
Here's the 5th grade list:
Absolutely Normal Chaos by Creech Anne of Green Gables by Montgomery The Barn by Avi The Ballad of Lucy Whipple by Cushman Behind Rebel Lines by Reit A Boat to Nowhere by Wartski The Bomb by Taylor The Borrowers by Norton Boys Against Girls by Naylor Caddie Woodlawn by Brink Canyons by Paulsen The Castle in the Attic by Winthrop The Cay by Taylor Crash by Spinelli Crossing the Starlight Bridge by Mead Dicey's Song by Voigt The Door in the Wall by de Angeli Ella Enchanted by Levine The Enormous Egg by Butterworth Far North by Hobbs The Fighting Ground by Avi Forged by Fire by Droper Freaky Friday by Rodgers Freedom Train: The Story of Harriet Tubman by Sterling From the MIxed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by Koninsburg The Golden Goblet by McGraw Harriet, the Spy by Fitzhugh Hello, My Name is Scrambled Eggs by Gilson Homecoming by Voigt The House of Dies Drear by Hamilton Island of the Blue Dolphins by O'Dell A Wrinkle in Time by L'Engle Zeely by Hamlton
Thirty-three books. I wonder how many she'll read between now and the end of August...
and we'll have fun, fun, fun...
Summer break sucks. The kidlings look forward to this time of year. I do too. We have visions of all the fun things that we can do together and as individuals, of the bonding that will occur, the places we'll see, the things we'll learn, the relaxing....
Then reality sets in.
We no longer have a set schedule for the day. Little structure. This puts us at loose ends and makes us crabby. All of us. And I never realized how difficult it would be to try and come up something that all of us would enjoy: from three to thirty-seven. Rick is generally the odd-man out, but since he's in NC this week, Kari has stepped forward.
She's taking his place. Admirably.
6/17/2003
teenage boys
Somewhere around thirteen the boys in my family become aware that other people do notice them and their actions. All of a sudden they are self-conscious and wary of behavior that used to be normal. Like hugging their mother or being nice to their younger siblings. They do not want their friends to find them anything less than cool.
Case #1: My father used to sell peanuts at the Duke football games when he was a kid. The brown paper bags of hot roasted peanuts went for a dime. Dad made a penny for every bag he sold. His average take was around $4. Not too shabby. Then he grew and grew and grew. He was no longer peanut sales acceptable. He was moving into the big leagues -- sodas.
Every home game he was handed a bucket with sodas and big slab of ice that had been hacked off of an even larger slab of ice. This was hard work, wet work, sweaty work, so he dressed appropriately: jeans and a white t-shirt. This past saturday after watching Richard play in a flag football game at Duke, we were walking back to Dad's car. He stopped in the lot above the endzone seats and told him that this was where he stood when he decided that being a soda hawk was no longer cool.
Seems Dad was all hot and sweaty from carrying that iced soda bucket and he paused for a breather in this particular spot. Lo and behold some of the girls from his school walked by. They said "hi". He said "hi". Then the girls walked off giggling. Dad said he felt like an idiot and then and there decided that he wasn't going to sell soda if it made people laugh.
Case #2: My brother was very into being cool when he was in middle school. Charlottesville was an extremely preppy town. Kirk was the epitome of 13-yr-old preppiness. He wore docksiders, no socks, khaki pants, belt, t-shirt, Izod with the collar up and then a buttondown oxford all tucked in. Yes, he was cool.
He was so cool that he could no longer shake an adult's hand or kiss his grandmothers on the cheek. Kirk didn't care that his callousness was making our grandmothers tear up or our grandfathers gnash their teeth. He did not care that this embarassed our parents to no end. He was above all these displays of affection and signs of respect. Kirk was thirteen.
Kirk and our parents would have raging arguments over how he was acting. I probably could have made a small fortune by selling tickets to these fights. In retrospect they were quite entertaining. Then one day Mom hit on an idea for how to get Kirk to hug and to kiss his grandmothers' cheeks and to shake his grandfathers' hands while looking them in the eye. She would pay him!
And it worked. Twenty years later Kirk is still hugging and kissing Nana and shaking people's hands. He has a good handshake.
Case #3: Richard. Rick. Ricky. Brat! Rick no longer will hug any of the women in the family or let us kiss him on the cheek. He's way to cool for that. He's too grown up to need these "babyfied affections." (His words, not mine.)
When I left him at football camp, he wouldn't hug me. Then one of the coaches told him that he couldn't go catch up with the other guys until he hugged his mother. Rick hugged my mom. Seems the coach was confused as to which of us was the mother of this misguided child. At least he shook my hand.
When I went to tell Rick goodbye before flying back to to Florida, he was hanging out with his friends and didn't want to be seen hugging me. His friend Nick thought this was silly. He came over and gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek before turning to Rick and saying, "Kiss your mom. You won't be seeing her for a week."
He did.
6/16/2003
Coley Rocks!
I had a blast playing with my niece. She's the best 4 month old. She giggles and smiles and babbles. Coley thinks I'm funny too.
Now if my mother and brother continue to insist that I'm Auntie Elizzie....
patience, patience
Robert: "Kari, could you please get some napkins?"
kari just stands there, looking around
Robert: "Kari, napkins please."
kari continues standing and gazing aimlessly around
Robert: "Kari! Napkins! Now!"
kari startles and looks at him with a confused expression on her face
Kari: "What?"
robert grimaces, groans and closes his eyes
Robert: "Kari, we need napkins. Please get them."
Kari: "Where are they?" she then notices the dispenser is empty "What do I do?"
Robert: "Kari, ask the man behind the counter for some napkins."
Kari: "But there's no one over there. What do I do?"
This went on for a good five minutes. I kid you not. This was the much abbreviated version of their conversation.
why am I up so early?
Hurray! Summer break is here! I get to sleep in. No need to drive back and forth from school. Woohoo!
Sleep in? What? Would someone tell the dog this? And why does he all of a sudden need to be walked at 6:10? Toby pissed me off in the extremes this morning. I was awakened by the sound of pissing dog. Did he lick my feet to let me know he needed out? Did he whimper? An emphatic no to both. He simply pissed on the floor next to the bed. What's he doing awake an hour before he normally begins to think about getting out of bed. Bad, bad dog.
6/15/2003
tired
Rick is exhausted. To his bones. Football camp has taken a lot out of him. At 11:30 this morning, he was already saying that it felt like night time. He told me that Saturday lasted forever.
His knees hurt. His feet hurt. He's just plain tired.
Poor kid. snicker
luna
I wish I had a telephoto lens for my camera. The moon has been spectacular the past 2 nights.
Friday night the moon rose at the far end of the Duke football field. The sky glowed midnight blue, the moonlight filtered thru the bamboo, the moon hung just over the Duke logo on their scoreboard. We had to laugh at the positioning. After all the chances of Duke ever having a decent footall season are -- what -- once in a blue moon?
Saturday night the moon hung just above the horizon -- bright, ivory, shining thru hazy skies. Good thing I wasn't driving. I was totally moonstruck.
Then again I'm easily moonstruck. I'm sure part of this stems from having a grandmother named Luna and a mother named Luna Ann (translated, her name means "moon grace"). Growing up I heard things about gardening in relation to the moon. I even wrote a little book about the man in the moon. Perhaps I'll post it once day -- complete with illustrations by Rick and Kari.
Happy Fathers Day!
6/14/2003
another photo project
Jennifer, a working scriptygoddess sort of mom, has suggested that today we take pictures of 6 things that made us smile. Are you up for it? If you are, then take your 6 pictures, post them somewhere and then leave a URL here.
I think this looks like fun. My mom is even going to participate. Totally shocked by this one. Perhaps one day she'll even consider blogging.
6/13/2003
football camp
What a mess! Registration took 30 minutes, which really wasn't too bad considering that they were trying to register 150 young men. Taking Rick to the dorm and unpacking took a few minutes. Absolutely no place to park near the dorm -- at least no place that you could park and not get towed. (how do students move in?) Then we trotted back over to the Yoh.
That's where it became messy. No one was telling anyone where to go, what to do, nothing. Mom snagged Coach Fish and asked what Rick was supposed to be doing and where. He asked if he was day camper or a boarder and then dragged Rick along behind.
Being an almost-teenager, Rick didn't want any farewell hugs or kisses. Coach Fish told him to go ahead and give my mom a kiss. Hey, what about me? I'm his mother. Oh well. I did get a hug complete with the shoulder pat. LOL
We went back tonight to watch the flag football games. Rick looked so small on that field with those huge high school athletes. Oy. In another year or two, he'll fit right in -- physically. But at least Rick was out on the field moving around and doing what he could.
babysitting
Once more I find myself taking a mini-vacation: Robert at home in Florida working, Kari and Michael at Robert's parents' home, Richard at camp. Ahhh... two and a half days to do whatever I wish. No children pulling at me or arguing with each other. No dinners to fix. Just relaxation.
WRONG! My brother and sister-in-law are going to a wedding and asked if Mom and I could take care of Coley for them. Of course. That's a dumb question. At least I get a break from children who can talk. All Coley wants is to be fed, have her diaper changed, be held and have quiet time.
And she is so darn cute. Then again, I'm quite biased, being her aunt.
That's änt by the way.
friday the 13th
Richard was born on a friday the 13th. The joke in the delivery room was that we should name him Jason... but I grew up with a Jason who was born on a friday the 13th. He was never amused by those movies.
Kari was due on Halloween, but of course, being me, I went past my due date. If I had gone 2 weeks past as I did with Richard, Kari would have been born on friday the 13th. We settled for using the name from a horror movie -- just altered the spelling a bit.
Michael was born on a 13th -- a wednesday. Too bad. He did celebrate his 1st birthday on a friday though.
Obviously things like this amuse me. I still think Kari should have chosen either Halloween or the 13th of November to be born. That would have been so considerate of her. Wouldn't it have been cool to say "All my children were born on the 13th. It's good luck. Really." Besides then I could also introduce my dragonets as Friday the Thirteenth, parts one, two and three.
Okay, to bed with me. I'm making no sense whatsoever.
Pleasant dreams...
6/12/2003
something about flying
I shouldn't be allowed to travel by plane. No way. No how. Never. At least I should avoid Delta.
Today both legs of our jaunt from FHI to Atlanta to RDU were smooth. We didn't have any problems checking in. Rick did have something confiscated by the TSA. Silly boy forgot to take out all his school supplies from the front pocket of his backpack. Nailed for a pair of blunt scissors. You know, the kind kindergarteners use.
But then we landed at RDU. On time.
So what's the problem? The problem is that we had to wait forever and a day for our luggage. Twenty-seven minutes after landing, an announcement is made that the last two carts with baggage from our flight would be brought to baggage claim. The last two? Where were the first ones? No one had received any of their luggage.
Finally the conveyor groaned and moved. Suitcases and garment bags started pouring thru the opening. Ok, pouring would be an overstatement. They appeared in fits and starts. Three pieces here, 2 pieces there, big empty spaces. Perhaps 10 people from our flight claimed their property.
The majority of us stood around wondering what was going on. The conveyor stopped. The sign about the luggage carousel reverted back to a simple announcement: Delta! The lady in the Delta baggage claim office did nothing to reassure us that our bags were on their way to us. She wouldn't answer any questions. She simply shrugged. After waiting 50 minutes for our luggage, one lady went in and asked what was going on. The Delta employee turned her head and wouldn't answer.
Finally -- 57 minutes after landing -- our bag rode into sight.
Side note: Travelling from our house to my parents' house takes 12 hours by car. Travelling by plane takes 8 hours and 30 minutes. At least on this go around.
driving
Sometimes you have to wonder how some drivers managed to get their license. They run red lights, don't even slow down for stop signs, treat the emergency lane as a high speed lane and never use their turn signals. Rude drivers. Obnoxious drivers
Kari and I were coming home yesterday from Field of Flowers when we had to slam on our brakes. The white Cadillac in front of us stopped unexpectedly -- no brake lights, no gradual slowing down, just an abrupt halt on a busy side street during rush hour. They couldn't go left because of the golf course, and they couldn't go right because of the canal. We couldn't figure out why they stopped. We conjectured that there were little ducks crossing the street or perhaps a slow moving tortoise.
We were wrong. The white Cadillac turned left onto the golf course. For some reason the driver must have believed that the golf cart lane was a thoroughfare for cars. Despite the narrow strips of paved path with golf carts puttering along on them. Despite the many twists and turns to go around the greens, the sandtraps, the palms. Despite the golfers fleeing the oncoming car. Yes, the white Caddie cruised along the meandering path.
There were no attempts to turn around. No stopping in startled shame. Just gentle driving.
I do wonder if the driver continued on his merry way across this particular golf course, across another street and onto the Rolling Hills Golf & Tennis Club Course. I wonder if Carl Spackler was successful in chasing him off the grounds or if he just played through....
vastly amused
Found THIS over at Easy Bake Coven. (thanks for the giggle -- *snicker) If you've never seen a penis run around...
This is actually a very simple game, but it cracks me up.
Simple minds....
6/11/2003
conversations with mom
Mom: Hey! It's me again. Me: Hi! Mom: Kirk called. He and Gina want to go to church with us on Sunday, so make sure you bring church clothes. Me:(big groan) Mom: I know you don't want to go, but your brother wants to meet us there. Me: But we have to pick Rick up from camp. Mom: At what time? Me:: Hold on... No later than 12:30. Checkout is from 11:30 to 12:30. Mom: Well, we'll go right after church, so we'll pick him up at 12:15. Me: 12:15 is cutting it close. And they have a game and awards before that. Mom: What time? Me: The game is at 10, and the awards are at 11. I'd kind of like to go. Mom: I don't know how we're going to do this. Your brother and Gina want to go to church with us. Me: Well, why don't you go to church with them. Dad and I will go to Duke for the end of Rick's camp. Mom: No, that's not fair. Me: Why? Dad won't mind missing church to go with me. You can go to church. Don't worry about it. Mom: But I wasn't planning on going to church. Me:(silence -- shock, I suspect) Mom: Getting Coley ready for church, sprinting to the church, then running out right after to go to Duke to pick up Rick... it's simply too much. I'll just call Kirk and tell him that he needs to meet us here at the house after church. He can go ahead and start the grill so that we can eat quickly and run you out to the airport. Me: Wait... YOU weren't planning on going to church this Sunday? Mom: I do think the good Lord will forgive me for wanting to spend the morning watching my grandson play football. Me:shocked silence Mom: I'd much rather do that anyway than running around trying to do everything. Besides getting Coley ready for church will be too much trouble.
Robert and I got the biggest kick out of this conversation. I mean, MY mother hadn't been planning on going to church? And my brother was wanting to go? What's going on? Five minutes after the above chat with Mom, she was on the phone again -- this time discussing Fathers Day. But that's another story.
6/10/2003
hair woes
Kari wants long hair. Most girls go thru this stage at least once. We are never satisfied with what we have on our heads. If our hair is long, we want short hair. If it is straight, we want riotous curls. Kari wants her hair down to her butt, so that when she has at least a foot of it cut off to donate to Locks of Love, she'll still have long hair.
But she hates to brush her hair. She absolutely despises it. Some mornings she'll have rats' nests in there so big that the rats themselves get lost. I'm serious here. She's terrible at mane upkeep. I've offered to braid her hair at night so that it won't be so tangled in the morning. But every time I'm rebuffed: "Mom, I'm not some prairie girl."
I don't know what to do with her. Me on the other hand -- I'm getting 2 inches cut off tomorrow morning. I want the cute sassy haircut from back in March. My hair grows way too fast. I actually should get it cut every 3 to 4 weeks. An inch at each cutting. But no, I must wait until it's totally overgrown.
"And I've seen what they put inside Stretch Armstrong."
Every time I hear this Mark Wills' song, "Nineteen Somethin'", I laugh and cringe at this line. Why? Because I have seen what is inside Stretch Armstrong. Thick red sticky goo.
Thick red sticky goo that my brother so lovingly put in my long hair. Right before an orthodontist appointment. Mom was not sympathetic. She didn't have time to get the gunk out of my hair and get me to my appointment on time. So I went to the appointment, had to lean back in the hair,and feel that goo really work it's way thru strand after strand (Kirk had put it on the underside of my hair just below the nape.) By the time we returned home, my hair was a horrific mess.
And Stretch Armstrong goo does not come out. It doesn't react in the same manner gum does. You can't use ice cubes or peanut butter. You also cannot comb it out. The only recourse we had was cutting the wad out. I cried for hours. My beautiful long hair was reduced to a shaggy bob.
The 13 year old in me is still pissed off at my brother about that episode.
Hi, Mom!
My mom moseyed on through yesterday and even left a comment. Being my mother she immediately called me to say she had visited and that -- *gasp! -- she had actually left a message. She also informed me that my comments thingy was too complicated for her. Where it asked for name, she typed mine. Where it asked for email addy, she was totally confused.
Oy, Mom!
6/9/2003
My youngest brother-in-law just turned 34. I hope that he had an easy day at work: no idiots running red lights and smashing into the side of his car, no ostriches on the loose for him to catch, no preteen pulling a gun on him and no need to be in court. Yep, I hope that crime stopped for the day in Miami-Dade County. Just for Jim. Just for his birthday.
Love you, Jim. BTW there's a bottle or two of wine here at the house just waiting for you.
just thought you should know...
I'm a
You know you want to visit the lounge. Come on over. We don't bite. Really.
(Terri, put a muzzle on Richard.)
10 Layers of Eliz
Layer One: -- Name: Elizabeth K--- S--- -- Birth date: 28 April -- Birthplace: Durham, NC -- Current Location: on a ridge in South Florida -- Eye Colour: blue, and not some washed-out blue either -- Hair Colour: currently brown -- Height: 5'3" -- Righty or Lefty: Righty. I can write and bat left in a pinch. -- Zodiac Sign: Taurus
Layer Two: -- Your heritage: Southern with more than a touch of Yankee for balance -- The shoes you wore today: shoes? I'm supposed to wear shoes? -- Your weakness: books, yarn, my kids -- Your fears: speaking in front of a group, war here -- Your perfect pizza: currently a mexican pizza from Dough Boys. -- Goal you'd like to achieve: publish a childrens book
Layer Three: -- Your most overused phrase on IM: OY! -- Your thoughts first waking up: "Must brush my teeth." -- Your best physical feature: I'd say my eyes. Robert would say my breasts. -- Your most cherished memory: walks with my grandfather
Layer Four: -- Pepsi or Coke: Cheerwine -- McDonald's or Burger King: McDonald's -- Single or group dates: Single -- Adidas or Nike: New Balance -- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: whatever Kim makes -- Chocolate or vanilla: chocolate -- Cappuccino or coffee: coffee
Layer Five: -- Smoke: Used to, but not anymore. -- Cuss: in several languages ;) -- Sing: way too much according to my children -- Take a shower everyday: yup -- Do you think you've been in love: yup -- Want to go to college: back to college? yes -- Like(d) high school: believe or not, yes -- Want to get married: I am happily married. -- Believe in yourself: I want to -- Get motion sickness: Nope. -- Think you're attractive: Sometimes -- Think you're a health freak: Nope (unless it's mental health) -- Get along with your parent(s): Yes -- Like thunderstorms: Love them! -- Play an instrument: Piano and little guitar
Layer Six: In the past month... -- Drank alcohol: yes *blush -- Smoked: nope -- Done a drug: nope -- Made Out: Yes. -- Gone on a date: Yes. -- Gone to the mall?: Yes. Twice. -- Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: Never. Blech! -- Eaten sushi: Unfortunately not. -- Been on stage: No! -- Been dumped: No. -- Gone skating: Here? -- Made homemade cookies: But of course! -- Gone skinny dipping: No. Never have. Never will. -- Dyed your hair: Twice. Oh and highlighted it too. -- Stolen anything: No. -- You sound boring: That's me!
Layer Seven: Ever... -- Played a game that required removal of clothing: Yes. -- If so, was it mixed company: Yes. -- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Yes. -- Been caught "doing something": Yes. Forgot to lock the door. *sigh -- Been called a tease: More than once. -- Gotten beaten up: Yes, in 6th grade in Maine. -- Shoplifted: No, but I instructed people in loss prevention methods. -- Changed who you were to fit in: Attempted to change myself. Didn't work.
Layer Eight: -- Age you hope to be married: Married at 24. Had been shooting for 30. -- Numbers and Names of Children: 3 children: Richard, Karolyn and Michael -- Describe your Dream Wedding: The one I had but with more snow. -- How do you want to die: Peacefully and at peace. -- Where did you want to go to college: where I did -- Davidson College. -- What do you want to be when you grow up: a published author -- What country would you most like to visit: Ireland and Scotland and Germany and...
Layer Nine: -- Opposite sex or the same? Opposite. -- Best eye colour? Green. -- Best hair colour? Don't have a preference. -- Short or long hair: No preference. -- Best Height? Taller than me which isn't difficult. -- Best weight: How about a healthy one. -- Best articles of clothing: Jeans and a tshirt. -- Best first date location: Football or baseball game or at a park. -- Best first kiss location: On my cheek.
Layer Ten: -- Number of drugs taken illegally: Zero. -- Number of people I could trust with my life: 6: Robert, my parents, Nana, Steph and Jo -- Number of CDs that I own: who knows -- around 100? -- Number of piercings: 3 -- Number of tattoos: None. -- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: More than 5, fewer than 10. -- Number of scars on my body: 2 dogbites, 3 c-sections, 1 burn, several chicken pox scars, 1 from falling out of the swings. -- Number of things in my past that I regret: 2 -- not interviewing with a major league baseball team when given the chance and not going to Boston with Papa.
Rick and his last day of school
Rick's last day of school was this past friday. Instead of having a pool party at his teacher's house to celebrate another year gone by, Ms. Richardson took her class to the beach. To the beach! She is one brave woman.
Anyway, Rick's classmates got together and decided what kind of cookies they wanted me to bake. I baked them. Rick even iced the cream cheese ones (those were taken under protest since they like the eggnog ones so much more). That was only part of our prep for this last day. Rick also decided to cut his hair.
What's the big deal about a haircut? Well, Rick has trichotillomania. Oh it's mostly under control now, but just a few years ago he plucked himself bald. A bald 10-year-old isn't easy to explain. Now he usually prefers to keep his hair fairly short, which makes it more difficult to pull, but it also highlights the areas of his scalp that were the most damaged by his hair pulling. (His hair doesn't grow in as thick there and the color of the hair is even slightly different... very odd).
Anyway, Rick had been growing his hair out from it's usual military buzz, but stupid me was so delighted with the tiny curls popping up all over his head that I commented on them. "Look! Your hair is starting to curl again. I love it." Big mistake for this curl-loving mom with a curl-despising son. Rick insisted that we shave his head. Actually he insisted that he do it himself. He pulled out the shaver and put on the 3/8" attachment and went to town.
So we have cookies and a freshly shorn head. He was one happy boy.
Off to the beach he went with his classmates. They spent so many hours cavorting in the surf that Rick said his hands were eaten up by pruning: "Mom, I swear, my hands were half the size they normally are. They were that pruned up." Rick's hair went from brown to blond, his skin from nicely tanned to darkly tanned with sunburnt cheeks and he stunk to high heavens. All that sweating and him without his deodorant.
But he had a blast and his schoolyear ended on a positive note.
We'll miss you Ms. Richardson. I wish you well at your new school. You'll wow them, just like you wowed all of us.
overtime
Wait! Timeout! Who said anything about MORE overtime this year? We're just starting to recover from all those 6-day work weeks from the first 5 months of the year. Can I protest?
Yep, Robert is back to overtime. sigh He forgot to tell me that he had to work today. (Monday and Tuesday comprise his weekend.) This totally sucks. I had planned out the entire day. Rick even agreed to babysit. Robert and I do not get enough couple time between his work and our 3 children. Thank goodness for his job and we desperately love our kids, but still -- time together would be nice.
We seem to have a new trend in the family -- diabetes. Sure, we're lucky. None of the people who have been diagnosed are insulin dependent. Instead they use diet and exercise to keep the disease under control. But it is a wake-up call for the rest of us.
little stuff
The store: Jo's store is doing quite well. Thank you very much. In the past 2 months she has been working on getting more exposure for her store. She has run ads, is opening 2 satellite stores in gyms and is building a repeat clientel base. Her sales are already covering expenses and then a bit more. I'm hoping that soon she will be able to pay herself a salary. That's important.
This painting will be mine soon. Mwah ha ha ha. Sorry, Aunt JoLene, but I called dibs. There's a sold sticker underneath it now. You may look and drool. There's a spot already for this painting in my living room.
Richard is out of school. On friday his class went to the beach for the day. Isn't that nice? He came home all pruny and sand-caked, his eyes bright red from the salt water, his skin burnished bronze. Where did he get that coloring? His brown hair has even lightened dramatically. So not fair. In less than a week we pack him off to football camp.
Kari has four school days left this year. Several of her classmates won't be at school for those days. They've left for camp or vacation. Kari is looking forward to being able to pick which day she goes to daycamp. I bet she talks my dad into paying for extra days. She just loves those horses and has my dad wrapped around her little finger.
Michael totally shocked me by counting to 20. Twenty! I didn't realize he knew what came after 10. He's also started taking naps again. Poor baby must be getting ready to grow. I wish he could stay a toddler for at least a bit longer.
I can now run 3/10s of a mile before gasping like a fish airing out on the dock. ;) Okay, so it isn't THAT bad, but that's how it feels. I'm proud of my little gains, so don't laugh. Currently I'm doing the run/walk interval thing for 30 minutes. Helps me sleep soundly at night. Woohoo!
(Steph, did you do your belly dancing tape?)
6/6/2003
in the billiard room
I'm addicted to playing games over at the BKO Lounge. Brian has come up with some fun games that require my brain to function. What a concept. And if you are the supreme champion of a game, you receive your own special title. Richard is King of Fugawi, and Karan is The Scatterbrain. Brian is BKOliminator -- of course.
Currently we are playing "Sez You". Very frustrating game this. Brian gives us a word and then we must invent a definition, word origin and use the word in a sentence. Brian takes all our definitions and presents them to us with the real meaning mixed in. Our goal is to find the real definition. No cheating. The game isn't actually that difficult, but it has been frustrating. He keeps coming up with words I already know. sigh Didn't everyone use the word embrangle in high school? And shouldn't people look at paduasoy and think "hmmm... that looks like and sounds like peau de soie. I bet it's a silk fabric."? Honestly, folks. If you garden and know either of my grandfathers, you'd automatically know what a dibble is. One of my uncles has one framed on his wall (family joke).
When I was about ten, my dad took me with him to visit a friend of his -- Joe. They grew up together. Eighteen years of running through each other's yards and houses. By Joe's front door he had a massive dictionary on a pedestal. Being inquisitive I had to know why it was there. Joe told me that his mother opened up that dictionary every day and pointed to a word. She had to use that word several times during the day. I thought that was the coolest idea ever and proceeded to follow her example for several years.
More recently my dad has been receiving the Readers' Digest. He loves to look at the page with definitions and try to match the correct one to the word. He then sends these to me to see which ones trip me up. Very few have.
I'm not brainy or bragging, but seriously, if you are reading a book and see a word you don't recognize, don't you pull out ye olde dictionary? Sheesh.
totally irritated
Paul Shaffer. Does Paul Shaffer irritate anyone else? He majorly gets on my nerves. I have this urge to grab him by the ear and walk him offstage. At the least I would gag him. Yes, he grates on my nerves. When I discovered a Paul Shaffer in my family tree I screamed in agony. In the archives. The archivist who was nearby was not amused.
Ants. Those little sugar ants bother me. I don't do anything that requires their presence, yet they always show up looking for whatever sugar ants look for. Well, listen here, you nasty little critters, there is nothing here for you!
Laundry. Need I say more?
Thunderstorms. I cannot go outside when lightning is present. Just isn't going to happen. Now Michael and I have a major problem with cabin fever. We haven't been able to spend a lot of time outside. We can't even go out and dance in the rain. *sigh.
Perhaps I should go to bed.
cookies and milk... anyone?
Cookies are coming out my ears. My chocolate chip cookies with a twist, cream cheese cookies, oatmeal-raisin cookies, chocolate-peanut butter cookies. Tons of them. Please, someone, take the extras off my hands.
The cream cheese cookies have yet to be iced. I plan on doing that in the morning before taking Rick and his portion of the cookies to school. Here's the problem with these particular cookies: you cannot ice them without wanting to eat one. You cannot eat just one. The darn things are addictive. Very addictive. But then again, this could just be my problem. You can't wave something with almond extract in it under my nose and think I won't take a bite. Or two. Or three. Or more.
6/5/2003
i wanna know...
How many sit-ups can you do? How many push-ups? Do you have an exercise program that you follow or are you a weekend athlete (if at all)?
Do you drink mostly water? Green tea?
What do you do to maintain your physical being?
I want answers. I feel like the laziest person in the world sometimes.
school
Rick has one day left of school. ONE day. Tomorrow. No school today for him, just tomorrow. Weird, huh? Tonight is graduation for the 8th graders, so the principal excused all of them from classes for today. Tomorrow is the class trip to the beach. One of the students was heard to say that he wouldn't be going to the beach, but since I had promised to bake a specific type of cookie for him ... Wasn't that sweet?
Kari has had school spirit week all week long. Thank goodness this week is over. Believe me, the best day was crazy hair day.
I ordered Rick's algebra book for homeschooling and a preschool art program for Michael. They'll be here by mid-July when homeschooling starts. Kari will be doing an independent study on Ancient Greece. Hey, she chose it, not me. I was hoping she'd opt for something a bit closer to home.
You walk tough and talk tough, but inside you're just a gooey ball of mush. Your friends are important to you (whether you admit it or not) and you'd do just about anything for them (but you wouldn't like it). Trust is important to you, and so is respect. Looks don't matter to you; it's the gooey ball of mush inside that really counts.
Until I was 3 1/2 months pregnant with Richard, I was a runner. I enjoyed running 3 to 6 miles a day. My daily goal was to have at least one of those miles be a 6-minute mile. Then we moved to Florida, I gave birth 3 times, went to work, stopped running. Until this week.
Richard has been running sprints to get ready for football camp next week. Robert has been going out and jogging every other day for the past few weeks. A decision he made after realizing he was too out of shape to be an effective softball player. (I think part of it may have been that his teammates were calling him "Big Guy".) Kari loves to run. So I had to jump back onto the bandwagon.
Let me tell you how painful it has been to realize how badly out of shape I've let myself become. Yes, I knew from the increased clothing size, the weight gain, etc that I was overweight and out-of-shape. But getting out there and attempting something that used to be an integral part of my life and being completely unable to do it was horrifying in the extreme.
Yep, horrifying to realize that alternating running and walking every .2 miles for so many minutes would be where I had to start on my road back to running. Horrifying to realize that my breathing techniques were no longer second nature, that I had to keep reminding myself the proper way to breathe when running.
Small steps, baby steps. I wonder if I'll be able to run a mile at one shot by the end of the summer. That's my goal for now. Pitiful.
really, mr. sosa?
Honestly, I find it difficult to believe that Sosa mistakenly grabbed the wrong bat, a bat that happened to be corked. He knew where he was in the line-up. He wasn't surprised. He didn't forget.
Sosa was caught.
When you've passed the major milestone of 500+ career homeruns and you get caught with a corked bat, all your previous homeruns are going to be regarded with suspicion. Even if your altered bat was strictly used for batting practice.
BUT -- and for me this makes Sosa's mistake seem less like a mistake -- Sosa's power numbers are dramatically down this season. He's coming off the disabled list. I think that he deliberately chose to use this bat. Why? To try and get back to his stride. Perhaps corked bats really do not help hit the long ball, but that is the belief held by ball players and why it is banned by MLB. Just believing that the fixed bat could help would give the player using it a psychological advantage. If he believed that homeruns or longer-hit balls would come as a result of his using the bat, who is to say that wouldn't happen?
"If you build it, they will come."
And then there's the little routines that ballplayers go thru when they are preparing to bat. Swing so many times to the left, then to the right, spit over your left shoulder, scratch your crotch, kick at the ground, swing again. I bet Sosa has his own little routine. A player cannot go thru this routine without recognizing which bat he is using. There are all sorts of little differences, different markings, weights, lengths, woods. Bats that aren't to be used during the game are generally kept separate -- like the fungo bats used to hit balls for fielding practice.
Mr. Sosa, you had an error in judgement. Perhaps your error wasn't of the same magnitude as Pete Rose's, more along the line of George Brett's, but it was still a mistake. We'll have to wait and see what is said about your other bats, which were all confiscated, before we pass final judgement.
6/3/2003
if i were on south park...
Thanks, Brian, for the link! And, Karan, thanks for the tutorial.
Michael and I spent forever today making silly pictures there. This was his favorite of me. He did keep insisting that I "...make your boobies bigger, Mommy! Those are too little."
I think that he's a breast man. Not sure why...
Rick thinks I should ditch the wings and have flames coming out of my mouth. The flames are more befitting the dragon that I am.
project
Now that the rains have slowed to afternoon thunderstorms, I'm going to be able to get out and work on another photo project. This one was suggested by Ame on my October 99 board. What is this project?
My town.
This week I'm going to run around the wonderful town of Davie and snap pictures of places and people and events that just scream "best little western town on the southeast coast". Yes, for the most part Davie is just like any other town that's part of metro-sprawl, but we do have things that stand out. My goal is to find these things.
Wish me luck.
Have camera. Have film. Have sunshine. Probably should get a move on, huh.
my house is what color?
Our house was dingy. Dingier than I had thought too. Yesterday we had the exterior pressure-washed. Today our house is beautiful. Okay, so it still needs to be painted, but it's actually quite pretty.
And it is yellow. Not cream. Yellow. I swear our house wasn't yellow when we bought it, but it's most definitely yellow now. The roof is white instead of grey. James didn't think the yucks would come off the roof very well. He had prepared us for the news that it would most likely need to be painted next year. Yes, white roofs end up painted down here. Silly, huh?
But our roof tiles are white all the way through, not just on the outer part. They should sparkle and shine in our South Florida sun. They should also help reflect some of that nasty summer heat.
(Just ran outside to look at my newly washed house. It is yellow. This color was not a figment of my night dreams.)
6/2/2003
further adventures while walking the dog
Frog loves to accompany Toby on his walks. He runs ahead then runs back to rub noses with Toby. He stays behind and climbs a tree then dashes to catch up. When we walk on the Ridge this is no big deal. But this morning I was late starting out, so Toby and I were walking on the sidewalk along a fairly busy street. This way Robert could pick us up on the way to taking the kidlings to school.
Toby and I were just ambling along at basset speed when Frog bounded out of the ficus hedge. Toby pranced a bit in greeting. Frog rubbed against Toby. I groaned and ordered our wayward friend home. He just gazed up at me with a "Make me!" expression. Being a wimp, I caved immediately.
Things weren't too bad until we hit a busy intersection (it's only busy in the morning). Frog freaked. He tried climbing a tree, darting back thru a hedge, but I caught him and held on. We were too far from the house to let him go his merry way. People stared at us from their cars. Me walking a basset while carrying a cat on my shoulder. I guess we were quite a sight. One person rolled down his window and shouted, "Morning, Frog. Toby. Eliz."
After walking a half mile with Frog attached to my shoulder, Robert finally pulled up. He had to grab Frog off my shoulder so that he wouldn't disappear into the bushes. The kids were laughing about that. I had to move all their school paraphenalia so that Toby could clamber into the van and join Rick on the backseat.
And off to school we went. Frog tried to flee the van at both school stops. I don't think he's very happy with me right now about that. Toby whimpered when Kari exited. He howled after Rick got out.
Frog will be locked up securely tomorrow morning.
how to have your vacation ruined
We have our vacation to NC planned. We've had it planned for months. Part of the time we'll be at my parents, part of the time we'll be in the mountains. We've all been looking forward to our weeks away from South Florida, the chance to see mountains and pine trees instead of the Everglades and palm trees. Oh, must not forget the obnoxious melaleucas. Yuck.
Robert picked up his work schedule for those weeks. Seems he has been scheduled to work overtime during those particular weeks. Yes, he has been scheduled to work. Ridiculous, isn't it? His supervisors know that he'll be on vacation, yet they fully expect him to show up on both those Mondays of his vacation. Now we have to figure out which airport he'll be flying out of to come back to work the damn shifts. Will it be Asheville? Will it be RDU? Will it be Charlotte?
Bad employer. Ruining someone's annual leave like that.
6/1/2003
I'm in. Are you?
someone needs to recycle
Rick has never been allowed to have food or drink in his room. Never. Why so strict? Cockroaches and those annoying sugar ants will rapidly invade any home that leaves food or drink sitting around. Imagine my surprise when I started finding cans galore while cleaning Rick's room.
Over 30 cans were found. No ants. No roaches. The boy was lucky.
