Because the Ex is well connected, I got to go to the Jonas Brothers' concert Wednesday night in Baltimore with my kids. I was annoyed at myself for forgetting my earplugs, not due to the loud music so much: it was the thousands of shrieking girls. My son was happy that Demi Lovato opened for the JoBros. He was in the gender minority, although I heard no complaints.

In case you are not living with children between the ages of 10 & 15, the JoBros are all the rage in Disney boy bands. They put on quite an entertaining show with lasers and pyrotechnics. They had an eight piece string band playing, all beautiful young women in red. I imagine this is not the venue their parents had in mind when they were driving them to lessons. But I bet it pays better than many violin gigs.

So the kids got to sit in the second row at the end of the catwalk - almost in touching distance. No binoculars necessary. Tim & I sat about 20 rows behind them. When seated, you could look sideways and see all the other parents in attendance. We had a silent camaraderie beneath the hysterical shrieking.

What was your first concert?

I went camping last week with my 13 year old son and three buddies of his at Tuckahoe State Park. This one picture sums up why I did it. We had so much fun without a kaper chart or strict schedule. Doesn't everything taste better when cooked over a campfire?

I had a mini-cabin with beds & AC for the grown-ups and let the boys set up a tent for themselves around the corner, just out of sight of the cabin.

Mark joined me the first evening and Mom the next. During their overlap, the three of us left the boys behind and went to the nearby Adkins Arboretum. We arrived with less than an hour before closing and the clerk in the gift shop suggested a trail with artwork installed throughout it. She warned us that some of the artwork was "a little weird." Sounded perfect.

The first artwork we mistook for pollution, perhaps an abandoned scout project? But then we figured it out. It really was cool, despite the humid heat and bugs. The giant sweaters were called "Tree Huggers." One of my favorites was a network of fine wires with crystal beads that looked a bit like a spiderweb with dewdrops, although it didn't photograph well.

I may have played my last Chutes & Ladders game last week, well, at least with my own child. Do you remember that game?

The little pictures create a sort of morality primer of actions and consequences for children. The playing pieces all have children joyfully skipping through their game lives. I counted and there are more chutes than ladders, so at least that aspect is realistic. One picture of a child scarfing down a plateful of cookies is connected with a chute to a picture of a sick child. A boy eating vegetables is connected with a ladder to the same boy measuring his height. A girl sweeping the floor now has money to go to the movies. A boy rescuing a cat from a tree gains a loving pet with the longest ladder on the board. The longest chute involves a precariously located cookie jar and injury.

If we were to create an adult version, what would some of the chutes and ladders be? A father smiling at his child walking in with a puppy with a chute to the same man picking up poo in the yard? A plateful of cookies with a chute to cellulite in a swimsuit? A woman midway through a row of shot glasses connected by a chute to the same woman with sunglasses and a bag of ice? A man offering a little square envelope to a woman connected by a ladder to a clean bill of health?

I saw a big boat rolling down Rt 50 toward Annapolis with "Romans 8:28" in gold letters on the back. By Annapolis standards, it was a modest cabin cruiser. I couldn't remember the verse, but had a guess. I was wrong. It's the verse that says,
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

For God so loved the world so much, well, he loved some folks so much, that he gave them large recreational vehicles.

My youngest daughter just finished two weekends of nine performances of an original full length musical, "Camp Hawyah." You can read more about the show in the review I got to write for the Annapolis paper. It was great fun, very entertaining, and I'm glad it is over.

















My small attempt at a garden is doing well, but I need your help. I purchased some flowers for a fund raiser and they are all thriving. The problem is that my friend accidentally gave me someone else's order too. I didn't remember what I ordered and just planted everything. My Four O'clocks look great, but what is this little red flower?

Another fun story was one our guide told us as we punted down the Cam River in Cambridge behind several universities with centuries-old rivalries: St. John's, Trinity, King's College, Magdalene.



One recent night, a King rival scaled the right spire of the school's ancient cathedral and looped a toilet seat over the top finial. Upset school officials decided to build a scaffolding to retrieve the offense. On the third night, as the scaffolding was closing in on its goal, the prankster crawled back up there like Spidey, took back the King's Crown, and replaced it on the left spire.

School officials took down the extensive scaffolding and shot the thing down with a rifle. Now, the base of the two spires are belted with lethal spikes. There has been no more of that tomfoolery. According to our tour-guide/punter, there has been collegiate mischief and mayhem along the canals for centuries.





What fun ghosts must haunt the place! But we had to leave before the ghost tour, darnit.

Included are pictures of hapless strangers who had trouble with guiding their craft.

At last...
(I guess I took my sweet time settling back into a routine. Took a while to find this new summer one.)

Here is my favorite story from our trip to England.

My son had a serious religious experience.
On the first full day of touring, he left his backpack, with the new iPod and a loaded wallet in a taxi cab. No need for scolding because he was distraught, physically ill. "I'm so sorry, Mommy, I'm so sorry." poor heartbroken guy. He just had to suck it up and continue with the afternoon's touring, which he did well. That night we filed a report with the city taxi service, but they said it takes a week to process all the stuff brought in. (Seems we weren't the only ones.)

During the week we toured several cathedrals: St. Paul's, Ely, Westminster Abbey, Canterbury. In each one, my son put down 20p for a candle, lit one and prayed that his "lost things be found." (He's carrying my backpack for me in the picture.)

Well, thank God that on departure morning, we called the taxi lost & found and they had the backpack and all of its contents. Amazing! (Enter rays of divine sunshine and angel band)

He was overjoyed but said very seriously to me, "Now I have to go to church every Sunday." Seems a deal was struck. Eureka!

His sister perked up and asked if he'd go to Youth Group now too. He insisted that he made no promises regarding youth group.




Check out Mark's great photos from our trip.

(Pardon all the parenthetical asides.)
;-)

This is the only non-British song I have on my England playlist, although I downloaded the original. This had a more interesting video.

Did you know that Verizon doesn't work at all in England? I will be relatively incommunicado, which I think will be delightful.

As for blessings in disguise, I will be using money from the basement flood to spend in England, which will be more relaxing since Suburban Scene canned me and I have no deadlines to meet or ad accounts to sweat. Seemed bad at the time, but I am grateful now.

My ten year old just says whatever pops into her mind.

A couple days ago, in my lap, she put both hands by the part in my hair and bent my head down so she could get a closer look.
"Mommy," she nearly gasped, "do you dye your hair?"
"Yes I do."
"Do you dye your roots?" she asked with instructive ridicule.
I explained how dye jobs grow out, exposing undyed roots.
"Well, there's gray in there!" she pointed out with restrained alarm.

You should see my new hairdo. I told my beloved, tattooed, alpaca-farming hairdresser that I was bored of my hair. I'm certainly not now! I'm sure you'll catch a glimpse of it on Mark's blog next week.


Last month, my ten year old asked my ex-husband and my boyfriend if they were going to arm wrestle. No sense ignoring an elephant in the room.

I'm planning a trip to London with my kids & Mark & his daughter. I am going to create an England playlist on my iPod. What must I include?

At the end of this past school year, I accompanied my son's 7th grade class to the Newseum in DC. It is the newest museum in town and it is about the history of the news. I raised my hand to volunteer quickly for this new field trip destination.

The first exhibit that my group entered was about Pulitzer Prize photography. One wall was covered with small copies all of the winners. The gallery was lined with dozens of them blown up with more explanation by the shot. Built right into the exhibit were several stations with tissues near benches.

All the natural chatter of 25 thirteen year olds enjoying a field trip stopped. They slowed down, stopping here and there with their mouths open. I passed one group looking at a photo of public torture in Southeast Asia.






"Why?" one boy asked "Why would anyone ever do that?"
Another boy, pointing to the crowd in the photo asked, "And what kind of person would laugh?"
I told them that torture as a public spectacle was ancient and even entertaining like today's horror movies.
The first boy startled at that comparison and insisted, "No. This is real. This is different."


Although I didn't get to see the entire museum, the kids were equally somber at the 9/11 exhibit and amazed at the memorial to slain journalists. The section of the Berlin Wall seemed to excite them, perhaps because the defiance in the graffiti was triumphant. The 4-D movie theater was delightfully freaky. It was as fun to watch the audience as take in the show. Great view from the Terrace too.

I hate calling my children's friends' parents and telling them that their child probably needs stitches to a head wound incurred at my home.
The first was Just Me's son, blood spurting from the back of his head.
The next, Anne's daughter. "Ms. Ann, I think I cut myself. Is it bleeding?"
(aaahhhh! I hate trying to be the calm adult in these situations.)

My son is now traveling with recently mitzvahed buddy to sit with him while he gets probably only a couple of stitches over his eye. At least this injury was calm. If it leaves a scar it probably won't even be that bad.

Do you have any good childhood scars? (Not the emotional kind)

Today I joined my daughter's 4th grade class on a field trip to Annapolis to learn some new things about my home state and to renew the sunburn on my face.

Annapolis is a beautiful old town, full of 2 & 3 hundred year old brick homes, shiny young midshipmen, hippies from St. John's, and the best crab cakes you'll find in this world. Our tour guide, Squire Richard Hillman, dressed in authentic colonial garb (with the exceptions, he confessed, of modern shoes and undergarments to the delight of the 10 year olds) was a former mayor of Annapolis. No wonder he knew so much. I'm planning to go back on a weekend evening and hear his ghost tour.

One thing I learned today was about the history of the Maryland state flag. I had always heard that Maryland was a "neutral" state in the Civil War. The truth is that it was divided. Marylanders were killing each other in battles. About 50 years after the War's end, the different military regiments wanted to march separately in a parade under their different banners. Their wives wouldn't let them. They sewed the two flags together into what was later adopted as our state flag. It's a bury-the-hatchet flag.

I did slip away from my well-chaperoned charges long enough to purchase two crab cakes to smuggle onto the Harbor Queen for my lunch. Mmmmmmm.

If you have never been to Annapolis, put it on your bucket list. I'd be happy to offer my home as a hub of your tour plans, but my basement had a cataclysmic flood last week and I'm afraid my guest quarters are inaccessible for months to come. But I will meet you there for crab cakes and a ghost tour!

Why did the chicken cross the road?




BARACK OBAMA: The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a CHANGE! The chicken wanted CHANGE!

JOHN MC CAIN: My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialogue with all the chickens on the other side of the road.

HILLARY CLINTON: When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure -- right from Day One! -- that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me...

DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on 'THIS' side of the road before it goes after the problem on the 'OTHER SIDE' of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his 'CURRENT' problems before adding 'NEW' problems.

OPRAH: Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

COLIN POWELL: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road...

ANDERSON COOPER - CNN: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to th e other side of the road.

JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now, and will remain against it.

NANCY GRACE: That chicken crossed the road because he's GUILTY! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART: No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs
when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information.

DR SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad?
Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain. Alone.

GRANDPA: In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its life long dream of crossing the road.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken2007, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. Internet Explorer is an integral part of the Chicken. This new platform is much more stable and will never cra... #R&^*^(!.... Reboot.

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

AL GORE: I invented the chicken!

COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

DICK CHENEY: Where's my gun?

AL SHARPTON: Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.

I'm reading a book that Julie sent me called "The Birth House" by Ami McKay. I underlined this sentence:

"Victory isn't anywhere near the same as peace."

Do you write in your books? What I write depends on the book. Sometimes I just underline or star so I can find that part later. Sometimes I write a counterpoint or a sound, like "mmmm".

When my ex-grandmother-in-law passed away and everyone was picking over her things, putting their name on stickers on her stuff, I just took a couple of books off her shelf. One was her Bible. I had hoped she wrote in the margins, although she didn't. She did have a chapter torn out of a sexy detective novel stuck right in 1 Thessalonians. There was no writing in that either.

I have a friend who was reading in the Library of Congress. He was outraged to find notes penciled into the margins of a very old book. He took it to the librarian who told him that those were written in there by the man who donated the book to help start the Library: Thomas Jefferson. Wouldn't those margin notes be cool to read?

You know, some of the scriptures in the Bible were margin notes written by the scribes that later scribes just included?

If you've been following the expanded record of my happenings on my Mom's blog,my Dear One's blog, and my friends' blogs, you'll see that I have been busy!

When I was a kid imagining how wonderful it would be to be the grown up, I hadn't realized how busy I would be once I got here. I never thought about the hours my mom & dad spent on taxi duty, only seeing 1/4 of it. I just remember the places they took me. Those were great places too, so I salute all the Kith & Kin Taxi Drivers - past & present.





I want to tell you about seeing the wild ponies at Assateague Island with the Girl Scouts. Or about the moving burial service at Arlington National Cemetery for Mark's father, about the wonderful way Mark & I celebrated the one year anniversary of our meeting, my son's thirteenth birthday, my daughters' social dramas, my first ever 18 holes of golf, and my recent upsets and openings in my writing career.

But I'm going to go put my ankle on ice and have a glass of wine and listen to John Stewart for now. I'll get back to you soon!

Last weekend was enhanced by a visit from our dear friends, Julie & Lucy. They came up from Texas (returned from exile) primarily to see their parents/grandparents, but we managed to grab a bit of their time - even if it was between midnight and 2am.

I took the girls to the National Arboretum for a photo shoot among the azalea collection. It was so fun to watch our girls enjoying their reunion.

It's Earth Day. Do you know what your carbon footprint is? Mine is shamefully huge. We would need 6.5 Earths if everyone lived like I do. I see I need to try harder.
Try the quiz

It is also the PA Primary. I am reminded of the succinct campaign speech in the classic movie Napoleon Dynamite:
"If you vote for me, all of your wildest dreams will come true."
Isn't this what Barak, Hillary, & John really mean to say?

Tree Tunnel in the Springtime
These pictures were taken about two weeks apart.

A new day has dawned in my household. This weekend my 14 year old daughter did all her laundry herself claiming she was tired of waiting. I rejoiced.

I have been updating my resume, which needed major updating after this busy year. My Dear One caught the typo "Business Networking Intentional" rather than "Business Networking International." Good catch, but the error was amusing. I intend to network my business, but often just don't get around to it;-)


My youngest is at the Kennedy Center on a field trip today. In preparation, her music teacher turned the class on to Gershwin. I found this out when I helped her use her iTunes card to download "Rhapsody in Blue" along with the latest by Mylie Cyrus.

And now for something completely different...

I was doing some background research today for a business highlight magazine assignment for a spa who offers eyebrow threading.
Whuh? (spoken in a Scooby Doo voice)

Am I alone in my ignorance here? Even though the spa owner, who described herself as an "eyebrow artist" gave a quick description, I could not understand it.

I came across this video clip, which I'm hoping was an attempt at humorously informative. I really wish that my friend John the Trucker could replace the voice-over on this 5 minute clip and you would cry with laughter.

Anyway, if you have five minutes to spare considering ancient Persian eyebrow treatments, enjoy.

I can't get John Mayer's new song "Say" out of my head. I have it downloaded onto my iPod and play it often, followed by that sappy sounding "100 Years" by Five for Fighting. I don't have time right now to figure out the slick music downloading like my friend Dan does. You'll have to settle for these cool lyrics scrolling boxes and hum.

It occurs to me that Mayer should write a corollary song, "Shut up when you need to shut up."

I have gotten better at saying what I need to say, but then I often keep talking and ruin everything. Which are you better at: Saying what you need to say, or shutting up when you need to shut up? Which do you think is more important?


- John Mayer Lyrics


100 Years Lyrics

I've been sidelined by house work. I've been cruising along through some great events - like my son's lacrosse games, dinner with friends, working on fun writing assignments for a growing client base, starting an aerobics class with my daughter - and I realize that I have let things go around the house.

The laundry is all backed up. All my favorite socks and underwear need to get back into circulation. My kids are pulling stuff out out their baskets - helping on request, but preferring that hamper smell to stepping up to their own laundry yet.

Light bulbs are burnt out. The dishes are all in the dishwasher or the sink. Mail is stacked unsorted. Messages left unplayed. Someone spilled sugar on the coffee table and I just decided to leave it there. Too much stuff on there to clear away before I can wipe it up.

But it's all OK. Those are all just the detritus of the fun I'm having with my kids, my family and friends, my really cool and growing job, and my wonderful boyfriend who eases that frayed feeling at the end of a busy day.

My wheel of fortune had been on a downturn a few years ago, but it is certainly on the upswing now. Where are you on that cycle of the spinning wheel of fortune? Zen encourages you to move to the center so you don't get dizzy with all that spinning.

Here's one of my favorite jokes that I get periodically via e-mail forwards. Can you post one of your favorites in the comments? It's April Fool's Day. Make me laugh!


A woman was driving through Arizona on a long stretch of highway through the desert and stopped to inquire if an old Navajo woman wanted a ride. The gray hair woman nodded gratefully and asked what was in the bag on the front passenger seat.

"Oh, that's a bottle of whiskey I got for my husband," the woman explained as she cleared her seat for her passenger.

The Navajo woman smiled and said, "Good trade."

I've been trying to apply some of my Tao and yoga meditation to my life in general, observing my feelings, my body, my children, my family and friends, strangers even. Sometimes I do well, observing myself and others without judgment. But often I don't observe my own reaction until it has stomped off in a direction I hadn't intended.

I sat at my first deathbed vigil recently. I suppose I am blessed to have gotten this far in my life without having done that. It was unexpectedly inspiring. I feel like, for the first time, I am considering the whole possible span of my life. I wonder what thoughts will meander through my mind my last minutes of this life. I am aware of the impact of my choices on my own peace and that of others. I am enjoying the relationships I have more recently, despite the various stresses each relationship presents. I am trying to collect wonderful memories. I have many already. Am I greedy to want more? I think love just expands.

When you are young, you can barely see past the next grade in school. Maybe some people made a career path in high school, but who knew everything that would happen, plans or not. Now, from mid-point in the journey, I am considering how I want Part Two of my life to roll out. I am more aware now that I need to hold any plans loosely. I think what I want to be when I grow up is peaceful.

I've been tagged to do a MiMe: a minimalist memoir. The rules are as follows:
1. Write your own six-word memoir
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!


So here's me:

Cosmic Gypsy
enjoying life's beautiful adventure


I'd love to hear one from
Mark
Anne
Julie
Dan
and Yolinna

(Greeny, John, & Mom were already tagged.)

I volunteered to run an art project for my daughter's fourth grade class and was given the theme of Japan. I planned a simple, pretty painting project of cherry blossoms and started with a great children's book called Zen Shorts.
Without really thinking about it, I found myself leading these children to consider some principles of Zen. I'm no expert, I just liked this book. Here is a paraphrase of the favorite Zen Short.

The Farmer's Luck

A farmer worked his crops for many years. One day, his only horse ran away. His neighbors came over, shaking their heads and said, "Such bad luck!"
"Maybe," said the farmer.

The next day, the horse returned with two wild horses. The farmer's neighbors came over and exclaimed, "Such good luck!"
"Maybe," said the farmer.

The next day, the farmer's son tried riding one of the wild horses and was thrown, breaking his leg. Again the neighbors came over and said, "Such bad luck!"
"Maybe," said the farmer.

The next day, military officers came through the village to draft young men into to army and head off to war. They saw the young man's broken leg and passed him over. "Such good luck!" his neighbors exclaimed.
"Maybe," said the farmer.

I am tired of being the grown up. I want a ticket to Never Never Land.

I don't want to spend another moment thinking about my escrow account, my basement drainage, my taxes, that stack of unfiled bill receipts, how much money is left on my line of credit, or the clanking sound my dryer is making.

It's beautiful outside and I'd rather be battling pirates or photographing mermaids.




I loved this movie. Peter Pan is such a loaded story. Cool song too.

The new show in our house is Ninja Warrior on the channel G4. My son found it and now we have Japanese announcers excitedly shouting in our home. It took a while before I finally started reading the subtitles, which are often amusing. This clip (my first experiment in embedding video) doesn't have the subtitles.

Have you guys seen this? The accidents can be brutal. The tension is addicting. It's very entertaining.

I can't remember if I said it on my blog, but I know in conversation that I have compared my current feelings about raising my children, edging into teenage-hood, to the time when the tide recedes from the beach before the tsunami hurls in. I know it's coming soon, but it's not here yet.

This weekend felt like the tides began to turn and the waves are headed for shore.

Nothing terrible. All manageable. All, in a way expected. This weekend just felt like an onslaught for me. Combine that with the first weekend of cookie booths for the girls scouts, a cat with a malicious pee-ing habit, and you can see why I took a nap today.

Aahh, a tall glass of Chardonnay and my book...

My sweetheart did ride in on the first wave, helped cook dinner and shuffle kids in order to take me to the Baltimore symphony. It was wonderful once we finally slogged our way there. They played the score to a Charlie Chaplin movie that they showed: City Lights 1931. I had never seen a whole Chaplain movie before. (Technically I still haven't because the two martinis and the warm theater made for a moment or two of drowsing.)

I thought it was just me.

Did anyone see the survey of American religions that was published in the Washington Post yesterday? This "Religious Landscape Survey" conducted by the Pew Forum of Religious and Public Life, asked 35K American adults about their religion. They determined that
- 40% of Americans have changed their religious affiliation since childhood
- Both Protestants & Catholics are losing membership
- The "religious nones" are growing with people who consider themselves "Spiritual but not religious"

I live in such a diverse area that I was surprised at the low % of Jewish, Muslim, Buddhists in America. I know more and more people who are merging Buddhism with their Christianity.

Does this all mean that people are thinking more? or that we are less committed?

I should probably get a new computer. My five year old laptop is having increasing issues and doesn't keep up with my new business involving lots of photography and advertisement graphics. My kids are all campaigning for more access, and if anyone is getting a new computer around here, it's gonna be me.

Two of my main tech support allies are recommending a Mac, as is the art editor of the magazine. Everyone says I will never regret it. But will all my stuff convert? Will I still be able to network with my old computer?

I am so intimidated by new learning curves, especially where technology is concerned. Generally, I underutilize all my technology: camera, microwave, iTunes, cell phone, computers. I hate taking time to re-learn simple things on a new system. I just want to e-mail something, make an invoice, or attach a photo. I'll have to re-learn everything.

I walked into an Apple store and tried fiddling with a sample Mac laptop. No right click on the mouse. Where is all that stuff? I felt myself start to constrict, like when you call HP tech support and they say you have to call Verizon who says it is a MicroSoft problem. ack!

I walked out of the store and decided to decide later.

My home office wasn't quite as peaceful today as it often is. I am so sick of my basement flooding during a downpour that drastic measures were called for. These measures required a noisy jackhammer and a cloud of dust. The handsome young jackhammerer was added bonus.



This young man and his coworker/father have been re-siding my house for the last couple weeks, despite the cold and windy weather. My 14 year old has been bringing a friend home and working at the kitchen table, I suspect to watch the jackhammerer walking around our backyard. I wonder if he realizes he's being watched.

Tonight in Girls Scouts Lexie ate some King Cake, a Mardi Gras tradition that I just learned about this year. Apparently a tiny baby Jesus is cooked into the bread. Lexie was the lucky ingester of Our Baby Lord.
Is that transubstantiation?
Does it even count as communion if the bread is sprinkled with purple sugar and wearing Mardi Gras beads?
I think yes. I think she is redeemed of shattering Jesus last Christmas. We had a replacement Jesus made out of Model Magic that looked a little like Mr. Bill for a while.

On Thursday, I have to give a 10 minute presentation on myself to the business networking group that I joined at my sister's invitation. Next week, I'll have the same time slot to talk about the magazine. That will be easy.

Giving a 10 minute presentation on yourself is kind of a weird thing to do when you think about it. Especially since we're on the second round - and it isn't church or therapy. The first time, my sister & I went together. We invited our mom. Between my sister and my mom, I didn't have to say much, which was kind of cheating. So this time, I have to say more.

The guy who went last week did his automotive history, describing the various cars he's owned throughout his life up 'til now. It was a fun idea and got everyone reminiscing. So I was thinking of using the same approach: the history of my life through....what?
Schools I've attended?
Jobs I've had?
Bands I like?

What?

Do you believe in old home remedies or have any that work for you?

I dated a guy who said, and believed, that if you rubbed a potato peel on your wart, then threw away the peel outside and never looked back at the peel, that your wart would be gone by the time the peel biodegraded.

I ask because I went to a Naturopathic doctor about my ankle. She prescribed castor oil packs for my ankle. I'm to cut the toes off a tube sock, soak it in castor oil, pull it over my injured ankle, wrap it in plastic, and sleep in that for, I can't remember, a few weeks.

So I tried it, although it seemed real weird. Oddly, my ankle did feel better on the first morning. I think it had to do with the warmth trapped in by the plastic. It doesn't appear to be harmful, although it isn't very sexy. So I'm trying it.

What weird medicine have you tried?

Set in the last half of the 14th century, World Without End by Ken Follet is the story of the lives of the citizens of the imaginary town of Kingsbridge in England, the setting of his previous epic, Pillars of the Earth. WWE follows the lives of some of the descendants of his previous tome. I wished it hadn’t been so long since I read Pillars. Some of my details are foggy, but the feel of the two books were the same.

I remember wondering if the sex and violence in Pillars were gratuitous or necessary. Follet continues as a master of vivid description, which can be startling in the sex and violence scenes. The battles and fights, with their knives and swords and arrows, seem much more disturbing than gunshots, the damage done more horrific. And the punishments dispensed by the priests! I wanted to look away, but it was a book. I hated to keep reading, but I couldn’t put it down.

I think those details, however grisly, are necessary to the character development. It is one thing to say she fought off the attacker and won. It is another to hear the knife slicing through sinews, feel how hard she thrust, see where it came out, and what came out with it. I feel much more impressed with her ferocious self-preservation. I doubt I could do that. The description of the Great Plague was nightmarish and exhausting. The details, however revolting, create a more visceral reaction from the reader. By contrast the love and the beauty were more inspiring, more of an oasis.

I also think the details, although fictional, are historically accurate. How miserable life was 700 years ago! How dangerous! As humans, we have been mistaken about so many things. We have come a long way, but I’m sure we are still mistaken about much in our world.

The other thought I had after reading the book was about extremism in religious and social structures. This book follows the lives of four people: two caught in the extremes of society and two struggling away from those extremes in religion. It seems that the Earl and the peasant were both helpless against the injustice of class and obedience. They could not foment any change. It was the merchant class characters who made any lasting social impact. Their struggles and visions ultimately improved society. Makes me wonder what that says about us – about me.

I really enjoyed this book and recommend it, although it is not for the squeamish. Any of you who like horror books & movies with probably think it is nothing. I just hate to witness evil and brutality. However, the book is not about evil so much as the triumph of hope over it.

Sorry for the long gap.
I finally finished that long book, World Without End by Ken Follet last night at 12:30. I have several observations to share, but first, I have to catch up on everything that went by the wayside while I was reading.

So,I'll tell you my Urban Word of the Day: Choreplay. Can you guess what it is?

This picture is from last week.
It is so cold today. When I first looked at the thermometer this morning it was 8 degrees. Brrr! Great day for a mug of coffee, a blanket, and my book!

I have started a 1000 page book. I almost didn't because I knew what would happen. The laundry stacks up. The kids have to cook for themselves. I unintentionally stay up too late.

I am reading Ken Follet's "World Without End." Nothing was "the good old days" about the 12th century. What mean times they were. Kids and women were rarely treated with any dignity and expected abuse.

I think we are evolving as humans into a more compassionate humanity. The question is, is the part of us that is evolving going to survive the part of us that is using up all our resources? At least I'll have time to finish my book first.

Friday night I did an odd combination of events. I had to go to a singles dance as part of my job as a singles columnist for a local magazine. (What a job, right?) I knew it would be fun, and I was right. But just before we went, I felt compelled to stop in at the funeral home for a viewing. It was quite a contrast of emotions.

A man in my community, just a little older than me, was killed in a motorcycle accident. Initial reports didn't indicate drugs or alcohol were involved on either party's part. The man was wearing his helmet. I don't think excessive speed was involved. Someone just didn't see him and pulled out into the road where he was driving.

I have encountered his wife several times in our community. She worked at the pre-school where my daughter went. I taught her daughters in Sunday school 6 or 7 years ago. My oldest daughter and her youngest daughter have become friends and slept over each other's houses this fall.

The funeral home was packed. Although I am not close to the widow, I can't imagine the trauma and fear and worry she is feeling and I felt compelled to go hug her. I'm glad we have the tradition of a viewing for just such a purpose.

Because we have never been close, I'm not sure how to help in the months to come. I have talked to other widows who said they just appreciated it when someone came and did something, like walk the dog or mow the grass. I suppose I can just keep my door open for her daughter who is my daughter's friend and watch and listen for something we can do.


Does being reminded of the fragility of life make you enjoy yours more? I think it is easy to ignore the fact that we're all going to die. We don't know when. Better make the most of things now. Some people think it is morbid to dwell on our mortality, but I find it a bit motivating.

Another sweaty attic improvement shift has produced some archival treasures. I found my 8th & 9th grade yearbooks, and various old snapshots that are an interesting comment on the pre-digital days of photography.

The first inscription in my 9th grade yearbook is from someone named Karen who I'm not sure if I remember. She wrote,
"It was nice knowing you in school, but it was kind of weird..."

Some of the signatures admonish me to remember cryptic, inside jokes that must've been funny 28 years ago.

"We really should get together and make another Hoffman cake sometime."
"We finally got rid of Mims & Zocks, but look at all the trouble you got into with Duck."
"Too bad I had to hear all your stories from Ann-Margaret, Mary, & Sange. They really gave me a bad impression of you!"
"Remember the tin soldier and 'Where's your passport?'"

I see I haven't grown up at all in 28 years.

The holiday season has passed and now I'm into the first new season of the year: science fair season.

I did have a wonderful Christmas and a warm, lovely New Year. I got my last present in the mail yesterday - a stuffed, two-headed calf from our dear friends in Boise. My kids were delighted.

Now, however, my kitchen is a temporary lab - testing the effect of varied glycerin levels on the longevity of bubbles. I think that after at least a dozen of these projects I am finally getting better at the selection and procrastination part of the project.

My daughter's entrepreneurial spirit popped up when she was mixing her varied solutions and trying one out with her homemade, ineffectual, wire wand.

"We should market this stuff!" she exclaimed. I hated to burst her bubble but I explained that she was a little behind the curve on that idea.

Right now we are currently having a "delay in the lab" due to the lack of a normal bubble wand. Ironically, despite the perhaps gallon of homemade bubble solution on my kitchen counter, I'm going to have to go buy some bubbles for the wand. Figures.

I love bubbles - the perfect introduction to the ephemeral nature of beauty. I remember my 2 year old son drinking a couple of big chugs before he registered that they didn't taste good and his wide eyes when he burped a bubble. They had an ill effect on him over then next day.

Is it Christmas yet?
(By the time I hit publish it will be)

I'm working on a bottle of wine from my ex, biding my time for the kids to be really asleep before I start my elfish ruckus.



I enjoyed a few firsts this Christmas.
Last night I was invited to watch my friend Peggy's daughter receive her two new kittens for Christmas. What better moments are there than a nine year old girl finding two ginger kittens under the Christmas tree?







And tonight in church, I was Mary. (Sorry if you just sprayed egg nog or coffee on your computer.)
I think it was a combination of "They must not know me very well" and "Let's ask Ann. She doesn't know how to say No!"
The good part was that I didn't have any lines. The hard part was not cracking up when my Joseph called me "Queen of Heaven" to the Innkeeper.
Who ever heard of a Mary in her 40's? But apparently a teenage Joseph was hard to find. Mine was pushing 60. And mercifully, I was not required to stuff a pillow up my dress. I was really reluctant to have anyone associate me with pregnancy in any form.

It just goes to show you that you never know what will come next. I thought my pageant days were long gone.


I wish you all warm new memories that you can pull out and wrap yourselves up in when you are cold.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Ann

I keep encountering reminders of the sadness everywhere in the world while I’m trying to float into the Christmas Spirit - some darker thoughts for the Winter Solstice.

Last week I saw a frightening billow of dark black smoke. Something huge and unplanned was burning. I hoped no one was hurt, but radical changes were certainly happening in people’s lives that day.

A young man was killed in a freak car accident with his widowed mother as witness to the tragedy. I drive by the cross and flowers on the side of the road almost every day.

I bought a friend a coffee table book of Pulitzer Prize winning photos. When I got home and looked closer at the book before wrapping it, I flipped through the photos: stark evidence of the suffering and cruelty in the world at the hands of fellow human beings and capricious Mother Nature. I couldn’t bear to put Christmas wrapping paper on such a sobering collection of photos.

On my morning walk I got bit in the arm by a leashed neighborhood dog that I have greeted many times before. Maybe with my hood up he didn’t recognize me. I haven’t been walking in a while. I had to go in for a tetanus shot today. It hurts and the wound is ugly.

There is such beauty and joy possible, but sometimes it is hard to see.
It’s like the bunny I saw hopping across the road tonight: a bit of freedom we haven’t paved over yet. It better be agile to survive. But nature is still wild. Even on a leash, it can’t be expected not to be wild.

I went to yoga to try to catch up with that bunny tonight. It helped. I need to find that balance.

Maybe I needed to remember all the sorrow and tragedy to appreciate the Christmas Spirit. Love came to a crushed world. Love came in a package that we were to wrap in softness and nuzzle up close to, full of potential and tragedy.

After Christmas, I collect all the Christmas story books and put them away. It is fun to pull out the basket again and see our old favorites. Even my big kids enjoy the old picture books.

One of our favorites is "How Murray Saved Christmas" by Mike Reiss. It is set in the rhythm of "Twas the Night". It is the story of a Jewish deli owner who substitutes for a sick Santa.

"Polar Express" and "Alabaster's Song" are basically the same story, but they both choke me up in the end.

I love Jan Brett's illustrations in the famous "Twas the Night" by Clement Moore.

Which Christmas stories do you enjoy?

I have begun a little Construction Girl revival in my attic.

After getting a contractor’s bid on upgrading my attic insulation, I decided to consider doing it myself. My twenty year old house has a mere six inches of insulation, which was to code at the time. Now the standard is 15 inches. We are cold.

I needed nine more inches and Mark was happy to volunteer.

The first order of business is clearing the attic floor, no small task. I hadn’t realized how personal that would be. I hadn’t thought of what Mark might learn about me by helping me organize and purge my attic. It was personal archeology. Why did I save that?

We went to the hardware store for supplies to build shelves in the rafters to get some of the residential clutter permanently off the floor. Before too long, we were screwing in the attic.

There are so many variables when screwing, even on a fairly simple project like ours. Even if, in theory, each shelf was identical, no two screws are alike. One board is curved. One screw gets stuck in a knot hole. I got a minor injury when I didn’t bother with the proper protective precautions. And the angles had to be adjusted to make sure everything came out level. One screw in the wrong place could send years of my collection crashing through the ceiling.

But you guys already know this.

Mark and I have reached a serious point of commitment in our relationship: we mixed our tools into one toolbox. Between us, we have quite an impressive collection.

What is up with that plastic armor so many products are wrapped in?

I took my daughter to her school's Skate Night tonight. Normally, I would have put on the skates and joined them, happy to join my children in play. But I'm still too nervous about my ankle to take the chance, especially given my skill level at the roller rink. (John, do you remember the those Franconia skate nights?)

I hate being the spectator. Well, that's not totally true. I like watching people who excel at a sport or art perform. I love to watch my children play and perform. I was impressed with my friends' performances in the Nutcracker Sunday afternoon. I like riding shotgun so I can gawk at the scenery.

I hate feeling afraid of getting hurt. It makes me feel old. That pain is still too vivid in my memory. I still feel twinges of pain in sudden movements, or after a long day.

I think, soon, I will be ready to take a chance again. Healing takes longer than I realized, longer than I hoped. I'm tired of limping.

Damn those Butter Trefoils.
The first time I opened the sleeve of cookies, I only ate 3 or 4. But this time, I have a cup of my Yogi Breathe Deep Tea to help alleviate my annoying head cold and before I knew it, there were only four left. You know, there's no point just saving four.
In a moment of weakness, I agreed to be Girl Scout Cookie Mom this year. What have I done?

My son makes his first attempt to merge the new and old outdoor decorations.



As punishment for putting Georgie on the tree in Harold the angel's place, I made my sweetie snip off all the malfunctioning lights that were clipped onto my lovely fake tree.






My kids still enjoy putting on their box of decorations - and our friend & neighbor, the rabbi's daughter, joined us for some cross-cultural collaboration.


Save the polar bears!

Here are some pics of my pleasant and quiet Thanksgiving.


Anne's son helping chop mushrooms for stuffing.






The rocket scientist planning his turkey carving skills.






The moms and their wine.

My son off to a quick start against Grandpa, a formidable opponent.

I was reading "Traveling Mercies" by Anne Lamott while waiting for my maintenance check-up on my Prius in a waiting room of all women. It occurs to me that auto mechanics would have an easy time meeting women.

Anyway, three of the waiting women were deep in an animated conversation about Christmas shopping and the pathetic stories on some scandal courtroom show playing for our unnecessary entertainment. I had planned ahead and was looking forward to 45 minutes of reading time, although the cheerful women and sorry stories unraveling on the little television were quite distracting.

I am reading a book I selected from my shelf full of books loaned and passed to me by friends who thought I would like this one. It's a shelf teeming with "ought-to-reads." This particular book first belonged to my friend Julie, who wrote in the margins and highlighted several passages. It is like the old days of book club, "hearing" her comments and reactions.

I am loving this book. In fact I snort-laughed at one point in the waiting room, causing a flicker in the room's conversation. I can't quote a short passage because you wouldn't have the momentum that builds to a snort.

I love snort-laughter. When was the last time you laughed that well?

I learned on my urban dictionary word of the day that today is Cyber Monday. Can you guess what that is?

The Monday after Black Friday when everyone gets on-line after trudging through Friday's crowds and not getting the job done.

I shop on-line often enough to get a barrage of Christmas catalogs. I bet I'm averaging seven a day.

Who are some on-line/mail order merchants you have had luck with in the past?

I must've heard a dozen sources say that this fall would be quick and brown due to the drought conditions of the earlier fall.
They were clearly wrong. The colors this fall have been spectacular. I drive around in awe. The kids and I keep pointing out trees to each other.
"Look at that one!"

This picture is one of my favorite places on earth. We simply call it the tree tunnel. My kids & I climbed into one for our family portrait (which I don't have in digital format.) Every time I drive through the tree tunnel, I wish I had my camera. Although I was a day or two past peek, here's what it looked like today.


I love the Greek mythology explaining the seasons: that the autumn colors were Ceres' last hurrah before her daughter Persephone, had to go spend a few months a year in Hades, although it is a little sad and unfair.

Life goes in cycles like that, doesn't it? Things are going along well, getting more beautiful by the day, and before you know what happened, things seem to be past peak. A time of barren dormancy is coming. You can feel it in the wind. But that is just really making way for a new beginning, not too far off, but easy to forget about when it's freezing.

One of my favorite quotes is
"To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with Spring." -George Santayana

I accidentally cleaned my shed today. I hadn't meant to, but I was looking for something in there. Summer got shut down while I was recuperating. I see things were just thrown in.

I didn't go for very clean. I was not redecorating, just enough to make things accessible - and threw out a bunch of crap: broken water guns, flaky nerf balls, old brittle seat cushions.

I only spent about 20 minutes. It was wonderful to have a little give in my schedule today. It was great to have the strength in my own two feet.

If you had twenty minutes to clean part of your space, which room would it be?

I had my first aquatic physical therapy today. I thought it would be easier than the regular exercises, but I was wrong. I have my ankle on ice now, waiting for the ibuprophen to kick in.

Fortunately, the spirit of the group of people recovering in the warm therapy pool is positive & hopeful. The facility is in a sports club and the pool is surrounded by "glass" so there is lots of natural light. The club is back in the woods, which are all in their autumn finest right now.

Instead of counting my reps, I imagined that we were injured woodland fairies taking advantage of healing power of the early morning rain. Much better than five middle aged women whose bodies are backfiring on them, eh?

I have had a week of unexpected medical news this week.

On Wednesday evening, I accompanied my nephew to the ER for stitches in a finger that was spurting blood. Apparently you should not wave to people while operating power tools.

Then yesterday, I heard that follow-up lab work was necessary for my youngest. I suspected she might have mono and had insisted on blood work. The results, her doctor informed me, looked like she might have juvenile diabetes. She said she would call two hospitals while I pulled my daughter out of school for more bloodwork. When I heard "overnight in the hospital" and "insulin training," my hearing kind of went out of focus.

Diabetes isn't the worst thing that your kid can have, although I was "hoping" for mono. My mind was racing about immediate and long term problems that were posed by this possibility. So I prepared for the worst and hoped for the best - which fortunately I received.

The second tests were in the normal range, although further testing is necessary. The zebra was just a horse. With a few lurches, we were able to shift back into Plan A for the evening.
whew!
What a wild ride that was. I don't plan to get in line for that ride again.

My ears perked up tonight when my 12 year old son said,
"Mom, I don't know if I did something brave, or something stupid."

I agreed with him that there was a fine line between the two. He's embarking on those painful relationship lessons. Unfortunately, I am told that I have no helpful ideas or experience to share.

Have you ever done something that walked the fine line between brave & stupid?