Well, it has been two months since I blogged last. Like exercising, once you break the habit of writing, it is hard to start back up again.



Rather than catch up, I'll just jump into my daily dilemma.

I took my son to the allergist yesterday, specifically to test for a nut allergy, and he turned up allergic to cats. Cats! We have had cats for 6 years, the most recent additions coming as Christmas presents to my youngest daughter last 7 months ago.

My son has always had problems with his sinuses, beginning before we had cats. He had 4 sets of ear tubes and an adnoidectomy. Actually, by the last surgery we had cats. He has missed a lot of school with sinus infections over the years.

So the allergist says the best thing is to get rid of the cats, although he says a lot of people don't. I could by HEPA filters, vacuum more often, load my son up on anti-histamines or maybe even get him allergy shots. But what am I saying to him by keeping the cats?

My daughter is at summer camp this week and has not been part of this discussion.

I have spent thousands of dollars on these cats: vaccines, declaw, spay & neuter, emergency room visit when one got squished under the garage door. They have been a considerable investment. They have sometimes been a pain in the ass, hopping up on the counter and breaking things, barfing and pooping in the wrong places, and leaving decapitated rodents on my doorstep. But they have also been a joy and entertaining.

What to do?
Anyone want some kitties?

I canceled my lawn service this year and bought a mower. I needed to pinch back my budget and the price of a mower + paying my son was less than the service. Sometimes he has mowed for free too.


Why do people work so hard to have all their grass the same type of grass? Do you think it's worth all the chemicals and weeding? If my lawn was a church, it would be Unitarian: all species welcome. I kind of like all the variety.


I weed whacked for the first time of the season and was deaf and buzzing for an hour afterward. I'm sure I'm not very efficient at it yet. I went out and bought ear protection.

On Friday, I mowed my front and back yard for the first time in my life. It was much harder than I expected. I didn't realize how many things I have to mow around, including my new compost cage and little garden. I'm open for any advice for a novice mower.

Back by my new garden are thriving irises & peonies that the previous owner planted. Some of the irises were lying forward onto the grass. It was tricky trying to lift the irises without releasing the deadman's grip on the mower. The irises kept flopping back onto the ground. I though, "These are suicidal irises." Wouldn't that be a great name for a band? The Suicidal Irises.



So my first attempt at a garden is an ongoing experiment. The tomatoes I planted as seeds inside and then transferred all died, as did the zucchinis. The peas are doing pretty well, and I have two surviving bell peppers, but they are really small still. I replanted some tomatoes seedlings and they look promising - especially because of all the rain we've been having. I went ahead and put the cages around them so they know what high hopes I have for them. I have some cantaloupe sprouting in a pot I'll transfer into the garden where the zucchini's abandoned hope. I'm going to plant some pumpkins too.

My brother sent me this helpful link, if any of you are looking for some good recipes for Mother's Day.
thisiswhyyourfat.com

Today is my son's 14th birthday. Although I recognize that I am a bit biased, I think he is absolutely adorable. Last year had a lot of difficulties for him, but I am so encouraged by his attitude lately (despite his last report card.) He has been so helpful, mowing the lawn without being nagged. He's had a recent enthusiasm for his own fitness level, which is inspiring. He's gained a lot of confidence in lacrosse this year, wearing his bruises as badges of honor (see him about to score in the picture.) He's excited about high school in the fall, especially ROTC and Japanese. His sisters and I appreciate the hormonal balance he brings to our household, leaving fragrant pieces of equipment around the house and car.

How can I have two teenagers?

What do you remember about being 14?

In case your not one of the millions who has watched this clip of the "Britain's Got Talent" sensation, Susan Boyle, check this out. I bet you'll get goosebumps. She's absolutely adorable. (They won't let me embed it, just a link.)

A mystery...

So last Monday I was driving my kids home from scouts when I suddenly pulled over. A new paperback book fluttered helplessly in the middle of the road. I love books. I made my daughter hop out of the car and get it like we did with the black box turtle, even if she was rolling her eyes as she did it. "Mom!"

So the book is Joshua Harris's latest, "boy meets girl." He previously published "I Kissed Dating Goodbye."

At a quick glance, the previous reader diligently studied the text, underling and highlighting passages. Then there are some places where the reader couldn't hold back a retort, the feminine handwriting jotting "Ha!" in the margins or "OK...."

The book, as I imagine its predecessor was, has a very traditional Christian perspective on the roles of men and women in marriage and how that affects the efforts of single Christians striving to remain pure until marriage.

For example, a list of questions a man should consider when trying to determine if he should marry begins with, "Am I prepared to lead my wife spiritually and serve her in every way?"

Later he encourages women to avoid leading while dating to give your boyfriend a chance to practice leading for when you are married. "How else can you practice for the time when you will follow your husband?"

But she didn't get that far. Her notations stop about a third of the way in, in the chapter that offers the sage advice of allowing room for friendship before premature intimacy, suggesting, for example, that you pray together, discuss sermons, and read the Bible.

So why do you think the book was in the middle of the road? Did she drive off with it on the roof of her car? Did she throw it out of the window? her boyfriend? a girlfriend?

Let me know if you want your book back.

I've decided to start composting. One reason is because in a year or two I want to start a kitchen garden, but my soil is so sandy. So I thought if I started composting now, maybe next year I'll have a healthy patch. Also composting is good for the environment in general.

Do any of you compost? Any advice or warnings?

If you've never been to Memphis, you should put it on your list of places to go. Mark & I had so much fun! (Well, he had to work for some of it, but I got to play!)

First let me tell you about the food.
We ate some delicious ribs at The Rendezvous, which has a comically carnivorous menu. While listening to jazz at BB King's, I feasted on fried catfish, sweet onion hushpuppies, french fries, fried green tomatoes and some of Mark's pulled pork bbq. Mmmmm. We decided to pass on the deep fried hamburgers at Dyers, which boasts that they haven't changed their grease in the 90+ years they've been in business, although after watching the video on their website, I think I might have to try it on my return trip.

My drink for the weekend was the Presbyterian, which was mostly ginger ale and bourbon. I figured that counted as church.

On our third day, our bellies were a bit overwhelmed by the grease and the bourbon, so we ate at Circa, a fancy schmancy restaurant on the way to the Orpheum to see the hilarious Menopause, the Musical. Dinner was fantastic and the show was affirming to me, but I think a bit scary to Mark.

When I staggered out of the zoo on Saturday, a bit lost and hungry since only one snack stand was opened and the tremendous line was cluttered with fussy children, I serendipitously found the Cafe Eclectic, which had "regular and rebel side dishes", a wide variety of teas, and my favorite, lemon soup.

It was a good thing I found this little organic haven, because I had just listened to Jane Goodall speak at the award-winning Memphis Zoo and now I don't know what to eat. I'll have to tell you more about her and her various causes in another post.

Of course I went to Graceland, which was mobbed. Elvis seemed very much like a sweet, local boy who loved his momma and his hometown. I wished I had more time to read the graffiti on the gates.

The Civil Rights Museum, built onto the Lorraine Motel was sadly informative, and also mobbed with visitors from all over the world. I was overwhelmed with sadness at the balcony where hate won a battle.

I had wanted to see Mud Island and Sun Studios, but alas, I ran out of time. We did stay at the Peabody and we got to see the famous ducks coming to and from their beautiful fountain and in their ornate rooftop home. I enjoyed a morning in their spa to get my weekend off to a relaxing start.

I'm going to Memphis soon, taking advantage of my sweetheart's federally funded hotel room. He has to go to a conference. I'm going to Graceland. Should I sing at Elvis' grave like the guys in Spinaltap here?



I'm also planning to go the the Civil Rights Museum. The hotel where MLK,Jr. was assassinated has been converted into a museum. So in a way, I guess I'm going on a ghost tour in Memphis.

Has anyone been to Memphis? Do you have any restaurant or club recommendations?

I just drove up to Mark's, where he met me at the door with a kiss and a Cabernet. I passed a truck on the road that had written in big letters on the side TROJAN HORSE. In small letters it said U.S. Mail.


So I wondered what was inside?
Angry Greeks?
Rancid olives?
Dear John letters?
Financial Statements?

Despite the fact that I have excellent opinions, people don't always agree with me. Perhaps it is my manner of delivery. For example, I just got scolded for bad manners on Facebook for calling Rush Limbaugh an ass, which I thought was understated. I held back my whole flaming rant. I can't imagine that I hurt his feelings. I think he traded those long ago.

But at the risk of stirring more controversy...

Did you hear about the latest issue of "Quilter's Home" magazine? It was banned from JoAnn's Fabric stores for being too controversial! Of course, I dashed right out to Barnes & Nobel and picked up their last copy of the magazine for my quilting friend, Anne.

The controversy is the subject of the quilts. I read about it in the Washington Post, but was a bit disappointed by the moderately offensive article. One, for example, is a tribute to Viagra. Another depicts a gun-toting Jesus. Another, called Southern Heritage, shows lynchings.

Who are these radical quilters? Who knew quilters could be radical? I have my fingers crossed to win my friends' quilting bee's pretty beachy quilt in a raffle. Who knows, next year if they stitch something more sensational it will help their fundraising efforts. Have you ever seen a radical quilt?

Judy Chicago is a modern artist who is most famous for her painting, The Dinner Party. The painting shows a table prepared for a dinner party with famous women. Each place setting is unique to the guest.



This is Women's History Month. So stealing Judy Chicago's idea, who would you set the table for? I'd say a table with more than 8 people is not conducive to conversation. So with which 5-7 women would you want to dine? No rules about living, dead, real or imaginary.

So I think I would pick
Mary Magdalene
Margaret Sanger
Sojourner Truth
Laurie Notaro
and probably Amy Ray & Emily Saliers (the Indigo Girls)

Of course I wouldn't mind having dinner with my twin, Michelle Obama. And it would just be nice to have all my girlfriends over to dinner - especially the ones who live far away.
And my grandmas would be great to see again. My son wanted to see Aphrodite, my daughter Ella Fitzgerald.

So without thinking about it too much, with which women would you care to share some fine wine, delicious food, and a few hours of conversations?

So while I haven't been posting, I've had some interesting experiences.

One is that I've had the opportunity to help with the Sudanese quintuplets that are spending their first year of life in America to get good medical care outside of a warzone. You can see a picture of these adorable babies and read a bit of their story here.

I saw a call for help in my church's bulletin. I was happy to join the Church Lady Brigade from all around the area to pitch in a weekly shift to help with the care and feeding of these tiny beauties. I'm at a stage in life between babies, so this was just the fix I needed. I go once a week to help, which also includes laundry, writing thank you notes, running local errands, and eating delicious Sudanese cuisine.

One lucky day I got to help with bath time. Not only did I get to bathe one of these new little people, I got to rub jojoba oil on their dark chocolate skin, the tiniest massage I ever gave.

Their crowded little apartment is actually quite orderly and peaceful.

On Valentine's Day, my sweetheart took me to see the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. He has a subscription to the BSO for the "Symphony with a Twist" series. We saw them around Halloween use children's toys and paper bags as instruments. Once they performed the soundtrack for the Charlie Chaplain movie, "City Lights."

The BSO's conductor, Maestra Marin Alsop, is the first woman to conduct a major American orchestra. She's wonderful, as you'll see in the above clips. Yesterday's performance included some music that she had been tracking down for years. Alsop was intrigued by the pianist and composer James P. Johnson who wrote "The Charleston" and was renown for his "stride" piano techniques that made him one of Harlem's most famous pianists She found some of his surviving relatives and one of them had some of his music stashed in the attic. Alsop brought the music to us all last night. Can you imagine? It was a powerful piece entitled "Drums."

Yesterday's twist was Savion Glover, a world renown tap dancer, who accompanied several of the pieces. I wouldn't even say what he was doing was tap dancing so much as podiatric, paroxysmal, percussion. It was wonderful!

I love living in a time in America when everyone is saying the phrase "stimulus package." I always grin - and most often keep my comments to myself.

So it was great to see Julie last weekend. I know I could have "shared" her with more people, but she was already subdivided with visiting her mom. So I'm a Julie hog. Sorry local friends.


To maximize our time, we took our moms out together. Julie's mom lives on the other side of DC. So we picked her up and went over to that new 9/11 memorial at the Pentagon. It is such a thoughtfully designed memorial. I had wished that there was a plaque explaining the symbolism of it all, but we did eventually figure it out. I'm sure it will be even more beautiful when the landscaping grows in.


The memorial has a bench for each person who died in the crash. Their name is engraved on the side of the bench. Underneath each bench is a stream. The names of any family members also killed in the crash are engraved on a plaque in the stream under the bench. This was more common among the passengers than the Pentagon victims. There appears to have been a family with two young children.



The benches are arranged by year of birth of the deceased. Also, if the bench is pointing toward the Pentagon, the person died there. If the bench points toward the Air Force memorial across the highway, they died on the plane.

It was very moving. I am so impressed with people who think of these details in their design.

Parking, however, is a major issue. I played the blonde card and just parked with the construction guys in an adjacent muddy field.

The next day, Julie & Mark & I went to a cool art museum in Baltimore that displays the works of artists who received no formal training. Some of the galleries were arranged by the artists' disease, like OCD art. There were autistic murals, bipolar mosaics, and schizophrenic paintings. It kind of made you think we shouldn't necessarily try to wipe out these "diseases." You couldn't take pictures inside, but here are a few from outside. It was very interesting. Mark posted about it too, so check out his pics & comments.

So I was squeezing a run through a McDonald's drive-thru between a late audition for Alice in Wonderland and a science fair project assembly (due in the morning and my printer's all smeary!) I ordered myself a grilled Chipotle BBQ snack wrap, tea for Peggy, and sundaes for our girls in the back seat.

I rounded the corner as instructed and pulled up to the first window to pay when the clerk asked, "Do you know who you look like?"

Have you ever been asked that? Who do people tell you that you look like? When I was younger, I was pleased to hear Goldie Hawn. I haven't heard that in decades though. Someone told me I looked like a character on the show Boston Public, but I've never seen that show, so I didn't know if it was a compliment or not. I was wearing my rectangular, black-framed glasses that I wear especially for night driving, so I was running through who it might be when he said...

"You look like Michelle Obama."
what?!
"No one's ever said that to me before," I replied. I sat up taller, smiled, and said thank you.

I turned to Peggy and gave her a fist bump, told Malia and Sasha to settle down in the back seat, and decided that I must really buy a purple dress. I decided he meant that I looked powerful, or smart.

I drove away and unwrapped my snack wrap. It was crispy ranch. I wasn't surprised.

My dear friend Julie is here for a visit. To prepare for her visit, I had to clean out the arts and crafts cabinet enough to clear off the dining room table so we could put out a jigsaw puzzle. I love jigsaw puzzles. They are a great conversation enhancer.

We have a few days, so I put out 1000 piece garden puzzle. But this time I have an added challenge I hadn't counted on: kittens. They think it is for them. And they like those pieces to be free and off the table. We've taken to putting a towel over the puzzle when we take a break. I've been down on the floor with a flashlight, fishing pieces out of the air register.

I never told you about my favorite Christmas present this year. Of course, it is from my brother who is well known for his distinctive gifts. This year he gave me a couple of books and a personal keepsake that I'm surprised he could part with.

The books? The 2000 US Army Medical Research Institute of Chemical Defense's Handbook on the Medical Management of Chemical Casualties and the 2001 US Army Research Institute of Infectious Diseases' Handbook on the Medical Management of Biological Casualties. Have you read them? I think I'll keep them in the box with the duct tape, sheets of plastic, and face masks.

And you can see from the picture what else came with the books: his dental molds from high school. Hopefully I won't need them for identification purposes.

So can anyone top that in gifts received recently - for any occasion?

I am sipping my glass of champagne that I toasted with my daughter to President Barack Obama, the skin on my cheeks tight from the salt of my tears.

I have always been moved to tears by the song "My Country Tis of Thee" since I saw and heard the song sung in the movie "Glory" by a chorus of black children. That context changes the meaning of "Land where our fathers died." So when Aretha Franklin sang those words, my tears began to flow. My daughter said she expected her to sing "Respect." That might have been good too.

And when the final benediction began with the last verse of "Lift Every Voice and Sing," the words fresh in my mind from church two days ago, the import of the moment drew my tears again.

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, Thou who has brought us thus far on our way; Thou who hast by thy might led us into the light; keep us forever in the path, we pray.


Obama said
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.
I feel sad for those who didn't celebrate this moment, who harbor fear, discord, resentment and apathy.

I am filled with hope, bordered by worry.

I thought poet laureate Elizabeth Alexander spoke my feelings with grace:

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Last week in the freezing weather I accompanied my daughter's 5th grade class to the Hard Bargain Farm on the eastern shores of the Potomac, right across the river from Mt. Vernon. This actual working farm is on property donated long ago by a couple who wanted the property to be used for education. These kids got just that.
We collected eggs from chickens, milked a cow, slopped pigs, fed calves, collected litter, practiced using binoculars, observed herons and woodpeckers and chickadees. The kids covered themselves with the cattails gone to seed on our river walk and the rest of the day we trailed little wispy seeds like magical fairies.

At the highest point of the property, where their old house is, you can see the Woodrow Wilson bridge, the Capitol, and the Washington Monument. Our guide showed us the best way off that hill was to roll down. What fun! I did it, choosing not to let fear of injury stop me from all the fun. Wow was I dizzy!

Last night my sweetheart took me to meet some friends at the Livingston Taylor concert in Annapolis. What a great entertainer! Have you had the pleasure?

Liv is in his late fifties now and looked professorial in his sweater vest and bow tie. He walked right in the front door of the Ram's Head and said hello to us while we were waiting to go to our table. When we sat down, an hour before the show, he was up on the stage, polishing the fingerprints off the black grand piano that has had so many talented hands on it.

When he started the show, he said he was in no rush. He loved this and he wanted it to last as long as possible. The blonde curls of his early career have been slowly replaced with a free-ranging forehead that bares expressive folds which exaggerate his animated face like extra parentheses. He told stories between the songs he performed that were sometimes heartbreaking, like the one about the Civil War soldier, and hilarious, like "I'm not as herbal as I ought to be."

If you get a chance to go, don't miss it.


We had so much fun that we didn't want to go home right away. We strolled a few doors down to 49 West Cafe and had some baklava and a flaming glass of Sambuca with coffee beans. You should always drink with new friends so you get introduced to different drinks. Our friend was an Italian gentleman, originally from the Bronx. He has introduced me to the drink that will be my winter drink special. Yum!

So I ended up getting two kittens "for my daughter" for a Christmas present. On the way to pick up our kitten from the litter, I announced, "Don't even think of getting two kittens!" But, when I saw we'd be leaving one little girl all by herself, I couldn't leave her behind. It seems so sad to separate them all. I know. I'm a sucker. I'm also bordering on Crazy Cat Lady now with three cats.

(Some of the laughter I'm hearing is from those of you who remember that moment of weakness when you are cleaning up the mess your pet made, or writing that check to the vet.)

The gray is Bindi, a girl with a tan dot on her forehead. The pale orange is her brother named Mittens. He has a lot to say and meows a lot. Mittens also likes to be held and the center of attention, wants to see what's on tables and counters. His favorite perch is my shoulder so he has a better view of the house. I'll be walking around, straightening up the house with a purring kitten on my shoulder like a defective pirate.


The integration with the Mike, our five year old cat, has been interesting. I think he's afraid of these little invaders, not realizing he's five times their size. He has not taken a swat at them, but just growls and, very slowly, creeps away.

These are doing pretty good with the litter training compared with our other failed feline experiences. I figure the carpet was already ruined. I may as well do it now. How often in your life can you give kittens to your daughter? Besides, we are so isolated from nature in our plastic house that it is nice to have affection for an animal.

Who am I trying to convince here?

I hope everyone has had a great holiday. We've had a houseful and it had been fun, with more fun to come. There's a mess to clean up. It took me half an hour to sort and haul my trash to the curb this morning, but well worth it.
I'll have to tell you about our adorable new kittens (I know, I know - what was I thinking?)
my annoying basement flood (water line from the refrigerator kinked and leaked)
my mini-DC getaway with Mark (Brazilian restaurant, Library of Congress, Slumdog Millionaire & Doubt)
and Christmas and New Year's

But I'll stop now with, I wish you happiness and peace in the year to come.

I’m sitting in the Hard Bean Coffee Shop in the historic Annapolis harbor, just after 7am. I’ve dropped my young diva off at St. John’s College for the first of her ten holiday shows. I’ve never been down here for coffee in the morning. It’s a different crowd: fewer tourists, more regulars.

This brick town looks pretty at Christmastime. There’s a big lighted tree in the traffic roundabout, the masts of the sailboats bobbing in the harbor behind them. Windows are hung with red-bowed wreathes. Shop windows with white lights seductively display their best dressed gift ideas. The city has covered the parking meters with festive red bags, gift wrapping free parking for the holiday shoppers. A red bow passes the window on the neck of a big yellow retriever pulling a nautical matron.







I noticed a sign posted in the window that I knew you’d want to see for tomorrow’s Santa Speedo Run. Apparently tomorrow, a battalion of scantily clad Santas will be enjoying a brisk mile jog through Annapolis’ historic district.

Although the run is at 2, registration begins two hours prior accompanied with “libations.” At 1:45, participants will “strip down and file out to the street.”

The fine print of the poster has some advice:
Obviously a Speedo-like bathing suit is required. Women, bathing suit (2-piece if possible, but not mandatory.) Holiday colors are preferred. Please, no thongs! We know you have the body to pull it off, so why prove what’s obvious? Santa hat, beard and other holiday flair at your discretion.

I hate to miss it, but perhaps some things are better left to the imagination.

I am going to cheat today. I was sent this lovely, unattributed holiday story in an e-mail. I hope it warms your heart as it did mine.

Christmas with Louise

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his
fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill
them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true
because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were
overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and
went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things
at Walmart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.
If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse
yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?"
"You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the
inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll
that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the
car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. "Love Dolls" come in many different
models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do
things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for
"Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.
To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination. On Christmas
Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My
sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning
hours.
Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with
Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what
remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled
for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his
house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the
dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and
bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty
hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for
the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What
the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a
doll." "Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had
several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, to steer her into
dining room.
But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"
Again, I could have answered but why would I? It was Christmas and no
one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny,
hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me
and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she
was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel,
talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then
that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home. The
dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who
was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise
like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the
pantyhose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of
the sofa.
The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa
ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and
wet his pants. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room,
and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my
brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the
cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from
a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a
wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.
As each of you gather with your family during the holiday season may the
thought of this bring a smile to your face.

My kids have been up to some fun activities. Topping the list was last weekend's Light-a-Boat Parade in Annapolis.
40 something sail and power boats went all out, decorating their boats for the holidays and sailed them in and out of Ego Alley right at the historic downtown docks of Annapolis. They entered with the Sea Scouts and even spent the night on their boat in the harbor. How fun, eh? They are on the smaller boat with the blue lights and the Santa in the fedora.

I should be doing so many other things right now. My guess is, you should be too, eh? But hey, all work and no play....

After reading the Washington Post today, I was thinking of "Farewell Kisses."

Surely you've heard the story about an Iraqui journalist throwing his shoes at George W, while shouting, "This is your farewell kiss!" A horrible insult with a comic dimension to it from Western eyes. I understand that it is a terrible insult in the Iraqui culture, but I admire someone who can so clearly express their emotions in a relatively non-violet way. I'm sure he'll face serious consequences; of course he should. I can't imagine anyone hassling him in jail over it though. I'm curious to see what happens to the guy.

I have rarely felt moved to be so demonstrative. Once or twice though.... But who could inspire me to hurl my Birkenstocks? I bet the gesture would be a great release! So much more emphatic than just giving someone the finger. I'll have to remember that one.

I wonder what will happen to that pair of shoes. Will he get them back? I guess they will be entered as evidence. I wonder if the shoe will fit the assailant?

Have you ever been mad enough to throw your shoes at someone? Looking back, can you think of a time or two when you wish you would have though of it?

I've been meaning to tell you all the things I love about yoga and my dear instructor, Linna.

Yoga makes me feel relaxed, strong, and healthy. I credit yoga with my recovery from my broken ankle over a year ago. Yoga is cheaper than physical therapists and massage therapists, although there are times when those are necessary. I feel as if I've had a massage after yoga. I've stretched muscles that I didn't even know I had.


I've been going to Linna yoga classes, the ones she holds in the sanctuary of our church, for about two years now, or has it been three? I am learning about how to line up my chakras and lock my mulabhanda. I know how to do many animal poses: dog, pigeon, eagle, dolphin, fish, cat, camel, monkey, and one of my favorites - child. I love the warrior poses. They make me feel powerful and beautiful.

Linna describes the exact position of each body part with clarity and creativity. For example, she told us to hold out our hand as if we were offering someone a cookie, but she added, "it's your cookie. You can take it back when you want to."

Sometimes I'm going right along with the pose and then she describes something impossible. I think, you can't do that! But then I look around and there are people in the room doing it. Amazing.

Sometimes I have twisted up into a pretzel and she says, "Now relax and enjoy the pose." Really? But over time, I am learning to find comfort in these challenges, learning to breathe and let go, learning to honor my body.

Even after three years, Linna introduces new poses that surprise me. I realize I am only beginning to learn the secrets of this practice. But there's no rush. Linna is a patient guide. She doesn't overload. She reminds us not to ruin our poses with trying to achieve too much. There's no prize for bending the farthest or holding the pose the longest.

Although I love the tranquility of Linna's beautiful home studio, I do love practicing yoga in the sanctuary. When I am able to quiet my monkey mind and meditate, I can feel the power of the spirits that have been opened in that room. It may sound crazy, but I can feel the earth spinning underneath me. I feel my place in the universe and all those ad contracts, the laundry, the carpools, they all fade - at least for those few moments when I feel connected to the universe. In the quite of yoga, I can focus on one of the religious symbols in the room, or the rough stone wall, and consider God, often more powerfully and deeply than I ever do in formal religious services.

Now, I take my yoga with me. Or maybe I should say yoga tugs at my sleeve all the time. When I'm stuck in traffic, I practice yoga. When I have a few moments between tasks at home, I breathe deep and swan dive, feeling the benefits of the stretch and the changing flow of my circulation. I have taught some poses to my children as I have seen they have needed them.

If you haven't ever tried yoga, I hope you put it on your list of things to try. Although I often feel the effort in my muscles the next day, anyone can do yoga because it is so flexible to your needs. My 70 year old father enjoys yoga. I've seen our preacher at yoga in his street clothes, like he was still working in his office and just decided enough was enough. My fellow yogis are all ages, shapes, and sizes. Linna makes sure each of her students can find their own personal level of benefit.

There's more I could tell you about Linna and her many offerings that have improved my life, but this post is getting long enough. I'll tell you more later. Or you can check out her blog or website. I hope you all have someone like Linna in your life who brings you health and peace and strength.

Boy can December get busy!
Mom posted a great description of my little one's chorus performance at the Kennedy Center. The Ex had the best seats and got this great picture for me. She's smiling at her grandma and siblings who were "embarrassing." Looks like she's enjoying their shenanigans in the balcony.

My oldest daughter got her first real job as a hostess and food runner in a nearby restaurant (of course, adding another shift to my taxi schedule.) Her initial adorable anxieties brought back memories of first days on other jobs I've had.

I got fired - very publicly, from my first job as a telephone interviewer. Seems they needed to make an example of the caller who was interviewing the wrong respondent. I was about my daughter's age because it was before I could drive and I had to call my mom to come get me. I remember sitting out on the curb after getting yelled at in front of all my co-workers. What a memorable misery.

Another early career catastrophe came as a waitress at Bob's Big Boy. I was much more experienced and mature - probably 17. It was a busy Saturday and the orange juice fountain ran dry. I quickly looked in the walk-in and found a big tub of already mixed OJ and refilled the fountain, serving the first glass to my customer. He quickly - and angrily - called me back over, wondering what kind of sick person I was to serve him raw eggs in his juice glass.

You know, eggs can get real frothy in one of those fountains. Boy were a lot of folks mad about that mistake! And was it ever hard to clean up that error.

Any stories from your earliest employment endeavors?

At least two articles in the Post today discussed how the economy is affecting Christmas. They say Black Friday will be black because we're depressed, not because it will get the store owners back in black.

So does anyone have any frugal tips for the holiday? What are some inexpensive stocking stuffers that won't just get thrown away? Are you cutting back anywhere?

Parent Tips for Prince George's County Write-a-Book Program

Begin nagging early.
Don't forget to nag.
Always keep large pieces of heavy cardboard on hand.
Buy extra contact paper so you don't have to go out late at night on the second try.
Pour yourself a drink, especially if you begin the binding process after 9pm the eve of the due date.
If you poured a glass of red wine, don't set it down anywhere near the book binding area.
Be sure the table you cleared to work on is free of spaghetti sauce & Parmesan cheese.

Remember that you will savor these parenting moments one day.

Gosh! I became a bit of a news junkie during the election and am having a bit of withdrawals now. There's still plenty of interesting news, but it's not the same.

I know there are some disappointed folks out there who's team didn't will. But since we are really all on the same team, I hope the grumbling can be laid aside. I've heard lots of patriotic comments from Republicans recently, although I avoid listening to the extremists. Some people make their living stirring up unrest.

There was a great article in the op-ed section of the Washington Post today by Desmond Tutu, in part comparing Obama to Nelson Mandela. It has been interesting to hear the international response to this election. Archbishop Tutu said:

"His triumph can help the world reach the point where we realize that we are all caught up in a delicate network of interdependence, unable to celebrate fully our own heritage and place in the world, unable to realize our full potential as human beings, unless everyone else, everywhere else, can do the same."

It took me 45 minutes to vote. I usually wait no more than four or five people to check in before walking right up to a booth. Today was fun, waving to neighbors, taking to people in line We held the space for the lady in front of us who wasn't able to stand for so long. I took my daughters with me. They were both excited and argued over who got to push the Obama button. There was hardly any electioneering. Everyone was eager, but calm. We went straight to Starbucks for our free coffee.

I woke up excited today, like it's Christmas and I'm ten. I can't wait to watch the news tonight. I'm having a hard time concentrating.

And so sad about Obama's grandma. What a jumble of emotions he must be experiencing.

How was your voting experience today?

How vivid are your dreams?
Mostly, mine fade away quickly. I have to be deliberate if I want to remember them. However, there are a few that I've remembered for years and years. The weirdest I have to run by my personal dream analyzer, Julie. Her intuition seems right on.

How often does work figure into your dreams?

When I was a waitress, I dreamed that as far as I could see were tables. People kept sitting down. I was the only waitress and there was a complication, like my shoes kept falling off. Once or twice, I actually got out of bed to go get some sour cream or mustard.

When I was a teacher, the dream was similar. Students kept coming into the room. They were lining the room since there weren't enough desks. I was standing at the door, watching them arrive, and noticing an adult in a suit setting up to make a formal observation of my teaching. I didn't know what class it was.

As a mom, I got out of bed to pick up a backpack that was leaking coke. I woke up and was mad I wasn't still sleeping.

How about your dreams? Does work creep into them?

Why is it that curse words get to claim the letter they start with?
The N-word, the F-bomb, the B-word. I recently heard that McCain said the S-word. I was wondering why that was so scandalous when I realized the newsguy meant "socialist."

So what would be your version of these lettered words, if they were of your choosing and not curses:
The A-word
The B-word
The F-word
The N-word
The S-word

For me... maybe
Aphrodisiac
Boring
Fried
Normal
Skinny

I was doing a round of hanging up coats, putting away shoes, dishes and school supplies while dancing around to my new Jason Mraz tunes, trying to focus on the fact that I'm happy my kids are here to make a mess at my house. I picked up an unusually high number of rubber bands when I came across these:




What a classic weapon in the arsenal of a middle school student. My son told me there was an all out "hornet" war on the bus.



What did you get in trouble with in Middle School?

As an addendum to yesterday's blog, I'm adding this clip of Cab Calloway, on Sesame Street of all things, demonstrating the Jazz Scat that he helped make so famous.

Jason Mraz does this, and even drew the audience into the Scat Echoing like Mr. Calloway does here. You know it, Mom. You just didn't have the benefits of the Sesame Street and You Tube generations.

As the final piece of my daughter's fifteenth birthday present, I took her and two friends to the Jason Mraz concert at DAR Constitution Hall on Monday night. It was so fun watching her enjoy herself with her BFFs. They are all such beautiful girls. If they were the youngest at the concert, I was the oldest. Quite a college crowd there just around the corner from GWU. I am happy to encourage good musical taste in my kids, happy to be moving up from the JoBros and Cheetah Girls.

He's kind of jazzy and did a lot of scat in the concert, drawing the audience into a scat duel. Great brass section of his band, although the drummer with the gnome was intriguing.

Here's a couple of Jason's most popular songs. I bet you already know them.

My 11 year old daughter has been preparing for adulthood with an on-line video game called Toon Town. At a glance, it seemed harmless, so I went ahead and subscribed. It is formatted like so many on-line games, where you are a character and can interacted with other characters controlled by other 11 year olds who have suckers for moms. My daughter spends a lot of time on this game. I finally asked her to explain it to me and I was amazed and amused.

In Toon Town, you are a Toon, which is a cat or other acceptably cute mammal, walking like a human, and wearing business casual clothing. As a Toon, you go to Headquarters to get a task. Your task is always to defeat a Cog. Cogs, nefarious erect animals in business suits, are trying to take over Toon Town. You might be assigned to defeat a Micromanager, a Yes Man or a Penny Pincher. Other Cogs are Telemarketers, Bottom Feeders, and Movers & Shakers. My daughter didn’t understand why I was giggling as she explained to me with serious instruction that to defeat a Tight Wad or a Bean Counter you might throw cupcakes at them, give them flowers, or gang up with other Toons and douse them with squirt guns.

Of course, all this battling Cogs affects a Toon’s health. For a post-battle tune-up, you go to a playground. You can select all sorts of fun rides and games to gain strength for another Cog confrontation, but your health can be restored simply by walking.

Does any of this sound like your day?
I wonder, if years from now when she is in Corporate America, she will recognize any of these Cogs in their human form and giggle as she bakes cupcakes at night?

Can I just vote for Tina Fey?
This Saturday Night Live clip is 11 minutes, but worth the time.
Enjoy!

I have the most frustrating modern problem.
I let my old website's domain name expire, which was my name with a .com at the end. The day it expired, someone bought it. The nerve! So my wonderful friend and webmistress re-established me at www.annevankovich.biz
I used the error as an opportunity to update some of the info and chalked it up to lessons learned.

But then we realized that someone is writing a "business blog" under MY NAME! at the old website location!! We are investigating it to see if we can make them stop. I've submitted comments to that blog that are unlikely to get through moderation.

Anyway, I wanted you to know that the Real Ann Evankovich is at .biz.
Why would somebody do that?
Has something like that happened to you?
Any advice?

My son is white water rafting with the Sea Scouts this weekend. Looks like a rigorous program! I have been nervous all day, thinking about him in the water. One of the dads on the trip sent this to me. I'm glad he had on his helmet!

I am fortunate to usually be home when my kids are getting ready for school and when they come home. However, I am starting to work more now that school is in session. Earlier this week I had an early morning, leaving my 13 year old son to get himself off to 8th grade. When I returned, I found this note, left in the mess of the dining room table.

Mom I left for school
love you a lot and I'm hugging
you in my brain
love your son

Isn't that just adorable?


Lest you think he is just a softie, he has been studying up for us on surviving a zombie attack. I am randomly getting advice such as this:

Mom, if there is ever a class 1A zombie attack, the best thing to do is go upstairs and then destroy the stairs behind you.
Also acid works.

I told him my plan was to stick with him if such a calamity occurred.

It is fundraiser season. What have you bought? Who have you supported?

I've committed to
candles for an ice skating team
assorted holiday gifts for an elementary school
gift wrap for... I don't remember who
nuts for scouts
holiday cards for CCFA


And it's only September!

I got this unattributed quote in an e-mail. Do you agree?

Whatever you give a woman, she's going to multiply it.
If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart.
She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.
So - if you give her any crap, you will receive a ton of shit.

How much work do you have to do before you can do your work?

You know how you have a task you set out to complete, but first you have to look something up. And you have to find those notes you took. So you have to clear away the stack piling up by your computer. And you realize that you forgot to send this in that is due tomorrow morning. Then you are interrupted by some minor catastrophe in the next room. And then you have to take this phone call about tonight's carpool.

And an hour, a whole day goes by and the main part of your work, the part that they are paying you for, is still left undone. Do you just feel like you are treading water?

Rinsing the second tub of brown soapy water out of the tub where I was washing my son’s lacrosse gear, I was prompted to think of pitbulls with lipstick. Was I, as lacrosse mom, willing to call myself a bitch like Sarah Palin? Isn’t that what she meant when she called herself a female dog?

In order for a woman to get ahead in the world of business, politics, and even church, women have to have a little ferocity. What is called power and ambition in men is often called bitchiness in women. That reaction is so common, that women have taken back the word. I have received chain e-mails defining bitch as a Babe In Total Control of Herself. One of my favorite songs is by Meredith Brookes on her “Blurring the Lines” CD simply called “Bitch.”

I’m sure I have been called a bitch. I heard it when I was a teacher. I imagine it happened behind my back at work a time or two. It may have entered my children’s minds. There have been a few romances gone badly that may have inspired someone to utter the word in reference to me. I’m sure Hillary Clinton has been called a bitch.

As I laid the dripping, Crisp Linen scented lacrosse pads out to dry in the sun, I considered what has moved me to snarl through my lipstick and call someone a bitch. I don’t think I’ve ever called someone a bitch to her face. When someone takes an offensive position, choosing to bare their teeth and overlook a host of more civilized responses, she is being a mean bitch. When a woman behaves offensively, saying cutting words that are impulsively stupid, I might call her a dumb bitch. There are equivalent terms for men who are mean and stupid, but that is another essay. Bitch means mean.

I know some women joke around and call each other bitches as part of their friendship culture, but I don’t joke around like that. Isn’t that the same double standard as black people calling each other nigga? They are both derogatory terms. It wouldn’t be funny if Obama used that word to describe himself. I didn’t think Palin was funny either. She undercut herself with that comparison after have risen so unexpectedly to this height. It was disrespectful. Although we are accustomed to a mean vice president, I don’t think we necessarily need meanness to be part of the job.

What ever happened to diplomacy? How about dignity? I’m tired of leadership that behaves embarrassingly. I want a leader for my country who can reach a hand out to the world without his or her middle finger raised.

I am so glad that we as a country have opened up enough to have women taken seriously enough to run for major political offices. I just wish it was a woman who was valued for her intelligence, diplomacy, compassion and experience.

The choice of Sarah Palin bothers me as a feminist because she seems to have been chosen for her appearance. It seems youth and beauty still trump experience. The same women who faulted Hillary for “only” being the First Lady and a freshman senator are waving around Palin signs with lipstick on them.

What about Senators Hutchinson, Mikulski, or Madeline Albright? Does a woman’s appearance still count for more than her experience? Does she have to be a bitch in high heels? Can’t she just be qualified? I see the answer to those questions in the paper every morning.

I know, I know that Obama doesn’t have any more experience than she does, but he has the dignity and intelligence I think a president should have. I think Hillary would have been better, but it seems that America wasn’t ready for a woman with authentic strength. McCain is too outdated, not to mention Republican. His back up plan, Palin seems ill-equipped for the job. If you took away all the personalities and appearances, I would still vote Democratic. I’m sure that when the Democrats win, Palin will use those eight years to get some authentic experience and study up. Now that she has been yanked into the spotlight, she is here to stay.

Choosing a woman because of the emotion she incites is not exactly the reason I would vote for a woman. When the excitement has subsided, I want someone who can take this country to new heights. We have been brought low these last eight years. This lacrosse mom is looking for a new leadership that will make us a winning team again. I’d love a woman to be in command, but not a bitch.

Lately I feel like all I have been doing is putting things away, moving stuff from one room to another. But it is like holding back the tide, especially since school started and there is a fresh onslaught of stuff every day at 3.



I have been playing on Facebook. My account says "Ann and Tim Evankovich are now friends." Well, I guess it is about time. It has been about five and a half years since he moved out. It seems funny to have that announced.

I just recently finished listening to an unabridged audio recording of The 19th Wife, a novel by David Ebershoff, considering the mystery of faith by exploring the polygamous history of Mormonism. The book juxtaposes passages from historical documents alongside his modern narrative.

The narrator of the modern storyline is Jordan Scott, a young man who was excommunicated at age 14 from the Firsts, the modern fundamentalist Mormon sect. He is returning to his bizarre hometown to try to solve the murder of his father in order to exonerate his mother who is accused of the crime. He hasn’t spoken to his mother in six years, since the night she dropped him off on the highway with $17.

Jordan identifies the point of contention that led to the rift between the Firsts and the Mormons as polygamy…. “This sort of split happens all the time: the Jews & the Christians, the Catholics & the Protestants, the Mormons & the Firsts. It’s been going on forever, and the only thing I know for sure is it messes up a lot of shit for the rest of us.

I know a lot of people, myself included, who have been screwed by such religious rifts. I understand exactly what Jordan is talking about.

A minor character in the modern storyline says, “I’ve never been much of a god person, but I admire a man who knows what he believes and sticks to it. All great men are like that. And who am I to say that what he believes is any crazier than the rest of the shit everyone else out there believes, including me.”


Have you ever been to Salt Lake City? I was standing in Temple Square, reading the tributes to Joseph Smith & Brigham Young. My then husband asked, “Who’s buying this?” But is their belief in Joseph Smith and those golden plates and the revelation that polygamy is God’s will any crazier than our Christian walking on water stories? What about Noah’s ark?

Faith is a mystery. I think we just need to back off a little and acknowledge that the religions of other people are equally valid to whatever our beliefs are.

But what about when one person’s religious views are harming others, like in polygamy? What about the honor killings in Muslim countries? What about preventing homosexuals with the legal benefits of marriage? What about censorship? Abortion?

At least we live in a country where we can debate these issues. I hope we can maintain that status and not become a theocracy.

Great speech, Hillary!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!
Everyone's excited about school starting again. I've been school supply shopping and of course to American Eagle.

I remember in high school I had one pair of Calvin Kleins and one pair of Gloria Vanderbilts. Did I ever have Jordache? Anyway, we were mostly Sears with a dash of brand name labels. I appreciate that I can fill out most of my kids' wardrobes at Target.

What was your favorite item of clothing when you were trying to be cool in school?

I took my two oldest kids and their teenage guests visiting from Ohio on the Annapolis Ghost Tour last night during the full moon. It was quite enjoyable, despite their young fears that it might be too much like a history class. I often lingered at the sight for a photo, hoping to catch a ghoulie on film. At the scariest house, I got spooked, cold, goosebumps, and ran to catch up. They have a haunted pub crawl that I want to sign up for next - especially if I have booked a room in one of the centuries old haunted inns right there by the State Capital.

Have you ever encountered a ghost? Do you believe in them? I haven't knowingly encountered one, but I believe in them. That's why I can't watch those scary movies.

Here's the chaos just below my surface:




I'm trying to keep all the seepage and stench in check, but sometime is just creeps right in. It takes quite an effort to control