Thirty-Six

I turned 36 very early this morning.

My mother woke me up with the ritual singing of "Happy Birthday." I, being the lazy soul that I am, and it being 7:28 am, I did not answer the phone, merely rolled over in bed. If I don't have any pressing engagements, early morning risings are not in the game plan.

All in all, it was a great day. I can't complain, even if my self-image is that of a svelte twenty year old, and the truth is far and away from that. (Who says self-delusion isn't a good thing?)

I got some lovely gifts, spent some great time with my family, and had some great meals. Now, I'm going to go pile up on my bed and go to sleep.

Score One for the "Irony" Team

Some of you may have missed that October is "International Walk to School Day" in the USA. (I know! How could you have missed that?!? Never mind the fact that it's supposedly an "international" movement, but only in the US this month. Whatever.)

At any rate, some of our local schools held a big push to get people to walk to school this past week. It's promoting healthier alternatives for school kids, and truth be told, a little more exercise is most likely a good thing. Imagine the field day the press in our lovely little burg had when a child was struck by a car *ON* International Walk to School Day. It's like it was a tailor-made headline.

The scene went something like this -- the crossing guard in the middle of the street had her stop sign out, signalling to a waiting first grader that it was safe to cross. How wrong she was! (Our drivers routinely ignore such mundanities as stop signs. They tend to view them more as simple suggestions that they're unlikely to heed or obey. As in,"A stop sign? Hm. No, I don't think I feel like stopping today. Maybe I'll think about slowing down to less than a blur.") A red Camaro ran the guard's stop sign, and struck the child. It's unclear whether the sun obscured the driver's vision, or the driver is just a total bonehead. I tend to lean towards the latter.

Driving here isn't so much of a necessity or a pleasant pasttime -- it's more like a blood sport.

Oh, To Be A Cat

You know, there are some days when I think it would be much easier to be a cat. After all, *they* don't look so stressed out, do they? Oh, to have no pressing demands on my time, and be able to laze on the porch....

These are our "extra kitties", Grady and Blackie. Needless to say, they don't get all worked up about much. We call this "flumping." They will stride up to us, and just flump down at our feet, expecting adoration and food. And, like the suckers we are, we provide lots of both.

Musical Blogging

I know that a lot of you often post a Random Ten from your iPod or MP3 players. This is sort of a take-off on that sort of post. But, first -- a little backstory.

I was a member of an online group of people devoted to the wonderful and greatly-missed television show "Homicide:Life on the Street." I developed great friendships with some of the other people who also inhabited the group, one of them being our very own Songbird. (Big "Hi!"s also go out to La Binsk and Karin (a sometimes lurker here) who will occasionally come over from the group to see what's up in BlogLand.) As fans of the show, we often got together to discuss plot lines, characters, and situations that happened on the show.

One of the things that was so great about Homicide was the use of music to underscore all of the moments (important and otherwise) that developed. The musical director, Chris Tergesen, was a master at finding the perfect song to accompany any given bit of the show. One of our group members took on the Herculean task of assembling this music that provided the aural ambience that the show came to represent to us, the fans. It turned out to be a massive 4-disc set. And then, that one person -Morpheus - in a move of stunning good-will, mailed those home-grown compilations to various members of our little community. I was fortunate enough to be one of those people. I loved the whole set, but there were just some songs that I could not get out of my brain, so I further condensed them down into one disc. One disc with the best that Homicide had to offer. The interesting thing to keep in mind was that H:LotS ran from 1993 to 1999, and some of these bands were not even yet blips on any label's radar. There's a lot of pretty great music in the making there. And here's the playlist for you to enjoy:

The Best of Homicide:Life on the Street
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1) The H:LotS Theme
2) Tell Me What's Wrong -- The Subdudes
3) Only Happy When it Rains -- Garbage
4) Don't Think Twice -- Love Riot
5) Walkout -- Matthew Sweet
6) Circle -- Big Head Todd
7) What a Good Boy -- Barenaked Ladies
8) It Could Be Sweet -- Portishead
9) Crucify -- Tori Amos
10) I Alone -- Live
11) Cure for Pain -- Morphine
12) The Bridge Song -- Dishwalla
13) Raining in Baltimore -- Counting Crows
14) What Would Happen -- Meredith Brooks
15) Boom Boom Boom -- The Iguanas
16) Super Bon Bon -- Soul Coughing
17) Bleed -- Collective Soul
18) Feel Me Don't You -- Dada
19) In Your Wildest Dreams -- Rev. Horton Heat
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My family hates it when I put that disc in, but I play it all the time, and sing my lungs out, and relive the glory days of my favorite TV show. Homicide, how we miss you.

My Middle Name Should Be "Clumsy"

I have managed to hurt myself, yet again. You know, I'm honestly surprised that I've never broken a bone. (Technically, the thumb that got cut off wasn't a "broken" bone so much as a "forcibly removed" one, so I don't count that.)

At school yesterday, I stepped outside of my classroom door, only to encounter a cardboard box in my path. Not looking down, I proceeded to slide on the cardboard box, windmilling my arms. (I could have sworn I heard cartoon sound effects somewhere in the distance.) I struck my knee in the process, rendering it instantaneously numb from said knee to the foot.

Needless to say, the school nurse calls the incident in, and I have to go get checked out by our docs to make sure I haven't been thoroughly clumsy enough to damage my knee beyond repair. I also have to do a drug test, just to make sure I'm not loaded and trying to demonstrate surfing techniques to my charges. (Too bad I wasn't hopped up on drugs -- they might make some days easier. And then, some days, it's just not worth gnawing through the straps.)

The lovely doc spends about four minutes in the exam room with me, explaining that my x-rays look clear, and I haven't done any lasting damage. I tell him that my knee does not hurt to walk on, or to flex, but it does go numb when I press on the soft flesh around the knee. The learned man tells me, "Then don't push on it!" I ask what if it never goes away, this numbness? His answer? "Don't do any kneeling, and you'll be all right." Apparently, I passed my drug test, because I was sent back to work.

I hope I don't hurt myself any further.

Blogging Against Boundaries

Andrea at Beanie Baby posed an interesting challenge a while back -- why don't we do more reaching out, and blog about things that aren't within our normal scope? Andrea typically has posts that run the gamut from slices of her life with her family, to Wicca, and then to her living with diabetes, and on further to all points in between. There's nothing that shows up at her site that really surprises me any more. Andrea is the Queen of Research -- if you want to know about anything, she can cite chapter and verse about it. Her comment that we need to broaden our blogging horizons hit really close to home for me. My blog is not exactly what you would call really heavy on the "issues."

So, today -- it's all about the issues! I want to talk politics.

I am a very lonely blue shirt in a red shirt state. Actually, that's not quite true. I was once, but not any longer, a card-carrying member of the Libertarian Party. While it's true to say that in most cases, casting a ballot in any given election for the Libertarian candidate was pretty much throwing a vote away, at least I did it with an easy conscience. I would have rather voted and "thrown my vote away" than to not vote at all. Women's and minorities' voting rights were too desperately fought over for me to be blase' about casting a ballot. I typically don't think along party lines. I tend to vote for the guy who will do the best job -- the guy that I think will be the least corrupt.

I detest the idea of government as Big Brother. I understand that governments do need to establish rules as a means of keeping anarchy from happening, but there's a difference now. All this talk of "Homeland Security" is a thinly veiled metaphor for "we're going to do what the hell we want, and we can pass it off as all for the good of the country!" I can't help thinking that just a few decades ago, doing whatever he wanted and damn the torpedoes was why Nixon had to resign! Times, how ye have changed! Things are happening, right now, in the US that would have made rational thinking people explode in indignation only a few short years ago. Yet, we tolerate them now because we're told it's all for our own good. Detain people illegally -- oh, it's for YOUR protection!

I understand that the US needs to protect itself. We do need to look after our own, because at the rate we're making enemies on the world stage, there won't be anyone else left to look after us. Our president started a war, one that has killed FAR too many people on both sides, and has made enemies of people who have no compunction about blowing us all to smithereens. A war that we should not be fighting in the first place. Since when is it America's job to be the world's police force? How many of our young men and women are we going to sacrifice to the greedy jaws of the war machine and our president's ego? How many have to die before enough is enough? How much money do we have to pour into a country that largely does not want us there? Not to mention the people here at home who could greatly use the money wasted in that effort? Giving the Iraqi people infrastructure and health care is all fine and dandy, but we have our OWN citizens here that could use a little of that.

I'm all for the war on crime as well, but how many civil liberties do we have to sacrifice to win it? I hate guns, and I refuse to have one in my house, but it's getting to the point where all the bad guys have guns, and the law-abiding are hopelessly outclassed! The criminals have better weapons than many law enforcement officers do. Not only is crime too commonplace, it's being glamorized so in the media that young people think that it's not only a viable option, but something to admire in others! How skewed is our perception if a jail sentence is something that our children can *look forward to*? The rate at which we are jailing our young people, mostly young black men, is both alarming and disheartening.

That brings me to illegal drugs. Let me say that I've never done any drugs. I don't approve of them personally, and I think that I have enough obstacles in my life without creating pharmaceutical ones as well. That having been said, I can understand fully how some people escape who they are, and their surroundings, by using drugs. Too many people have been ensorcelled by the siren's call for the government to ignore the situation by just throwing the enslaved into jail cells. We need more treatment programs, not more jail time. We won't be able to fix every person with an addiction, but even if one percent gets clean and returns to something resembling their lives before drugs, isn't it worth it? How much treatment do you think an addict gets in jail? And it's not hard to get drugs in jail, either.

We won't even go into how many women and children suffer as a result of drugs -- either from being the dupe of a dealer in their lives, or the loss of a husband (or father, son, uncle, or brother) . How people have to still manage to eke out an exsistence on whatever scraps are left.

I don't claim to know how to fix it all, but I do know that we're headed down the ruin, and at an astonishing pace, too. Hopefully, we can soon stop attempting to repair the cracks in the policies and infrastructure of other nations and look to attempting to fix our own.

The Awful Spiral

I've posted quite a bit, both here and in comments on other people's blogs, about my weight, and my issues with it. I know it has to be boring, constantly reading about the same topic over and over, but it's intrinsically tied up with who am I and the kind of person I've turned out to be.

For a long time, I just assumed that I was heftier than other people due to genetics. My parents weren't overly large, but other people in my family were. My paternal grandmother has always been a rather rotund woman, and one of my mother's sisters has been slightly beefy. I also have three female cousins who have struggled with weight just as I have. I told myself that I come from hearty, peasant stock -- we're big people! Just deal with it. Or, like how both of my parents are olive-skinned, and I'm the almost translucent one -- genetics. I'm a throwback to earlier branches on my family tree.

As I got older, and moved to more sedentary jobs, I didn't (and still don't) get nearly the exercise that I should. I do run around after children all day, so it's not like I have NO exercise, but it's not as much as it once was. I also don't have the best eating habits. I don't like eating breakfast too early , and have to force myself to each a little something every morning. All the foods I love are the ones that are terrible for you. I do love fruit, and some vegetables, but I need more of both of them in my diet. I eat all the bad stuff, and too little of the good stuff.

As for that dreaded word: diet... I hate diets. I hate restricting myself to certain foods. And, I can't follow a lot of prepackaged plans because most of them rely heavily on you eating mounds and mounds of tuna fish. When I have to deny myself all the things I enjoy, I get terribly depressed, and end up sneaking or cheating anyway. Then, I get depressed because I cheated, and deny myself even more, and then I slip... and there's the spiral.

In my brief therapy sessions, the doctor wondered if I mask my pain by eating. If I stay fat *on purpose* in order to shield myself from life. I don't think I eat to cover any pain, but I do think that being fat, in an awful way, feels "safe" to me. It's what I know. I have been fat since about age 10. That's more than a quarter-century of my life that I have lived this way. That I have felt this way. *Do* I remain fat on purpose? Do I really have that much control over the situation? I know if I could choose to be thin, I would -- it's just the "getting there" part that takes so much trouble. Would I be happy being thin, or would I find something else to obsess over? It's that self-defeating spiral again.

I recently had a talk with Marni about weight, and weight issues. She had gastric bypass two years ago, and it has changed her life. I'm so glad that she was about to escape the horror of being "just another fat lady", and I applaud her decision to have the surgery. She says her life is completely different now. She even participated in the Atlanta 2-Day Walk for Breast Cancer. This is a monumental change for her. I'm not sure, however, that surgery would be right for me. I have this feeling like my weight is something I got myself into, and I should be able to get myself out of. Surgery is a very radical option when all I'm facing is sheer laziness. Now, if I had tried every diet out there, and exercised like a madwoman, and the weight still wasn't coming off, then surgery might be an option.

If I ever did have the surgery, would I still be me? So much of who I am is tied up in being fat, and in identifying with the other women who are like me -- and in championing the rights of people like me -- that I worry that I would lose sight of that. And that I'd still be the fat, unloved girl, trapped in the now-thin body. Would my husband still love me? Or worse, would he love me more -- making me feel like all those years that he told me I was beautiful "just as I am" were a lie? Would my daughter be a little more proud to be seen with me? Am I an embarrasment now? Would my mother actually tell me that I look good, without making a comment that she's "just worried about my health"? And my doctor wouldn't attribute every medical problem I have to "morbid obesity." Would I even HAVE any of these medical problems?

I wonder what it would be like to walk into any store and find something that fits me, right off the rack. I wonder what it would be like not to cover every exposed inch of skin because I can't stand the sight of so much of my own flesh. I wonder what it would feel like to have a man staring at me in admiration, not repulsion. I wonder what it would be like to plan a vaction, and not have to worry if I'll fit in the theme park rides, or we that can't go horseback riding because the horses can't carry me. I wonder what it would be like to walk down the street and NOT have people make jokes or snide remarks. I wonder what it would feel like NOT to be described as the "fat lady." I wonder. And I dream.

Some days, I am heavy. And some days, only my heart is heavy.

Confession is Good For the Soul

My good friend (and tampon thief) Karyn has this little meme up at her place, and I am all about hijacking it and running away, shouting, "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

The idea is that you are supposed to confess five secrets from your life. I doubt that I have any really good secrets left, but I'll give it a whirl.

1.) My husband dated a friend of mine in high school. (He and I did not meet until after college.) He's told me some...um...*intimate* details about her, and now it's hard to look her in the face.

2.) I once had a fling with a "bad boy" in college, and it was very disappointing. He was supposed to be this really wonderful guy, and it was very much nothing to write home about.

3.) After the fling (see Confession #2), he said some awful stuff about me to mutual friends, and I got back at him by telling everyone that my new nickname for him was "Sal." When people asked me why I called him that, I said it was because he was like a third-world nation: sadly underdeveloped. "Sal" was supposed to be short for San Salvador. (I felt badly for stooping to his level afterward, but hey -- I was 18 or 19.)

4.) I once shoplifted a candy bar from a little 7/11 store by my grandmother's house when I was visiting. My grandmother discovered that I'd stolen, made me take it back, apologize to the owner of the store, AND write a letter of apology. And then she told my dad, and I got spanked AND got restriction. (I was about seven years old.)

5.) To the jerk who used to torture me every day at lunch in high school - I was the one who told the principal that you had marijuana hidden in your wheel well of your car. Just because I'm fat doesn't mean my ears don't work. And when you constantly bully people, don't be surprised when they lash back out at you. (I should feel more sorrow that he got in a lot of hot water over that, but I really don't. Does that make me a horrible person?)

Where Did My Blogroll Go?!?!

I know some of you have recently debated the killing off of the blogroll. Imagine my surprise today when I logged on to see that my blogroll has run off to Andrea's in order to lend emotional aid to *her* blogroll.

When I tried to log in to Blogrolling, I get a download error. So, it's obviously a blogrolling thing, not on my end. It seems that Phantom has lost her link list, too. Oh, well -- when it comes back up, there's some new links I need to add as well: About Miche, Eclectic Tales, Passion of the Dale, and Post Secret. These are some folks I've been reading lately who are new to me, and Post Secret is an obsession of mine.

Otherwise, what's happening to you fine people? I spent today playing with my new stamps! As soon as I get a quick minute, I will blog some crafts I've made lately with the new stamps.

Feel the Love

You all know of our struggle to free ourselves from the clutches of the allmighty El Diablo WalMarto. Know that we generally lose this struggle every week, because in our town, it's simply the cheapest place to buy groceries, their politics aside. Unfortunately, we are not so well-off that I can justify buying our groceries elsewhere and the loss of money that *would have* remained in our bank account should we shop elsewhere entails. (Did that last sentence make any sense?)

At any rate, my babbling aside, we headed to the Evil One this afternoon for groceries. My daughter has recently discovered that she can use a full quarter of a bottle of my body wash during a shower or bath, so I had to stop in the aisle where the body wash and soap reside until being purchased by other similarly cowed consumers. Now, I've mentioned before that I'm a creature of habit, and I'm unhappy to report that I have gone through several types of body wash recently that I had grown to love, and which were then summarily yanked from store shelves. Once they're no longer available, I have to search through all the other possible choices to find something that I can come to appreciate like my now-defunct products. It's truly a pain, and some of the things that are marketed -- yuck! They stink to high heaven. So, I look for something that's not overpowering with scent, and that will get me clean and not leave me smelling like a locker room after an intense game.

I am flitting from bottle to bottle, smelling each one, when suddenly I squeeze a bottle a little too tightly, and get a nose full of shower gel. Instead of being all sympathetic, Juggling Freak laughs his behind off at his loving wife who now has a snootful of dripping soap. So, now I have a soapy nose, a laughing husband and a burning sinus. But, at least I smell nice.

Our Boring Menu

We here at the KLee/JF household have a very boring menu. Unfortunately. JF is allergic to pork (it makes him nauseous), and I am allergic to seafood. Plus, I'm rather a picky eater, and have been since birth, so that means we eat a lot of beef and chicken. This means that I am constanly looking for new and inventive ways of cooking hamburger and chicken. I tend to go to Sam's and buy the meats in bulk and split it up, this way, I don't have to (theoretically, anyway -- it hasn't worked out like this so far this week) go to the local grocery store every day.

Not long ago, I bought a cookbook that extolled numerous ways to cook ground beef. This was just what I needed! Inside, I found a recipe that has quickly become a family staple. I give you -- The Easy Egg Rolls! Now, as a picky eater, I have certain things that I just don't eat. Thankfully, Offspring and JF are much more flexible. (Offspring's only verboten foods are corn, applesauce and bananas. I figure that's a pretty short list. At least it's MUCH shorter than my own.) We don't eat them very often, but they're always tasty when we do!

Easy Egg Rolls (From the Ground Beef Cookbook)
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1 lb of cooked, drained ground beef
1 package (16 ounces) of tri-color coleslaw mix (with carrots and purple cabbage)
2 tablespoons of soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon of garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon of ground ginger
onion powder to taste (I use dried minced onion instead, so they're not SO oniony)
1 package of egg roll wrappers (square)
1 table spoon all-purpose flour
vegetable oil for frying (I use House of Tsang's Wok oil -- it has garlic, cilantro and other spices in the oil -- yum!)

In small bowl, mix flour and small amount of water together to make a paste -- you will use this to seal the wrappers together.

In large bowl, mix together first six ingredients. Place heaping teaspoon in of mixture into the center of an egg roll wrapper. Fold up wrapper, rolling tightly, and moisten edge with paste to seal. Heat 1 inch of oil to 375 degrees. Fry egg rolls 3 - 5 minutes or until golden brown. Drain on paper towels. Makes approximately 20 egg rolls.
------------------------------

A couple of helpful hints -- I wrap all the egg rolls first, before trying to fry any. It's a constant "watch and flip" operation -- you have to keep turning them pretty fast, or they'll burn. So, don't try to watch, flip, AND assemble egg rolls at the same time. Too much happening at once. I also like to make peanut or teriyaki noodles to go with these as a side dish. Don't try to use the rectangular wrappers -- the filling always spills out and burns. Also, be careful with the wrappers. They are kind of delicate.

If anyone makes them, let me know how they go over! I know we love them, and they're fairly easy to make. Enjoy!

A Hail of Bullets

Since I'm low on blog fodder, I decided to let you know what's going on here at Chez KLee via the ever-popular bullets.

* My darling daughter just recieved an award for being the second child in her whole school this year to win a medal for reading. I'm so proud of her! She also got her first middle-of-term grade report, and all her grades were good. She's been doing so well.

* My right foot has been bothering me lately -- well, since last spring, really. I started walking a mile back in April or May, trying to get ready for all the major walking we do at Disney World. While walking, I started getting a sore right foot. It wouldn't bother me so much while I walked, but afterward: oh, the pain! Flash forward to the present: the foot still hurts, but only every now and then, and usually after a long day on my feet, or right upon getting up. Dr. Google (even though Karyn thinks he's an asshat) diagnoses me with plantar fasciitis. The kicker about it is that it's common in overweight people, but you can't walk for exercise because it exacerbates the condition. I broke down and had to buy orthopedic shoes. Fun, no?

* I'm anticipating cooler weather so much! I'm tired of being sweaty, and I'm tired of washing funky laundry. If I didn't sweat so much, the laundry wouldn't be so funky.

* I bought a bunch of new rubber stamps, and I am looking forward to their arrival so I can create some new cards and scrapbook pages. Those projects will probably feature heavily in my box/gift for Andrea's Winter Holiday Gift Exchange. I'll be stampin' like a madwoman! If I have your address, watch out -- you may be getting a card from me!

* JF is really excited -- he's potentially found a juggling buddy! Said friend will be teaching him to pass clubs, so he's really into the whole idea of having a partner, since I am hopelessly inept at juggling. (I'm lucky that I can walk a straight line most days.) He also found this video of the juggling guy that he's so in awe of, and has been torturing me with it for the last couple of days.

* School is going fairly well, but it's hard to believe that we've been in class a whole month now. We're on the start of week five, and already they've learned a lot. We have some challenges ahead, but it's nothing we can't overcome with hard work.

Well, that's pretty much all that's happening here. Excitement abounds, right? Oh, well. We can't all have cute kids who charm the pants off people everywhere and utter bloggable posts every time they blink! I'd never get anything done!

A Meme, A Meme! My Kingdom for A Meme!

A while ago, I mentioned that the wonderful Karyn had tagged me for a meme. I have slacked off long enough now, so I give you the Fours Meme:

A) Four jobs I have had in my life:

1 - Movie Theater Concessionaire/Ticket Seller

2 - Yearbook/Newspaper Photographer

3 - Day Care Preschool Teacher

4 - My Current Job

B) Four movies I would watch over and over

1- Yellowbeard

2- Monty Python and the Meaning of Life

3- Better Off Dead

4- The Princess Bride

C) Four places I have lived in my life

1- The City of My Birth (I left there when I was one year old.)

2- Teeny Apartment here in my current city (from ages 1-4.)

3- The house I live in currently. (ages 4-16 and 20-present.)

4- Big Rambling House in another area of town (ages 16-20.)

D) Four TV shows I love to watch:

1- Black Adder

2- Homicide: Life on the Street

3- Eureka (I'm really liking this right now!)

4- The 4400

E) Four places I have been on vacation:

1- Disney World

2- Munich, Germany

3- St. Augustine, Florida

4- Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

F) Websites I visit daily

1- www.blogspot.com

2- www.cnn.com

3- my school's website

4- www.google.com

G) Four of my favorite foods

1- Fried Chicken

2- ice cream

3- oven roasted carrots with butter

4- chocolate

H) Four places I would rather be right now

1- London

2- Disney World

3- someplace temperate with crystal clear water and NO sharks

4- Munich

I) Four friends I think will respond

1- anyone

2- who

3- wants

4- to!

Hello, Cleveland!

This promises to be an excellent evening! :) Won't you all join me for an evening of magic?

Thanks to Dale for the heads-up for this cool site! You'll waste a lot of time there, I assure you!

Louis S. Inghilterra - A Life Remembered

As the 5th year since the September 11th attacks begins to pass us by, it is important that we stop and take the time to remember those people who lost their lives that day. This is my tribute.

********
On the morning of September 11^th, 2001, Louis Inghilterra, 45, woke up in an apartment in Ossining, NY. He and his family; wife Diane and son, Louis Sam, aged two; had been renovating their Chappaqua home, and were finally scheduled to move back in that day. His wife, Diane, said that Louis' eye for detail stayed with him throughout the renovations, leading him to examine all possible combinations of door knobs and floor trimmings. Louis loved carpentry, and had made bookshelves for their home, and had even fixed up the armoires that he and Diane had picked up at garage sales in anticipation of moving back into the Chappaqua house.

Louis was a Senior Vice President and Treasurer of the Fiduciary Trust International, which was located on the 95^th floor of Tower Two of the World Trade Center. Louis called Diane from work that morning to find out if the movers had arrived yet, and was on the phone with her when Tower One was struck. He told his wife that he had just seen a jetliner strike Tower One, and then said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. Don’t be upset.” Diane said that she heard a lot of noise in the background, and then the phone went out.

“Louis was a wonderful father,” Diane said in interviews. She said that he played guitar, and listened to jazz and old rock music, and approached life with a sense of wonder.

Louis was originally from the town of New Castle, NY. A friend of his, Michael Wolfensohn, proposed a memorial to be installed at a local city park in remembrance of his friend. His conceptual design for the memorial featured using steel pieces from the World Trade Center wreckage. Michael led a petition drive to get the memorial before the city council, and was even given $26,000 by the Steel Beams Foundation to incorporate the steel into the memorial. The design he favored used the steel as part of the memorial, but would not be visible from the road. The city council shot down the plan with the steel as part of the memorial back in December 2005, igniting a storm of controversy in the town of New Castle. Most residents supported the proposed design, but the board pulled the idea because a few residents objected to the inclusion of the steel, citing that it would be “inappropriate in a residential setting.” The scheduled opening of the memorial is slated for today – the fifth anniversary of September 11^th.

Here is a photograph of Sam, placing flowers at the steel fragments that were supposed to be placed into the memorial. http://www.lohud.com/dailygallery/012206/pages/10.htm

I never met Louis, or any of his family, but his story has touched my life. I hope his memorial is built, and I hope I have done his story justice. If any of his family of friends happens to read this tribute, I want you to know that I’m so sorry for your loss, and I hope that by celebrating Louis’ life, I have honored him. He deserves no less.

Party Update, Now With More Mostly Naked Indian!

Before I took my self-imposed hiatus, I had mentioned my Mom's birthday party last week. Remember that it was a theme party? Mom had chosen a Cowboys and Indians theme, and had instructed us to come in costume, or face her wrath. Offspring and JF decided to cobble costumes together with items we already had here at the house, and went as Cowboys. Well, sort of. JF went as a federale, complete with huge Mickey Mouse sombrero. It was very easy to spot him from any place in the building. That hat has its own weather system.

Offspring was a cowgirl, and was over the moon because we had purchased her a denim skirt at El Diablo WalMarto that she pronounced as "swirly." She spent darn near every second of the evening twirling around the dance floor to watch the skirt flare out. That is, when my aunt wasn't teaching her how to shag.

The whole costume thing was problematic -- I decided to go as an Indian, since the other two members of my family were going as the cowboy contingent. I bought some dollar-table brown fabric and made myself a quick outfit, and beaded the hem. Not hard, but sort of time consuming. A lot of the partygoers chose not to wear costumes at all. Some of them that DID wear costumes went to extremes. My aunt (the one that was teaching Offspring to shag) decided that she didn't fit the mold as either a cowboy OR an Indian. She refused to let my mother pigeon-hole her that way. She told my cousin (we'll call my cousin Daisy Mae and my aunt, Auntie B) that she was going to go as one of those "saloon girls." Daisy Mae's pithy reply: "You mean a whore?" Auntie B's face brightened, "Yeah!" So, Auntie B arrives at the party in a screaming purple satin getup, complete with fishnet stockings. For a woman of about 65, she looked good. Odd, but good.

Another adventuresome soul out on the Fashion Edge was a young guy who came in a loincloth. I don't even KNOW this person, but my mother apparently does, as he was grinding his scantily-clad loins all over her on the dance floor. If nothing else about him, we can tell that Mostly Naked Indian Guy has a healthy self-image to parade himself around in nothing but a wide strip of cloth. But, I am only able to tell this because I am a discerning observer of people and all their quirks. The average layman can't do that. It takes a finely honed eye.

Many drinks were consumed, and my mother, self-named Princess Prairie Wind, had a great time dancing and reminscing with all of her friends and family. Three of her sisters and her one brother attended, and five nieces and their significant others (and in some cases, their children as well). My brother and my quasi-sister in law (he REALLY needs to propose!) made the party, and spent most of the time in the bar, swigging drinks and watching football. He even missed the embarrassing-but-necessary "family moment" to "We Are Family" where we all had a spotlight dance with Mom. Kodak moments, I tell ya.

And I have the blackmail photos to prove it!

Reports of My Demise Were Grossly Exaggerated

Sorry for the very dramatic exit stage right the other day -- I can only say that I'm a drama queen, and I was just hatin' life at that particular moment. I didn't mean to spook anyone, I just needed a few days away to calm down and try and get my crap together. It turns out that Karyn was right on the money: I did *not* get my life totally sorted, but at least I didn't go completely postal, either.

I had several bad things happening all at once: major fight with child, another bodily injury that all the websites claim is widely known to happen more often to "fatties" (a comment which did NOT make the idea any more palatable); annoying stuff at school; and yet more Girl Scout troop woes. I won't subject you all to the gory details, however. I like you all too much.

I did, however, get a telephone call from my lovely twin, CCW, which brightened my day considerably. She had worried that I was so distraught that I'd thrown myself off of a cliff or something. She was calling to make sure I was okay. I assured her that I was, mainly because while my city is by the sea, we're flat-landers, and we have no cliffs.

I do want to say a big Thank you! to all my wonderful readers for their supportive comments. It really did help to see all of your well-wishes and good thoughts heading my way. I will promise in the future to act like a big girl and not a petulant three-year-old. I may not succeed, but I'll try.

I Have to Go For a While

I'm going to be out of touch for a few days, as I mull over some things. It's been a bad week already, and it's only Tuesday. I'll be back when I've straightened out my life.

I'm Here, I Swear

You know, Phantom warned us about switching over to the new Blogger Beta, but I didn't listen. I switched, and while I like the new features, there are several things I'm having trouble with. First of all, one of the features I really liked about beta was that I could set tags (only they call them "labels.") I started using my labels, only to discover a few days ago that my capitalized labels had migrated to lowercase only. So, I've notified Blogger about it, and they're working hard on it, but I stopped labelling until it's worked out.

The one that's really causing me stress is that I can now no longer sign in to non-beta blogs to leave comments. I'm here, and I'm reading, but for the time being -- I can't comment to you all. Oy.

Sorry I'm Late

Both Medieval Woman and Karyn tagged me for memes quite a long time ago, and being a total shlumpo, I told Karyn I'd do her meme, and then promptly forgot about it. Medieval Woman's meme, I read at her place, but completely missed the fact that she'd tagged me. So, to recap: I'm slow, a terrible friend, *and* not terribly observant.

I have yet to finish Karyn's meme, simply because I have to at least attempt to be witty. So, I'm still working on that one. As you are all aware, it takes wit to be witty, and that's something that I have to work at. Unlike the venerable Dr. Dog, I do not possess that skill inherently, and must sweat bullets to approximate the appearance of ease. I *have* worked on Medieval Woman's Quote Meme, because it was much shorter. So, I have quickly slapped gathered some quotes together for your perusal.

The Quote Meme
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(Oh, and the idea behind this was to find 5 quotes at this location that you felt encompassed who you were, and really spoke to people about you. Knowing that I am completely incapable of following directions, I have chosen 8 quotes because I loved them all. )

Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster. Your life will never be the same again.

Og Mandino (1923 - 1996), The Greatest Miracle in the World

You know that children are growing up when they start asking questions that have answers.

John J. Plomp

Everyone is born with genius, but most people only keep it a few minutes.

Edgard Varese (1883 - 1965)

I would rather not know how to write and have something to say than know how to write and have nothing to say.

Enrique Tessieri

For animals, the entire universe has been neatly divided into things to (a) mate with, (b) eat, (c) run away from, and (d) rocks.

Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.

Virginia Woolf (1882 - 1941)

I don't want to be a passenger in my own life.

Diane Ackerman

People are always asking me what my lyrics mean. Well I say what any decent poet would say if you dared ask him to analyse his work: if you see it, darling, then it's there.

Freddie Mercury (1946 - 1991)

It's Raining Bullets!

And now for something completely bullets:

* My mother is celebrating her 60th birthday this weekend. I don't think my mother even knows what a blog is, but if she's somehow managed to find my blog: Mom -- Happy Birthday! I love you bunches!

A little you should know about my mom -- she's not your typical 60 year old. She rides a Harley. She asked me to buy her leather chaps one year for her birthday, so she could wear them while she rides. Do you all know how freaky-weird it is to try and buy leather chaps for your mother?!?!? Trust me. It's like living inside a Picasso painting. My mother likes to go get rip-snorting drunk on the weekends and sing karaoke. She's more a force of nature than the typical idea of a Mom. It's never dull with her around.

*Mom's having a theme birthday party this weekend. The theme is "Cowboys and Indians." Offspring and JF have elected to go as cowboys, and I'll be the Indian Contingent. I will have to get pictures. Not that we'll be home at a decent hour, but I figure if I get any good shots, I can post them eventually, whenever my contact-hangover goes away. Theme or not, Mom usually throws pretty good parties. There's always lots of noise around my mother. Granted, she's usually the one making all the noise, but that's really beside the point. It's lively, is what I'm saying.

*Since I posted the Praline Cookie recipe, one of the commenters suggested that we do a cookie swap. I like this idea. I suggested that if anyone really has the hots to organize this, they are quite welcome to do so. If not, I will be very glad to organize it. I am envisioning an exchange, much like Andrea's Winter Holiday Gift Extravaganza, but I was thinking that we might want to go with a time other than Christmas. That time of year is so packed already. Maybe right before, like around the time of the American Thanksgiving? In addition, I'll think up a questionnaire, so that participants can record likes and dislikes, and any allergies that might be a problem. If you are interested, drop me an email (mistresskoflee@yahoo.com), and I'll get a list of people wanting to take part together.

*We are getting lots of nasty weather from Ernesto, but I have hopes that nasty weather is the most that we'll see from him. Lots of rain, and a few gusts, but that's about the end of it. Just the way I like it. At least it'll cool off the heat wave. It was so hot today, the asphalt was bubbling as I left school.

*Offspring came home with a note from her teacher that she did so well in a class discussion the other day that he awarded her a no-homework pass. Yay, Offspring! Mr. Teacher also sent home a rather long letter to parents about teaching the children self-suffiency and the importance of goal-setting. His plan is that each student has to outline a goal that they want to attain this year, and then DO it, and provide proof along the way. For example, Student A wants to read 50 books during the year. Student A will keep a log of the books read, and will take Accelerated Reader tests on the books s/he reads (if there are tests available.) Student A will also hand in a report on his/her favorite book. Offspring came up with what I consider to be a pretty unique goal all on her own: she wants to build (and demonstrate to her class) a working scale model of a catapult. So, at some point, I'm sure you'll see pictures posted here.

*Why am I almost 36 years old, and still breaking out in pimples? Wasn't I promised that this would all end when I reached adulthood? Or is this going to be like the retirement age -- by the time I reach it, they keep pushing it further and further back? I don't like "them." "They" lie. These were also the people who swore that childbirth didn't hurt.

*I lost a student already. This sweet little girl was in my class for two weeks and then moved. I understand the need (on the one hand) for the parent to make sure the child gets as much out of her education as possible, but isn't that a LOT of paperwork? As sad as I am to see her go, she was a distraction. She was a hummer, meaning that she unconsciously hummed all. day. long! No matter how many times I told her to stop, she hummed. After like the fifth time in an hour one day, she looked me deep into the eyes and said, "I'm annoying." I did not disagree with her. I hope she does well at her new school, and I'm sorry I only had two weeks with her, humming and all.

*I hate washing dishes. Unfortunately, I have no dishwasher, and it's time for me to cook dinner, so I must go do this now. Happy Wednesday, everyone!

The Infamous Praline Cookies

I have mentioned this recipe in several places recently, and was exhorted by a new commenter, St. Inuksuk (welcome, by the way!) to fork over the recipe forthwith.

Because I always, *always* have to provide you with the backstory, I will tell you the origin of the Praline Cookies. (Hush all the griping, and just listen!)

I spent a year at another school, not the place where I work now. It was a very fish-out-of-water year for me. The one saving grace was some of the great people I worked with. One of my coworkers passed out little Ziploc baggies of these yummy cookies as a Christmas gift that year, and when I had eaten the whole baggie in less than ten minutes and was clamoring for more, I knew I'd have to beg, borrow, or steal to get the recipe. Fortunately, the wonderful lady was as nice as she could be and provided the recipe without my having to resort to violence. I made about 12 batches of these cookies that Christmas, eating probably half of those batches by myself over the course of the holidays.

I got sent back to my home school (my current school) the next year, and since no one there had tried the cookies, I decided give those away as my gifts to the staff that year. (I have given, in past years: homemade holiday pins (Christmas Trees, menorahs, reindeer...); chocolate cakes baked into Mason jars; and Christmas CDs.) They proved so popular, our school secretary had me sit down at her computer and type out the recipe right then and there! She dubbed them "Christmas Crack" because they were so lethally addictive. However, there is one caveat: you have to like pecans. (And here in the the South, that would be pronounced "pee-can", *not* "pee-cahn". Just so you know.)

Praline Cookies
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1 box graham crackers (regular flavor, NOT cinnamon)
2 sticks margarine
2 sticks butter
1 cup sugar
4 cups pecans, chopped

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a large cookie sheet (or two smaller ones) completely with tinfoil. Break graham crackers into individual "fingers" and arrange in bottom of lined pan. Completely cover pan, breaking crackers into smaller pieces to fit all the way up to the edges. Spread pecans over top of crackers, taking care to distribute evenly. Set pan aside. On stovetop, in a nonstick saucepan, combine butter and margaine over medium high heat. Once mostly melted, add in sugar and whisk together. Bring to a low boil. Boil for 3 minutes, and remove from heat. This will make a thick syrup. Ladle syrup over pecan-covered crackers, distributing evenly. Try to cover as much as possible.

Bake in preheated oven for 12 minutes. (Check once around ten minutes to make sure cookies aren't burning.) Remove from oven, set aside for 1 hour to cool. When cool to the touch, remove from pan. You will have one giant sheet-cookie. Peel tinfoil off of back and discard. Break into individual cookies and box or bag as you wish. Refrigerate. Cookies taste best when refrigerated overnight.
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I hope everyone enjoys. I usually only make these for Christmas because I bankrupt myself buying pecans to make them. Make and consume at your own risk. I will not be held accountable if any of you wind up with an addiction. You were warned.

Note to Self

If you're going to go to an overnight Girl Scout Leader event, you're probably going to have fun. If you're probably going to have fun, you'll probably be too jazzed up to go to sleep. If you're too jazzed up to go to bed at a decent hour, you'll probably end up staying awake all night with the other troublemakers. If you stay awake all night with all of the other troublemakers, you'll probably bottom out early on the next morning, and be VERY cranky and sleepy.

It's sort of a "If You Give A Mouse a Cookie" kind of prophetic, isn't it? A self-fulfilling prophecy that shouts, "Hello, Captain Obvious!" at the world.

I'm going to bed. Wake me up tomorrow.

The 2,996 Project

On a visit to Marni's place today, I was very moved by the post she had up. She joined the 2,996 Project. This is a blogger push to have every victim of 9/11 remembered on the anniversary. You can go to the website, located here if you are interested in signing up. I can think of nothing better to mark the day than many previously unconnected people celebrating the lives that were so cruelly snuffed out. Thanks to Marni for letting me know that this was out there.

I was given the honor of remembering Louis S. Inghilterra. Please check back on 9/11 to read his tribute.

The No-Good, Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Day

As some of you may have read over at Phantom's Wednesday Whine, I am. not. having. a. good. day. I mean, I've always viewed my life as a sort of Comedy Of Errors sort of deal, but today takes the cake.

I started off my day by getting bitten all over my right foot by fire ants. This was a really spectacular start to the day. Then, my students were completely out of their minds, testing every boundary that we've ever established. I have one little miscreant who has taught my three other miscreants how to flip birdies, and they think this is the coolest thing since sliced bread. I am. going. to. kill. them. So, we had to spend our (sadly needed) outside time going over the school rules instead of playing. I made the miscreants sit on their hands while I wrote notes to their mothers.

A little later in the day, I was called into my assistant principal's office where I sort of got in trouble. It wasn't anything major, but enough to make the day that much more enjoyable. And, to make the day that much more special, my tendonitis in my wrist has been acting up. I wore my wrist brace to work to help alleviate the pain, and took my prescription pain meds for it as well. On my way back to the classroom, I was stung by wasps that appeared from nowhere. One flies down into my brace and stings me on my hand. Two others sting me on the butt where the gluteus join the leg. I now have to trot myself off to bare my bottom to the school nurse. What fun. Never having been stung by a wasp before, the nurse makes me hang around for a while to make sure I don't have a reaction. I look like I've been slapped hard on the butt *and* punctured with a large-bore hypodermic.

I had had plans to go grocery shopping after work, but the wasps stings are making my leg hurt, and walking around is not making me a happy camper. As I leave the store, the entrance is clogged with people because it's now *raining.* Of course it is. And not just raining. It's Noah's flood out there!

I'm wearing sandals (yay, open toed shoes that let the ants right in!) and they immediately get soaked in the splashing. So, now I'm soaked, my shoes are all slippery and squishy, and the Very Thin Shirt that I had chosen to wear to work was plastered to my body like I was a waif-thin model on a runway. The rain is cold. Cold rain + plastery thin shirt on fat lady = wet t-shirt contest for rednecks.

To wind the day up, I get a call from my Girl Scout co-leader who tells me an interesting story. Apparently, the mother that had all the Issues with me and is not letting her daughter return to my troop in the fall is telling all of our other parents that I did something to her daughter, and *that's* the reason she's not returning. Never mind that a) I never did anything but love that child; b) my co-leader was present at EVERY meeting and does not remember any incident where I offended or hurt said child; and c) I have seen that child three times so far this year in the school setting, and she's hugged me every time. Does this sound like a child I've hurt? This woman is going down.

I'm going to finish my Kool-aid and go to bed before some other awful thing can happen.

Yo Ho Ho, and a Bottle of What?!?

JF has been in a piratical mood lately, even going so far as to make a Puzzle Pirates account. This may not seem newsworthy to you, dear readers, but as a game purist, games like PP are not nearly "intense" enough for him. He plays things like "Mech Warrior" and "Star Wars Galaxies." Not fun fluff like Puzzle Pirates. However, Offspring and I have played so much PP lately that JF is slowly coming over to the Dark Side.

Love of pirates is nothing new to my husband. He made his mother dress him up as a pirate more years than not during his childhood for Halloween. When we went to St. Augustine when we were still dating, we had to take one of those old-timey photos as a pirate and his wench. (Trust me, it's scary.)

He's been on a rum kick lately, in keeping with the pirate theme. When we went to my Mom's not long ago, Mom made him a rum and Coke, and when he realized that that drink contained less calories than a beer (his drink of choice), he decided to stop drinking beer and drink rum instead. (I'm amazed that he has yet to lose any appendages by asking me, his wench, to bring him some rum. This qualifies as a Good Thing, in case anyone's keeping track.) The brand he's been drinking is called "Barbarossa", and it's made by White Rock Distilleries. Earlier tonight, JF looked up their website, and began laughing hysterically.

I poked my head in from the kitchen to see what all his hooping and hollering was about. He asked, "Do you remember that billboard that we once saw on the way to Orlando? The one about the rum?" The only one I could really remember was the one that made me pity some poor editor somewhere: Cabana Boy Flavored Rums. I don't know about you all, but I'm not drinking *anything* flavored by a Cabana Boy. I don't care HOW appealing their website tries to make it sound.

Anyway, it turns out that the same company that makes Barbarossa (which they've misspelled on their own website) also makes the Cabana Boy Rums. The bottles of Cabana Boy, if you all care to go look at them, are...um....something to behold.

What Were They Thinking?

My city has only recently decided to move out of the Stone Age and construct a parkway that would quickly shunt travelers from one end of town to another. The construction on this monstrosity began, if I recall correctly, back in 1990 or thereabouts. It was supposed to be finished by 1996, but that deadline is 10 years past and counting.

JF and I have long joked that it should be called the "partway" because it is only partially completed, and looks to stay that way indefinitely. Construction on the phase near our neck of the woods was completed about a year ago, and using it makes travelling to outlying areas much easier for us. We take the partway often when we head out to my parents' house at the beach, since we bypass all of that pesky stop-go traffic in town.

The on-ramp where we begin such journeys is marked by a large retention pond. As the workers constructed the overpass so the new road would not impede traffic on the current road, a small pit was created, and this became the retention pond. This particular on-ramp is only yards away from a city park that features, among other amenities, a lake. Due to the profusion of ducks that inhabit the city lake, we've always called this park the Duckie Park, from when Offspring was small and liked to go watch the commando ducks. (These ducks bum-rush you for bread as soon as you get out of your car. It's akin to what I imagine a mugging in a rough part of New York looks like, only with ducks.) So, the Duckie Park is *right across the street.* It has a lake, complete with fish and sailboats and even a small dock. I wouldn't actually *eat* the fish you caught there, as they'd probably be of the three-eyed variety like on the Simpsons, but they're there if you're the adventurous type.

We have often marveled, mouths agape, at the many idiots who while away a hot summer's day with fishing poles, trying to catch something in the retention pond. We often yell at them as we speed by on our way to El Diablo WalMarto or to the beach. If they have yet to figure out that they're never going to catch anything there, who am I to burst their bubble of optimistic gastronomy?

We thought we'd seen everything, what with the retention pond fishers. We'd even ceased to be amazed at the fact that catching nothing for days on end hadn't dimmed their childlike hope. If they'd actually *caught* something, it would probably be a lead story on the evening news, because that would mean that fish have evolved legs and migrated from the Duckie Park across the street, and I'm pretty sure that would be news-worthy. I can see the headlines now: "Small Southern Hamlet Home to Walking Fish! Flying Spaghetti Monster, Eat Your Heart Out!"

Just imagine, dear readers, if you will, the looks of utter astonishment we had on our faces today as we pass by the retention pond to see four young-ish looking men with a yellow inflatable dinghy, going down the path to the water. I can only pray it was a fraternity initiation of some sort. That scenario at least gives me some hope that the men were not really going to take a pleasure cruise around the 15-foot-square deep puddle with a rubber raft.

Counting Down the Numbers

I've been tagged by the wonderful Marni for a meme! Always happy to oblige!

----------------------------------

The Numbers Meme

Ten Years Ago
I had been married for almost four years, and I was probably at home, sleeping or nursing a six-month old Offspring.

Five Years Ago
Offspring was starting kindergarten and I was working as a substitute teacher. I took a long term PreK assignment, and ended up teaching PreK students for about 10 weeks. It was a blast, and Offspring was right across the hall, so I got to see her all the time.

One Year Ago
I had just been transferred back to my school after an awful year spent at a preppy, country-clubby school. I was so happy to be home, I just couldn’t tell you.

Five Songs I Know All the Words to
1. “American Pie” by Don MacLean
2. “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell
3. “Grendel” by Marillion (it’s an 18 minute-long song!)
4. “New Religion” by Duran Duran
5. “The Saga Begins” by Weird Al Yankovic (the Star Wars-themed parody of “American Pie.”)

(Speaking of Weird Al, I found this little video of an original song he did about horoscopes. The song’s absolutely hilarious, and the video here makes me smile.)

Five Snacks I Love and Wish I Could Eat
1. biscuits from Popeye’s.
2. the stuffed French Toast at Cinderella’s Royal Table in the Magic Kingdom
3. oven roasted carrots with butter.
4. the Yankee Pot Roast at the Liberty Tree Tavern in Magic Kingdom
5. the praline cookies that I got from a coworker one year. I made them as gifts for people the next Christmas, and they were so popular and addictive, we termed them “Christmas Crack.”

Five Places I’d Run Away to
1. London
2. Disney World
3. Germany
4. Australia
5. My own private Hawaiian island (for the lush vegetation and crystal-clear water.)

Five Favorite TV Shows (current or vintage)
1. “Homicide: Life on the Street”
2. “Crossing Jordan”
3. “Monk”
4. “Eureka”
5. “Ballykissangel”

Five Things I’d Never Wear
1. a thong! I spend all day trying to get my undies *out* of there!
2. leg warmers (What were we thinking?)
3. Daisy Duke shorts. These only look good on broom handles.
4. midriff-baring shirts. Too much flab for that.
5. Madras plaid.

Five Favorite Toys
1. my computers. All six of them.
2. my husband. (Insert your own innuendo here.)
3. TiVo Couldn’t live without it!
4. Puzzle Pirates. (I’m hopelessly addicted.)
5. my sewing kit

No Go

Got the word today (finally!) that I didn't get either of the roles that I read in the farce I had auditioned for. I'm slightly bummed, but the director did say I did a great read, and that he was sorry he couldn't use me for the show, but he would definintely ask me to audition again. I suppose that's something.

He also told me that the older lady who sat in the back of the hall and observed the auditions was very impressed with my audition, and wanted him to keep me in mind for future productions. Apparently, she's the founder of this troupe of players, and her voice carries some weight. It was nice to hear, even if it's just sweet talk because I wasn't cast. (Directors will often try to soften the blow by complimenting your reading.)

Mr. Director said that he was trying to match people in pairs, and I have the sneaking suspicion that the man he planned to cast as my potential husband was the man who was about 7 inches shorter than me. It would look awfully strange (to an audience) to have a six foot tall wife with a 5 foot, 5 inch husband. Oh, well. I probably shouldn't have devoted all that time to rehearsals right now anyway. It's most likely a sign from above that I didn't need to be doing this show. And this way, I'll still be able to go to that Girl Scout event in October that I wanted to attend that was going to conflict with the performance dates.

(Can you tell I'm trying to talk myself out of being disappointed?)

Ruminations on Race

One of my jobs, both as a teacher and a Girl Scout Leader, is to encourage and promote racial diversity. We have to try and plan our classrooms with as varied a racial mix as possible. Now, since my school is what qualifies in our smaller burg as "inner city", the main body of our school population is black. We have a fair number of Hispanics, too. Our Asian population is not as large as some of the other schools in our district, however. In the past, I've had students who were American Indians, of Arabic descent, and one year, I had both an Aleutian Islander (basically what we'd term an 'Eskimo') and a Japanese student who spoke no English at all.

It helps that we have a military installation here that brings in lots of other cultures. As far as black and white go, I don't really "get" all the hostility. I've grown up going to school in a racially mixed society, and I've had friends of all colors and creeds. I have never really felt like I lived in the stereotypical idea of what the South is to most people. I don't tend to think about a person's skin foremost when talking about them. It's never really mattered. At least, not to me.

Yes, I encounter racism, though. I do hear people saying hateful things to each other, so don't think that I'm trying to say it doesn't exsist. I know it does. I just would prefer a world where people are just plain people, and race wasn't a factor. I know it won't come about overnight. Hate is a learned behavior. If we teach love from a very early age, then that's what the kids remember.

As a white person, I am fairly sure that I will never fully understand. I'm sure that if I had lived under the specter of being a second-class citizen for so long, it would skew the way I view things. As I tried to explain to my Girl Scouts -- blacks aren't the only people who have experienced racism, they're just the ones who've managed to claw their way out from under it so well in "recent" memory. I told the girls that Jews have also been persecuted for centuries, and one girl actually told me that it wasn't the same because the Jews had never been enslaved. I asked her if she'd read the Bible lately -- that whole "let my people go"? What was that? And dying by the millions in death camps was so much better?

I've had kids tell me that black people can't be racist. I told them that anyone who takes hate to their breast and embraces it can be a racist. Anyone who would rather hate based on something so superficial as skin is a sad person indeed. If you never bother to get to know a person, who know what you could be missing out?

Looking at all the shining faces at school today made me think that I'm happy to have grown up with the opportunity to be exposed to different kinds of people. I'm sure that all-white communities in the wilds of, say -- Montana -- *think* they're progressive, but add a black family into the community and you start to hear rumblings of how the town's going to hell in a handbasket. I've known people who moved to Colorado specfically because it was a "mainly white" state. I just don't get that at all. The more you demonize something, the more power you give it over yourself! They see blacks as the enemy, and they treat them with disdain. Pretty soon, black people are on the defensive, rightly so, and suddenly it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hate begets hate, and it only snowballs from there.

My school, being a "ghetto" school, was not expected to perform well on standardized tests. I'm proud to say that we not only did better than expected, but our "poor little inner-city kids" blew the test out of the water, making more than a 50% improvement in some categories. We have a dedicated administration, and a staff who truly cares about these kids, and skin color hasn't got a damn thing to do with it. So, to all of those who felt so bad for me because I'm southern and work in a "ghetto" school -- you can kiss my test-acing, inner city grits!

This Year's Crew

My students this year seem like a good bunch. They were all very excited to begin school, and they all came into the classroom without a fuss. I was lucky that we didn't get any screamers or criers. I can deal with screamers and criers, but it usually sets others off, and a lot of kids learn that very first day that they can control the direction that the class goes in, just by their behavior alone.

I have a class full of talkers. Surprisingly, the talkers are all boys. I normally have to split up the girls because they're so social -- they sit and chat, rather than doing whatever I've asked them to do. This year, it was the boys. I have four very gregarious boys already that have managed to have to be split up at different tables due to their overwhelming desire to yak on about anything and everything.

A lot of the parents mentioned how excited the kids were to get up and report to school today, and I always smile when I hear that. I hope that we foster their love of learning, and give them plenty of reasons to make them anticipate school each day. It's the start of a new year, and a start down the educational road for each of these children, and it is our mission to make it an enjoyable journey. I hope we live up to their expectations, and they fulfill all of mine. I think we're going to have a great year.

And So It Begins

Another school year is upon me. I am delaying going into the kitchen to pack lunches and bookbags for the morning. Sigh. I guess I should just bite the bullet and get to it. We've spent the weekend (who'm I kidding? *JF* spent the weekend) cleaning and doing the laundry in preparation for the busy work-and-school week ahead. Offspring is currently ensconsed in the tub, getting ready for the first day of 5th grade.


I also had my audition today. I think it went fairly well, since I went into the reading cold, never having seen the show or the script before. I don't really like cold reading, but I think I did fairly well. The director laughed at my readings in several spots, and had me read for every female character in the script. The only ominous note is that as I was leaving, he said, "If for some reason you don't get cast, I'll certainly keep you in mind for other things." Hm. That doesn't bode well. Oh, well. I'll hope for the best. The performances are scheduled for one of the same weekends as a Girl Scout training, so if I don't make it, I can still go to the training.

I suppose I should go pack those lunches and bookbags now.

Trip, Trap, Trolling?

It has been pointed out to me by my lovely husband that my last post smacked mightily of trolling for compliments. Or, at the very least, he had a great time teasing me that this was the case. I swear it wasn't so, I really just didn't like the hat picture. So, this being my blog, I chose to post a more flattering picture. If I had wanted to troll for compliments, I would have posted either the Glamour Shots I had done 15 years ago (even with Big 80's hair, I still like those) or my wedding portrait. Those are truly the only pictures of me that I think, "You know, I look really nice in that one."

Or, I could have gone the more humorous route and posted the picture Offspring drew of the family back in her toddler/preschool days where she and Daddy are tiny little child-people, and I am skyscraper sized. Or, I could have *really* gone for the AW! factor and posted a childhood picture of myself, complete with a head full of platinum curls. I may have to do that anyway, for a Monday Memories post.

When it all comes down to it, I wasn't fishing for compliments. I get enough sympathy and good-natured consolation from participating in Phantom's Wednesday Whine. Catharsis may be good for the soul, but hideous pictures aren't.

I Hate That Picture Down There

You know -- the asshat one? I look like a sunburnt chipmunk. All red cheeks and hat. So, I'm posting one I like much more. I hope that, to others, I look more like this one. This was taken the day I got my hair cut. And, yes, I went for the short 'do. Wonder if I should break out my shoes, too?

Since I Am a Total Shill

Speaking of Asshattery

I'm not sure that this was what you degenerates had in mind, but there you go.

This belongs to JF. He's a Donald Duck fan, and bought this 'asshat' in the Magic Kingdom in 2005. Yes, he wore it, even in the heat. Yes, he *does* march to his own internal theme music -- thanks for noticing.

Not-So-Random Bullets

I'm now back in town, recuperating from staying up late with my Girl Scout cronies all night playing dice and cards. And I'm tired.

*I woke up at about 6:30 this morning (which is practically *unheard* of!) because I had a very vivid dream and a migraine at the same time. The dream was that I was in a long hallway that was (somehow) connected to Phantom Scribbler's house. I was sobbing my heart out in a corner, and Phantom and LG came out to comfort me. I had just been informed that my brother had been shot down over Iraq and had been killed. LG hugged me, and this was a Major Step for LG because he didn't interact very much with strangers. Okay. Let's dissect this dream, shall we?

I live nowhere near Phantom. There are about ten states between us. How would I unerringly know where to go to even GET to Phantom's house? And my brother has never been in the military, and does not fly. He's a landscape architect. Phantom looked just like her cartoon in her profile. While she had lovely pixels, I somehow doubt that she's very pixellated in life. LG, as we all know, is a total rock star. While he might be shy upon meeting strangers, I doubt that I would be the Annie Sullivan to break him out of his Helen Keller shell, a la my dream. Score one to the weirdo dreams.

*During my doctor's appointment Friday, I was told that I have tendonitis in my wrist and epicondylitis in my elbow. I got a prescription for higher milligram naproxen sodium to help with the inflammation, and a wrist brace to help with the tendonitis. I was also told that I do have hearing loss, but I had to be referred to an ENT for a further examination, since my GP doesn't have the equipment to pinpoint how severe the loss might be. They will set up a referral with the ENT and get back to me.

*Monday, I have to go pick up Offspring's new glasses. At her appointment last week, she'd had some changes in her prescription. not much, but enough to warrant new glasses. And, since her old ones were getting too small for her head, it's a good thing that we took the time to get them now. I really liked the optometrist that she saw. He was very personable, and put some of my fears to rest. (The first optometrist that Offspring saw had said that he was worried about "such degeneration" in a child as young as Offspring -- the new guy pooh-poohed that attitude, and said that her eyesight was not all that bad. Yes, having glasses would help her focus in her schoolwork more, but there was no reason to be so alarmist about it. It made me feel better.)

*Got a haircut last Thursday. Really short. It's so much easier to take care of, but I need to re-blonde it. I don't like my hair dark. I have a picture of said haircut to post, if anyone's interested.

*Work starts back on Wednesday. I love my students, I really do. But, it's really hard to go back to work after 10 weeks off. So, we're celebrating our last weekend of summer with a trip to our local Ben and Jerry's Scoop shop. JF will come close to the point of overdosing on Buzzachillos.

*My Girl Scout Unit has a leader's retreat coming up at the end of August. We are planning to scrapbook all night, and do fun activities. I'm very excited. The new Stampin' Up! catalog is out, and we're all planning our Wish Lists. I really want one of the hostess sets, so I will have to just plan myself a party. We're all very addicted to Stampin' Up!, and we have a lovely stamp lady on call. We love her, and she feeds our scrapbook and stamp habits in a very unhealthy, but very profitable for her, way. You could say that she's our dealer.

*JF had never heard the phrase "asshat" before the Gibson thread the other day. I had heard it plenty of times, and was therefore very surprised that he hadn't. So, he's been manufacturing reasons to use it in any and every conversation. Thank you all for teaching him that one.

*The faithful and trusty suitcase that I've had since the early days of my marriage has bitten the dust. This last overnighter was the straw that broke the camel's back. Or handle, to be more precise. I could go the really Southern route of repairing it with duct tape and continuing to use it, but I think I'll just give it a dignified death.

I'm about bulletted out. I hope everyone has had a lovely weekend, and will have a lovely week to come.

Away Message

I will be out of town overnight for a Girl Scout function. I plan to enjoy the classes planned for us, and just cut up with my buddies. I hope you all have a great Friday, and I will see you tomorrow night!

No wild parties while I'm gone!

And Hate Spills Forth

I'm sure that by now, you've all heard about Mel Gibson and his arrest for DUI last Friday in Los Angeles. If you haven't, here's a CNN story. Gibson made an utter ass of himself by asking the deputy who stopped him if he was Jewish, and then going on to say, reportedly, "Fucking Jews. The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world."

Nice. Really nice. Especially for someone who is in the public eye. Never mind how wrong that statement is.... Gibson later had "his people" (who *must* not be Jews) release a statement where he apologized for his comments, and tried to make amends to the Jewish community by saying that "Hatred of any kind goes against my faith." Yeah, riiiiiight. Doesn't look that way from here, buddy. Gibson's statement goes on to say that he wants to meet with Jewish religious leaders so that they can help him "discern the appropriate path for healing."

I'll give you a big hint here, Mel -- don't think hate. Don't think hatefully, and hate won't continue to spill from your lips like bile.

So Many Things to Do, and SO Little Time in Which to Do Them

Okay, so school (for me) begins in just a few short days. I have a whole list of things that I was supposed to accomplish before school began and very few of them have been checked off my list. It's actually quite sad what a slug I've been this summer.

*I promised JF back at the beginning of the summer that I'd get my hearing checked. He swears that I'm stone deaf because every summer, we have the same argument: When we sit in our living room, I take the couch that's closest to the A/C unit, and he mumbles. So, I have a lot of difficulty hearing him, and he's taken to shouting at me. Neither of us is enjoying the situation very much. If there's ambient noise, I often have trouble hearing quieter noises. I do need to have it checked out, but I think I've been delaying because I really don't want to know if sonething is really wrong. At any rate, I now have an appointment for Friday afternoon.

*Also on Friday, I'm leaving for a Girl Scout overnighter. The trip should be fun, and I'm looking forward to spending a day and night in the company of my Girl Scout buddies.

*Offspring has been complaining that she needs new glasses. I discovered that her head has grown, and she's right. Her current glasses are way too small for her head. She has an appointment at the optometrist today at 2:30. Hopefully, her eyes haven't degenerated too much. (And please, Glasses Gods, don't charge me the Gross National Prodouct of a Small European Nation to get new ones!)

*We have tremendously overdue books at the Local Library. I really should take these back today while we're out.

*I still haven't done all the laundry from the last trip we went on. Have I mentioned how much I HATE doing laundry?

*I still have yet to get our digital prints from this year's Disney Trip printed out, much less even actually scrapbooked them. So much for all those cool new Disney scrapbook items that I bought at the beginning of the summer. They lie on my desk, forlorn.

*I should be planning my upcoming Girl Scout year, instead of playing endlessly on the computer.

*I need to go find Offspring's school supply list, and make sure that I have all of her supplies ready for the first day. Her meet-the-teacher day is VERY soon, and I don't want to be crashing Wal-Mart with all the other people who didn't get what they were supposed to the day before school begins. You *all* know my history with Wal-Mart.

*I was actually supposed to exercise this summer. That went absolutely nowhere, thanks to my slug-like nature. I even bought a pedometer to help jolt me into getting out there to exercise even more. It really helped. (Riiiight.)

*I probably didn't get dressed enough days of this summer. Scary thought, no?

I'm a sad, lazy individual. Instead of getting all my slated chores done this summer, I've sat in front of this computer. You people are a bad influence! (See my level of deniability? You are all now accomplices. And maybe enablers, too.)