My Feet: They Hurt. A Lot.

Some of you may remember WAAAAY back that my feet have been bothering me. I was diagnosed with plantar's fasciitis in my right foot about two years ago. And shortly after that, I broke said foot, and the plantar's fasciitis went away. Until now.

About six months ago, my lefy foot started hurting in the same way my right had, so I self-diagnosed the PF and went out to get some lifts for my shoes. The pain didn't go away, and one night, after limping along like a hobo on a bender, Juggling freak insisted that I make an appointment to see the doctor. And I did.

I went to the doctor right around my birthday, which as you may remember was slap-bang in the middle of October. The doctor did absolutely NOTHING for me, not even giving me the benefit of believing that I knew what the pain in (now) both of my heels meant. He said that he doubted that I had plantar's fasciitis, but that he'd put in a referral to the orthopedist, and in the meantime, I was to wear shoes ALL THE TIME. Even in my house.

So, time goes by. October fades into November, and November into December. The pain gets better for about 3 weeks. Then, it comes back stronger than ever. There have been several nights where the pain was so intense that tears came to my eyes. I'm getting madder and madder that I paid my co-pay for a visit to the doctor that did nothing to help me AND that I still have no referral. Finally, after one too many painful evenings and one to many nags from JF, I call the doctor's office to complain that I STILL haven't gotten my referral. It must have worked, because -- Lo and behold! -- the very next morning, I had a call informing me that my appointment was a go.

I went to the Ortho yesterday morning, and STILL have hurting feet. The ortho ordered x-rays, which showed that I have very small bone spurs on my left heel, in both the front and back, and a smaller one on the back of the right. The Ortho Doc, however, says that "85% of the time, this problem self-corrects." He gives me these exercises to do (already doing them, which I told him) and tells me to get lifts for my shoes (already had them, which I told him.) He then goes on to say that I should take some ibuprofen for the pain, and maybe roll a frozen water bottle underneath my feet a few times a day. Yeah. Like I have time to do that.

He also says that if the pain doesn't go away with the exercises and the water bottle trick, to come see him in a month, and he may recommend physical therapy. Hooray. All I want is to not have to walk around in pain all the time.

When In Doubt: Meme!

Saw this meme on travels across the Internets, so I have appropriated it. Here you go!

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* Name: KLee
* Birthday: October 15th
* Birthplace: CityOfMyBirth
* Current location: HumidityLikeABrickWall
* Eye color: blue
* Hair color: mostly blonde
* Height: 6 foot
* Righty or lefty: righty-tighty!
* Zodiac sign: Libra

LAYER TWO:
* Your heritage: English, Irish, Scots, German, and some assorted Scandinavian thrown in for good measure.
* The shoes you wore today: my black-and-red Disney Crocs.
* Your weakness: books, chocolate, crafting supplies
* Your fears: guns, my spouse or child becoming ill, car accidents.
* Your perfect pizza: Giordano’s Stuffed Pizza’s with double sausage.
* Goals you’d like to achieve: go back to college; travel to Europe again.

LAYER THREE:
* Your most overused phrase on AIM: I don’t use it. It’s INFESTED with spyware!
* Your first waking thoughts: “Just another hour, please!”
* Your best physical feature: eyes
* Your most missed memory: holding my daughter when she was a baby and breathing in the wonderful baby smell.

LAYER FOUR:
* Pepsi or Coke: I’m a Southerner. It’s ALL Coke down here, though I prefer Cherry Coke.
* McDonald’s or Burger King: lately, Burger King. Offspring’s addicted to Whoppers.
* Single or group dates: I haven’t dated in about 20 years, so I abstain.
* Adidas or Nike: Nike. They’ve got good arch support.
* Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Out of those two choices, I prefer Lipton, though it’s basically six of one, one half dozen of another.
* Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate, baby!
* Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino.

LAYER FIVE:
* Smoke: Nope – I’m allergic to cigarette smoke.
* Cuss: Far more than I should!
* Sing: every chance I get!
* Take a shower everyday: Yep – I’m rather finicky about personal odor.
* Do you think you’ve been in love: Yes, a few times, but I’ve found my great love, and we’re still together today!
* Want to go to college: I’d love to go back!
* Liked high school: Yeah, once I got to public school. Private school was akin to torture.
* Want to get married: Already am!
* Believe in yourself: sometimes. Sometimes, not often enough.
* Get motion sickness: Even while standing still. Or by looking at a glass of water.
* Think you’re attractive: No.
* Think you’re a health freak: Definitely not, but I need to be healthier.
* Get along with your parent(s): Most of the time. My dad’s a bit pissed at me at the mo, but he’ll get over it, I hope.
* Like thunderstorms: As long as I don’t have to go out in them.
* Play an instrument: No, but I sure wish I could.

LAYER SIX: In the past month…
* Drank alcohol: eh – I had a small sip of wine at Thanksgiving.
* Smoked: no
* Done a drug: nothing illegal – otherwise, plenty of Excedrin Migraine.
* Made out: Is it still considered “making out” if it’s with your husband?!
* Gone on a date: not really. It doesn’t count if you two take your teenager to dinner, right?
* Gone to the mall: yes
* Eaten an entire box of Oreos: No. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a whole box of Oreos.
* Eaten sushi: Nope. Allergic to seafood.
* Been on stage: not in the last month, though I’m working on it!
* Been dumped: no
* Gone skating: no
* Made homemade cookies: yes. LOVE cookies!
* Gone skinny dipping: No. I wouldn’t subject people to the sight on my nude flesh. Yeesh!
* Dyed your hair: just missed it – about six weeks ago.
* Stolen Anything: no

LAYER SEVEN: Ever…
* Played a game that required removal of clothing: yes -- we played a lot of Strip Twister in college....
* Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: yes
* Been caught “doing something”: yes
* Been called a tease: yeah, but he was a jerk.
* Gotten beaten up: yes, but I gave as good as I got, and probably better.
* Shoplifted: yes, and my Grandmother caught me, made me apologize, write a letter, AND I got my butt beaten for it by her and THEN my father.
* Changed who you were to fit in: Yes, though it didn’t help in the end.

LAYER EIGHT:
* Age you hope to be married: Well, I was married at 22, so I’ll go with that.
* Numbers and names of children: We have just the one, whom you all know as “Offspring.”.
* Describe your dream wedding: My wedding was held on November 28^th in a local park's gazebo. It was beautiful.
* How do you want to die: Painlessly, and when I’m old and ready to go.
* Where you want to go to college: I’d love to go to college in London, but that’s a pipe dream.
* What do you want to be when you grow up: An archaeologist.

* What country would you most like to visit: England, specifically, but anywhere in Europe will do, really.

LAYER NINE:
* Number of drugs taken illegally: None. I’m rather a prude about drugs.
* Number of people I could trust with my life: about six, maybe.
* Number of CDs that I own: Lots. Too many to count.
* Number of piercings: two. One in each ear. They used to be double-pierced, but they grew over LONG ago.
* Number of tattoos: none, though I want a specific one. I once had it priced out, and it was going to be about $600. I’m not white-trash enough to finance a tattoo.
* Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: Maybe twenty? Twenty-five? Marriage announcement, Offspring’s birth announcement, play reviews…
* Number of scars on my body: Big Scars – one on my right arm where I had a basal cell carcinoma cut off, one on my left knee where I cut my leg open to the bone, and my right thumb, which was cut off in a car accident when I was 12. Lots of small ones....
* Number of things in my past that I regret: Plenty!

Give Thanks

I am thankful for so many things, among them all the friends I've made through blogging. I hope all of you have a marvelous Thanksgiving!

In Which I Am A Twittery Teenage Girl

My friend (I'll call her "Small, But Sassy") and I have both long been sucked into the world of Stephenie Meyer's "Twilight." I had read books one and two back in the early summer, and had loaned them to S,BS shortly after. We were both hooked but good.

We both loved the storylines and characters, and quickly read and reread books one through three. (S,BS has read book four, which I have not yet done, but she plans to let me borrow her copy tomorrow.) So, when we heard a movie was coming out, we flapped out hands, said "Ohmigawd!" about ten times, and made plans to go.

We went to an afternoon showing today, and mingled with the hordes of Goths who actually braved the sunlight enough to venture out of their dank cubbyholes. We felt a little weirded out that we were probably the oldest people in the theater, but we settled back with popcorn and Cherry Cokes to drool over watch Edward. And everyone else.

I'd seen a lot of reviews that stated that the effects were not all that good, and the cast was full of "nobodies." S,BS and I both enjoyed it, and we plan to stay up late and talk about it on the phone while we paint our nails and trash what everyone in school is wearing. And then we'll look forward to the sequels we're sure are to follow.

Is That Ethical?

I had to stay late after school today to attend an Ethics Seminar. Now, being educators, we have to adhere to certain rules about revealing/not revealing student information, and we are obligated BY LAW to report suspected abuse. These were things I already knew. Imagine our surprise when the presenters started putting up Power Point slides of things that have actually happened (either in our state or our district) as a "What NOT to Do" sort of lesson.

Apparently, it is unethical to:

*...have a Blood Alcohol Level of .314 while at work.

*...say you are doing a jewelry fundraiser for the school, but keep the money for yourself.

*...invite students to disrobe at the hotel pool while on a school trip.

*...quit in the middle of the day, leaving your keys and resignation letter taped to your classroom door.

*...refuse to come to work because you are in jail.

*... call a student and her mother derogatory names.

*...buy cocktails for students at the neighborhood bar-n-grill, even if it is after-hours.

Now, who in their right mind could have EVER thought any of this was a good idea? People, get a grip on reality!

A Public Service Announcement

To most normal people, when they are unexpectedly given a gift, they ask for the whys and the wherefores. Not me! To the unexpected gift that I was given today, I will just say THANK YOU! My prayers have been answered, and I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

This will be a MAJOR anti-whine this week!

Should I?

Or, alternately titled: "My Husband Reserves the Right To Say 'I Told You So.'"

I got an interesting proposition that I want to share with you, and in turn, pick your collective brains about. Most of you who've been reading my blog for a while know that I spent 6 years as a Girl Scout Leader. For anyone other than those three loyal, longtime readers, I spent 6 years as a Girl Scout Leader. My troop went kaflooey in a rather spectacular manner two years ago. It was all a lot of histrionic, middle-school bull that got drawn WAAAY out of proportion, with my family cast as the villains. This was, in no way, close to actual fact. My troop folded, and I've continued volunteering as an adult with my local area, and as a parent in the troop I asked for my daughter to be placed in.

At our adult meeting Tuesday evening, I was approached by someone at our local office who told me that there is tremendous interest for a Daisy troop at my school. Daisies are the youngest level of Scouting, the kindergarten (and now, since the big age-level reorganization) first grade girls. Since, this is the age I teach, and at the very school where most of the interest lies, I was approached as possible leadership for this troop.

Now, there are plenty of pros and cons.

Pros:
*I could ease back into leadership this way.
*I already have a possible co-leader lined up.
*It would be very convenient for me, personally, to meet at my workplace.
*It's an age that I'm VERY familiar with, and so is my potential co-leader.
*There are a lot less "woes" working with the younger girls -- pretty much everyone is happy to be part of the program, and there's not the middle-school attitude to contend with.
*My Girl Scouting mentor did Daisy leadership for YEARS, so I have a good source of ideas and tips at the ready.
*I've been a leader for years, so it's not like it would be ALL new to me.
*Daisies is a two-year program, and I have the option to stay where I am, and have the girls move on without me. This would mean new blood every two years at the most.
*Daisies is a more hands-on, crafting, having fun version of Scouting than some of the other levels, where it's go-go-go all the time.
*My principal has given permission to have meetings in our school buildings. (You would not believe how many schools/principals *don't* allow this!) This is already one dilemma off my back.
*Offspring could help me out occasionally, and could even earn her Program Aide status this way.

Cons:
*Parents. You can never predict if you're gonna get the good ones, or the bad ones.
*Still a possibility for not-so-likeable girls, but possibilities for those are lower the younger the girls are.
*Taking over a leadership role would mean more time away from my family, and more training classes.
*Paperwork out the wazoo, on top of the paperwork that I already keep track of for my local area.
*Cookies. It's a hassle when it's my own daughter, but they're letting Daisies sell cookies this year.
*If I decide to do it, can I get it up and rolling before the new year? If I can't, should we still sell cookies? The order-taking starts in January, so it would be cutting it close.
*It's a lot of work, and can be physically exhausting.
*If I don't do it, these girls probably won't get placed until late spring, at the earliest. A more realistic expectation would be that we lose them entirely, because we have no one willing to step up into the leadership role. I would hate for that to happen.
*Little to no parental help is a distinct possibility. Since we work in an economically disadvantaged school, we are more likely to have parents who either cannot afford to help, or just plain don't want to help. This may mean more personal, out-of-pocket expenses for me. Though, I do not mind doing that AT ALL if the girls benefit.

So, what do you think? Should I take the plunge?I had a lot of heartache with my old troop, but they were much older, and all awash with tween angst and hormones galore. There's no guarantees that there would be a repeat of last time, but there's also nothing to indicate that they'll be angels, either. Anytime you undertake a venture like this, you run the risk of having it all not turn out anything like you planned. But, I think with a good friend who has my back as co-leader; and with girls I'm most likely familiar with already -- maybe it wouldn't be a total disaster.

Am I mental for even considering it? I liked being a leader. I liked teaching girls all about the program, and watching them grow stronger within themselves with the good foundation that Scouting gives them. I like watching them learn, and knowing that I helped them. I did not like all the drama and hurt feelings with my last troop. I really disliked having my daughter exposed to all that: drama, hurt feelings, and maligned and slandered parents. It was almost worse for her, because she not only lost her troop, but she lost her innocence with Scouting as well. She saw people for the manipulative sneaks that they were, and at the cost of her parents' reputations. And it was not pretty.

Should I expose myself, and my family, to all of that again? Is it worth it?

So It Begins

You know, I knew there was always going to be a section of the populace that was going to be unhappy, no matter which way the election turned out. Obama supporters would have been outraged at the thought that America was still stuck in the Dark Ages where a black man wasn't fit to run the nation, and subject to four more years of George Bush-style foreign policy and tanking economy; and McCain supporters are all up in arms, declaring that America is now headed by a "terrorist" and that we're all going to hell in a Muslim handbasket.

I live in a red state. And, not just a *red* red state -- my state is so red that it makes scarlet look like pink. Most of the counties in my state went for McCain. Here and there, there were pockets of seditious blue, but McCain carried my state quite handily. I never really thought Obama would actually WIN the state, but I thought he might do fairly well in large metropolitan areas. This proved so in a few cases, and not everyone was happy about it.

Two guys planned to go on a spree, killing African Americans and culminating in an Obama assassination attempt, all while wearing white tuxedos and top hats? Yeah, this is a real *sensible* way to state that you're a mite unhappy with a black president. Instead of discussing ways to get involved with your community and help make a difference, we'll just kill the guy we don't like because he's different. When has it become an option that *murder* is a viable means of expressing your discontent?

There's also a story that's been circulating, not only in this part of the country, but I happened to see it mentioned on the Daily Kos as well. It seems that a small town pediatrician sent an email to her staff -- she was very unhappy with what she saw as their lack of a proper work ethic -- but in it, she calls Obama "evil incarnate." Man, I didn't know he was THAT powerful as to be the living embodiment of the forces of darkness.

What in hell is *WRONG* with people?!? I mean, I'll admit I wasn't all totally gung-ho about some of Obama's policies and past associations, but I would have not been happy with a McCain assassination plan, either. Marni had a great philosophy that she told her daughter: "I told Bug that we may/may not like who was elected, but we have to look at the bigger picture. He IS our President and we should support him no matter what. We may/may not agree with what he wants to do, but we are all Americans and he is now the leader of this country."

That's the kind of stuff we need. We need people who are willing to go on, and accept change, even though it may not be what you want, and even though it may not have been what you would have chosen for yourself. I'm not saying that you have to become a fan overnight, but at least give the man a chance.

As Promised

Here is Offspring, sporting her Halloween costume. With her fascination with anything Japanese lately, she demanded a kimono. The ones we saw in stores were all skanky-looking -- too short in length, and made of very flimsy material.

I told Offspring that I could *make* a better costume than what we could find in stores, and she took that bet. She found a lovely black satin fabric for the actual kimono -- you may not be able to tell, but it's embroidered all over with silver butterflies. We chose the scarlet satin fabric for the obi as a splash of color.

My only complaint about the whole construction process was that this lovely fabric unraveled like a son-of-a-gun. I used an entire tube of fray block on all the seams to cut down on so much "shedding", but I still found strands of it all over the place.

It was rather heavy fabric, and I thought that Offspring might regret her choice once Halloween arrived. Living where we do, I can count on one hand the number of times that it's been cold for Trick or Treating. This was one of them, however, and the heavy fabric helped insulate her. I'm glad she was warm, because I was fricking freezing my noonies off.


Bonus conversation:

Me: Do you want to go the whole geisha route, and do the makeup and everything?

O: No. Makeup makes me look like a whore, Mom.

Yeah. Classy. When I asked her why she thought she looked "like a whore" in makeup, she just quirked an eyebrow at me, and I cunningly deduced that some experimentation had been going on behind closed doors.

Is Anyone Out There?

For the last few days, Blogrolling has been acting very wonky. The first I noticed of said wonkitude was when I went to go look through my blogroll, and the blogroll was just gone. I went over to Blogrolling to see if I could just capture my code and repaste it into my template, but the entire site was down.

That's not a good omen.

So, for the last five or so days, Blogrolling hasn't been informing me of anyone who has updated. I have to click through to find out myself. And now I'm curious to know if maybe it's preventing anyone from seeing my last post. No one has commented on it. Not that it was such riveting fare that you were all falling all over yourselves to comment, but usually there's at least a Japanese spammer who chimes in.

I've decided I hate Blogrolling. I guess I should switch to HaloScan or something else.

Not much is happening here. Just trying to stay sane, though that's not really working either. I've finished Offspring's Halloween costume, for the most part, and now all I have to do is get my crafting stuff together. Christmas is coming up pretty fast, and I have very little done for that. Again. I feel like I need a week off. Or three.

The Weekend Is Getting Shorter

It seemed like the weekend went by way too fast, and I had no time to really get anything done.

I went out with a friend for a few hours on Saturday for fun and crafting, and then went to dinner on Saturday evening followed by the ever-scintillating pasttime: grocery shopping. We don't normally spend our Saturday evenings buying groceries, but we knew that Sunday was going to be chock-a-block, so we got it out of the way early.

On Sunday, I had to attend a friend's father's visitation. He passed away on my birthday, and the family was planning on a private funeral, so Sunday was really the only day that I could be there to support my friend.

Monday morning rolled around, bright and early. Way too early for my taste, actually. Which, sadly, leaves me with laundry undone and crafts uncrafted. I'm still working on Offspring's Halloween costume, which is almost done. I have to put the finishing touches on it, and then I promise to post a picture of her in it.

The Halloween crafts that I'm in the middle of making may get done, and then again, may not. Hopefully, I have time to finish those as well. If this weekend is any indication, then I think I'm in trouble.

Stuff I've Been Doing

As I mentioned in the post before last, I've been busy crafting. I had a craft team meeting a month or so ago that helped get some creative juices flowing.

Here are some pictures of things that I've been rolling around in my head for a bit...




Halloween is coming, Offspring and JF's favorite holiday. I have to dig out all the Halloween decorations and finish making Offspring's costume.




I have treat bags that I need to put together for my class, and now Offspring wants my little paper coffins with Gummy bones inside that were such a hit a couple of years ago for *her* class.





Not to mention all the other cute stuff that I see that I want to make, too! And then I've got to turn it all around and do it for Christmas, too?

Sheesh! Now maybe you see why I'm not blogging so much anymore!

Just Plain Disturbing

My husband, who spends a lot of time on the internet, spied this story a while back and sent it to me via email. He said what disturbed him at the time was not just that this incident had happened, but *had happened before.* I'll consider myself lucky if I can get him to drive BY the doctor's office from now on....

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A Kentucky man who claims his penis was removed without his consent during what was supposed to be a circumcision has sued the doctor who performed the surgery.

Phillip Seaton, 61, and his wife are seeking unspecified compensation from Dr. John M. Patterson and the medical practice that performed the circumcision for "loss of service, love and affection." The Seatons also are seeking unspecified punitive damages from Patterson and the medical practice, Commonwealth Urology.

A woman who answered the phone at Commonwealth Urology would not take a message for the doctor Thursday. But the Seaton's attorney said the doctor's post-surgical notes show the doctor thought he detected cancer and removed the penis. Attorney Kevin George said a later test did detect cancer.

"It was not an emergency," George told The Associated Press on Thursday. "It didn't have to happen that way."

Seaton was having the procedure on Oct. 19, 2007, to better treat inflammation.

The lawsuit filed earlier this month in state court claims Patterson removed Seaton's penis without consulting either Phillip or Deborah Seaton, or giving them an opportunity to seek a second opinion.

The couple also sued the anesthesiologist, Dr. Oliver James of Shelbyville, claiming he used a general anesthesia even though Seaton asked that it not be administered.

A message left at Commonwealth Urology's corporate office in Lexington was not immediately returned Thursday. A message left for James also was not immediately returned.

The Seatons' suit is similar to one in which an Indianapolis man was awarded more than $2.3 million in damages after he claimed his penis and left testicle were removed without his consent during surgery for an infection in 1997.

Nothin' Much To Report

I know I've been a terrible blog-hostess lately, but there's nothing really earth shattering happening in my corner of the universe.

I've been doing a lot of crafty stuff, both making stuff of my own and holding workshops. I have plenty more pics of this sort of stuff, but not everyone is crafty, and nor would you all appreciate thousands and thousands of pictures of the stuff I've made recently.



I've been trying not to maim or kill mah kitteh, since she has reverted to her diabolical plan of not letting anyone in the house sleep once night rolls around.


I've got a doctor's appointment in the morning for my feet. I still have bruising left over on my right foot from when I broke my ankle in April of 2007, and now I have plantar's fasciitis in my left foot, making things like walking excruciatingly painful. And making work oh-so-much fun!


My birthday is in a week, and I feel old, old, old. This was not made any better by my father's birthday card which arrived today, and had the wrong age on it. Thanks for making me feel a year older than I am, Dad! (I guess that's payback for all the times in my youth when I derided him for his many years on earth.... I don't like Payback. She's not nice.)

So, nothing mind-blowing to report. Sorry to disappoint all of you who have come to expect scintillating fare from me. Maybe I'll have something good to share soon!

The Pendulum Swings

Cruising through the TV channels yesterday after work, I noticed that Dr. Phil was doing a show featuring "helicopter parents." The question he asked was: Do we, as parents, let our children have no freedom at all, or do we stand back and let them do everything on their own?

The answer, in my opinion, is neither. You have to walk a fine line between the two. If you let your child have no rules, no boundaries at all, they grow up thinking that they have to follow no rules at all -- either that of adults or of society. That's not a realistic expectation. If you go the other extreme, however, you run the risk of having a child become secretive to hide the "forbidden" behaviors you've driven them into. That's the reason why we have the stereotype of the preacher's daughter -- denied all the fun and taboo things in life, so they rebel and are (a lot of the time) the wildest kids around. Now, for all my preacher friends out there, I'm not talking about YOUR kids. :)

Dr. Phil also had a mother on who has taken a lot of flack in the press recently -- a mother who let her 9 year old son find his way home, alone, from Bloomingdale's. Now, some key points of this particular story (for those of you who don't know of it and live under a rock, or something) are: the child had ASKED to do this sort of activity for a while; the parents discussed it beforehand, and decided it was feasible; the child was not *abandoned* -- he had a city map, a subway Metro card, and $20. As an aside, I would be interested to know whether or not he had a cell phone with him in case of emergency, but we're not told if he has one or not. The mother took the boy to Bloomingdale's, and the child had to find his way home from there. The parents looked at his abilities, and decided that this was something that thought that not only he was CAPABLE of doing, but also SHOULD do so that he would be better able to navigate the city and find his way around.

The mother has gotten bushels of hate mail, saying she's the 'worst Mom in America.' Why would you think she was a terrible mother for giving her child the freedom to explore and learn how to do things on his own? If you never let a child out of your sight, they'll either grow up terribly repressed and run like hell the moment they get any freedom at all, or they will be so stunted as to not know how to deal with other people and with any obstacles that life throws at them. I'm not saying that you should take your kid from East Podunk, Missouri and drop them off in the big city with a ten spot and a map -- that would be completely irresponsible.

What we're talking about here is letting children have some freedoms within reason. How many of you played outside all day when you were younger? People my age ought to remember playing outside without parental supervision -- I remember my mother telling me that I had to be home either by the time the street lights came on, or when she called us for dinner. I was a bookworm as a child (still am, really) and my mother would take away my books and send me outside as *punishment!* I had to go out and find something to do. Ride my bike, go to the playground, find a friend... We've gotten so scared of horrible things happening to our kids that we can't IMAGINE sending them outside all day long. There's something very sad about that. No one wants their kids to be hurt, abducted, or worse, God forbid, but we can't wrap them in Bubble Wrap and closet them away forever. If we never let anything happen to them, nothing will ever happen to them. And, not only will they be totally unprepared to take on obstacles when they're older, they'll also be too frightened to take on new tasks and expect us to bail them out should the slightest thing go wrong.

Conversation At The Dinner Table

We were eating dinner last night, when I spied an empty shoe box in the corner. JF had gotten new shoes over the weekend, and I was curious to know how they were working out for him.

Me: Oh, yeah. How are your new shoes? Are you getting them all broken in?

JF: They're fine. What's "broken" is my back, not my shoes.

(JF has spent the last several weeks toting endless numbers of computers around old historical buildings which have no elevators, only cramped stairwells.)

Me: Ooh. Sorry about that. (Grimaces in empathetic pain...)

JF: Yeah, I keep asking for a new spine but you haven't gotten me one yet.

Me: Don't you know -- there's a shortage on them right now, what with the political scene and the banking world the way it is. Seems like everyone's looking for a new spine.

Just Gone

Like jo(e) has extra kids, we have extra cats. We've often joked within our family that Offspring is a cat herder -- they just flock to her. Everywhere we go, cats find her, seek her out, and befriend her. And Offspring never met a cat she didn't immediately take to.

We have our actual cat, Lotus, whom we adopted when Offspring was a little over two years old. Then came the extras. Offspring was small, maybe about four when the first extra started showing up. He was this humongous gray cat who was lovable like a teddy bear. Offspring, in her childlike wisdom, named him Grady.

Grady weighed about 25 pounds, but none of it was fat. He was all muscle, and loved to hunt. We marveled at the time we watched him chase some poor hapless creature up the small tree in the neighbor's yard. The blue jays -- who are very territorial -- chased him all over the yard one afternoon, angry because he was too near their area. Grady was obviously just humoring them until he wearied of the game. The blue jays swooped down on him one too many times; two followed him into a nearby bush, but only one came out.

Grady always presented himself when you opened the front door in the mornings, twining around your ankles in search of pettings and food. Our main computer sits in our living room beside the picture window, and he would climb up and stare in at you with baleful eyes, for those pettings and food. He had a sissy-sounding meow for such a large cat.

We figured he'd been someone's pet at some point, since he was neutered, and seemed healthy. He wore no tags; had no collar. He roamed the neighborhood, charming all the residents. We were not the only house that laid a food bowl out for him, and our other extra who joined him a year or so later.

About two months ago, we noticed that Grady had a lump on his left shoulder, right where the leg socket meets the feline torso. At first, we thought it was just a clump of matted fur from where he'd gotten brushed with some pine sap that had hardened. We didn't give it much thought. But, as time went by, that lump got larger. It didn't seem to distress him -- he didn't howl when you touched it, and it didn't seem to pain him or interfere with his walking. We debated on what to do about it. We couldn't afford a trip to the vet. We could probably barely afford it if one of us got sick, much less an expensive vet's bill. The last time we took him to the vet it ended up costing us $580 that we didn't have then, and are still paying off.

By the middle of August, though... that lump was so large that it WAS affecting his walking, and he began squealing when you tried to hold him, something he'd never done before. We began to despair a little more every time we saw him.

We agonized over what to do. Do we put ourselves into further debt, and take him to the vet? Do we try and find a local animal hospital to take him as a charity case? Should we try the local, no-kill rescue group? Do we take him to the Humane Society, who, despite the name, will surely euthanize him? JF cried for days, the hurt for this lovable animal taken in as if it were his own pain. I tried researching animal rescue groups, but there were none near enough, and no one out there who wanted a sick animal for nothing in return. JF called the no-kill place time and time again, begging them to get Grady some help. They hemmed and hawed, but eventually gave him some lip service about "checking with the director" and never called again.

One morning, when Offspring and I went out to some function, JF tearfully, finally bundled Grady up in a towel and drove him to Animal Control. The vets there thought for sure that the lump was some kind of tumor, most likely cancerous. Whatever it was, they said, it wasn't good. You know it's not good when they go get everyone else in the building to come look at it. They took pity on JF, seeing the obvious distress the poor man was in, telling him they'd take care of him. They took our name and phone number, assuring him they'd call. They never did. Grady was just gone.

I step to the front door often, expecting to see him sunning himself on our porch. He's not there. I hear a noise from the picture window, and get a little leap in my heart, thinking he's back. It's not him. It's never him. Passing by the pet aisle at the grocery store, my hands automatically go toward the bag of food I bought for him for so many years. It's like he was never there; he's just gone.

JF beats himself up still, calling himself a monster. I try to reason with him, knowing there's nothing that I can say that will really make it all right. He tortures himself, talking about how Grady howled and tried to run from him -- this sweet animal who never ran from us before. How he looked at him, as JF drove him away from his home. We all cry. We explain to Offspring why we felt we had to take him. The words sound hollow even as I say them. It still hurts, and I still hope to see him sauntering across the street. I don't suppose I'll ever stop hoping that one day, he'll come home, even though my head knows he won't.

I miss you, Grady, every day. I'm so sorry, boy. We wanted so much to help you, but we just couldn't. Love wasn't enough.

Offspring with Grady in happier times.

The Stepford Republicans

As most of you know, I'm rather fond of crafting. When I'm not posting pseudonymously, I am an independent salesperson for a specific company* which is a great source of inspiration, education, and a great big hole in my pocketbook. I truly do love a lot of the things that have come my way since I've started stamping and creating, and I've been lucky enough to share my passion with lots of great people.

I went to a meeting the other day, with a lot of other consultants. The purpose was to discuss our new product lines, and a chance to get together and craft some as well. The ladies were talking about a project that would have normally taken a lot longer to put together, but was greatly assisted by a new die cut machine that we're selling. The hostess mentioned that she cut out all of the elements and assembled them all while watching Sarah Palin at the RNC. Most of the other ladies began to gush about how much they just LOVED her, and wasn't she just fabulous?!

Eeek.

Tense moment. Luckily, I was looking through a catalog, and no one was paying me any attention anyway. Good thing I wasn't making eye contact, or I could have been swept away by the pod people.

You know, I have no qualms with a woman as Vice President. Heck, I was even prepared to vote of Hilary Clinton to run the entire shebang (though it would have killed me a little inside to do so...) but Sarah Palin? No, thank you. She does not get my vote just because she has a vagina.

I know people are very polarized by things like abortion, money, capital punishment, and politics. It is not my wish that I offend anyone with my opinion, but I am allowed to have one. And Sarah Palin is not anyone I really want running this country.

She's anti-gay, anti-gay marriage, pro-gun, pro-life, and as far from green as the color spectrum allows. Let's not even talk about the state of education in Alaska, and never mind the lack of experience in running either a town or a state, much less the whole shootin' match.

John McCain, sadly, will win some people over to his side with Palin as a running mate. I just won't be one of them.
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*If any of you are interested in this sort of stuff, you can email me for info and/or the company website.

Just Living

I'm here, though I don't have much worthy to post. (Except the stuff I *can't* post about, like the temper-tantrum, spoiled rotten kid I have this year....)

*Offspring has settled in to seventh grade -- it's hard to believe that she's already in seventh grade -- and seems to be enjoying seeing her friends, if not overjoyed at the idea of being back at school.

*Juggling Freak is ass-deep in alligators at work, which is necessitating long days and excessive crankiness from people who wish (and can't get) his services. It also makes him stumblingly tired. Poor guy... I just try to provide him with foot rubs to make it all better.

*I have a lot of craft projects to take pictures of and post, but I keep forgetting to do that.

*Why in blue blazes do middle schoolers need so many fricking binders and composition books?!? And what genius decided my daughter's school did NOT need lockers, meaning that they have to tote 20-pound bookbags around?

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Offspring Moment Of The Day: I was talking with her after school the other day, discussing her classes, and how she likes her teachers... all that sort of jazz... She was telling me about her French class, and I mentioned that I could help her with pronunciation, if she needed it. She mumbled, "Yeah...", clearly just responding, and not really *hearing* me. Then, light dawned -- "Hey! Yeah! You *can * help me!" The other shoe dropped, and she remembered that French was my language in school.

Hoppin' Mad

As we all know, you must now have credit checks and give your firstborn up if you want to fill your car up with gas. Since my daily commute to work is five minutes *with* traffic, I haven't had to spend much money on said detestable fossil fuel since early June.

Anyway.... ever since gas prices got freakin' ridiculous, I have kept an eye peeled for a "deal" on gas. I was glad then, to see that the little convenience store around the corner from my house had a "deal" yesterday.

The posted price for regular unleaded was $3.54. While this isn't the $.99 cents I'd love it to be, it's a heck of a lot better than the $4.08 (I think) that we got up to at the high point of the insanity.

I pulled in to gas up. I pushed the button for the REGULAR UNLEADED because I *never* buy premium (you have to pony up the credit check, some DNA, the kid, an arm AND an ovary for premium) and started the pump.

I happened to be looking in the direction of the LCD screen, so I noticed that the display went from zero to almost a dollar and a half immediately. The pump had flipped to premium! I was already pumping, and I needed gas, so I kept going. When I printed out my receipt, I realized that they'd pulled the classic bait and switch -- they lured me in with the low price and then they set the pumps to automatically switch to premium. Nice, huh?

I plan on complaining as soon as I can a.) find someone who gives a damn, and b.) find out who you report this sort of thing to in my area.

Damned price gougers! Made me so mad....

A Seizure Waiting To Happen

As I mentioned a post or two ago, teachers are already back at work here in HumidityLikeABrickWall. A lot of changes have taken place in my school since summer break. A lot of classes were shuffled around; we got a lot of new staff members; and a lot of maintenance was done on the grounds while we were away. We got some technological upgrades, and some building beautification projects were done.

One that went horribly, horribly wrong was the ladies' room near my new classroom. Before, the bathroom was your typical institutional bathroom: tile walls and floor, steel stall, gurgling toilet. It was painted in nondescript colors, and it was always slightly dusty-smelling. Like I said, your typical elementary school bathroom. By virtue of being an adults-only bathroom, it at least was not subjected to the constant pervasive smell of urine like the kids' toilets. Most adults have better aim. *Most* adults.

After lunch on Monday (and a 32oz. glass of lemonade), I developed a need to use the facilities and went down the hall. Upon entering the bathroom, however, the need to go suddenly evaporated. I was so shocked by the changes that all thoughts of evacuation left me. Some of us may go to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm down, or it may be the one chance during the day that we get to ourselves -- how can they *do* this to us?!

All I could think, with the paint job and the flickering fluorescent lighting, was: "This is a seizure waiting to happen." Either that, or someone watches *waaaay* too much Nickelodeon. I was horrified beyond the need to pee. And that's saying something.



I'm now scared to go to the bathroom. I guess I'll just have to hold it until I get home.

Tales Of Asshattery

On Wednesday, I decided I needed a haircut before wild animals started nesting in the mess on top of my cranium. I headed to one of the local malls to the Hair Cuttery Place. When I arrived, there was a Cheerleader Type at the sign-in desk, paying her bill. To my right, there was Young Redneck checking out his haircut in the mirror. He finished scrutinizing the back of his head (with the aid of well-placed mirrors) and slouched up to the desk.

I should have known when he butted in front of me, invading my personal space, that he was TRULY a high class kind of guy. He began to badger the girl about why her paying was taking so long. Cheerleader Type is scrounging on the bottom of her handbag for coins to pay their bill as she grumbles about why the bill was so high. The stylist/desk clerk looks a mite pissed as all this unfolds.

The two grumble a bit, but eventually turn and walk out of the salon. When I step up to the desk to sign in, I notice that Cheerleader Type has left her straw purse on the counter. I tell the clerk, and she and I both call out to CT that she's left her bag, and she stomps back in to get it.

The other stylist is working VERY slowly on the person in front of her, peering out into the hall to watch the pair's departure. A scant minute after the duo leave, the Young Redneck marches back into the store and asks the stylist/desk clerk how he can go about getting a refund. Huh? The stylist/desk clerk tells YR that their corporate policy is not to give out cash refunds, and she hands him a business card. She tells him to call the number on the back -- their corporate office -- and they will tell him how to get his money back. He is not pleased with this news, and at this point, Cheerleader Type comes barrelling back into the store, demanding that the stylist/desk clerk open the cash drawer and give them their money back. When the s/dc repeats that they just don't do that, the CT huffs, "We'll just go get a security guard."

What good is a mall rent-a-cop going to do? Just imagine -- all that power, people! Anyway, they storm off, *again*, and the Slow Stylist finishes up with the client in her chair. A few minutes later, the Trailer Park Twins are back with a security guard in tow. They all stand in the salon entryway, and the TPT tell MallCop that they were not satisfied with Young Redneck's haircut, and that s/dc refused to give them a refund. At this point, s/dc leaves her client to come to the desk. The way she tells the story to the MallCop is quite different from the Trailer Park Twins' version.

Stylist/Desk Clerk explains that when the two came in, the YR requested "a $7 haircut." When the Slow Stylist explained that they did not *have* a $7 haircut, YR says that someone named "Jessica" always cuts his hair, and that she only charges him $7. Both stylists attempt to tell him that no one at their location is named Jessica, and sorry -- men's haircuts cost $13.95. He asks if maybe he could sweep the floor or something for a cut in the price. No go... $13.95. Slow Stylist starts to cut his hair, but he keeps complaining, and telling her she's not doing it right, so she asks the Stylist/Desk Clerk to take over. Apparently, YR is happy with neither stylist's efforts, and continues to complain.

The Cheerleader Type, who must be his girlfriend (since he keeps calling her "baby" and "babe") also gets a haircut, but she seems satisfied with hers. She goes to the desk to pay for both haircuts while YR checks himself out in the mirror and grouses. (This was when I arrived.) Cheerleader Type must not have had enough to pay for the bill, hence the dredging up of coins from every corner of that pocketbook.

MallCop says that the pair complains that the Stylist/Desk Clerk refused to help them or to refund a bad haircut. S/DC calmly explains to MallCop that it is their corporate policy that they not make refunds out of the till, that complaints have to be routed through the corporate office, who then decide if the situation warrants it. Nothing can be done until the manager gets notice from corporate to refund a customer. S/DC tells the MallCop that she gave the girl a card with the corporate phone number on it, and that complaints and requests for refunds have to be processed through the main headquarters, and not in individual salons.

YR struts around, crowing about how he's been coming to that particular salon for 12 years, and that he's never had such bad service. He tells MallCop that he's just not satisfied with his hair, and he wants it to be made right. Miss PerkyTits, on the other hand, complains that she wants to talk to the manager. S/DC tells her that the manager is not available because she's out on maternity leave. This does not please her, so she states that she's not leaving the store until she has her cash back in hand. S/DC calls the manager, and starts telling her the story. One fact that she relates that I was not present for was that the original total of their bill was $38.90, and that CT didn't have enough to pay that amount, so S/DC did them a favor by scanning in a 20% off coupon code. CT managed to scrape together this amount, and they paid and left. MallCop begins to understand that the Trailer Park Twins are pissed that the haircuts took every last red cent they had, and are now trying to recoup some of their money. Basically, they want something for nothing.

The two get more and more frazzled the longer they stand there, and at one point CT demands that both stylists refund them personally out of their tip money. That's when MallCop decides to give them the shuffle off to Buffalo. He tells them that they can either follow the steps outlined by S/DC, or they can file a complaint to go to small claims court. Yeah. They choose to leave. YR mutters something about going to get something to eat. My wonder was if they didn't have enough to pay the bill, where was money for a meal going to come from? The MallCop hangs around for a bit to make sure that they don't come back. Slow Stylist tells MallCop that she thinks YR was high. That would definitely explain the belligerence.

You know, I understand when you've not gotten what you paid for -- I've had a couple of haircuts that I was not altogether thrilled with -- but you just don't go to that salon anymore. You don't leave a tip, and you make future appointments elsewhere. These two were simply looking for something for nothing. The *only* thing in their favor was that they did not swear like hooligans at the stylists. Maybe they did learn something from their mothers after all.

Back to the Daily Grind

Today was the first day back at school for teachers here in HumidityLikeABrickWall. Can you hear the joy dripping from my fingertips as I write that?

I slept about two hours last night, fighting my yearly "night owl readjusts to work schedule" battle. I was a mite tired today, and finally asked Juggling Freak to oblige me with a 30-minute catnap before making dinner this evening.

I hate the end of summer vacation, though I will appreciate the raise that will come with the dawning of a new school year. There's a lot to be done in the week before students arrive... On tomorrow's to-do list: die cut pieces for my door display, find a small bookshelf for my storybooks, die cut buses for cubby tags, and go through the mounds of crap in my bottom desk drawer and get rid of a lot of it.

Thursday is Open House for Offspring. We'll be attending to get her bus assignment and bus arrival time. Until then, she's marking time on the couch with her laptop and her last few hours of freedom.

Now, if we could only get rid of the torrential rain, we'd be good.

Woe! Vacation Has Ended!

Offspring and I take a quick breather before riding the Maelstrom in Norway.

Juggling Freak meets his idol, Donald Duck. And, a Mexican Donald, at that!

We're back from Disney World, which was great as always, thanks for asking. We had a fairly successful onslaught against the teeming crowds -- the day we went to EPCOT was great. The weather was overcast and a bit windy, so it not only kept the crowds at bay, it also kept us from broiling like chickens. We started the day there with a ride on the newly refurb-ed Spaceship Earth, and then quickly on to Mission: Space and Soarin'. All rocked, I'm happy to report.

It was most crowded at Hollywood Studios (formerly MGM Studios) because everyone was attempting to ride Toy Story's Midway Mania. We rode it twice, and it was very entertaining. Juggling Freak won the family point spread the first ride through, and I won it the second go-round. My prize for winning was a virtual stuffed beaver. There's a joke in there, somewhere, but I'll be genteel, and not make it.)

Magic Kingdom day was good -- had very little wait time at Buzz Lightyear, and we got a Fastpass for Space Mountain that had us right on the ride, bypassing a 45 minute stand-by line. I love Fastpass! The update to Haunted Mansion was great! (It was closed for rehab when we went last year, so that was a bummer, but it was well worth the wait!) Other highlights of that day were Pirates (always a blast) and the Tomorrowland Transit Authority. The TTA used to be known as the People Mover, and I've always loved that ride.

Animal Kingdom was hot and humid, as always. Most of the time, riding Kilimanjaro Safaris is problematical -- the animals hide out when it's too hot. They search for any patch of shade, and get under it. I fully understand. I was looking for a shady spot to rest most of the day, myself. We saw few animals that particular day. Most of the ones we did see were sleeping. We also HAD TO ride Expedition Everest, and had a great lunch at The Yak and the Yeti. Offspring had a spicy Vietnamese dish called Pho, which impressed the waiter. He said most adults aren't adventurous enough to try that, much less a 12 year old.

We also spent a lovely day at Typhoon Lagoon, where JF and I swam with the sharks in the very cold 68 degree water. Offspring spent most of that day bodysurfing in the wave pool.

We encountered lots of families from the U.K. and a quite a lot of Chinese. We were surprised that there were so many Chinese vacationing with the Olympics going on, but as I pointed out, we flee our city like rats deserting the sinking ship any time there's a big to-do here, so what's to say the Chinese aren't the same? Plus, China's a pretty big place. There were also a lot of Chinese staff members who were working there, training for the opening of Hong Kong Disney.

We ended our trip with dinner at Chef Mickey's in the Contemporary Resort. Yum. Juggling Freak doesn't care for buffets, and even he was impressed. We all came away with aching tummies, and proceeded to sleep like the proverbial dead that night.

Juggling Freak took copious amounts of photos; we played, and spent lots of money; and we ate like complete gluttons. It was your typical Disney vacation.

Where Am I Again?

No sooner than CCW and family drove away from the liquid air we call "humidity" that envelops our city, Offspring and I had to go home and finish packing for a four-day Girl Scout trip that her troop was taking. I was going along as a chaperone/driver, and we had lots to get in the car before our 8am start.

We headed for Helen, Georgia, a small resort town in the Blue Ridge mountains, and what was supposed to be around a five-hour trip from home. We learned a great many things on this trip. Chief among them were:

*What is supposed to be a five hour trip with 13 twelve year old girls will take you eight hours with bathroom stops and lunch.

*We are confirmed flatlanders. Mountains kick our collective tails.

*We stayed at a state park in what was called The Squirrel's Nest. On one of our trips into the park's Trading Post, the ranger working the register asked what section of the park we were staying in. When we told her, she grimaced, and said, "You brave people." We should have known then what we were in for.

*Girls are quite capable as being completely disgusting and flippant about personal hygiene as boys are. I never knew that girls could stink quite that bad.

*We went river tubing, which sounds like it would have been a complete blast, but which turned out to be awful. So awful, I think Dante has it in one of the levels of Hell somewhere. The reason it sucked donkeys was that the area, along with much of the region, is having a drought and the river levels were way down. I became very intimate with every damn rock in the river. Mostly on my shins and knees. I look like I was viciously mauled by a toddler. Pictures don't do it justice. I scraped both palms raw, both knees raw, and bruises from what feels like stem to stern. Had it actually been the normal river level, I think I would have enjoyed that experience, but couldn't this way.

*We're not real fond of being attacked by gigantic moths in the bathhouse while we shower. Just sayin'.

*When you have a Girl Scout who needs desperately to go to the bathroom at 3am, it is best to not critique your appearance in the mirror just then. Yes, your hair looks like crap -- it's 3am, and you're wearing a miner's headlamp. Get over yourself.

Despite all that, it was a fun trip. A lot of fun was had, and the girls all seemed to have a great time. I feel fricking old, but that didn't seem to faze them any.

Now, I have about a 24-hour turnaround time to wash clothes, catch up on saved TiVo programs, and repack for an 8am Saturday departure to Disney World. I'll post at some paint, but I can't tell you when.

I Finally Meet My (Non-Identical) Twin

CCW and I meet up! (While Offspring hovers in the background.)

CCW and Mr. MFBA at lunch.

CCW and I have long since discovered all the ways that we are alike, and have often joked that we must have been twins separated at birth. (How I got to be four years older than her remains a mystery for the ages.)

She and her family had to travel to a family wedding this weekend in a city only 2 hours from mine. She decided that she was dragging the entire family to HumidityLikeABrickWall for a bloggy meetup since she was within a fairly good driving range.

We met up for lunch and a quick stroll around the touristy area. CCW is just as hilarious in person as she is online. She's bright, funny, and we had no shortage of things to talk about. Mr. MFBA was a good sport, driving two hours out of the way for lunch and being Nonami's nap spot during it. He was, poor man, having to drive 10 hours back home only to get up in the morning and head to work. What fun for him. You truly are a badass, Mr. MFBA.

Kid L and Offspring got on like a house on fire. I actually had to look to make sure that they were eating during lunch, because it seemed like they talked a mile a minute the whole time we were there. They exchanged emails, and will probably be burning up the airwaves as much as their mothers do.

Nonami and NSBH were adorable, and I earned cosmic black marks against my name by showing the two of them the candy store and pointing out the large lollipops they sold. Nonami ate his straight away, and managed to get green lollipop goo all over his forehead. NSBH showed great restraint by not eating hers right away, but bedeviled Mommy for it after lunch. Mommy wasn't so interested in letting her child eat a lollipop as big as said child's head, but I have the feeling NSBH will wear her down on the drive home. CCW spent far too much money on the sugar-crack that we call pralines, and I'm curious to see how many of those make it home. They don't last very long with me.

It was a great visit, if short. I feel that we could have talked all day, but time was of the essence. I hope that CCW and Mr. MFBA are able to make the visit they're planning in October. I also hope they enjoyed the visit as much as we did.

Flaming Red Skin and Burning Ears

Offspring had a Girl Scout trip on Saturday to a small waterpark about an hour away from our town. Parents were allowed to attend, and moreover *needed* to attend to get all 22 girls there and back.

I went, and of course, got sunburned. Despite having put sunblock on THREE times in the five hours we were there, and wearing a t-shirt the whole time. The sunburn was bad enough, but it only lasted for about 36 hours before it no longer stung like a mother. I also seemed to have come home with an ear infection in my right ear.

It *hurts.* I took lots of over the counter medications for it yesterday, and that did help ease the pain off. I originally was thinking that I'd maybe gotten a scratch down in the ear canal or something, but it still hurts, even after applications of hydrogen peroxide AND alcohol.

I have a doctor's appointment for later this afternoon, and hopefully, they'll give me something that will allow me to sleep decently tonight.

Being A Productive Member of Society

Offspring is in Art Camp during the day all this week, so I've actually had to curtail my nocturnal urges and go to bed at decent hours. She has to be at the camp location at nine every morning, so I'm trying to stay awake and be a real, live contributing member to society while she's gone.

I met a friend for lunch and shopping yesterday, and today, I plan on making a trip to Kinko's to photocopy some documents for my father. I also may make a stop to the local craft emporium for a design element that I need for an upcoming project.

Tomorrow, Offspring finishes camp and JF and I plan on attending the Parent Art Show in the afternoon to see what she learned this week. Saturday comes with plans to attend a little water park in a nearby town for a Girl Scout outing. I have cleaned a good bit of my house, and am no longer quite so embarrassed to open the door to deliverymen and passing Jehovah's Witnesses.

I'm spending time working on craft projects, and getting ready for the upcoming fun stuff that I have planned, including a bloggy meetup with CCW. I'm hoping that we don't scare her and her family off when they visit the area in a week or so. Here's hoping!

The Massive Cleanup

I decided last week that Offspring's room was no longer livable. There was just too much crap stuffed in her small room. So, we set off last week to get all the crap down to a manageable level. Offspring and I ended up filling 27 bags with old Barbies, assorted odds and ends, and old Happy Meal Toys coated with layers of dust.

After most of the day, and quite a copious amount of hefting and carrying of overloaded trash bags to the curbside, her room looks mostly normal again. Well, as normal as a teenager's room can look.

Not Much Of Anything

I wish I could tell you that my silence has been due to the fabulousness that is my life, but sadly, no. I've just been hanging out, doing as little as possible. I've been maintaining just enough energy to insure that lichen doesn't start growing on my backside, and for me, that's a pretty big accomplishment.

I'm biding time until Offspring starts camp next week, and then vacations and two possible quickie bloggy meetups afterward. Been busy in the craft room, and that's about the extent of my actual productivity.


Updated to add: Offspring's room has looked like a tornado threw up in it for about the last six months. Since I've never won any prizes for *my* housekeeping skillz, this wasn't concerning me all that much. But, today, I got a wild hair up my nether regions to get that festering pile down to a manageable size. One that a child could, you know, LIVE in! Twenty-seven trash bags and five hours later....her room actually has visible floor! Now, I'm taking some Advil, and going to sleep.

In Honor Of Our Nation's Birth

Thanks to my lovely husband for the heads-up!

For CCW

This is a t-shirt that we found in the window of a funky little shop in Myrtle Beach. I knew *immediately* that I had to take a picture. Of course, it's taken me forever to POST it, even though my long-suffering husband spotted the shirt, took the picture, and shrunk said picture down to a manageable size to fit on this blog.



more cat pictures

Don't you *love* I Can Has Cheezburger?

Please to enjoy!

A Complete Failure

22 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

As seen at Miche's place -- I can honestly say that I'm neither surprised nor upset to be a dismal failure at this particular test. I think I knew I'd blown it when I realized that I either a) wear a soiled apron while I cook my husband his dinner -- or, heaven forbid, *pyjamas*!, or b) I can't seem to even WEAR hosiery, much less keep the seam in them straight!

Oh, well. As they say, well-behaved women rarely make history.

Just For Fun

I got an invitation, rather unexpectedly, the other day from an old Girl Scout friend. The invite was to a "all-day craft event" at her house for this coming Thursday evening. I haven't seen much of this friend this year because I bowed out of leading a troop, so my Girl Scout exposure has been minimal. While our relationship hasn't suffered, it is a change when you're used to being around someone all the time and then that time suddenly just drops off. I was looking forward to an afternoon of food, friends, fun, and fellowship.

My friend and I exchanged a few emails about the upcoming party, which I am excited to attend. The other inhabitants of my house are decidedly NOT as gung-ho about the crafty stuff, so it would be nice to be with other like-minded individuals for a while. Not that I don't love my family, but you all know what I mean, right?!

I finally got tired of trading emails back and forth when we live about ten minutes away from each other, so I picked up the phone. We talked back and forth about the new scrapbook store that opened up here in our town, and about the new stamping and crafting gadgets that are on the market. We speak for a bit about Offspring, who began her Scouting career in this lady's troop. Friend marvels at how far she's come from a shy five-year-old.

Imagine my surprise when later that night, as I'm cleaning up my bedside bookshelf (which was so crammed with books that it exploded when I barely touched it), I find Offspring's Daisy Girl Scout scrapbook. I forget that she was ever than small. Just for fun, I think I'll take it along with me on Thursday, to remind Friend why I'm glad that I know her.

A Bit Problematic

Our school was on the last tax referendum to get a new wing. We've all been very excited at the prospect of moving out of our dinky trailers and into real! actual! classrooms! Even though our building won't be ready until the 2010 - 2011 school year, the land has to be cleared and readied for construction. Next year will be the "clearing and readying the land" year. The *following* year will be the construction year. (Though why it takes two full years to clear the land and construct a building, I'll never know. After all, it is the government. I suppose I should have expected that.) Which, as far as we're concerned, means that as many people as possible had to be housed inside the main school building for this coming school year. So, the great classroom shuffle has begun.

We're moving from our teeny little double-wide trailer (actually only ONE-HALF of a dinky little double-wide trailer) to this humongous (former second-grade) classroom. The only problem is that the powers that be scheduled the floors to be cleaned and waxed. That means that all the furniture has to be placed on the one small carpeted area. Normally, this wouldn't present a problem, but it means that the former teacher who occupied that room has yet to move all of her furniture out, because the room that she's moving to has yet to have the floors done. That in turn means that we can't move our stuff in because her stuff is still taking up most of the space. And the trash left on the floor! Oooh, we won't even go into that.

But, for now, it looks like I'm going to be next door to a teacher that I've grown fairly close to over this year. Hope things stay that way, and that there are no further upheavals in my schedule.

The Ever-Popular Bullets of Randomness

Sorry for the long silence. It's been a busy and not-so-glorious last few weeks.

* Thanks to everyone who contacted me regarding my last post. I really appreciate all of your kind words and thoughts. To be honest, I wasn't seeking approval and compliments with that, it was just something that was really bothering me, and I felt like maybe I could write all the pain out of me if I tried hard enough. Didn't work, but I did feel better enough to finally go to sleep. It was a very disheartening evening for me, and those of you who mailed and called really helped me work through the funk.

* Both my show and school are over. (Thanks be to all benevolent forces out there.) Last show was June 8th, and last day of school was yesterday, June 13th. I just have to get all my crap moved to the new classroom and fill out some last minute paperwork, and I'm clear.

* Got Offspring off this weekend for a Girl Scout Field trip. It's weird not having her in the house. Sat on the couch, watching "Juno" with Juggling Freak, and then went and spent lots of money at the grocery store.

* I also signed up for Facebook, and have been busy playing all the neat little game widgets there.

* Made 14 stationery sets for people at school, and a scrapbook. Now, I need to make three or four greeting cards, and I think I'm good for a bit.

What's all up with you?

Hurt

This evening, before the show, we had our vocal warm-up and our director addressed us as he does before every performance. He passed out discs with the promised pictures that had been taken by the photographer on our final dress rehearsal evening.

Most of the pictures were great. The colors were brilliant, and there were often moments of such clarity that they jumped right off the screen. I could hear the songs, bursting from the actors' mouths. I could see the quick dance steps, and feel the hot stage lights on my skin.

I, however, was in none of those shots. Almost every picture of me is terrible. Now, I am my own worst critic -- and I'll be the first to tell you that. I often don't like pictures of myself. I find it an exhausting and demoralizing experience, this taking of pictures. The light is harsh and unforgiving, the artificiality of all the props and backdrops make the whole thing seem pointless and juvenile.

But this -- this was something else entirely. I know I'm fat. I know it in the way that I know I'm female, or that I know I breathe air. I know it the way I know the curve of my daughter's cheek, or the feel of my husband's warm palm nestled within mine. But, there is a big difference in knowing it, and truly grasping it. I grasped it tonight. I was appalled at how bad I look. I am huge.

God, how it hurts to say that. To know that. To see, with my own eyes how much larger I am than everyone else out there. To see the rolls of fat even under my costume, even at a distance. To know that, while under those hot stage lights that are so unforgiving. My multitude of sins there on stage with the rest of us. Taking up so much room; the silent participant.

I lay in bed tonight, tears rolling down my face as I remember the pictures that I saw earlier. Is that how other people see me? Is that really the way I look to them? How I burn with shame to know why people look at me the way they do. To finally, irrevocably, get it. How shameful it is to feel so bad, to look so bad.

I had this mental image of me, and what I feel like inside my own mind does not match up with what I see on the screen. Have I been lying to myself all this time? Has it all been one long self-delusion of massive proportions? How could I let this happen? How can anyone love this?

This Really Burns My Biscuits

I got sucked into Bravo's Top Chef last season, and have been watching this season from the very beginning. From episode one, I really liked Richard -- he seems very down-to-earth and genuinely nice (something a lot of the other competitors, past and present, have seriously lacked.) Plus, Richard lives in Atlanta these days, and I have to root for the guy who lives in my neck of the woods.

The last few episodes have been very frustrating to watch. There has been one competitor who has consistently been in the bottom rung on almost every elimination, and who has managed to squeak through. This is not all that unusual, as the judges tend to send home those who make really egregious errors, and pass over those who merely did not shine. It so happens that this year's "skate by on the skin of my teeth" contestant is Lisa.

What really grates on me about Lisa is that she is completely unable to accept criticism. In every episode, when she's brought before Judge's Table, her body posture is so defensive and rigid. She refuses to take anything the judges say to heart, which will ultimately lose her this competition. She also has the nasty habit of throwing the other contestants under the bus in order to save her own skin. In front of the judges a few episodes ago, she basically tattled that another contestant had not followed the letter of the challenge, despite the fact that she'd done the self-same thing the episode before that! This, to me, was inexcusable. I mean, I know it's a contest, but that's beyond the pale.

It seems, by reading the blogs associated with the show, that most other people feel the same way. Dale was another contestant who was eliminated in episode 11, and should not have been. Lisa should have been eliminated first, though I hold on deep love for Dale. Dale was abrasive and fairly open about the fact that he wanted to win, but he's a damn sight better chef than Lisa. Dale, at least, won some of the eliminations and quickfire challenges, AND got lots of compliments from the judges. Lisa hasn't been anyone's favorite that I can recall.

Not that this is that earth-shattering a topic, but it was on my mind.

The Verdict

Opening night went pretty well, except for me flubbing an entrance. One of the other cast members, however, knocked over what is supposed to be a stationary urn. I figure my flubbed entrance did no damage to the actual set, so I should be grateful that I wasn't MORE embarrassed because it could have been a lot worse.

Did pretty good in the dance that I generally screw up, so it was a give-and-take sort of thing.

Glued my left eye shut with false eyelash glue and that burned like a son of a gun, and I had to redo the makeup on that side of my face.

Didn't fall over, didn't hurt myself, and didn't step on either of my dance partner's toes, so it wasn't too hideous.

Offspring and Juggling Freak came, which was nice. My mother and a couple visiting from England (friends of the family) may come sometime this weekend, so that will be nice.

Now, we're one down, twelve more performances to go. I'm tired, and probably will be for the next three weeks or so....

Wish Me Luck!

Back from my self-imposed quietude to say:

My show opens tomorrow! Tonight's dress rehearsal was pretty good -- I had been messing this one dance up for freaking FOREVER, but I actually was pleased with my performance in it tonight.

We had a professional photographer there tonight, taking pictures, and at the end of the run, we are all presented with a disc of all the pictures. If there's a picture of me that doesn't look like a total doofus, and you all are interested, I'll post it. (Among all the other pictures that I've promised to post, and haven't yet gotten around to. So....look for it in about October, I guess, if I don't scrap the whole darn blog by then.)

So, wish me luck. In theater, we traditionally say "break a leg", but I did that last year, and I wasn't too thrilled with the result of that, so I'll just ask for good luck wishes, and all that bad theater karma be damned.

Trickle Down

Since posting has been rather thin and spotty of late -- mainly due to school, rehearsals, and, oh, that pesky "real life" thing -- I'm planning on phasing out this blog.

There are other reasons as well. I feel like my metaphorical well has run dry, and there's not many of you here to read the few things I post anyway. It's not all about the stats, though. If I was writing stuff I was happy with, it wouldn't matter. And I'm just not. I think that, almost three years in, that I've said almost everything worthwhile I had to say.

That having been said, I will still stay on as a Wednesday Whine moderator and still keep on reading my blogroll. I've made such wonderful friends through this blog (and others) and I don't want to lose that.

I may have a few more posts left in me before the flow slows down to more than a trickle. Thanks. For everything.

Hilarious, And Sad, All At The Same Time

Went to rehearsal last night, where I find that the choreographer has inserted me (and three others) into a dance number in which we were not previously included.

Very scary.

I'm most definitely *not* a dancer. Most of the moves are within my grasp, but my timing is atrocious. I turn half a second after everyone else, and I'm gallumphing around like a maddened wildebeest.

I'll just try to stay in the back and not kill or maim my dancing partner.

Pray For My Sanity

I'm headed off to the beach today, with my rambunctious little charges in tow. Everyone pray that no one drowns. Or that I have the urge to drown anyone.

Edited to add:

Back from the beach. No one died, though we did end up leaving two students behind at school who thought they didn't have to actually *do* the work we assign in class. Little did they know! Kids got soaked and sandy. I got a parking ticket. Hoo-freaking-ray. We saw little crabs and bivalves in the tidal pools, and watched a lifeguard chuck a jellyfish over the jetty to keep it away from nosy little fingers.

So, no one died, and no one got hurt. All in all, a successful field trip.