When my kids were 7, 5, & 3 we could all trick-or-treat together. Now that they are 13, 11, & 9, the age difference seems more skewed. My oldest daughter went with some friends as a band of back-up singers. She came in telling me the delightful fright created by some older teenage boys. It reminded me of when I jumped over a fence, one Halloween in the late seventies, to avoid menacing teenage boys. I was wearing a full length Little Bo Peep dress when I struggled over a chain link fence only to find out that my short cut was through a back yard with a protective Doberman Pincer. Yikes!



My son joined 5 other 6th grade boys and their brothers in another neighborhood. They were on a mission to collect a ton and came pretty close. That pillowcase was pretty heavy!



I totally enjoyed chaperoning my 9 year old, Susan, and Peggy's daughter, Dawn. They were both dressed as witches with black Heelies to make it look like they were flying. They started off fast, sailing up to the houses with their Heelies on. They told terrific riddles when asked for a trick, and often planned a surprise by hiding and jumping out when the neighbor opened the door. After a few blocks, they slowed down.


As we reached home, I explained about the chaperone fee. The chaperone gets first pick of the loot. Susan explained that she had not been aware of that fee. I snagged some Whoppers. I get most of the candy with nuts eventually anyway. We're saving Baby Ruths for Grandma. What do you snitch from the baskets?

We have so many cool neighbors who made the night an adventure. Lot of adults in on the fun. We had pumpkin ale with dinner, which added to the festivity.

I love carving pumpkins, but two of them got carved too soon. Look at the slimy moldy pumpkins Fern and Susan carved on Saturday. It has been a bit warm, so they rotted quickly. I had to throw them out in the morning before the trick-or treating. I like my white scarface pumpkin this year.

Another fall bike ride today, this one with more challenges. I went the other direction, into town to connect my laptop to free wireless at a bakery (router problems at home – I need tech support!) I didn't recall how many hills were between home and bakery. Plus, busy intersections, debris on the trail, and heavy backpack. I decided this was a ride that required a helmet. Anyway, the strenuous ride made the bakery an option: they kinda canceled each other out. I did see another deer. This time I only saw its white tail bounding away over the underbrush.

Another bike ride metaphor: sometimes it takes more risk and effort to go in a different direction.

Do you guys always wear your bike helmet? It just seems to take the edge off the joy of the ride. For me it depends on where I anticipate riding – and with whom I am riding. How much freedom do you trade for safety?

(I hope Peggy doesn't get too mad about me posting this picture.) I wasn't organized enough to have fresh batteries for my camera for our Saturday night shenanigans, but since Peggy & I re-ran our last year's costumes, this will have to do. I first went to a family costume party that we all enjoyed. Then after I got my kids situated at friends for sleepovers, I went to hear my favorite local band, the Crayfish, at my favorite local restaurant, TJ Elliott's. I was nervous about going in, looking trampy in my black widow costume. The jitters I felt reminded me of high school. I felt much better when I saw the rabbi dressed up as Sergeant Pepper. We sat at the table with Death and Death's Kitty. There were witches and monsters, athletes and cheerleaders, greasers and flappers. The band had Bravehart, Gilligan, Father Guido Sarducci, and a drummer. As the Black Widow, I brought Dead Guy Ale from the Rogue brewery in Oregon for the band – and I still didn't win the costume contest. What are you guys going to be?

Pride is such a cool feeling.

I bought this reading lamp-table that needed assembly for my bedroom. I knew I could assemble it, but just hadn't gotten around to it. I offered my son $5 to put it together. So while I was out at the Cheetah Girl concert, he took me up on my offer. He was so proud of himself that he was adorable. I was happy to see his enthusiasm. He said he might have assembled it quicker if he had realized there were instructions. He just dumped it out and looked at the picture on the box. Now that's a metaphor, isn't it? Who wants to follow the directions?

Now we have a cozy bedtime story chair. I'm reading “The Secret Garden” with my youngest. What a great story, although like so many good stories, it begins with tragedy and hopelessness.

Throw your hands up if you know that you're a star
You better stand up if you know just who you are
Never give up never stay down
Girl Power Girl Power!!
.....
Cause we are sisters
We stand together
We make up one big family though we don't look the same
Our spots are different, Different colors
We make each other stronger
That ain't ever gonna change
Believe it mister
We're cheetah girls cheetah sisters

Well, last night's Cheetah concert was much more bearable than I imagined. I was surprised at how many songs I already knew – due to the Disney channel being on so much in my house. All the songs had positive girl power lyrics. No sex or drugs or rock-n-roll.

It wasn't the music that was cringe-inducing so much as the shrill excited shrieks of thousands of 8 year old girls. My & Peggy's daughters were not even aware of the shameless Disney channel plugs throughout the concert. The Cheetah Girls are what happens to rock stars who were brought up on Barney. The songs were all about girl power and who needs a man, except it seems the producers decided they better have all male dancers for the heterosexual norming.

It was a delight to see my 9 year old and Peggy's daughter have so much fun. They knew most of the lyrics and sang them passionately. What a thrill! I stood up and cheered and sang and danced right along with my daughter. I even kept shouting a request for “Cinderella” whenever the din diminished.

When Peggy gets her pics to me I'll post the picture of the Cheetah Mama t-shirt I got.

Do you remember what bands you liked at age 8 or 9?
I guess it was Shaun & David Cassidy for me. There was the Bay City Rollers. Oh, and Bobby Sherman – do you remember “Arizona?”

“A-ri-zo-oh-na, take off your hobo shoes...”

Remember I told you about a writing assignment I had? You can now view it on at www.ledorestaurant.com I was hired to write a press release because the restaurant is going to be featured on the Oprah show as having one of America's best pizzas. It was a fun assignment - especially since all our meetings regarding the article and its submission were at the restaurant. I have to lay off the delicious pizza for a while now though.

If you are still a Rush Limbaugh fan, you are reading the wrong blog! What a dick.
Read here

I saw the play "12 Angry Men" last Thursday. It starred Richard Thomas (Johnboy) and George Wendt (Norm!) I was wondering if it was improper Kennedy Center etiquette to shout out "Norm!" when Wendt took the stage. I just said it quietly under the applause.

The play is set entirely in a jury deliberation room for a patricide trial. The jurors, 12 white men in suits and fedoras, wrestle with the evidence to decide whether or not to send a 16 year old boy, one of "them," to his death or to acquittal. It was very thought provoking. One moment I found interesting was when this openly bigotted juror is ranting and raving. The audience laughed at the absurdity of his argument, but the laughter was quickly silenced as we all realized we've heard that line of thinking before and where it goes is chilling.

Have you ever served on a jury? I came close. I was selected for a trial of a woman, about my age at the time, who shot her abusive, cop husband in the face. I was the only one in the box who was the same age, race, & gender as the defendent. The prosecutor struck me when the judge gave "last call" on the jury. I always felt like she didn't have a jury of her peers. Have you noticed that a "jury of your peers" isn't a very accurate description - unless you just mean a human jury rather than a bovine jury or martian jury. Is this fair?

I've been having fun experimenting with apples this fall. I've tried two new kinds, York and Wine Sap that were both tart and crunchy and terrific in a pie or sauteed with butter, cinnamon & brown sugar. I made two pies. I've fried them to go on top of french toast. I've eaten them whole and in slices with peanut butter. I've enjoyed cider cold, hot & spiced, and with vodka.

I should probably just eat them whole and raw to avoid the obvious results of too much sugar, but I've decided to go with Greeny's theory of hibernation weight for the winter. I won't be putting on a swimsuit for a while. I've been cold. I should keep these apple pie pounds.

Anyway, most of my serving ideas are tried & true. Calling my recipes "experiments" is a bit of a stretch. I was wondering if any of you have any novel apple ideas to share. Do any of you have a recipe that doesn't use cinnamon?

Fried Oreos.
Do you think that sounds gross or great?
I saw them at a fall festival this weekend. Just the thought of it made my stomach hurt.

In the car ride to NYC last week, Anne & I played a game I first heard on my mom's AM Talk radio when I was a kid: cross country bus trip. All you have to do is imagine you are taking a cross country bus trip, say from Portland, Oregon to Portland, Maine. That would be days of riding with little to do. Given only two options, beside whom would you rather sit?
Try it.
Would you pick
Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert?
Brittany Spears or Paris Hilton?
Howard Dean or Dick Cheney?
Margaret Atwood or Maya Angelou?
Bill Clinton or Mark Foley?

Although some of those choices are tougher than others, I think I would pick all the first ones. Give me another choice to consider in your comment.

Care to enjoy a thinly masked, but extended metaphor with me?

I took a bike ride tonight in the last hour of daylight at the edge of town where the asphalt hasn't taken over. The WB&A runs along the edge of town. When riding through those trees, you can imagine what Maryland was like before the suburbs took root.

The sunset was beautiful. I could hear the stream running parallel to the trail. The trees were still in leaf, but all changing colors. I was riding through the change of seasons. I saw little brown rabbits and chipmunks and squirrels working hard to prep for winter. And then, at mile three, I saw deer: three does indifferently grazing right beside the trail, blasé to the pedestrians and bicycles on the path. They were a visual gift, and I gasped at their beauty and stillness.

Equal in biomass to the three deer and various other critters were the bugs. I think they were gnats. At times I rode through clouds of them. At first I was freaked out, trying to drive one handed so I could swat. Instead of swatting I had to cover my mouth and nose. I was so glad I had on my glasses (aging eyes!) The clouds of bugs were intermittent, worse where the trees were closest to the path.

When I looked down at myself, I realized I was covered in the bugs, like a human windshield. They threatened to ruin my lovely ride. I brushed them off only to be covered again. Finally, I just decided to ignore them and enjoy the scenery – that's when I saw the deer. They were so lovely.

I relaxed and only wiped the bugs off my face. I still had to cover my mouth & nose sometimes. I needed an assistant nit-picker at the end of that ride!

I passed other people out enjoying the path. I pointed out the deer to one family. Several said hello or some other simple greeting. One cyclist was talking on his cell phone. Another was freaking out about the bugs. I laughed and shouted over my shoulder at her, “bugs! bugs!” She probably thought I was a nut.

There is a gun club along the trail that has recently re-opened after long controversy over the protective walls that guard the trail. The gun club was there first – out in the woods. I did hear shots fired behind the wall. At the gates to the gun club, I passed a gathering of men with gray hair sticking out from under their ball caps, I imagine waiting for their brethren to gather for a mid-week gun meeting. They all extended a friendly greeting. I rode along with a smile, hoping the bugs didn't get in my mouth.

Don't you find that you can tolerate a few bugs without any problem at first? But suddenly lots of little tiny bugs are swarming you. At first you take evasive action. Then you just get used to it. The worst danger is behind a safety wall, patrolled by the morally conservative. You may as well just enjoy the ride. You don't want the little bugs to ruin this otherwise beautiful trek. You will eventually brush those teeny bugs all off – or pick them out.


Is it just me, or was that whole ride a life metaphor. Did any parts fit yours?

I tried going to yoga tonight since the rain cancelled my son's lacrosse practice. But I must've had my wires crossed because there was no one where I thought the yoga was going to be. So my friend and I went out for a beer. It reminded me of when Peggy & I were headed for the gym and ended up eating cookies at the book store.

Nothing beats a good work out with a friend, huh?

I was tucking in my daughter, humming a folk song called "Blue Heaven" by Trent Wagler and the Steel Wheels. Cool song. Anyway, my daughter said, "Thanks a lot. I didn't have a song in my head and now I do."

I don't know if I ever don't have a song playing in my head. I usually can only bump it out with another one. Some are particularly annoying to have in your head, like the jingle from certain commercials, or some songs from musicals. I've had the new Indigo Girls songs stuck on replay in my head this week, until I got this folk CD and bumped them aside.

So what's stuck in your head today?

Autumn in the Alleghenies is spectacular – especially when toured on a private mountain. I saw West Virginia from a different perspective: riding on the back of an ATV. I had never been on one before and was glad I was with an experienced driver on some of those steep rocky parts.

That's my favorite mountain man on the top of his mountain. He was freaking me out because it was so windy he could barely stand out there and it was a genuine death drop to the valley below. After I took the picture, I crawled out on my belly to enjoy the scenery at less risk.

I couldn't help wondering about the geological forces that created those mountains. There is so much limestone up there. I suppose that means it was once ocean floor. Plus, parts of those mountains are hollowed out with canyons: Seneca Caverns, Smoke Hole Caverns, Luray, and Skyline.

I did shoot a couple of guns, but only rifles: a 22 and a 22 magnum. One of the smaller 22s had a bad scope, so I shot it with open sights and did better. I was shooting at paper targets tacked to a dead log. I hit the bullseye a few times too. I only shot the magnum once, but hit the bullseye first time. I have no desire to shoot an animal though. I suppose I could if I had too. I like to buy my meat in neat cellophane packaging that doesn't look remotely like the animal it used to be.

I saw a flock of wild turkeys and thought of my friend Peggy. Did you know Benjamin Franklin wanted to make the turkey our national bird, but lost the argument to the eagle. Some days I think the turkey should be our mascot. And just think of our national drink! (Do you call it a flock of turkeys or a herd? A covey? A murder? Bevy? Gaggle?)

I just drank some delicious apple cider from my requisite Apple House stop. I think I'll try one of Greeny's Apple Smasheds before I tuck myself in. I'll eat healthy tomorrow.

This weekend I am going to balance the bustle of the big city with the quiet of the Appalachians. Although probably not yet at peak, the fall foliage should be beautiful. And I'm looking forward to one of my favorite Virginia pit stops, the Apple House in Linden.

Meeting my reincarnated twin for coffee today, I wore as a jacket a brown corduroy shirt I just purchased in New York. She had on a new brown corduroy jacket.

My youngest and her friend from the neighborhood were playing “I betcha I can do 5 things you can't.” Her friend is a boy. I kept my ears open for that game. The adult version would be vastly different. I couldn't do most of their tricks. What can you do that most people can't?

What fun we had in New York! I don't know where to start. The Phantom of the Opera? The guitar-playing cowboy wearing only his boots and his tightie-whities in the middle of Times Square? (Where was my camera?!) The bizzare shoes in Luis Vuitton? The expensive trip to the women's lounge in Tiffany's. The bicycle cab in the rain? The fabric stores in the fashion district? The delectable food at every turn?

I'm afraid no one in town mistook us for native New Yorkers. Although it took some initial urging, I convinced my daughter that she had better stand through the sun-roof of my soccer-mom van for the photo opportunities. My 13 year old and I were delighted with the tile work in the subway as well as the picture perfect standing room at rush hour. We had fun with the revolving doors. At Mood Fabrics, the elevator had an operator to open and close the double-layered door and pull the gear to ascend and descend - cool! The fashion parade on Madison Avenue -with poodles. The workers were putting up white lights in the trees and the vendors were selling roasted chestnuts.

On the way back from Phantom of the Opera, I was overwhelmed with the urge to sing songs whose words were only vaguely familiar to me in my Broadway opera voice, which only works with arms outstretched. No amount of talking could convince my daughter that this was acceptable behavior in NYC.

I purchased a silver ring at Tiffany & Co. I didn't mean to, honest. It is a heart that looks like somone sat on it before the silver hardened. Although not obviously a heart at first, you can still see it. It's just uniquely squished. I'm wearing it on the ring finger of my left hand. Anne protested at first saying I should wait 'til I marry again. I disagreed. I don't want to wait that long. This ring is perfect for that finger.

I am in Times Square typing while my 13 year old daughter and my friend Anne sleep in. Surely they can hear my typing. Hopefully they won’t sleep too late. We’re in New York City! We have so much to see! So many places to shop!
Plus, it finally stopped raining.

We did hear, but only briefly about the plane crashing into a building not very far from where I am. I heard about it in four phone calls from Maryland, not from anyone here. Everyone here just went about their business. We saw it on one of the tv screens in Times Square.

Yesterday, Anne & my lovely daughter and I drove up to “the city” so Anne could get her semi-annual haircut at the Arrojo Studio in SoHo. For those of you who don’t know, the salon owner is Nick Arrojo who does the hair makeover portion of the show “What Not To Wear.” Nick’s a bit out of my price range at $400 a cut for new clients. Anne gets a better price, but it still ain’t cheap.

Anyway, my daughter is a big fan of the show. We had hoped to get an autograph and a picture, but weren’t sure how friendly and generous this particular celebrity would be.

Turns out he was charming, as was his staff. Anne pointed us out and he came over and shook our hands. We exchanged pleasantries and he joked with my daughter about her recently broken finger. He asked if we had a camera. My daughter is so excited about the potential bragging rights she has scored with her junior high girlfriends. Anne’s hair looks fantastic too.

We have had more fun I will tell you about, but right now the city is calling and we have to go. I have pictures!

CG

I'm not a doctor, but I've seen them on TV. So I thought I'd ask your opinion on a new medical issue facing my daughters.

Have you heard of the new vaccine for cervical cancer? It's actually a vaccine against HPV (I think) which it is estimated that 80% of everyone has. HPV is usually asymptomatic, but does trigger cervical cancer in some women. Although men transmit the virus, they are not affected by it. So apparently, if you've ever had sex with more than one person in your whole life, or if the only person you ever had sex with has had sex with someone else - ever, then you are in the higher risk group to have this HPV.

They've just recently developed better testing to determine if you have the virus. If you get regular paps, then you should be fine. If you haven't, you should go. You can ask for a special test for the HPV. Most insurances cover it, especially if your doc thinks you might need it, which most people do.

Anyway, now a vaccine is available to prevent HPV. The thing is, it's too late for us. “They” are recommending it for girls who are not yet sexually active. But some people think we should teach our kids to only have sex ever with one person. I say, prepare for the worse and hope for the best.

So I asked my pediatrician today about it. She recommended against it. She said that in America, only about 500 women die of cervical cancer a year. Mostly the women who die from it do not have their regular check ups. When found in its earliest stages, the treatment success is very high. So she asks if it is necessary to vaccinate an entire population for those circumstances?

hhhmmm

Plus, insurance isn't paying yet and it is expensive. She said it was a three shot series and she could order it for me if I was willing to pay in advance - $140 per shot.

So what do you think?
Would you vaccinate your daughter with the “first model year” of a vaccine series under these circumstances? Have any of you talked to your docs? I know a couple of you folks are nurses. I'd love to hear your opinions.

I'm leaning against it after talking to the doc. I think I have established good health habits with my kids as far as regular preventive care goes. Is it safe to assume she'll continue when she's an adult just because I do? I would certainly pay $420 to prevent my kid from getting cancer, but the vaccine is still new too.

hhhmmm

Here is the lovely sparkling Cinderella carriage I made for the play - with help from my friends with power tools and carpentry skills. The big wheels you see don't actually turn, but the whole thing was on wheels to roll around the theater.

The whole play experience was great for my kids. By the last performance they were really quite good. I was very proud. Many parting tears of sorrow were shed at the cast party - although they will all see each other by next weekend.

Doesn't the step-mother in the carriage look wicked? Actually it's hard to look evil when you are that cute and having that much fun. And you would never know that the harmless bird in the carriage was capable of pecking out eyeballs.

I am looking forward to having a weekend without the play though. It was a very demanding schedule. I haven't even had time to try Greeny's new drink suggestion: Apple Smashed. It is definitely on my to-do list.

Plus I have my first assignment writing for a fee: A PR release, but more on that later.

Do you have a friend who dresses like you? I know that we tend to be friends with people who are similar, so there are bound to be similarities in style among a group of friends. For example, lots of my friends wear Birkenstocks or similar sandals. Lots of my youngest daughter's friends have clothes with some amount of pink camouflage.

But I have one friend who almost always is wearing the same thing as me without planning it. For example, one day she sent me a funny e-mail where you answer a few questions and come up with a funny sentence like, “I danced with a pickle because I'm cool like that.” I could tell from her choices that she was wearing a white shirt when she sent me that. So was I. So for the school meeting we were both attending that night, I changed into a warmer, brown shirt. Guess what she had on? Yesterday I met her for a business lunch. Both of us had on black jeans, pale blouses, and black leather jackets. When we showed up at our sons' ball practice, we both had on jean capris and pink shirts. The only time we ever planned on wearing the same thing was for our Gold Shoe Girls Night. Now it's a joke that we dress alike.

What is up with that? Were we twins in a previous life?
I'm going to see her at my daughter's play today. I bet she's wearing jeans and a blue shirt.

Every stage of childhood has its pros and cons.

Last night, after Happy Hour with Peggy, we decided to take the “Happy” home to our kids in the form of fresh bagels & cream cheese for breakfast tomorrow from Panera. While waiting in line, a mother behind me was considering her options with an adorable two year old. The little girl was imitating the cool sound the industrial bagel slicer was making. The mom saw me turn around to see the source of the sound and apologized for disturbing me. She and I struck up a conversation about parenthood while her little girl just sang a happy song while she was waiting. I bought her cookie since my order was taking some time. It was nice to spread “Happy Hour” around a bit.

I thought about how I miss the adorableness of my two-year-old children. I don't want another, mind you. No way. Mine are bigger now and less cuddly, much less likely to just sing a song in public while they are waiting in line. Those are a couple of the cons of bigger kids.

I'm loving the pros though. Certainly the conversation is better. We enjoy the same music: no more Barney & Raffi – although I didn't mind Raffi too much. My oldest and I raid each other's closets sometimes. I can leave them home alone for short events. I do very little for their personal hygiene anymore.

My son, 11, has been doing current events articles for school. Today he said, “There's too much war in the world. I think they should make a woman president.” How can I not love it that he thinks what the world really needs is a mom?

My 9 year old daughter, annoyed that no one was available to help her set up her new airbrush tattoo kit that she got for her birthday, got out the screwdriver and set it up herself. She was proud of herself. I was proud of her too.

My oldest has been wrestling with forgiving her favorite TV character's big transgression: Lorelai broke up with Luke and slept with Chris. She and I (that's my daughter and I, not Lorelai & I) have had some interesting discussions on forgiveness. What is really unforgivable? What do you do after a huge mistake?

I love watching these kids wrestle with new ideas and speculate.

Can I practice a rant on you guys? (Of course!) It's like a practice argument. I'm just waiting for the opportunity. But since I'm hanging around different folks than I was a few years ago, I may not get the chance to spew, so here it is.

I read in the paper today about the 2 Nobel Physicists who have measured light and temperature readings to prove that the universe did, in fact, begin with a "big bang." I heard my dad, the rocket scientist, talk about their work years ago when it was still underway. He was excited about it back then, as has been the entire scientific community now. The article in the Washington Post said that when these brilliant and hard-working men presented their evidence, the scientific audience gasped and applauded.

I think that's great. I have no problem with this. Here's what I'm bracing for:

Those same religious right wingers who have been bashing scientists and denying scientific evidence are going to love this. They're going to say "I told you so." This is going to irk me. They are going to pick and choose which scientific evidence they are going to believe, when the same scientific research principles have applied to evidence that they think works against their ideas of God. I suppose in a way this is consistent for them, since they also pick and choose which verses in the Bible to support and wave banners about and which ones to ignore.

When I was a science teacher in a local high school, I often wore a cross necklace. Regularly I would have a student question me, "Mrs. E, how can you be a Christian and teach science?" I would tell them what I believe: it's not either/or. Science explains how. Religion explains why. Science just explains the order in which God created things. He was in control no matter how things began or how they will end. I don't know why so many people pit science and religion against each other.

Anyway, the church I attend now does not support the kind of black and white thinking that so irritates me about many Christian churches. So I might not have a conversation about this outside of Blogger.

Thanks for letting me rant.

How good is your record keeping?
Mine was recently challenged - and failed. The University of Maryland Grad school application stumped me on some residency questions.
How do you know the first date of issue for your driver's license or your voter registration? I can tell you when this one was issued, but not the first one. I e-mailed the voter registration board. I guess I'll have to contact someone at the MVA too. I know the year for my driver's license, but not the date. The computer application wants the month and date.
To quote my friend Anne, "sheesh!"

Any suggestions?

I'm going to learn how to shoot a gun. Do any of you know how? Here's my thinking.

If you use your imagination, I bet you can think of a situation where you would kill someone. In some life circumstances, killing is much more commonplace than my well-fed suburban life. So far, I have never truly contemplated murder. I hope those terrible circumstances never do align. But answer me this.

If you had decided that killing someone was the best course of action, whether you decided in a split second or planned it out, wouldn't you want to be sure you did a complete job? If you failed, I expect that the surviving person would be rather pissed off, maybe even vengeful. They would know you were trying to kill them for sure.

If I ever got to the point where I decided to kill someone, I'm sure the circumstances would be rather alarming and certainly dire. The Bible does say there is a time to kill, so if any of you reading this are thinking, “I never,” - think again. I hope that time never comes for me or you. But if one day I'm faced with do or die, I want to be able to do. I would hate to fail. I might also hate to succeed.

Even though I have been exercising and am fairly fit for a 41 year old woman, I don't know that I could count on brute strength. Poison is not necessarily reliable or expedient. I'm certainly not up for the knife action. I think shooting would be the best option. The problem is that I don't know how.

I don't ever want to own a gun. I don't want one in my home. I'm not a fan of the NRA. Reality is, however, not always what I want or in my control. Guns are everywhere. So is evil. If I'm firing at evil, I want to hit my mark.

So I'm going to take a few lessons from a couple of friends who offered. You can mess with me, but not my kids.

Now you guys probably all think I've lost it, slipped over the edge. With my luck, someone I don't like is going to turn up dead and this blog is going to land me in court. I hope not. I was a girl scout though. I want to be prepared. It's like learning CPR – actually maybe it's the opposite of learning CPR. I hope I never need either skill.

I am in the taxi-driver phase of motherhood. Sometimes I have to hire extra drivers. This past weekend has been the first weekend of the play. My daughters and the carriage I built all performed beautifully. So we were doing lots of theater things this weekend, plus a lacrosse game thrown in for good measure.

Plus, today my baby turned 9. Nine years ago today I almost died, but that's another story. All is well now. Gifts received were roler blades, Heelies, Barbies, make-up, and Cheetah Girls Concert Tickets. Her piercing shriek upon opening those reminds me that I want to take earplugs to that concert.

The hecticness combined with this blasted lingering cold has lead to less exercise, fast food, and comfort food. Tomorrow doesn't bode much better as I am hosting a dozen 3rd graders at the roller rink for a birthday party. Ice cream cake from Cold Stone.