My own private Idaho

Top Ten Ways To Hold Onto That Weight (and gain some)

2010-10-23T08:52:00.005-05:00

1. Watch marathon sessions of the Food Network.
2. Try out that new macaroni and cheese recipe - then eat it all by yourself.
3. Sleep in - for the whole day.
4. Have ice cream for lunch.
5. Become a human garbage disposal when your kids don't finish everything on their plate.
6. Refuse to exercise outside because there are muggers and rapists and vampires out there.
7. Refuse to exercise inside because the dogs are watching and making snide comments to each other.
8. Eat the rest of the chips in the house to save your kids from eating them.
9. Enjoy a glass of wine, or five.
10. Repeat with dark beer.

Getting my priorities straight

2010-10-21T11:49:00.001-05:00

Well, I heard about the job. I didn't get it. And the stupid part is this: I didn't really want it, it took me forever to decide I should take it, I wasn't looking forward to doing it, and when I found out I didn't get it I was crushed. Ridiculous!

So now I'm free to conquer the world. I have endless hours to think and write and make a difference. I can finally turn my full attention toward ending world hunger, turning this nation's economy around, and plugging that pesky hole in the Ozone.

Right after Man vs. Food is over.

Things that can't be changed

2010-10-18T20:33:00.001-05:00

Okay, so now I have something to say.

It's Monday night. Dalt had his weekly fire department meeting and wouldn't be home for dinner; Joseph and Savannah both made the honor roll this six weeks which earned them free meal coupons from one of our favorite local restaurants, so we went out to eat (Katie is too cool to go out to eat with her family - we brought her food home.)

The kids and I had a great time! We played a roll-the-dice game on my phone while we waited for our food to come and we chatted about school and possible story lines for a book I could write. Joseph likes comedies and Savannah likes scary stuff, so we thought maybe I could write a scary comedy. It was cool because I've been kind of bandying around an idea that was along those lines anyway.

On the way home we got on the subject of dying and what it's like after you go. I said something along the lines of not being afraid to die because we have so many people to look forward to seeing again like Nathan and Papa (my dad.) Savannah perked up in the backseat and said, "Oh my gosh, I almost forgot about Nathan. I almost forgot Nathan was ever alive."

Well, wow. I think about Nathan a lot, and lately my memories have been ambushing me around every corner. I know it's not that way for the kids because they were so young. Three years is a long time in the lives of children. Savannah was barely seven years-old when he died, and Joe was only nine. But I was Nathan's mom for his whole twenty years.

I explained that to the kids in the car on the way home tonight. How it's kind of different for me because I knew him for so much longer and he was one of my children. I told them how I think about him and it makes me sad because I miss him so much, but how, when I really think about it, I feel better because I know where he is and I know I'll see him again.

Savannah asked me if I thought Nathan knew it was coming when he died. I told her I didn't think so, but that God knew. I told her and Joe about hugging Nathan before I left for my trip and how good it felt and how he and I had talked a lot before I left and there wasn't any unfinished business between us.

Then Savannah told me this for the first time: "I remember sitting at the computer desk that day, decorating a doll on my computer game. I remember Nathan coming in and saying how pretty it was and that I did a good job. Then he said he was going outside to swim for a while, but would be back in when Dad got home. He said he'd see me when he came back in. And that was the last time I spoke to him."

She said it in a very matter-of-fact kind of way, just like anything else she might say in the course of a day. But it kind of ripped my heart out.

It made me want. It made me want things to be different. For just a minute, it made me imagine what things might have been like if he'd walked back out of that pool instead of drowning in it. It made me want so badly for him to have come in when his dad got home.

It made me see for the first time a little glimpse of what it must have been like for the kids that day; for him to have been there one minute, and the next be gone. It made me want to rewrite history, to go back in time and be home that day and not know what I know now. That death doesn't come when you're looking for it. It doesn't come when you're ready. It sideswipes you in a blind jab you can't see coming. It made me hurt and cry a million tears behind my eyes where no one could see.

And while I was bleeding from a thousand fresh rips in my scar, I smiled and drove and chatted with my kids. I pulled into the driveway at home and brought Katie's food in and handed it to her. I greeted the dogs and re-started the dryer to toss the wrinkles out of the clothes so we could start a new load. I sat down on the couch and turned on Dancing with the Stars.

Maybe it's still not a scar yet. Maybe it's a scab that has to be scrubbed away every once in a while so it can finally heal all the way, like a deep burn. I don't know.

I really do know where Nathan is, though. I'm just selfish enough to wish he was still here.

History is made

2010-10-18T11:02:00.000-05:00

Well, I've tried really hard. But I don't have anything to say.

I know.

Mark this day on the calendar. Somewhere on this wacky planet, right now, pigs are flying.

Can you say, "Mid-life Crisis"?

2010-10-11T15:09:00.000-05:00

Can I scream? I mean, if I run screaming down the street until I collapse in a blubbering heap, would that be bad?

I haven't heard a word about the reporting job. Nothing. Evidently the fickle winds of change are even fickler than I once thought.

What? What? What? What am I supposed to do?!?!?

On top of that, I got to visit my son and daughter-in-law and grandbaby and mom and sister on Saturday. The visit was fun, the family photos were frightening. I knew I'd gained some weight, but really? Wow. I have a new fat picture to post on my refrigerator:

Holy buddha and bloated bull frogs, batman. It's time for a change!!!

The fickle winds of change

2010-10-08T12:39:00.000-05:00

So, of course, just when I make up my mind to go back to school, yeah. Not going to happen.

I was offered a job as a reporter for the newspaper where I got my start five years ago. New editor. Different circumstances. Our situation is such that it would be silly for me to pass up a genuine job opportunity, but I wanted to at first. I was really looking forward to finally getting a formal education that would lead to a solid, well-paying career. But it seems writing is my destiny.

For now.

Don't blink

2010-10-05T12:11:00.000-05:00

I blink and nearly a month has gone by. Gone in a flurry of paperwork (the bank approved our offer to buy our house - now we're going through the loan process, which is BRUTAL), serious decision-making (I've decided to go back to school to be a nurse), studying for college placement tests (see "serious decision-making"), and the usual wife/mom/substitute teacher stuff.

My granddaughter is growing up faster than you can say "I never get to see her because I live so far away." My kids are almost all taller than me. And the phrase "stuck in the 80's" has been mentioned in my presence way too much for comfort lately. Not that I AM stuck in the 80's. It's just that more than two decades have disappeared while I was concentrating on raising my children.

So, yeah.

I found out this morning that Jeanne Felldin died last week. Jeanne was a member of the writing group I belonged to for a while. Actually, there were only three of us, with a few guest stars every once in a while. But for the most part, it was Jeanne, Bill and me. Jeanne was in her 80's five years ago, when we were still a group, a published author (as is Bill) and quite a lady. She had a way of coercing me into projects that didn't pan out. I learned a lot from her and I loved her, but eventually my inability to set boundaries made me withdraw from her completely. This also resulted in me withdrawing from our writing group. Unfortunately.

So, now I'm going back to school to be a nurse. Very practical of me. I still read author interviews and articles on writing and dream of being able to finish something. But dreams don't pay the bills, my friends.

And, apparently, I'm too old to make it in the Lingerie Football League.

Keep on swimming, swimming, swimming...

2010-09-07T12:53:00.004-05:00

Everybody should watch "Finding Nemo" again. I've seen this movie a bazillion times, and still get something new from it every time. Really.

This time, I realized I am Marlin, the over-protective, micro-manager dad who faces his worst fear when his only son is taken away right in front of his eyes.

Now, Marlin was fearful before his son even came along. His suspicion that the ocean was a big, scary, dangerous place was confirmed when his wife and all of their babies (but one) were wiped out in one fell swoop by a vicious barracuda. The only thing more scary than the ocean was the thought of his son out there - all alone - and life without him. So Marlin sets out on an impossible quest.

(Okay, there are a few differences between me and Marlin, but the suspicious, over-protective, micro-manager part is spot on.)

Right when Marlin thinks he's reached a dead end, he meets Dory. Exasperating, joyfully oblivious, Dory. She doesn't have much of a short-term memory, but she never lets that get her down. In fact, her ability to face life with an open heart and positive attitude is the very thing that keeps opening the way for Marlin to find his son.

(We could probably all do with some short term memory loss. Our memories of past failures and disappointments can be the very thing that keep us from experiencing new triumphs and joys. And by we, I mean me.)

But the part of the movie that got me this time was near the end, when Dory and Marlin are in the belly of a whale. Sound familiar? I know. They are in the belly of a whale and Marlin, even though it's been proven time and time again that Dory knows what she's talking about, refuses to listen to her. He is so convinced that he has to rescue his son through his own efforts, efforts that haven't exactly been working out so far, that he stubbornly holds onto the whale when he should be letting go. But he can't hold on forever. When he gets to the end of his strength, he has no choice but to let go. He finds himself in a free-fall, then he gets hurled up into the air, spins and falls again, back into the ocean. When the bubbles settle, he discovers he's right where he was trying to get the whole time. In spite of himself.

Isn't that good?

It always does

2010-09-01T09:00:00.000-05:00

I love my life. I am so blessed and fortunate to have my children and my husband. Every day when I wake up and let the dogs out and get the coffee going, my heart swells with the wonderfulness of it. The kids are settled in and enjoying school, Dalton is doing what he loves and has a great schedule (except for having to teach GED classes two nights a week.) Can anybody ask for better than that? :)

I've been struggling so much with what I should do, what I should be, do I go back to school, do I not go back to school, etc., I haven't even noticed that being who I am right now and doing what I'm doing right now is pretty great. The rest of the stuff is just going to have to sort itself out.

Pain is a four-letter word

2010-08-27T16:45:00.001-05:00

Since my baby is ten years old, I thought it might be time to start working off some of this baby fat. (Also, I discovered Netflix has workout videos.) So yesterday, I changed into my spandex/ lycra workout shorts, threw on a tank top over a support bra, laced up my new running shoes and propped up my laptop on the bedroom floor, workout video ready to go.

The dogs thought we were going for a walk because I'd put on my running shoes, so I spent the next ten minutes trying to get them to quit jumping on me. Treats worked. They spent the rest of the time snacking and laughing at me as I huffed and puffed through a thirty minute torture session led by a smiling, upbeat, size two Attila the Hun.

Now, in my mind's eye, I'm still the in-shape, sleek and slim model-type I used to be. Sure, I weigh about forty pounds more, but I carry it well. In fact, I look even better with a little meat on my bones, don't I? My bedroom mirror tells a different story. All through the workout, I kept catching glimpses of a pudgy, cellulite enhanced, gasping middle-aged woman. Where the heck did she come from? Would someone please tell me who stole my body and left this in it's place? The age and over-indulgence fairy, apparently.

Today, my muscles are so sore I can't move without saying "ouch" or "ohhhh" or "I'm an idiot." I opted for a yoga video instead of "Bikini-Ready in Four Short Weeks."

The only thing that's going to get me bikini-ready is a close encounter with a plastic surgeon.

Day by day

2010-08-25T15:14:00.000-05:00

My routine is kind of settling down into getting everybody off to school, laundry, breakfast, computer time, Food Network, lunch, dogs, more computer time and waiting for my family to get home. I'm trying to get as much reading and research done as I can now because, hopefully, I'll be substituting soon so my alone time will be coming to an end.

My love affair with the Food Channel is still in full bloom. Unfortunately, this has happened after my kids have developed a taste for frozen convenience foods and junk, so their palates are not digging my new penchant for fresh herbs and made-from-scratch recipes. If I could turn back time, I'd have loaded up my little darlings with fresh food from the start. As it is, I have to stoop to subterfuge with a little help from my food processor. What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen!

Land of the lost

2010-08-24T08:47:00.003-05:00

The kids and Dalt are back at school. I spent the usual three hours last night signing stacks of papers and reading class rules and expectations. The kids are happy with their schedules and teachers and Dalton is happy to be teaching strictly world history classes all day, no more computer tech courses. I told everyone Monday morning that I had a feeling this would be the best year ever, and it seems they've taken it to heart.

Yesterday morning I watched Julia Sweeney perform her one-woman play entitled "Letting Go of God." In it, she chronicles her journey from devout Catholicism to devout atheism. It's well written, entertaining, and very intellectually sensible. And at the end, I cried and cried and cried. It was like watching a born-again story in reverse. She has become an evangelist for atheism, and just like I felt after watching "Eat, Pray, Love," I know it could so easily have been me. That cynical, resolved, resigned woman could have been me, but for the grace of God.

What can I do? When I first became a Christian, it was so real and so personal and unique an experience to me that I was sure if I just told people about it, they would immediately get it. And a few did. But most just thought I was a crazy zealot. I've since learned to tread more softly. I try to follow the lead of God and plant seeds of Truth when the opportunity arises. My heart is broken for these lost people. But what more can I do?

I'm going to pray about it.

And that's all I have to say about that

2010-08-22T16:36:00.001-05:00

The kids go back to school tomorrow, Dalt went back to work last week, and I have no job prospects. What else is new?

I made a spectacular dinner last night. Sauteed fish with a butter lemon sauce, oven roasted garlic and rosemary new potatoes, and steamed broccoli - delicious! Dalton was gone on a fire call, so we didn't get to eat together. His was still good though, even warmed up in the microwave. I've also been making some super yummy donuts lately, from refrigerated biscuit dough. At least we've been eating well!

Waiting to exhale

2010-08-16T12:54:00.001-05:00

Zach's finally home for good from Iraq. He's been back in the States for a few days, but they had his exit ceremony today and he's with Ali and Alexa even as I write this. I kept telling him it would go by fast and, now that he's home, it seems like it did. But right up until yesterday, it seemed like forty forevers.

I've been holding my breath since last October. Breathing is better.

Pray, Love, Feast

2010-08-14T21:30:00.000-05:00

I'm in New Braunfels with Dalton. He had to come to a swift water rescue training class for the fire department. They hold the class in the Guadalupe and Comal rivers because they have relatively controlled swift water areas that are perfect for training. Several different fire departments have sent people down for it; there are three of our guys and about twenty in the class altogether.

It's beautiful here. I've gone down a few times to take pictures and I've really enjoyed it. It's been luxurious to be able to sleep in every morning and join the group at lunchtime. We leave tomorrow. I really want to come back soon with the kids. I think they'd love it.

I went to the movies today, by myself. Some people are bothered by doing things alone, but I don't mind. I learned to enjoy doing things alone when I lived by myself for a while in my twenties. I think every young woman should live alone for a while. You learn a lot about yourself that way. There's no one else's opinion that counts when you live alone. No one else's needs or wants conflicts with your own, so there are no excuses for not knowing what you want. Where do you want to go out to eat? What movie do you want to go see? What are you going to cook for yourself for dinner? You have to figure these things out, and sometimes it's not easy. But it's important. If you don't like being with yourself, who else would?

Anyway, I went to see "Eat Pray Love." It's the kind of movie I would have loved in my twenties.

I've been kind of casually following the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, since I saw a lecture she gave on writing a year or so ago. Honestly, I've been a little jealous because she had the balls to write a memoir on her experience and I can't finish anything. Well, I finally saw the movie, and like I said, I would have loved this movie back in my twenties. I was on a similar spiritual quest back then. Eeerily similar. I find myself grateful that I didn't have the money she had to take her quest to India because I might have done something similar and ended up on the wrong path forever.

Fortunately, I did not.

Instead, I met a wonderful woman who led me to the real Truth, got baptized in the swimming pool at a health club and have never been the same since. I keep stumbling down the path, but my Shepherd will never let me get lost again. I love Him. But He loved me first.

Love and loss

2010-08-08T12:22:00.002-05:00

As an amendment to my previous blog post, it occurred to me that everything I posted about my mom's negativity was pretty negative. That's pretty funny. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. :)

Last Sunday, one week ago today, we took a family trip to the lake with a friend of Dalton's who has a boat. It was a beautiful day for boating and we had a great time. On the way there, we were listening to Dalton's radio as we always do in the car. He's the assistant chief of our local fire department, so even if he can't make a call when it comes in, he likes to keep up with what's going on. A medical call came through for Tarkington First Responders, a 12 year-old having an asthma attack, not breathing, CPR in progress.

We didn't recognize the address, but it was a 12 year-old out here on the Prairie, so there was a good chance it might be someone Joe knew and went to school with. We talked about how unusual it was for an asthma attack to result in a CPR call and listened as two ambulances got there and performed CPR all the way to the hospital. They said the boy was breathing on his own, shallowly. Later on, Dalton called some of the guys and found out the boy didn't make it. Nobody had a name they could give us.

So, we had our day at the lake and it was a wonderful time. We took turns being dragged behind the boat on a tube/float and anchored the boat off a tiny island in the middle of the lake to eat lunch and swim for a while. We all laughed when a herd of tiny perch swarmed Dalton as he was sitting still in the water. They had a feast taking little nibbles off his back. He said it felt good, but he couldn't see that it looked like he was being attacked by a swarm of mini-piranhas. Joseph and Savannah swam with me and Joe kept grabbing handfuls of muddy sand to throw down our backs. By the end of the day our butts were dragging. We were exhausted and waterlogged, but it was a good kind of tired.

About an hour after we got home, Joe came out of his room holding his cell phone and crying. He handed me the phone and it was a woman who said she was a neighbor of the family of the boy who had died. She thought she was talking to me and had just blurted out that the boy who died was one of Joe's best friends. He had been at our house the previous week and Joe had stayed with him just a few days before. In fact, Joe had been trying to reach him on Saturday to see if he could come over. We were all in shock and heartbroken for Joe. He's been through so much for a 12 year-old.

It turns out the boy was staying at another friend's house and had a seizure out of nowhere. An autopsy was performed to find out the cause, but it will take a few weeks to get the results. It's suspected it might have been an aneurysm.

It's been a rough week. Joe cried a lot the first couple of days. So did I. It brought back a lot of the emotions from when Nathan died three years ago. Joe knows it's okay to cry and get it out, but grief is not an overnight process. He's stayed busy with friends and things, and we've talked some about it and have even started laughing again.

We know where our loved ones are and that we'll get to see them again someday. But, like I always say, when a little bit of light leaves this world, it takes a while for your eyes to adjust.

My mother, myself, my need for therapy

2010-07-31T20:33:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in my hand and two dogs beside me. I made a pretty good dinner tonight - pork chops with rice and gravy, green beans and corn. Of course, I did country fried pork chops dredged in flour, egg and Panko breadcrumbs. This is the south, after all. It was okay. Pretty quick and easy, which is a good thing because, for whatever reason, I'm super tired today. I've already had two naps and I feel like I could go to bed right now and be fine 'til morning.

My mom was here for almost a solid week, and I think some of this exhaustion may be from her visit. She's a bit of a difficult person to be around. And she would be shocked that I just wrote that.

Having my mom around is like a crash course in survival psychology 101: How to listen to and observe a person, without being sucked into their dementia.

Her conversational topics of choice are: Everyone who has ever done her wrong, what's wrong with them and the nature of their psychiatric illnesses; her long-suffering - and by long, I mean from her earliest childhood memory; her children and how they do her wrong and have ruined their lives (present company excluded, of course. I'm sure she saves her discourses about me for visits with other people); how perfect her relationship was with my dad who passed away 7 years ago (and who, by the way, was an alcoholic gambler she fought with and griped about almost every day while he was alive. I now completely understand why he was an alcoholic); and the state of politics and natural disasters which are the ruin of our future and the future of our children and grandchildren. Oh, and also how I let my children control me and run my life.

She also smokes and thinks it's ridiculous that people should be upset by her cigarette smoke, and that there's nothing wrong with lighting a cigarette on the way out the door, leaving a plume of cigarette smoke aroma to be dispersed by my central air unit throughout the house. Silly me.

The hardest part about all this is that she's my mom. I love her and know she means well. She loves her family and honestly doesn't understand why we don't all want to be around her more often.

I think the hardest thing about being an adult is realizing your parents are human, with human frailties. It used to be so easy when my mom was the center of the universe and everything she said was right.

Now, I just need some recovery time. And a lot more wine.

My hero

2010-07-29T23:08:00.003-05:00

It's been a relatively calm week after all of last week's disasters. Dalt's been gone to A&M fire school all week and my mom's been here since Monday. She's leaving tomorrow morning and Dalt will be back tomorrow afternoon.

It came as a bit of a surprise to me, but the grass in our yard didn't stop growing just because Dalt wasn't here. It still needed to be mowed. And there is a lot of stuff I don't know concerning lawn maintenance. I mean, sure, I help and ride the lawnmower. Woo-hoo, yippee-skippee. But we don't have a garage here, we have a storage shed. The riding lawnmower is stored in the storage shed and has to be backed out down a set of portable ramps. I couldn't even remember how to put the thing in reverse, much less back that sucker down a set of ramps. Plus, it needed gas - I don't know how to do that. Dalt's got 14 different gas cans out there, some mixed with this or that additive for whatever guy reason that defies understanding. The entire storage shed is one big testosterone filled mystery-land to me.

So, the grass still needed to be mowed. And I tried not to panic. And then, just as the situation seemed about as dark as dark could get, I was rescued. By my 12 year-old son.

Joe didn't even blink an eye when I asked if he knew how to put gas in the riding lawnmower. Before I could say "John Deere," he had that sucker gassed up, backed out and ready to go. Not only that, but he also gassed up the push mower and trimmed all the hard to reach places around the house, driveway and ditches that Dalt usually takes care of. And when it was all done, he charged that ramp like a Sherman tank and got the riding lawnmower back into the shed without breaking a sweat. I was so proud.

Joseph Kyle is my baby boy. He's quiet and smart and a good student. He's sensitive, funny and loves video games. But yesterday, for the first time, I saw him as a young man.

It was great.

Pooh, Day 2: The Saga Continues

2010-07-23T15:48:00.001-05:00

I woke up from a deep sleep last night, slightly before midnight. Not sure why I was awake, I decided maybe I needed to go to the bathroom. I went to the bathroom. That wasn't it. Maybe (I thought to my sleepy, panty and t-shirt wearing self) it's because Katie might not be home yet from her late-night run to Walmart with her very pregnant friend. I should text her and see when she'll be home and remind her to lock the door when she gets in.

I padded into the kitchen, so as not to disturb my sleeping husband, and tried to find a spot where I could get enough signal to text. We live in the boondocks. This not an easy feat. Finally, right over the kitchen sink, I got signal long enough to send Katie my "When the heck are you going to be home?" text. I flipped shut my phone, turned to set it down on the microwave, and felt water squish between my unassuming toes. Uh-oh.

Maybe somebody just dripped a little water there, right?

I looked down and there was standing water all along the baseboard of my sink, soaking the kitchen rug, and more was pouring out from under the cabinet. I blinked horrified eyes, flipped off the running dishwasher and, for just a brief moment, contemplated pretending I never saw any of it and going back to bed.

But I couldn't do it.

At first I thought the dishwasher had made the septic back up again, but when I looked under the cabinet it turned out that a pipe had disconnected and caused all the water from the dishwasher to freely pour out onto everything under my sink. Wow.

So, I got to pull everything out from under my sink and play midnight clean-up at the OK Corral. In my t-shirt and panties. (I hope the neighbors couldn't see in my kitchen window.) Katie got home a few minutes later. I locked the door myself.

Dalt got up this morning and fixed the pipes. The septic guys showed up and cleaned out the aerobic system. And I did not have the forethought to not let the dogs out while they were here. Dachshunds are not cute when they smell like raw sewage.

For the second day in a row.

:)

Pooh, and I don't mean Winnie

2010-07-22T17:20:00.000-05:00

So right in the middle of cooking dinner last night, the septic system decides to back up. I'm elbow-deep in homemade macaroni and cheese and frying beer-battered codfish when the kids run in and tell me there's water standing in my bathroom and the kids' bathtub. Great.

Did I mention it was raining outside at the time? Hard?

Dalt ended up borrowing his dad's sewer snake and getting things patched up until we can get the septic guys out tomorrow to clean the thing out. His wet-vac had been borrowed and not returned, so the kids and I had to use every towel in the house to sop up the two inches of water standing on my floor. Never mind that I've been telling him since we moved in that I thought the septic needed to be serviced and cleaned out.

Did I mention I'm really grumpy today?

My dinner turned out really good, but it was overshadowed by the lingering smell of sewer on my husband and dogs. I ended up having to totally sanitize my entire bathroom from top to bottom afterward while Dalt played KISS songs for me on his computer. It only took one bottle of wine to get me through it. Okay. A bottle and a half, but who's counting?

The kids washed the dogs, our rugs and towels are in the dryer and it's already time to cook dinner again.

Oh, happy day.

Movie night

2010-07-21T17:24:00.000-05:00

I picked up the kids yesterday at my mom's. Ali brought them from their dad's house, so I got to visit with her and the baby, too. Fun! Alexa is three months old now and is full of smiles and sweetness and crankiness after I hold her for about a minute and a half. She fights sleep. (I'm sure she just doesn't want to miss anything.) But I got to hold her after she went to sleep and it was just the best afternoon ever. Ali seems to be able to take my mom with a grain of salt, so that's a plus. (She probably takes me with a grain of salt, too. How funny! It's so easy to see the crazy in my mom without seeing it in myself.)

Last night, the kids all had friends over and Dalt had a fire department meeting, so I watched the movie "Arthur" again for the first time in a hundred years. I really enjoyed it! Dudley Moore was so perfect for that part, absolutely hilarious. But I'm sure that movie would never have been made in this day and time. The man drove drunk - a lot. And Liza Minnelli smoked in almost every scene. It actually made me want a cigarette. Come to think of it, I did smoke when that movie came out. Wow.

The night before, I watched a Japanese movie by a director I like, Ryuichi Hiroki. He's an artist as well as a filmmaker and I love the way he shoots a movie. The one I saw was about a lonely woman, obviously with some issues (she's a bulimic with a tendency to drink too much), who runs off for several days with a lonely truck driver she sees at a convenience store one dark, snowy night. The movie is quiet, which I like, and leaves a lot to the imagination, which I also like. The cause of our heroine's problems is only alluded to in a few flashbacks and the ending is not all wrapped up in a pretty bow. It was really like being a fly on a wall, watching two people experience each other while they travel together through a snow-covered, freeway-bound, Japanese landscape.

I liked it a lot.

But not really

2010-07-19T17:11:00.000-05:00

Dalt had to work a side job today and the kids are at their dad's until tomorrow (except Katie; she opted to stay home since she didn't want to stay the extra days), so it's just me and the dogs. Katie stays in her room except to eat, shower and do laundry.

It's been an uneventful day; a continuous loop of playing around on my laptop, watching the Food Network and munching. Peanut butter toast for breakfast, Lean Cuisine (tortilla encrusted fish and veggie/rice smothered in crushed red pepper flakes) for lunch and an orange and a handful of raw almonds for a snack. Maybe that will make up for the slice of cake smothered in ice cream and caramel sauce I'm planning for dinner.

Dalt's home now, napping with the dogs before he has to go to the fire station this evening for their regular Monday night meeting.

The house is very quiet.

I remember days when I had a teenager, a pre-teen, a second-grader, a toddler and a nursing baby at home. TV's blared, doors slammed, the phone was always ringing and somebody always needed a band-aid on something. I had been either pregnant or breastfeeding for an entire decade, I was certain the day would never come when I didn't have a child in diapers, and the phrase "What's for dinner?" could bring tears to my eyes. Sleep was just a cruel rumor and the only time I had to myself was the 10.4 seconds it took me to go to the bathroom.

Those were the days. :)

Who else could have invented strawberries?

2010-07-18T13:11:00.000-05:00

I just came in from helping my hubby do the yard. I got to ride the John Deere and go in circles, which is pretty fun, actually. I love doing a job where you can see a really big difference after it's done. I love that feeling of accomplishment. Even if it's just going to have to be done all over again in a few days.

Today, while riding that lawn tractor up and down, back and forth, plowing down row after row of grass-gone-wild, I had one of those moments of clarity. You know, one of those really "in the moment" moments.

For about five minutes, it didn't matter if we ever get to buy the house or have to move, it wasn't important that I wasn't finishing a book or didn't have some spectacular career or that I was never going to win a Mother of the Year award. For about five minutes, I just enjoyed myself. And it made me thankful.

I did a happy dance in my heart and was delighted that God had made me and the grass and the sunshine. I thanked Him for my life and my husband and my kids and the fact that I am His and He has all the best ideas.

Maybe those Zen guys are onto something.

It's all downhill from here, and not in a bad way

2010-07-15T16:15:00.000-05:00

This age of 44, for some reason, seems significant to me. I think I finally realize what it means to be "over the hill." And it's not a bad thing. You have to get to the top of the hill before you can go over it, and the view from the top of the hill ain't shabby. 44 feels like the top of the hill to me.

Of course, no one knows when they're going to die. It could be tomorrow, it could be 50 years from now. Whichever way, it's going to happen - that's for sure. But it seems to me that 44 is a pretty good age to stop for a minute and look around. Look back, look forward, and get your bearings.

When you're climbing the hill, all of your focus is on getting to the top, striving, working hard, figuring out which route to take, acquiring stuff you think you'll need. Sometimes your attention gets drawn to helping someone up, sometimes to passing someone by, sometimes to pushing someone out of the way. Occasionally you might stop to take a breather on a sunny plateau. But most days all you can see is the hill in front of you. All you can think about is the climb.

This feeling of being at the top, though. Wow.

Looking back, I realize that in all the striving and working hard, I've missed some good stuff. In all the figuring out which way to go, I've made some pretty bad decisions - wrong turns that could have been avoided if I'd allowed God to show me the way. (Still, going the wrong way for a while can be a powerful incentive to learn to consult The Map, can't it?) And I've found that a lot of the stuff I'd acquired, or thought I so desperately needed, was just extra weight holding me back. I see a lot of things I've done wrong and a lot of pain I've caused. But I also see the progress I've made, and it's pretty substantial.

Looking forward, I realize the view is much better "over the hill." As long as I keep my head up, I can see a lot more of the road ahead; as long as I keep my ears and heart open, the better I'll be able to hear His voice and know which paths to take. Going down the hill, there's a lot less striving and a lot more peace. And it's going to go by a lot faster.

Here's to enjoying the ride! :)

Food for thought

2010-07-13T19:59:00.006-05:00

So, how sad is it that I had no idea it's been so long since I last wrote?

It's been a wonderful summer though, full of serendipity and stunning realizations.

I've spent most of my days watching the Food Network. Oh the fun of it! My kitchen is now full of fresh herbs and veggies - I even have a bowl of fresh cherries perched on the bar, ready to eat by any passerby. I watch Julie & Julia at least twice a week, my new hero is Paula Deen and, I hate to say it, but those Neely's are so hot in the kitchen I find myself hunting down Dalton for a quickie after watching their show. And oh what I've learned! (From the cooking shows, not the quickies.)

First of all, did you know you're supposed to cook bacon low and slow, starting in a cold pan? Or that you can bake it on a rack in the oven and it turns out very lovely and crisp and the fat rendered from it is absolutely beautiful? I mean, you could drink it from a wine glass it's so clear and pretty! And the flavor it adds - WOW. I mean, really wow.

I've been surprised to find a lot of things cook better on a lower heat. I came from my mother's cooking school of high, hard and fast. My life is so much more relaxed since I learned eggs, pancakes and country fried chicken breasts all do much better on a lower heat. It's a revelation is what it is.

Also, herbs are best kept in a glass of fresh cold water on the counter. They last a really long time that way. I've learned not to buy anything unless I'm going to be using it in the next few days - no muss, no waste! It's wonderful not to be throwing away rotted vegetables and herbs I had high hopes for but never used. It's equally wonderful to have everything on hand for a quick herb-laced egg dish or new recipe. And just about everything tastes better with a sprinkling of rough-cut, Italian flat leaf parsley.

And the flavors - holy guacamole! I made a Paula Deen-inspired grilled cheese sandwich the other day that brought tears to my eyes. I used thick sliced bread, pepper jack cheese, crunchy bacon, avocado and this roasted red onion mayonnaise that... honestly, I don't have words to describe how amazing it was. Just - YUM.

There are a million recipes that stem from just a few basics. That's right. Learn the basics and you can fly! Sans recipe! What freedom!

Why didn't anyone ever tell me this before?

Same Bat time, same Bat place

2010-05-31T17:42:00.001-05:00

Yeah, so it's been a while. I was busy substitute teaching, then all the flurry and last minute activities involved with the end of the school year - plus my stepson graduated, which kind of snuck up on all of us. Now the dust is starting to settle and summer vacation is finally here. Except I really need to figure out what I'm going to do now.

In April, we were notified by the woman who owns our house (the same woman we have paid faithfully every month for the past almost two years and with whom we have a signed, 3-year lease agreement) that she will either have to sell the house fast or let it get foreclosed. She's really sorry, but because of her divorce she's evidently been living on our lease money intead of making her house note.

So now we're in a scramble to try to buy the house or find another place to live. My credit has some dings in it, some of which are not accurate, so I'm in the excruciating process of having those removed from my credit report. Dalton's credit is not so bad, but we have to use my income to help qualify financially. We also have to come up with a substantial amount for the down payment and closing costs and I still don't have a real job.

With the three kids at home (the two girls are so far apart in age and Joseph is getting too old to share with Savannah), we really need a four bedroom house, and those are not easy to come by out here on the Prairie. In fact, there's not much at all to choose from out here, four bedroom or otherwise, in our price range. But we have to stay here. The kids have gone through so much already in the past three years, I can't even consider switching school districts again. And Dalton lives and breathes the fire department and teaches at the high school. There's no choice but to stay here. Which leaves a great big question mark on where we're going to live. I hate question marks.

Also, I had recently, reluctantly, decided to go back to school in the fall, full time, to get a Bachelor's Degree in English with a Minor in Spanish. The idea was to keep my options open, but get my teaching certificate afterward if nothing else came up. I've been enjoying substituting, but I have the sneaking suspicion it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Even so, I'm 44 years old and I really need a way to make a living at this point. It was a tough decision to make because we would be getting into even heavier debt through substantial student loans, and it would involve a four year commitment on my part. Commitment is not my forte.

Well, it turns out the whole housing situation nipped the school situation in the bud, as we can't apply for a butt-load of student loans when we're trying to qualify for a home loan. I consider it a mixed blessing.

And through it all, I have an underlying peace that surpasses all understanding (and probably any good sense.) I really feel like God is working all this out and has a plan that's going to blow my feeble little mind.

I just wish I knew what it was.

Stay tuned.

Alexa Avery Litton

2010-04-20T14:36:00.001-05:00

On April 9, 2010, my first grandchild was born at 5:43 a.m. She weighed 8 lbs., 9 oz. and she is the apple of all our eyes. Zach stayed with Ali through the whole thing, what a concept!

I wish we lived closer! She's so sweet I just want to watch her all the time. Zach and Ali are doing a great job. She's a really good baby and it's fun to watch them be in love with their daughter. I am so proud!!!

A little tale

2010-04-05T21:02:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved nursery rhymes, fairy tales and all things Walt Disney. She adored her mom and dad, Mr. Rogers and birthday cake.

Every morning while she ate a bowl of steaming Malto-Meal she watched Speed Racer, The Three Stooges and Popeye, and in the afternoons she couldn't wait for Sesame Street and The Electric Co. on Channel 8. Tomato soup with crushed up saltine crackers was her favorite lunch.

She believed in God, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and Big Foot. Her favorite toy was a play medical kit with candy pills, a fake syringe and stethoscope, and she wanted to be a nurse when she grew up.

Nothing turned out the way she planned. But she still likes tomato soup and she still believes in God. And sometimes Big Foot, but don't tell anybody.

Grumpity-grump-grump-grump

2010-04-03T15:48:00.001-05:00

I'm grumpy today. I got some housework done, ate strawberries and Nutella and enjoyed some quality time with my husband earlier, but I'm still really grumpy.

Savannah will be 10 next Wednesday and usually we have a big birthday party for her the weekend before her birthday, but this year I encouraged her to choose a day at the mall with a friend instead. I thought it would be less expensive and we both would enjoy it more. I was wrong. It sucked.

Dalton ended up taking the girls shopping because I had to take Katie to get her septum pierced while we were in Humble (another long, horrible story.) They only went to one store, when the girls had their hearts set on a day of shopping, (Dalt, bless his heart, did the best he could.) I finally got there after they'd already eaten and then they had to wait on me to eat. The movie Savannah wanted to see was incredibly boring and then it was time to leave. Yippee-skippee.

So now I'm sad and grumpy and there's no cure in sight. I guess I'll just go eat worms.

Facing down the enemy

2010-03-30T21:03:00.001-05:00

I made a huge pot of chicken and rice for dinner and the whole thing is gone. Now I don't know whether to be happy I finally cooked something everybody liked, or annoyed because there aren't any leftovers. It's a conundrum.

On the bright side, I finally took my kids to the dentist today for the first time in seven years. That's right. Seven years. Once again, I lose my Mother of the Year award. It's the perfect example of one of my three birth defects, perfectionism.

When we moved here, I couldn't decided on a dentist for the kids. They had a perfectly wonderful pediatric dentist, Dr. Bogert, who'd been their faithful oral caregiver since Zach was four. It was traumatic enough that we lost their pediatrician who'd taken care of all my kids since Zach was a year old, I couldn't bring myself to trust my children to just any old dentist. So I procrastinated for seven years.

It could have been permanent procrastination, except that Katie is such a persistent little cud when she wants something. And she wants braces.

So, about two months ago I bit the bullet and tracked down a dentist in Conroe who's on the kids' insurance plan. I was not overly impressed by our initial visit. It's in an older residential house in a semi-commercialized neighborhood, but it was clean and the guy let all of us pile into one room while he checked everybody's x-rays and gave their mouths a once-over. I wanted all the kids to be able to be seen at the same time, so it took this long to get them in for their cleanings. It went well. And when we left, I had an epiphany. I realized that even if this dentist is not the end-all-be-all of the world, my kids had clean teeth, and that's ok.

As the old Russian proverb goes: Perfectionism is the enemy of good enough.

N'est-ce pas?

2010-03-27T17:12:00.000-05:00

So my wicked husband coerced me into taking a nap. Now, 2-1/2 hours later, I'm sleepy and walking around like a zombie and he's outside happily mowing the yard. He's actually chipper. Ugh.

He just got back from his trip tp Europe, chaperoning teens from the high school, and has decided we're going to retire in a suburb of Paris so he can be a tour guide. I love the idea, except I don't want to live that far away from my kids and grandkids. Maybe I will by then.

If not, they'll just have to come with us.

How I spent my spring break vacation

2010-03-22T22:17:00.003-05:00

Ok, so I guess I've been wallowing in bleak thoughts. Not anything you'd really want to read, trust me.

Dalton has been in Europe for the past 7 days. He's chaperone for a school trip to Rome and France and I miss him terribly. His plane gets in tomorrow afternoon, and not a moment too soon. I've been eating my way through loneliness and have gained 5 lbs. in a week. Not good.

On a bright note, I took my two youngest, Joseph - 12 and Savannah - 9, on a mini-vacation to Galveston. It was our first trip together, ever. And it was wonderful! On the first day, we arrived kind of late, so we just went to the store and bought snacks and things for lunch the next day and watched a movie in the hotel. Savannah was especially excited because she'd never stayed in a hotel before. Joe had been on vacation with my sister and her family, so he was an old hand at it.

The next morning we went to Schlitterbahn, an indoor waterpark complete with waterslides, floating river with waves, and all kinds of fun things to do. My favorite was the waterslides. You sit on an innertube-type float, poised at the top of a twirly, whirly pipeline into oblivion and a cute lifeguard shoves you off into the void. Then you're sliding down an enclosed, slippery slide, pushed along by water and gravity, and for a few brief moments you're given over to complete freedom. Swirling down a water chute, tossed back and forth in long gliding swoops, splashing and laughing and whooping out loud every once in a while when an unexpected dip takes your breath and makes your stomach drop out. Until you see the light at the end of the tunnel and it spits you out into the bright sunshine and all you want to do is get right back in line to do it again. I loved it.

The kids had a great time, too. We stayed most of the day and then dragged back to the hotel, exhausted. We watched another movie and thought we were settled in for the night, right up until Joe talked us into trying out the mini-golf course downstairs. Yes, we got up, got dressed, and played putt-putt at 9 o'clock in the evening. And it was pretty cold and windy. Savannah made the only hole-in-one, but I did pretty well for an old lady. Joe beat us both, of course.

The next day was our last on the island. We met up with my niece, T'Noya and her husband, John, for brunch, after some more putt-putt golf! T'Noya is a marine biologist works at the Moddy Gardens Aquarium, so she scored us tickets. We had a wonderful meal and Joseph, Savannah and I enjoyed the exhibits at the aquarium.

Of course, afterwards, Savannah insisted on visiting the beach. And who was I to tell her no? It was a little cold and windy, but to a 9 year-old, we simply could not be
on an island and miss going to the beach. So, exhausted and slightly chilled, we hit the seawall. I was mightily vindicated when my kids stuck one foot in the water and decided Momma was right. It was too cold for the beach.

I love it when that happens!

So that's about it. We headed home, stopped for a quick visit with my very pregnant daughter-in-law, Ali, and my mom, and made it back right after dark. It was great. I really have to figure out a way to make money so I can do this more often. Before they're too cool to hang out with their mom.

Puppy Love

2010-01-23T13:47:00.003-06:00

My dog Sophie had puppies back on December 29th - seven of them! The first month she was pregnant we thought she was just getting fat, but by the second month you could feel the tell-tale kick of little puppy feet. By the time she gave birth, her belly was just about dragging the ground. She's a mini-dachshund so her nursing puppies are getting so big they're almost swamping their poor momma.

Aren't they cute? We're still not sure who he daddy is, but they look suspiciously a lot like our standard dachshund, Buford. Even though he's fixed, he got a lot of action when Sophie was in heat. Yes, dogs who are fixed can still do it. I just can't believe he fathered the pups!

Anyway, they're all spoken for so far, so at least Sophie's foray into motherhood will make a lot of people happy. But this will definitely be the only batch of puppiness we'll be spreading around the world. Miss Sophie is getting fixed as soon as we can get her done.

Wake-up call

2010-01-20T11:34:00.000-06:00

Apparently, I've been sleep walking for a while. Figuratively speaking. Sequestered in a cocoon of self pity, wallowing in guilt and doubt and remorse with a walloping dollop of stagnation thrown in for good measure. And it's getting a little late to keep wasting time.

My 15 year-old daughter parroted back to me something I've thrown out as a "joke" quite a bit lately. And for the first time, I heard myself. And it woke me up a little.

I made a drastic decision over two years ago. In a very uncharacteristic move, for me, I threw caution to the wind and decided it would be better for me - and for my kids - to live honestly and true to myself. So I jumped off a cliff and took them with me. It was my attempt to finally stop trying to live up to what I thought other people expected of me and figure out what I expected of myself. A year later, I married a wonderful man and started a new life. But not really.

I haven't moved forward at all since then. Time has, though. It swirls around my ankles and rushes past me while I stand still.

Poor me, I can't finish a book. Poor me, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Poor me, I can't let go of grief and the past. What a load of crap.

I'm alive and healthy and intelligent.

Let's see if I can stay awake.

Not bad for 44

2010-01-05T19:52:00.002-06:00

Christmas was nice, New Year's Day was uneventful, my birthday was... well it was there, wasn't it? The best part was getting birthday hugs from my kids and buying myself a Nora Roberts' novel I wanted and the movie "The First Wives Club." Except when I watched the movie, I realized their ages were supposed to be around 46! I just turned 44. It is not possible that those women are my age.

I realized recently, in all my agonizing, mid-life self-examination, that I am the Forrest Gump of jobs. It's true. Following is the list of jobs I have held, to my best recollection, in the order I held them:

1. Jack-in-the-Box cashier
2. Telephone solicitor for home improvement company
3. Kinney's Shoe Store salesperson
4. Stay-at-home-mom
5. Video store clerk, then manager
6. Chiropractic assistant
7. Perfume salesperson
8. Administrative assistant for business management firm
9. Receptionist for labor law firm
10. Secretary/receptionist/adm. assistant for temp company
11. Adm. assistant/office manager for Japanese trading company
12. Bally's health club salesperson/trainer
13. Clinique counter manager
14. Stay at home mom again
15. Minister
16. Newspaper reporter
17. Radio announcer/news reporter/commercial writer/adm. assistant
18. Magazine writer
19. Magazine ad salesperson
20. Magazine publisher/editor
21. Walgreen's beauty adviser
22. Marketing director for a nursing home
23. Substitute teacher

Each job was a universe all its own with its own peculiar inhabitants. A cast of characters who became familiar to me, important to me. People I thought would always be in my life. Some still are, most aren't.

If variety is the spice of life, then I'm cayenne pepper.

Happy Holidays

2009-12-22T07:54:00.003-06:00

I'm going to the mall today. During the height of Christmas shopping frenzy. I hate shopping. My kids don't.

For some reason I don't remember now, I promised my delightful children - as part of their Christmas gift this year - to let them go shopping for their own clothes when school was out for the holiday. That promise has come home to roost today. Tomorrow always comes, doesn't it?

Also, our very annoying mini-dachshund, Sophie, chewed up Natthan's brand new $200 boots this morning and then pooped on my kitchen rug. Which got me out of bed at 7:30 on a morning when I should have been able to sleep until 10.

I'm going to get a cup of coffee.

That's what thoughts'll getcha

2009-12-19T13:53:00.004-06:00

This is the super-longest I've ever gone without posting. I thought about just giving it up altogether, but then I realized it's the only journal I have and I'm glad to have a record of my life. So, I'm back.

Actually, I thought I'd outsmart my husband and see how long it would take him to figure out I posted something new. I wasn't going to break down and tell him this time, I was just going to wait and see. Well, once again the man is twelve steps ahead of me. HE posted something new back on our anniversary in November, and again in the early part of December, and I'm just now finding it!!!

I've been substitute teaching, and trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and Christmas shopping, and slogging through life.

So sue me.

Tick-tock

2009-10-12T18:54:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I blinked and now it's the middle of October.

My days have been consumed by substitute teaching. I've worked almost every day since orientation. I have learned a lot. Mainly, that I prefer high school to any of the other grades. Oh yes.

The problem is it's only a stop-gap measure. I really have to find a permanent career. Really. Soon.

Update

2009-09-18T14:38:00.002-05:00

I went yesterday to orientation to be substitute teacher. It was okay. I have to spend 6 hours observing various classrooms before they put me on the official "sub" list. I've become such a couch potato, it's hard to imagine actually being someplace where I have to interact with human beings other than my family.

If this works out, it may be the catalyst for my decision to become a real teacher. That would be very practical of me.

But all I really want to do is sleep.

Mileage

2009-09-11T08:10:00.006-05:00

On this morning, eight years ago, I was driving my kids to school, listening to the radio just like we always did every morning. Zach was a junior at Milby High School, Nathan was in his first year at Chavez and Katie went to Patterson Elementary. Joseph was three years old and Savannah was in her car seat. It's funny how when you're in a routine, you think it will always be that way. That the life you're in at the time is the one you'll always be in.

We had dropped Katie off already and were headed to drop off Nathan when we heard on the radio that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. It perked our ears up, but we kept on talking about whatever we were talking about. My first thought was that a student pilot must have erred off course and crashed into the building. We let Nathan out and pulled back onto the road, and then the radio announcer said a second plane had hit. That's when I knew. I told Zach, "This is no accident. It's an attack."

When I got home that morning, I turned on the tv and watched the world change in an instant. I fed the babies, changed a diaper or two and did everything I usually did around the house every morning. Then I sat on the couch and watched buildings collapse and people die right before my eyes.

For a few days, I lived in a world that mourned and feared and was horrified together as one. For a few days, I lived in a country that was undivided. There weren't democrats or republicans or black people or white people or people who couldn't speak english. There were only my brothers and sisters. For a few days, I understood what it was to be an American, to be the member of a nation that is powerful and great and proud. And for a few days, I grieved for all that was lost.

The life I was in back then is not the one I'm in now. It's changed in ways I could never have imagined. I don't change diapers anymore or even have all my kids together under one roof. I don't live in the town where I was born and raised and always thought I'd live forever. I'm divorced and remarried, our house is in the country and we own a John Deere riding lawn tractor. I've experienced the death of my dad and my son and learned a different kind of grief. But I've had a lot of laughter and love and good surprises, too.

And the road just keeps rolling under my wheels. Sometimes I'm glad I can't see what's coming around the corner.

Progress

2009-09-05T16:30:00.003-05:00

I'm working on a crappy romance novel in hopes of getting something viable to make a little money off of. It's been in the oven for a couple years, but I pulled it out to see if I can make it less horrible. So far it is slightly less horrible.

I tried shopping around my column to some other newspapers. It was a resounding failure. Nobody cares what a middle-aged professional underachiever has to say about anything. I wasn't surprised.

I've decided that in my old age I want to become a white-water rafting enthusiast. I love being outdoors and I love water, so it makes sense. Now if I can only follow through, instead of dreaming about an ephemeral "some day."

I, I, I. I'm full of I's these days. Maybe that's my problem.

Rockin' the GP situation

2009-09-01T09:51:00.003-05:00

Okay, here's the thing, lest there be any misconception based on my last post. I am going to be a fantastic grandparent. Grandparenting is the ultimate reward (and revenge) for all those years of thankless parenting.

My kids may only remember that I broke a wooden spoon on their butts and the stuff I never let them do, but my grandkids are going to remember how much icecream I let them eat and how fun it is at grandma and grandpa's house. I can't wait!

I will play with them, watch cartoons all day and let them stay up way past their bedtime. When their mom and dad are being mean to them, they can call or come over and I'll listen with endless sympathy and baked goods.

At last I get be dessert, good cop, delightful partner in crime, the voice of unreason.

Oh yes, it will be good. (Insert evil laugh and much rubbing together of hands in gleeful anticipation.)

Happenings

2009-08-31T19:35:00.006-05:00

I accidently defrosted a turkey last week, so today we had Thanksgiving in August. It took all day, but I brined and roasted the turkey, made mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, dressing and gravy (that was a bit on the salty side.) I even made a chocolate Dream Pie for dessert. Color me dead-dog tired.

Last night Zachary told me that he is reconciling with Ali and she's pregnant. In short, I'm going to be a grandma in April. That's something you don't hear every day.

So, I invited them over today and we had Thanksgiving in August together. And we re-took our family photo for the Christmas cards this year.

Blah, blah, blah

2009-08-25T07:53:00.002-05:00

Home alone, day 2.

I had a pretty productive day yesterday. Dinner was pretty good. Getting up this morning was not pretty, at all. Savannah tried to stay home and it's only the second day of school.

Dalt has to teach a GED class tonight. He'll be doing it twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Which means he's gone 3 nights a week because of Monday night fire department meetings.

Fascinating, huh?

Not my best thing, change

2009-08-24T13:48:00.002-05:00

Everybody's back to school and it's just me and the dogs. I've spent all morning looking up writer's sites and screwing around with PayPal because one of the sites I found makes payments through them.

Things feel weird and different. The kids rode with Dalton to school this morning. It's the first time - ever - in 20 years of having kids in school that I wasn't the one to take them on the first day.

Times they are a-changing.

Sally Sunshine, Part 2

2009-08-19T22:56:00.003-05:00

Absolutely nothing new going on here. Anymore. I decided my exercise was stupid, so I'm not doing it anymore.

I took Katie to get her hair done today (thank you again, Monique!), and went to visit my mom and sister Terri while I waited. Terri had her grandbaby, Brooke, there so I got to play with her for a while. Mom said I was the best mom ever, besides her. I'm not sure quite how I feel about that. Aside from the fact that I feel like a pretty crappy mom, actually.

This weekend we're having a get-together at Mom's to celebrate her 71st birthday and to see Zach off to Iraq again. He's not leaving until Sept. 8th, but this is the latest we could get everybody together before he goes. We're going to take our family picture for Christmas 2009.

Dalt is going next weekend to the I-Chiefs convention in Dallas. The kids will be at Rob's, so I'll be home alone. Yippe-skippee. Every day his schedule is busier and every day it reminds me how empty mine is.

Something new

2009-08-17T13:05:00.003-05:00

The kids go back to school next week. Dalt went back today. I still don't know what I'm going to do.

I haven't been able to decide what to write, or finish anything, so I decided to try an experiment. I shut off my brain and just let my fingers start typing whatever came to mind. It didn't have to make sense or anything, I was determined to just let my fingers go and do whatever. It was originally intended to hopefully spark a story or just give me some kind of direction, but it didn't turn out that way at all.

I thought a story would come out, or just a string of words that didn't make sense. But what came out did make sense, kind of. I mean, there are punctuation marks and italics and capital letters, even complete paragraphs. On the first one I did, I even thought I was finished so I wrote the date at the bottom, but then more came. The second one, from yesterday, is similar to the first, but it really doesn't make as much sense and there were words I had to look up because I wasn't sure what they meant.

What does that mean? When I'm writing words in a context I don't consciously understand? Is this stuff that's in my subconscious? Is it from something I've read before that's stuck and is coming out this weird way? I don't have a clue.

I'm thinking about starting a new blog and posting these exercises. I don't edit them. They just are what they are. I am going to keep doing them everyday, though. Just to see what comes out next.

I call it "Free Flow."

Scrambled, again

2009-08-12T21:29:00.002-05:00

Ok, I realize I can't hide forever.

I've just been a little depressed. Still can't find a job, and you know what? I really don't want to. Of course I need to find a way to bring in some cash, but at the tender age of 43, I am sick to death of bandaid jobs. I only thought I felt old when I was pregnant with Savannah at 34.

So, I thought the solution would be to go back to school. Only the idea of 3-1/2 years of school, just to do something for a paycheck - something I don't really love - doesn't seem like the answer either.

I found out about a semester-long class at Cleveland High School to become a certified Phlebotomist. Bingo! Society approved vampirism? For a paycheck? No long term commitment? Count me in! Like, two weeks ago!!!

So, there went all my eggs - plop, plop, plop - into the Phlebotomist basket. Only when I went to sign up for the course, it had been canceled. And there went all my eggs - smash, crack, fizzle.

Oh well, time for another breakfast burrito!

Tawanda!

2009-07-31T10:35:00.004-05:00

Dalt is home and things are back to normal.

The kids start school soon and I still don't have a job. I was thinking about going back to school to become a teacher so Dalt and I could have summers and holidays off together. Three years of school seems like an insurmountable mountain, but at 43, I need to finally do something practical with my life. I guess.

My mom came for a visit, and all that entails, while Dalt was gone. I wrote a little about it in my column for the MCN site.

I recently read Erica Jong's "Seducing the Demon: Writing For My Life." Her politics almost stopped me from reading it in the first few pages, but her writing tips and encounters with men kept me going through to the end. It appealed to my inner feminist, which isn't a ranting, man-bashing, women-are-superior being. It's more like something big inside of me that relates to my sisters and our shared experiences that are not often spoken out loud.

Erica's book challenged me, and awakened me, to the possibility of being honest in my writing. I didn't even realize I had painted myself into a corner by trying to fit what I have to say into a tiny, neat little package that would be pleasing, polite and acceptable to all. No wonder I can't figure out what to write.

Now what to do with this revelation?

I have always felt a connection to women and a desire to tap into the consciousness of girls so they can realize their self worth, to stand up for themselves, to get mad as hell when it's appropriate.

My own experience has been that there are certain behaviors that are tolerated. It's just the way things are. Every woman I know has been subject to the same conditioning, or a variation of it. The relative that cops an innapropriate feel, the date that went way too far, the teacher or mentor who crossed a line that shoudn't have been crossed. "It's just the way things are," "Don't worry about it," "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Surely we did something that either caused it to happen or excuses the perpetrator. Let's just not talk about it.

You know what? Let's do.

Summertime

2009-07-19T12:37:00.010-05:00

Dalt just left for A&M fire school. He'll be gone for a week. Which will go by really fast, I know, but right now it seems like a long time.

We've spent a lot of time together this summer - more than I expected, really. You'd think I'd finally start getting sick of him, wouldn't you? Instead, it feels like he's grown into me, like he's an actual part of my body.

We wake up together, have coffee, do chores, eat, grocery shop, play computer Monopoly, mow the grass, cook, taxi kids around, wrangle the dogs, dream about our future, watch our favorite t.v. shows and an occasional movie, and sleep together. Sometimes we even shower together. Sure, he's got fire department stuff to do that doesn't involve me, and I've been doing the job search/writing thing, but the rest of the time we're an "us." I like it.

Our summer project has been watering trees.

Just before school let out, Dalt was asked to use a fire truck to water some new trees that had been planted around the high school campus - not a big deal, he was told, just once a week after the ground starts to get real dry. Right.

Turns out we're having the driest summer in years. It also turns out "some" new trees are really about a hundred new trees peppered all around the school grounds and outlying field.

Dalt kind of forgot about them until the third week of summer, and by then they were really dry. He took Natthan with him the first couple of times, but Savannah and her friend Jacey wanted to go one morning, so I tagged along.

Our first mistake was getting a late start. We got to the fire station to pick up the booster truck a little before 10 a.m. and it was already starting to get hot. Booster 51 is a brush truck that holds about 250 gallons of water; a few of the trees were already dead and they were all parched, so we had to refill three times to get them all watered. By the time we finished, it was high noon and we were sunburned and dead tired. I had to take the girls home halfway through it because it was so friggin' hot.

Two things were obvious from this miserable experience: the trees were going to have to be watered twice a week, and we were going to have to start early to beat the heat. The early part was enough to inspire Natthan to opt out.

From there, it became our Monday and Thursday routine. Up at 6:30 a.m., throw on our clothes, grab Savannah because she loves to go with us, and get out the door by 6:45. Run to the fire station, get the Booster and be at the high school by 7 watering trees. Savannah and I ride on top of the truck and man the hose, Dalt drives. It's slow, painstaking work, but surprisingly satisfying. We're usually done by 9.

This past week, we got off track a little. We watered Friday morning a week ago because we got a little rain on Thursday. Then, because it had been overcast and sprinkled a few days, we waited a whole week before watering again - going on Friday evening instead of the morning. The trees looked pretty bad.

We took Tanker 52 (which holds 2500 gallons of water) because we got such a late start; it saved a lot of time and energy not having to refill. Savannah was at her dad's; I rode shotgun and manned the hose while Dalt drove. It was after 10 when we got back to the station to refill and we had used almost all the water, but I think from now on we'll use the tanker every time. Savannah might be sad because we'll have to ride in the cab, but it was just a lot more efficient.

Yesterday evening we drove by to see how our trees are doing. They looked a lot better. But with Dalt gone, it'll be another week before they get water again.

Anybody know how to rain dance?

And that's no yolk

2009-06-30T12:25:00.004-05:00

I love to watch the show Jon & Kate Plus 8. It's a family show and something Savannah and I enjoy watching together.

It comes on Monday nights, which works out perfectly because Dalt has fire department meetings those nights, so we get to settle down on the couch with our throw blanket and popcorn and see what those rascally sextuplets are up to every week.

Only it's been pretty sad lately.

When I first saw the rumors of a troubled marriage and tabloid pics in line at the grocery store, I was quick to write it off as trouble-mongering by the press. But then this season started, and Jon and Kate were doing separate interviews on the couch. Savannah asked me about it, but I said the stories probably weren't true because the press likes to exaggerate things so they can sell magazines.

Then last night we watched the repeat of last week's show where Jon & Kate announced they were separating and it said they had filed for divorce, so I couldn't avoid the sadness anymore. Or Savannah's questions.

We talked about divorce and where the kids would go and what would change for them. Unlike my kids, they are going to get to stay in their home and keep their dogs and not have to go through what we did with the move and everything. Savannah said she misses our old house because it had a pool, and I told her that was a normal thing to feel. Then we talked about the good things in our life now.

I feel very sad for Jon & Kate and their family. They are people I don't even know, but I know what they are going through. I know what it feels like to face an unknown future you never thought you would, but you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep on going anyway. I know what it's like to have to shrug off the comfort and security of familiarity because the status quo could not continue if honesty was to be addressed at all. And I know, utterly, the all- encompassing, gut-wrenching guilt of dragging your innocent kids through it all with you.

The other thing I know is that there are no completely innocent or completely guilty individuals when it comes to divorce.

Marriage is hard work. It requires intense (sometimes uncomfortable) levels of communication, compromise, support for each other, selflessness and stubbornness -- the stubbornness borne of not accepting defeat. And it takes two for that. Both people have to be able to see themselves and each other as imperfect, flawed creatures who need grace and forgiveness on a daily basis.

That's the key to every relationship really, isn't it? Realizing we all fail, we all need help, and God made all of us. If He can forgive us and go forward, we certainly should be able to forgive each other. But as it turns out, we even need His help for that. (See the above "flawed creatures" reference.)

At any rate, you can't unscramble an egg. You just have to throw some cheese on it, slap it on a flour tortilla and accept the fact that it may not be what it once was, but it still tastes pretty darn good.

Perspective

2009-06-24T19:53:00.002-05:00

So, today I went swimming with Savannah. We dove after rings and played Marco Polo and floated and did underwater handstands.

It was a nice break.

For a little while, I didn't think about unemployment or going back to school or what the heck I'm going to do.

Just a little while.

Taking time to smell the nail polish remover

2009-06-18T12:28:00.003-05:00

Yesterday morning, as I sulked and ate a piece of leftover fried chicken and watched Anthony Bourdain on the Travel Channel - in Katie's room, mind you, because she was gone and I wanted to be alone - Savannah brought me a bottle of fingernail polish and asked me to do her nails. My schedule isn't exactly busy these days, so I said yes.

We settled on the floor with a roll of toilet paper, nail polish remover, nail polish and that quick-dry stuff you put on afterwards so the polish doesn't get messed up. I meticulously cleaned off all the old polish on each tiny nail. We chatted and watched Anthony in Bali and then Andrew Zimmern eating disgusting food in Uganda.

I stroked bright fuchsia enamel on my little girl's nails, one by one, until they were all finished. Then, went back and went over them with the quick-dry nail stuff. She was thrilled. I hadn't realized that I'd been so busy, I've never painted her nails before. They were gaudy and bright and almost as beautiful as her smile when she looked at them.

It was a good day.

What's in a game?

2009-06-16T23:20:00.005-05:00

A few months ago I was in the toy section of Walmart looking for something fun my family could play together. We already had cards and dominoes and stuff like that, but I was looking for something more along the gameboard genre.

Then I saw it. Sitting there on the shelf, staring right at me. A little flutter tickled my heart and filtered down into my tummy and I got so excited I almost forgot I was a grown-up. It was Life.

When I was a kid, I had ALWAYS wanted to play that game. For some unfathomable reason, my parents never got it for me as a Christmas or birthday gift. A few of my friends had it shoved up in the top of their closet or crammed under their beds or in the farthest reaches of a ten-foot tall bookcase. But, inevitably, whenever I asked if we could play they would say the pieces were missing or it wasn't fun or it was too hard to figure out.

So there I was, at the tender age of 43, face to face with Life, and there was nothing to stop me from buying it. Life was going to be mine at last!

I grabbed it off the shelf and proudly payed for it at the register, marched it out to my car and brought it home. Where it has sat on the chest at the foot of my bed, unopened and virtually ignored.

Until today.

There were four of us in the house this afternoon - my 17 year-old stepson and his girlfriend, my 11 year-old son and myself. I asked Joe if he wanted to play and pretty soon Natthan and Megan were saying they wanted to play, too. We assembled the game board, read the instructions and had a blast! I love this game!!!

At first I thought it was pretty convoluted, there were so many cards and money issues and stuff. But as we played, it really all came together and was very fun. We played twice in a row, even though the first game was interrupted by me having to go pick up the girls and dinner.

Just as I always suspected, I love Life!

Love, Sally Sunshine

2009-06-14T16:31:00.004-05:00

Zachary came over and played cards with us a few days ago. It was so good to see him. He bought a new car and was proud to show it off. A 2007 Nissan 350 something-or-other special edition 6-speed. Red. Two-seater. Pretty cool.

Did I mention he's getting deployed in October for a year? Yeah.

I guess tomorrow I'll have to seriously start looking for a job.

You want fries with that?

The third day of the rest of my life

2009-06-10T10:49:00.003-05:00

Well, I've slept and cried and eaten large quantities of complex carbohydrates. I've thought about things and realized things and slapped myself around a little bit. So I guess now it's time to get on with the show.

Last Sunday marked two years since Nathan's been gone. It occurred to me that two years passing means that I should be over it, healed. Dalt says he doesn't think a person ever gets over something like that. I don't know. Sometimes I'm fine and sometimes I'm not. I know where he is though, and I'll get to see him again. Mourning is for the living.

Time for another cup of coffee.

I'm back

2009-06-08T21:06:00.003-05:00

So, yeah. I got fired today.

I threw myself so far into this job that I completely quit writing. Quit doing anything on the web, really, except check emails and look up quotes for the "thought for the day" to add at the end of my daily faxes to the hospitals.

And I got fired.

There was a force at work there I don't think I'll ever truly understand. I only know for certain that I did the best I could, and I did a good job.

I guess I'll be writing again, but it feels odd. We'll see what happens, won't we?

In the end, nobody takes over the world

2009-03-07T16:32:00.003-06:00

Ok. So my last post sounded pretty negative. Kind of. I really don't harass people, it can just feel that way sometimes.

The truth is, for the first time in my life, I see the bookend at the end of my shelf. I have lived my life, such as it is, for the moment - the short term. Always in the present, never really contemplating the future. Of course, I think about the future, but in terms of next week or next year. Not in terms of when I'm 80 or 90. So far, life has been an open-ended odyssey to me, but now I have become aware of the fact that it is not open-ended at all. I have seen the bookend at the end of my shelf. On this earth, I am finite.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing.

This past week at the Center, I have met several of our residents (the large majority of whom are elderly.) For the most part, they are bright and friendly and not used to being smiled at by strangers. It seems that advanced age strips away the necessity to hide one's true feelings behind a neutral mask of politeness. They drag their eyes to me at first then look away fast, waiting to see if I'm friend or foe. Then I flash them a bright smile and with relief they smile right back. It's the best. It feels good.

I toured a Dementia/Alzheimers assisted living facility one day last week. It was a beautiful place. Plants and lovely dark wood furniture accented by large, soothing pieces of artwork filled the common rooms and offices. Spacious bedrooms were guarded by large curio cabinets outside their doors. The curio cabinets are called "memory boxes" and contained framed pictures of the residents and their families, memorabilia and trinkets from their lives before their brains were invaded by a memory-destroying disease. The cabinets were reminders. Reminders for visitors and staff of who the person once was, and reminders for the person who lives in the room that it's their room. Sometimes they forget and get lost.

My new job is challenging. It's hard to see mortality staring me in the face every day, the possibility of a dubious end. But it's making me a better person and I get to help people.

There's no better gig than that.

My plan to take over the world, Part 1

2009-03-02T20:05:00.003-06:00

So, wow. I've really fallen down the rabbit hole this time.

The universe I have entered is one of the aged and the infirm. The world on which I have landed in this alter-universe is that of the long term health care industry, also known as a "SNF" (pronounced "sniff) - Skilled Nursing Facility, also known as a nursing home.

My task is to fill the beds, by hook or by crook. I am the marketer. I harrass hospital case workers and floor nurses, doctors and their staff, all in an attempt to get them to send us "referrals." I hold luncheons and give gifts, attend seminars and meetings, pass out business cards and brochures, all in attempt to increase the "census." The count of "heads in the beds."

And it's still better than working at Walgreens.

To be continued.

Happily Ever After

2009-02-23T20:18:00.003-06:00

I am free of Walgreens! Hurray!!!

Today was the first day at my new job as admissions coordinator/marketing director of Cleveland Health Care Center. So far, so good.

It was wonderful to be able to come home this afternoon, cook dinner and relax afterwards with Tony Bourdain and the Travel Channel.

It feels strangely odd to have a normal occupation again.

Odd, but enchanting.

God is not surprised

2009-02-16T21:49:00.002-06:00

Lorna is in the hospital. She had undiagnosed high blood pressure and diabetes. I spoke with her when she went in on Friday afternoon. She was in good spirits. She'd had a minor stroke but fully expected to be released on Saturday. Then Saturday morning she had another stroke while she was still in the hospital. She is paralyzed on her left side now. They expect that she'll recover somewhat, with a lot of hard work and rehabilitation.

I went and saw her yesterday. She was in and out of it. Her speech is slurred and she had a hard time trying to speak clearly, trying to find the right words. I feel utterly helpless.

Her family is talking about taking her back to the Bahamas. It makes me so sad. She was just here a couple of weeks ago. We visited and laughed and watched tv together.

I'm tired of life throwing me curve balls.

A walk on the vile side

2009-02-08T22:15:00.004-06:00

Not very long ago, on a bright sunny day, my delightful husband and I were driving along in the car, enjoying each other's company. We have a mature, committed relationship, as well as a healthy respect for each other's wants and needs.

At least that's what I thought.

Shortly into our journey, I began to smell a noxious odor in the car. Subtle at first, the stench soon began to permeate the interior. I feared a dead animal had become lodged under the hood and the evidence of its decomposition was coming through the a/c vent.

Sniff. Crinkled nose. "I smell something. Do you smell something?"

He began to snicker.

"Oh my God. Did you fart?"

He burst into laughter and I knew. The honeymoon was over.

Frantically, I began jamming the down button on my window, but nothing happened. The odorous stench was growing like a nuclear mushroom cloud. And the windows were locked shut.

"OMG - I can't roll down the window!" Panic set in as I feared loss of consciousness. It was either laugh or pass out. I couldn't help it. I started laughing, too.

He was driving and the unlock button was on his side, but at this point he was laughing too hard to press it. He was laughing so hard, it was all he could do to keep the car on the road. Tears began to stream down his face and mine too. I couldn't tell if it was from the laughing or the noxious vapor enveloping the two of us.

The smell was so bad, it was even starting to get to my DH. He helplessly started slapping at the window controls until his own window rolled halfway down. His own window! My screech was enough to send him into another fit of laughing hysterics.

Thankfully, his love for me is so great, he finally got himself together enough to unlock my window. And my love for him is so great, he survived with his manhood intact.

We may not have a mature relationship, but we are definitely committed.

Or at least we should be, anyway.

Baring a vein

2009-02-02T20:58:00.003-06:00

I started writing a new column for The Montgomery County News. It's called To Be Perfectly Honest and I guess my first entry is about as loud a statement as I can make about how much I dislike my current job situation. And probably proof positive that I should not be inflicting my current state of mind onto the world.

One person who read it said, "It's probably okay for The Montgomery County News... but it could get back to where you work." She went on to say that I should inject humor into my writing in order to get away with what I had to say and that I should continue writing because "it's therapeutic."

Wow.

That's about as clear a message I can get that I'm so far gone and out of touch I don't even know what I'm writing anymore.

I had to really think about her first comment before I decided I really don't care if what I wrote gets back to my job. But the part that got to me was the humor thing. I thought I had written the piece with my tongue firmly planted in cheek, but instead I guess it came across as bitter. And now it's out there for everyone to see.

Oh well. The name of the column is "To Be Perfectly Honest." And I was. Maybe it's time for someone to lay it out there. Even if it's wrong.

The link is on my sidebar - you can read it for yourself.

Whatever works

2009-01-21T14:01:00.002-06:00

My friend Lorna apologized in her blog for venting her dark feelings in it. To be honest, that is exactly why I have stopped blogging. I barely have the energy to get out of bed, much less write anything entertaining.

I am constantly tired, constantly disgusted with myself, constantly whining. And while all of that is pretty consistent, I also have plenty of vacillation going on between job choices and what I want to be when I grow up.

Wow. Not exactly stuff you want to write for posterity.

So, I don't write at all.

Which is a shame, really. Because someday I am going to stop whining, get off my ass and make something happen. And when I do, I'm going to look back at this blog and see how far I've come.

Hang in there, Lorns. We love reading what you write, no matter what it is.

And now, I have to get ready for work.

More Morass

2009-01-14T13:08:00.002-06:00

I have to work from 3 to 10 pm tonight. I hate it. I hate being away from my kids at night. But evidently I don't hate it enough to find another job.

Joseph told me the other day that I should think about the things I like about my job so it wouldn't be so bad.

Smart kid.

Not a lot, but at least it's something

2009-01-12T20:57:00.003-06:00

Well, I turned 43 on January 4th. Zach and Ali came up and brought me a card and a birthday cake. They shot some fireworks with the kids and it was nice.

My Christmas tree is still up and I've been sick with some sinus crud for a few days.

Obviously, I haven't been blogging every day.

I am really tired a lot lately and don't have much to say.

Woo-hoo! Yay me, I'm 43.

Possibilities

2008-12-29T21:14:00.005-06:00

A new year and my birthday are both looming on the horizon. I can always remember how old I am because the Superbowl and I are the same age.

When I was about four months pregnant with Zachary, I looked at my sideways profile in the mirror and tried to imagine what it would be like with my belly stretched tight, full of baby. I thought the day would never come. Then, when the day did come, I felt like I'd been pregnant forever and would forever be pregnant.

The morning they induced me, I looked at my sideways profile in the mirror, patted my tight belly and told my baby I would miss the two of us together that way. Now he's almost 24. Older than I was when I had his little brother.

These days when I look at my sideways profile in the mirror, I imagine it's about time to stop drinking so much beer.

What? It could happen.

Hero is a four-letter word

2008-12-28T21:47:00.002-06:00

I had a great Christmas and a very sick husband for a few days. I wish I had something insightful to say about all of that, but insightfulness has left the building.

Tomorrow starts a new work week. My kids are home and I wish I could stay home with them. (And the aforementioned recovering husband.)

But I can't.

Apparently, there are people in the world who need me to ask if they need help finding anything and to ring up their purchases.

Yay me.

Fleeting Moments

2008-12-23T22:30:00.002-06:00

I was at the mall today with my 8 year-old daughter, Savannah. We never go there because the mall is a good 30 minute drive from our town and we usually don't have money for casual shopping. I forget how fast time flies for me but goes by slowly for the kids. To me, it hasn't been that long since we were there, but for Savannah it's one of the few times she's been there her whole life.

We walked through quickly and she had a happy look on her face the whole time. She chatted with me while we stood in line at Sears and it made me realize how young she is and how I'm missing this time that will never come again because I'm too busy.

On the floor below us there was a long line of kids waiting to get their picture taken with Santa. Savannah talked about how long it was and how long it would take to stand in it and how expensive it would be. I asked her if we had more time would she want her picture taken with Santa. She said no, she was getting too big for that. I'm not sure if she really felt that way or if she was trying to be brave.

I love that she still looks at me with love and trust and fondness. She still holds my hand through the stores and believes I'm the mom and I know what's best for her. Katie doesn't look at me that way anymore.

This Christmas Savannah still believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy and me.

I'll take what I can get.

M is for Morass - and who wouldn't love morass?

2008-12-16T10:53:00.003-06:00

I keep sitting here on my days off, fingers poised over the keyboard, knowing I have to try to make something work writing-wise, and nothing happens.

I don't know what to write. I'm frozen. Stuck. Without direction.

There are at least 1,473 beginnings of stories on my computer, and nothing finished. My family and friends have been waiting most of my life for me to realize my potential. And I don't know what the hell it is.

Joseph, my 11 year-old son, told me yesterday that he thinks people should find what they're good at and make that their career. Then he added that I'm good at everything I do. Pretty to think.

Scary to realize my kids are witnessing my mess, and paying attention.

Just an observation

2008-12-15T21:23:00.001-06:00

You know what my favorite thing is?

When someone says, "I read something interesting today," and then takes a few gigantic bites of food.

That's a cool feeling.

And just slightly over minimum wage

2008-12-14T22:10:00.002-06:00

Well, I've been working all weekend. I am t-i-r-e-d. In the immortal words of my good friend, Nic, "My feet hurt all the way up to my ass." True that.

I often wonder what my tenure at Walgreens is supposed to be accomplishing in my life. I stand for long hours at a time. I put new sales tags up and rip old ones down, week after week. I unload crates of merchandise and stock shelves. I repeat phrases over and over again like, "Is there something I can help you find?" and "When you're ready to check out, I can ring you up right here in cosmetics with no wait." Really deep stuff.

In the last two days I've met a retired paratrooper with the 82nd Airborne who served in Vietnam from 1960 to 1968 (in the Navy, Marines, and finally the Army 82nd), a 95 year-old man who was surprised to have lived for so long, and the foster mom of a three month-old crack-baby suffering from horrible colic. I've helped a middle-aged man find fragrance sets for his entire family (two kids in college, his son's girlfriend, his daughter and his wife), an old lady pick out nail polish colors "young people would like," and a young lady pick out a gift for her 87 year-old grandmother.

I have been flirted with, condescended to, snapped at and ignored. I have been thanked, blessed, smiled at and appreciated.

It's not just a job. It's an adventure.

Snow White

2008-12-12T14:38:00.003-06:00

So much for posting every day...

In my defense, it has been a thrilling last couple of days. I've been working nights, which sucks, from 4 to 10. Just enough time to make as little money as possible and still not get to see my kids. But on Wednesday night while I was at work, it started snowing! It was beautiful.

I thought it would just be for a few minutes, but it kept snowing and snowing until finally, by the time I got off work to head home, the ground and cars and bushes and trees were covered in about two inches of white, powdery snow. When I got in my car it felt like I was in a cave because the thick layer of snow insulated everything. I rolled down my window to shake it off and a ledge of snow fell onto my front seat. Not too smart. I laughed and dusted it off and for the first time in my life, I drove home with three inches of snow on my hood and big, fat snowflakes coming straight at me.

My neighborhood looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting when I got home. Dalton was gone on an MVA call, (motor/vehicle accident), but was already wrapping things up and would be home soon. Natthan met me in the kitchen and I made him come outside and look, then I grabbed a handful of snow off the hood of my car and hit him with it. We threw some snowballs at each other and ran inside to wake up the kids. Joe came out of his room wrapped in a blanket and came outside with us to see; when we started pelting him with snow, he ran in to change and we got Savannah out of bed. Katie came out for a few minutes, but then she was content to raise her bedroom window and take pictures from inside.

By the time Dalt got home, we were in full snowplay. The boys were rolling a gigantic snowman and I had a stockpile of snowballs ready to pelt him. We ended up playing in the snow 'til after midnight and I let the kids stay home yesterday.

My drive to work yesterday morning was... incredible. Snow still covered everything. The sun was bright and the sky was blue and even the ugliest landmark looked beautiful under a regal white blanket. My drive takes me down a wooded country lane and it was absolutely magical, all frosty and sparkly.

By 9:30, the snow was gone like it had never happened. But it did. I have pictures and memories to prove it. And a few snowballs still in the freezer.

Mommy Dearest

2008-12-09T10:29:00.005-06:00

There's a girl at work who's a long story I don't feel like telling right now, so I'll try to give you the Reader's Digest condensed version.

Her mom has drifted in and out of my life since we were in second grade together. I first met this young lady when she was a newborn baby, then again when she was about three and had a new little brother. She was precious and starved for affection and approval. I didn't see her again until she was 15 or 16, then again when I attended her baby shower when she was 17. She's 21 now, a single mom with a 4 year-old daughter. In a turn of events that could only have been engineered by God, she helped get me the job at Walgreens and we work together in the cosmetics department - in fact, as the Senior Beauty Adviser, she's kind of my boss.

Ironic doesn't quite cover this one.

She is a big woman, about 5'9, and weighs about 310. She would be above-average pretty if she'd ever get the scowl off her face, and has beautiful, thick chestnut brown hair she keeps tied up in a messy knot on her head. She is bitter and angry and lives for drama, which she keeps stirred up constantly by eavesdropping and gossiping. She bustles around in a pretense of busyness and surrounds herself with a shield of bad attitude. In the one honest moment we've had together, I asked her if she missed her friends from Dallas (after living in Dallas for about 11 years, she and her mom moved back last spring). She looked at me with big brown sad eyes and said, "I don't have any friends. And I don't know why."

She honestly doesn't get it.

The point to all this is that she blames her misery on her mother. Every woman, sooner or later, comes to the day where she thinks everything that is bad in her life is because her mom screwed up raising her. It occurs during that time in life when we've lived long enough to be sure that we know everything, but not long enough to see that we don't know anything and most of what we do know is wrong.

The kick in the pants is the day we see the mistakes we've made as moms, and realize nobody's perfect. We're all just doing the best we can. We may not screw up the way our moms did, but we make a whole new mess of things. And when our kids grow up, they may not make the same mistakes we did, but they'll screw up, too.

At some point, we'll all get to the day where we don't blame anybody anymore. And hope when the blame comes our way, the grace we give to our moms comes back to rest on us.

Lost and found, kind of

2008-12-07T21:19:00.006-06:00

We had the fire department banquet last night. It was pretty fun. The food was really good (I had fried shrimp and a huge baked potato), and Dalt won the most runs made over the year. Woo-hoo!

On the way home we stopped at Walmart for a few necessities. Dalton had to go to the bathroom when we were leaving, so he gave me the keys and said he'd meet me at the car. No problem, right? Except when I got out to the parking lot, I had absolutely no idea where we'd parked. We're talking zero-blanko, nothing. Just me and the crickets.

People were starting to look at me funny, so I tried to act like I knew where I was going. But they knew. There's not a person on this planet who hasn't lost their car in the stupid Walmart parking lot. They were just glad it was me this time and not them.

I wandered around for a while until Dalt finally came out and found me. I was so relieved. Finally, somebody to rescue me from wandering 40 years in the desert, er, Walmart parking lot. His face was such a welcome sight! I turned the cart and headed his way. He walked toward me with a reassuring, confident stride. He smiled at me, my hero, my fearless leader, my brave, strong, virile new husband. Then he said, "I have no idea where we parked, do you?"

Wow.

Waterworks

2008-12-05T10:29:00.003-06:00

I'm sitting on the couch, under a blanket with my furry stepdog curled up beside me, sipping coffee and watching other people's problems on tv.

I wonder if there's anyone in the world right now with nothing going on but sunshine and lollipops? I wonder what that would be like.

There's hot bathwater running in the other room. I love my tub.

The Ultimate Gift

2008-12-04T11:01:00.003-06:00

Wow. I just re-read yesterday's post and realized it sounded like I wasn't happy about changing my name to Mrs. Dalton Gregory. Well, disclaimer time - I am very happy and pleased with my marriage. It's the bright spot of my life right now.

Fed up with the ongoing ridiculousness of my pay and hours at Walgreens, I submitted my two week notice at work yesterday. I didn't have a back-up plan, but I figured if I put my neck on the chopping block it would be a great motivator to find something else. Except they wouldn't accept my resignation. One of the managers talked me into staying a little while longer to see if we could work something out. Yippee-skippee.

My friend Lorna (see Lorna's Blog on sidebar) says she's not going to put up Christmas decorations this year because she doesn't have a husband and kids around and really doesn't feel like it, which is perfectly fine of course, but it got me thinking: If I were living alone, would I still decorate? It's kind of like that philosophy question, If a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear it, does it still make a sound?

Well, the tree still makes a sound, and I discovered that I would still decorate.

Working in retail and being super-saturated with all of the holiday merchandising could easily have caused me to become overwhelmed with the emptiness of it all, but instead it has served as an eye opener. Make of the holidays what you will, but I choose to see it as an opportunity to celebrate for four weeks what God has done for us. He has given us the ultimate Gift, hurray!!!

Let's wear jingly bells and have beautiful evergreens in our house and sing songs and enjoy each other!

Or, we can spend too much, focus on what we think everybody expects, and get miserable and exhausted.

Either way, it's our choice.

Stores are no more responsible for the over-commercialization of Christmas than guns are for killing people. Either one can be used as a useful tool or a weapon of misery. It depends on the person using them.

But I digress.

My point is this: Perception is everything. I am going to have a wonderful holiday season this year because I'm going to take the opportunity to use it as a reminder of the best gift I've ever been given. Unconditional love and reconciliation with God through Jesus Christ, my Savior.

Boo-frickety-hoo

2008-12-03T14:01:00.004-06:00

I went shopping yesterday with my mom and sister Terri and new daughter-in-law, Ali. We had a nice time - I loved seeing everybody - but I have very little patience with anybody these days, and it makes me feel really crappy.

My mom is getting older, so I should just smile and nod and go along with listening to the same story she's told me a hundred and fifty times, but I end up cutting her off and telling her she's already told me that. She bitches about not having any money, losing her teeth and looking old, so all I want to do is tell her, "Then quit smoking." But I've tried that angle before and it only starts a fight, so I just let her talk. She insists on rehashing old grievances, especially about my ex, with Ali sitting right there, and puts everybody down all the time - I just can't stand it. It's exhausting and it gives me a headache.

I also, inevitably, spend money on stupid crap I shouldn't when I'm with her because that's what she does.

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep for hours because I feel like such a bitch. Mom being old reminds me that I'm getting old, and it depresses the crap out of me because I feel like I'm headed for the same end. Except I won't have any money because I never got an education and I'm 42 fricking years old working at WALGREENS for $7.75 an hour. And I'm not getting to be with my kids because I have to work nights!!! So they are going to be grown and gone with memories of vegging out in front of their tv's, stuck in their rooms, eating macaroni and cheese every night alone.

On a more positive note, I went to the social security office yesterday and officially had my name changed to Cassie Gregory.

Yay me.

Parenting is not for sissies

2008-12-01T22:45:00.001-06:00

And that's all I have to say about that.

Sunday on the road

2008-11-30T21:12:00.002-06:00

I had a good day today.

It was beautiful and chilly and bright. Dalt and I drove halfway to Dallas to pick up Natthan, my stepson, and then we went to Humble to pick up Savannah and Joseph.

I took big, deep breaths and relaxed and let myself feel good about things. We sang along with the radio and laughed, held hands and talked about stuff.

It was a good day.

A Cautionary Tale

2008-11-29T20:35:00.005-06:00

If, by chance, you ever find yourself basking in the afterglow of exquisitely satisfying conjugal coital bliss, and in that fuzzy, warm state of mind decide you would like a piece of pie, please, please, please, for the sake of yourself and all that is holy, heed the suggestion of your practical, all-knowing partner and just go to sleep without it.

However -

If your very wise and eerily intuitive partner gets toned to a First Responder call while you're still basking, and because he has to leave anyway you decide you may as well go ahead and get up and have that piece of pie, and while you're standing at the open refrigerator door, the Thanksgiving Day leftovers start to sound pretty darn good instead, whatever else on earth you may ever do, in this instance, just say no.

But if you don't -

And then rationalize to yourself that it won't be so bad because you're just going to get one tiny spoonful of each delicious, Thanksgiving-y morsel, but then it turns out that you have to even out your plate for aesthetic purposes, so you end up with a pile of food that would choke a horse, and then you have to choose between milk or a beer for your drink, please trust me in this, you will absolutely want to choose the milk.

Because -

Later on, when you're sitting on the couch with your empty plate of leftovers, your belly already starting to bloat from the gorging, and the radio goes off again with another tone so you know you're wonderful, lone-voice-of-reason spouse is not going to be home for at least another half hour to save you from yourself, you will use your previous beverage choice as an excuse to go ahead and have that piece of pie you wanted earlier so you have something to wash down with milk, and then you will have that piece of pie and glass of milk. And you will suffer.

Oh yes, you WILL suffer.

I'm a poet

2008-11-28T20:16:00.002-06:00

Tra-la-la Boom-dee-ay
I had to work today
Stand on my feet all day
That's all I have to say

Wishing all of it could last longer

2008-11-27T21:22:00.002-06:00

Okay, okay, I missed yesterday. I had to work from 8 to 3, skipped lunch so I could get home and start cooking, then was mortified when I realized that I forgot to blog. Until I checked Nicole's and she missed TUESDAY. So, technically, I win.

Now, about Thanksgiving. I have decided it's way too much work for a 15-minute gorge fest. I mean, I was cooking from about 6 yesterday evening until 11 last night, got up at 6:15 this morning and was at it until the final dish was washed at about 3. And that doesn't included shuffling leftovers. I made approximately 10 times the amount of food we actually ate, and then it was over.

Wow.

On the upside, it was my first Thanksgiving with my honey. We cooked together and cleaned together, his parents came over and were nice. My sister Terri came last night and helped cook and chop stuff (thank GOD), and that was fun. We had a great time and my house still smells wonderful.

It was a good day and I'm very thankful.

A few of my favorite things

2008-11-25T08:27:00.003-06:00

This every day thing is getting hard. I'm just not that interesting. Really.

Okay. In keeping with the Thanksgiving Day spirit (Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday), I am going to attempt to be more positive by focusing on things I enjoy. Here goes:

I like coffee. It's hot and rich and smells good, and it makes me feel better about mornings.

I like it when my kids hug me.

I like music and dancing. My favorite lately is R & B.

I like to read entertaining books and Woman's World magazine.

I like cuddling with my husband and talking with him when we're alone in our room.

I like having friends over for dinner.

I like watching good movies and a few tv shows. Especially watching football and Life and True Blood with Dalt.

I like talking with my friends on the phone when I can't be with them in person.

I like going out to lunch or dinner with friends or family. Especially family dinners out with the kids.

I like sleeping in and lazy days in my pajamas with no place to go and nothing to do.

I like playing cards and/or dominoes at family gatherings.

I like pizza and beer.

So there.

The Whole thing

2008-11-24T12:23:00.004-06:00

Well, NaNoWriMo has been a complete bust for me. (Sorry, E.) I have 219 words. Pathetic.

I've been worrying a little about Christmas this year. On top of the usual money crunch, I've been thinking a lot about past Christmases and feeling guilty for breaking up what my kids could only have perceived as a happy family. I was a stay-at-home-mom and I had lots of time to decorate and bake and all that stuff. It's easy to sit on this side of the fence and glamorize what used to be.

But here's the thing. When I was a SAHM, I did everything for everybody. It wasn't fun, it was exhausting. That's what I thought I was supposed to do. I didn't include the kids in the kitchen or the chores or spend time with them or play. I did everything and ended up frazzled and unhappy. And frankly, I don't think getting a ton of presents at Christmas was very satisfying for them either.

So, with help from my honey, I have begun to see the error of my ways. Dalt has shown me it's okay to put the kids to work. I may not be able to get them a ton of presents, but I am determined to include them in my life, let them help me in the kitchen, play cards, watch a movie together, shop for each other.

I have been so used to shutting everyone out, I didn't even realize I was doing it. I don't know when that happened. Truthfully, it's probably because I make myself responsible for everybody else's happiness. If everybody else is happy, that's all that matters. Which doesn't leave much time or energy for anything else.

I'm trying to do things differently now. Having a partner who wants to know what I want, who really listens to me and understands when I have to do the hard work of saying out loud what I need, who helps put things into perspective, has helped me start to see what a TRULY happy family can be.

It's not one person doing everything for everybody. It's everybody making a contribution to the whole.

My funk

2008-11-23T20:41:00.002-06:00

I had to work today, yet I am still posting 'cause I said I would... every day... hmmm... I wonder if Nicole got over her Red Raider funk enough to keep up? We'll see.

I hate my job.

The holidays are coming up and I'm not going to get to spend hardly any time with the kids.

I have too much time to think.

So there.

Some things should never be seen

2008-11-22T12:07:00.004-06:00

I am sitting on the couch with my honey and our dog, covered up in a blanket, watching That Metal Show on VH1Classic.

Aging metal fans are not pretty.

Which leads me to a new top ten list (since I haven't done one in a while):

Top 10 Things that should never be seen

1. Your mother in her underwear.

2. The inside of the human nose.

3. Hair Band music videos from the 80's.

4. Naked obese people.

5. Me without makeup.

6. Vomit.

7. Old people having sex. (I didn't say they shouldn't do it - it just shouldn't be seen.)

8. The contents of your bathroom sink's clogged up pipe.

9. Any of the "Saw" movies.

10. The Democratic National Convention.

When duty calls

2008-11-21T10:04:00.002-06:00

Have I mentioned my new husband is a firefighter?

In addition to being a high school world history and BCIS (business computer integration systems) teacher, my honey is the first assistant chief of our local VFD (volunteer fire department), and a certified ECA (emergency care attendant), which means he is also a First Responder. Not only does he fight fires, he's first on the scene at MVA's (motor vehicular accidents), downed power lines or trees across the road, and anytime someone calls an ambulance.

Now, this is a volunteer position. Not only does he NOT get paid for any of this, he's on call 24 hours a day, except when he's at his day job. It's his hobby. He loves it, and it's one of the things I love and admire about him the most.

This morning, his pager went off a little after 3 a.m. (I'm sure he knows the exact time, forgive me if I'm fuzzy.) It's not the first time this has happened, it won't be the last, it just comes with the territory. But, wow.

He jumped up, threw on the clothes he keeps ready on top of the chest of drawers for just such an occasion, kissed me and flew out the door. I was left alone with a house full of sleeping kids, the dog and the pager. The kids never woke up, the dog kept me warm, the pager kept me apprised of what was going on with the call.

It was a structure fire in a partially completed house, venting through the roof and threatening nearby woods. The second assistant chief arrived first and took command of the scene, Dalt went in route with a tanker truck from Station 2 (the one nearest our house), followed by crews on the engine and tanker from Station 1. Another nearby VFD was called to assist with their tanker. The county fire marshall was called in but couldn't make it, so a county arson investigator was contacted. Dalt had to refill his tanker twice, a stop was put on the fire before it got to the woods, and by the time our alarm went of at 6:15, everybody was going back in service (which means things are wrapped up and ready for another call if needed.)

I slept for about two-and-a-half minutes.

The worst thing about all of this is that I used to get to go on these calls, too - as a reporter. Dalton and I met when I was covering a brush fire story. I know what it's like to feel the rush of running to a fire scene, not knowing what you're going to find when you get there, the camaraderie between emergency workers. Now I'm relegated to armchair quarterback.

Dalt came home, soaked in a hot bath I drew for him, drank some coffee and left for work.

Maybe armchair quarterback ain't so bad after all.

Happy Holidays

2008-11-20T13:18:00.003-06:00

I have to meet my challenge and I have to be at work by 3, so here goes:

I'm pretty tired of whining about my job, and there's not much happening by way of my home life (that I have time to delve into - teenagers suck.) So what to write about?

Thanksgiving. My first with the new family.

My mother decided a few weeks ago that I wasn't going to be home for Thanksgiving, so she made plans to go to my Uncle Johnny's. It turns out I am going to be home, and Savannah has dreamed up a vision of Thanksgiving dinner that would make Martha Stewart weep. Which leaves me cooking. No pressure there. Plus, it's almost a given that my new in-laws are going to be coming over for the big event, with all that entails. The hardest part about that is their family tradition is eating early, like by noon. Which means I'll have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to put my bird in the oven.

Have I mentioned that mornings are not my best time of day?

Never fear, this ain't my first rodeo. Fortunately (I never dreamed I'd be saying this), I'm over 40 and I have more than a few successful Thanksgiving dinners under my belt. When I was younger this entire situation would have had me tied up in knots. Instead, I'm going to gird myself with self confidence, traditional recipes, and the grim determination not to be intimidated by a critical mother-in-law.

Is 7 a.m. too early to start drinking?

On your mark, get set...

2008-11-19T11:15:00.008-06:00

Okay, a gauntlet has been thrown. Nic has vowed to write in her blog every day, even if it's just a sentence. I told her I'd do it if she did, so now I have to meet the challenge. Here goes day one:

I'm newly married. On November 12th, 2008, two worlds collided, two families united, two halves became whole, etc. ad nauseum. It was really a beautiful service and exactly what I wanted, relaxed, fun and happy.

Aren't we cute? In spite of my freakishly shiny face and pregnant appearance, I love this picture. Can you say "overexfoliation?"

This is us praying that cameras would stop flashing long enough for us to be able to see again. (Which is not a critique of our photographers - thank you all for taking pics. Without you, there would be no pictoral evidence of this event.)

And here are all the kids. Natthan, Savannah, Zach, Joseph, Ali and Katie.

I'm so proud they didn't set any fires, destroy anything, or tell dirty jokes during the service. And thank you, Joe, for not farting in the courtroom.

Or did you???

Me and Dorothy Parker

2008-11-07T13:17:00.002-06:00

I applied for the management trainee program with Walgreens. It feels like I'm selling a piece of my soul, but it will be twice the money. If I have to spend so much time away from home, it may as well be for more money. Hence the selling my soul feeling.

I joined the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) challenge this year. It's an annual writing event where aspiring writers and non-so-aspiring writers share a goal of finishing a crappy fifty thousand-word first draft of a novel, or book, or anything they want. The goal is to write, write, write. Anything. Just get it down on paper (or computer), and worry about quality later - fifty thousand words from November 1st to November 30th. I participated a few years ago and decided to try again.

This a very affirming exercise for me. I nitpick crap to death and never finish anything in the process. The nanowrimo balls-to-the-walls writing approach is very liberating. It also helps to realize I'm not the only procrastinating, self-doubt filled writer in the world. In fact, self doubt and procrastination seem to be prerequisites to genius.

Just call me Einstein.

If the ring fits...

2008-10-23T11:44:00.008-05:00

I'm a new mother-in-law!

Zach and Ali got married on Saturday. They were going to wait until March, but with Zach's new job as an oil rig supervisor, they had to speed things up so she could be added to his insurance. I couldn't be happier!

It's every parent's hope to see their kids become successful and find a good person to share their lives with. I've gotten both, plus a wonderful new daughter. Zach hasn't had an easy road to walk and really deserves all the happiness in the world. It's so great that things are coming together for these two!!! One down, four to go...

Dalton and I finally found our wedding rings last night.

I've been more than a little stressed out that the wedding is so close and we still don't have rings. After weeks of looking online, I still really hadn't seen anything I liked.

We had to go to the mall last night for Katie to get her best friend a birthday present, so we decided to check out a few jewelry stores.

Nothing.

We went to three different stores and not only did I not see anything I liked, nothing fit. They told us it would take from one to four weeks to get rings sized and returned. That was no bueno.

On our way through the mall to find another shop, we passed a sterling silver stand. Dalt stopped and backed up to look at their rings and I immediately saw one I liked. I tried it on and it fit perfectly. The first ring Dalt tried didn't fit, but then the guy brought out the one that matched mine, and it fit perfectly!

As Dalt always says, "It was meant to be."

Rip Van Winkle had the right idea

2008-10-09T13:37:00.003-05:00

Today is my day off. I should be catching up on a million things, but I have discovered that sleep is the only thing I really ever catch up on anymore. I could sleep for days.

We have decided to unplan the wedding of the century. We are going to keep it simple. JP's office and dinner, then a quiet weekend at home.

I am once again at a crossroads. I am so sick of these things. Now I have to decided whether to go into management with Walgreens or take an EMT course in the spring. Either way it goes, I won't be writing. I'm sick of not having any money, so I'll probably do the management thing.

Now, back to my sleeping.

The runaway bride, er... wedding, I mean

2008-10-03T09:19:00.003-05:00

My unplanned wedding seems to be getting more planned every day.

It started as an elopement, turned into an at-home family affair, and has now evolved into a catered, full-blown outdoor extravaganza. Yippee-skippee.

My sweetie's last wedding experience was lots of money and lots of RSVP's that didn't show up, so he is estimating a low number of attendees. My experience has been that for every one person who says they're coming, three show up.

Whether we like it or not, some forethought is called for in this situation.

I hate when that happens.

Will you still need me, will you still feed me?

2008-09-23T21:50:00.006-05:00

Tomorrow marks the 7th day in a row I've had to work.

It started last Wednesday at 6:30 a.m. - unloading a truck by candlelight - and has continued through an entire fragrance counter reset, decorating for Halloween, assisting disaster-weary customers, and setting up an early Christmas gift set display (all of which has required lots of heavy lifting, standing, walking, climbing, squatting, problem-solving, and intense concentration.)

I've seen a thousand faces over the past week. Stunned parents and kids getting out of the house for the first time after endless days of not having water or electricity, cocky young electricians on their first trip to Texas and their older co-workers who obviously don't find the adventure so thrilling, retired people on fixed incomes with no idea how they're going to get their roofs repaired or their yards cleared, and prescription junkies scared they're going to run out of "medicine."

An 80-something year old man came to my counter today to buy toenail clippers. He leaned heavily on a walking cane and had mild tremors in his hands. He bought some heavy-duty clippers and told me how, a few years ago, he'd gotten to the point where he couldn't bend down to clip his own toenails; he said his doctor used to do it but he couldn't get an appointment for him to do it anymore. Then he looked at his bag and looked at me like he just didn't know what he was going to do. For a second I could see the young man behind the old man's eyes wondering where the hell all the years had gone and what was he going to do now? Then he walked away.

It made me wonder who would clip my toenails when I get old.

And that's all I have to say about that

2008-09-18T21:15:00.002-05:00

Ike has come and gone. The bastard. I'll give him no more glory. But I will say this - as soon as I heard his name, I knew it was going to be bad. Big wheel keep on turning, proud Mary keep on burning, but ain't nothing rollin' around here but the sound of the generator outside my bedroom window. Thank you, Tina Turner.

Now we can say we survived Ike, too.

Thank you, Groucho Marx

2008-09-09T12:15:00.003-05:00

I actually liked my job yesterday. Not too bad for one day out of ninety. I got to organize our displays - finally - in the cosmetics department. Have I ever mentioned that I work there? Yes, I am a beauty adviser. Stifle your laughter, please.

So, today, I'm sitting on the couch with a dachsund by my side (my new stepdog), waiting for 1:30 to get here 'cause I have to be at work at 2. Maybe I'll like it again today.

It's been a while since I've played on the computer for hours. I joined Facebook (thank you, E.), played on MySpace (happy birthday T'Noya; hope you enjoyed the view, Paul), and contemplated looking at wedding rings - again - but never did.

Which leads me to the the whole surreal wedding planning thing.

I haven't mentioned my honey much, previously. He is a teacher and an assistant chief for the local volunteer fire department. He loves to read and talk and cook and eat good food and all the things I love. I like him a whole real lot. We were originally going to elope to Las Vegas, but have since decided to stay home so we can include the kids and friends and family. So, now we have to plan a wedding.

First of all, I have an aversion to traditional anything. And I would rather spend money on the honeymoon than the wedding. So, I think we're going to make it a potluck. And, to my mother's great consternation, we are going to get married on a weeknight - November 12th at 6 pm. (You are all invited.)

It will have to be in our backyard, because the house is too small. And it will definitely be BYOC (Bring Your Own Chair) for those who wish to sit through the ceremony. But the main point of the whole event will be the two of us making a lifelong commitment to each other.

And really, there's no one I'd rather be committed with -

in the institution -

of marriage.

What a difference two months makes

2008-09-05T09:40:00.002-05:00

It's been nearly two months since my last post. Why? A lot of reasons. The main one being that between moving into a new house unexpectedly, getting kids ready for school (new schools at that since we moved into a different district), and working 40 hours a week, I haven't even had time to check e-mails lately.

However, I was told by an avid fan of mine yesterday that I should write something, anything. Even if it's just my grocery list. I'll spare you the details of my culinary ineptitude, but the dust has settled enough for me to get back in the swing of things.

Now for the update: After looking for a house most of the summer and not finding a suitable one, my honey and I decided we would have to wait until next summer to unite our lives and our families (he has a 16 year-old son, Natthan, ironically enough, and I have my three still at home, Katie - 13, Joseph - 10, and Savannah - 8). I didn't want the kids to have to switch schools in the middle of the school year, so I was resigned to wait. Well, at the end of July, Dalt found a 4-bedroom house, we looked at it together, and before you could say 'change of plans', we were packing up two houses and moving. Now we'll be getting married in November.

The kids are adjusting well, with the exception of Katie. She had to switch schools right before 8th grade and is very, very upset about it. She feels that everything has been taken away from her. Her brother, her father, her house with a pool. And now her friends and her 8th grade year, which she felt was going to be her "best year ever." Now she's the new girl who doesn't know anybody. And there's not a damn thing I can do about any of it.

Joseph and Natthan share a bedroom, quite happily since Joseph is so relieved to finally not have to share a room with a sister. Savannah has her own room, and Katie has her own room. The house is brick and only four years old. It's small but cozy.

My honey never ceases to amaze me with his thoughtfulness, compassion and support. He sings to me, holds me when I cry, listens when I scream, and makes me laugh - a lot. He is my heart.

Walgreens is still there. I work every weekend. I don't want to talk about it. My nightmare is to wake up in 20 years and still be there.

So, basically, you're caught up. Now I'm going to go soak in my ridiculously large bathtub, give Katie to God - again, and count my blessings.

As Much As I Can Stand

2008-07-13T23:05:00.004-05:00

I am in pain. And by that, I mean OUCH. My feet hate me. My new job entails standing for the entire time I work, which is anywhere from six to nine hours at a time, with a 15-minute break and a 30-minute lunch.

There is also a lot of nothing to do but stand and watch the clock. The military should use this as a new instrument of torture; and if they want to be especially cruel they could throw in the stupid background song for Antonio Banderas' new perfume commercial on a continuous three-minute loop. It is excruciating.

To survive, I have been honing my math skills: $7.75 an hour breaks down to $3.875 every half hour, $1.94 every 15 minutes, or roughly 13 cents a minute. It takes approximately three hours, 12 minutes of continuous standing before my feet start to feel uncomfortable. This discomfort multiplies exponentially in 30-minute increments until full fledged pain erupts at six hours, 42 minutes. It is at this precise point in time when the clock slows to an eighth of its normal speed.

Really.

Rocking Walgreens, oh yeah

2008-07-09T12:13:00.004-05:00

Wow. Everytime I post lately, I intend to start posting more often but it never happens. I guess I just don't have much to say. Or much to share, anyway.

I started working at Walgreens on Monday in the cosmetics department. It's a little sobering starting over at 42. I'm making less an hour now than I did working for Clinique 15 years ago. But it is better than nothing. And I get to come home on my 30 minute lunch break because the store is right around the corner from my house. I'm so glad I don't have to spend more time away from the kids than necessary.

My mother was here for a week. From Monday last to this past Monday. It was... hard. I still try to please her and she still only sees what I do wrong (or differently from her, which is the same thing as wrong.) It explains so much.

So see? Not much to say. I did have a dream last night that jewels were coming out of my mouth. Well, more specifically, I had a mouthful of jewels and I was trying to spit them all out. If anyone has any idea what that means, please let me know!