Don't really have a new post here, per se, but I have added my 16-year-old son Andy's "deep thoughts" blog to my favorites (see link to the right for "Here's the Lowdown").
That's some good readin' right there, I don't care who you are.
My baby boy is growing up. I'm proud of who he is becoming.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
School Daze
I picked up Jack (my friend Tiffany's first grader) from school today. He talks pretty much nonstop on the way home, probably a release after having to be quiet in class all day. Most statements end with "And guess what?" or "I need to tell you something." or "Guess why I'm so excited?"
I asked him what he learned in school today, and he said, "Oh nothing. We didn't learn anything today. We were too busy, so we didn't learn anything."
Out of the mouths of babes . . .
I asked him what he learned in school today, and he said, "Oh nothing. We didn't learn anything today. We were too busy, so we didn't learn anything."
Out of the mouths of babes . . .
More thoughts on Virginia Tech . . .
I wonder if anyone has done studies about why it seems that boys who grow into mass or serial killers are often found to have a history of being bullied, and yet girls get bullied just as much in their own way, and they don't seem to end up as mass or serial killers. I don't know the statistics but I know that only a very small percentage of these kinds of killers are female.
What's the difference? Is in how our brains are wired, because we know from observation and science has demonstrated through research that we ARE in fact wired VERY differently. Or is it our environment, our nurturing or lack thereof? Why do girls respond so differently to the same kind of emotional abuse?
Just pondering . . . feel free to post your theories.
What's the difference? Is in how our brains are wired, because we know from observation and science has demonstrated through research that we ARE in fact wired VERY differently. Or is it our environment, our nurturing or lack thereof? Why do girls respond so differently to the same kind of emotional abuse?
Just pondering . . . feel free to post your theories.
Monday, April 23, 2007
MILF Redux
I posted a blog entry a while back about the whole subject of MILFs, so you all know how I feel about the subject of "Hot Moms."
This morning, I saw a commercial for a weight loss product, and THIS is their sales pitch. The woman in the commercial had lost a lot of weight (over 50 pounds), and was exclaiming, ever so proudly, that she is 45 . . . but she doesn't FEEL 45! Sooooo, this 45 year old woman was proudly proclaiming that, thanks to this MAGICAL weight loss wonder product . . . NOW, as a mom of a 17 YEAR OLD GIRL, I can wear short skirts, tiny tank tops, PRETTY MUCH ANYTHING A 17 YEAR OLD CAN WEAR!!!!!
Oh.my.Lord. Lady, if you are over 30, YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SHOPPING at FOREVER freakin' 21! A 45 year old woman, I don't care how slim she is (and this woman had a nice figure, but again, she's 45 and she LOOKS it), CANNOT wear short skirts and dress like a teenager. It just comes off looking pathetic, or trashy, or both. And what 17 year old girl actually WANTS her mom to borrow her clothes and dress like her? Not to mention how a teenage BOY would feel about his mom dressing like his girlfriend. EWWWWWWWW. Kids want a MOM, not a best friend (the best friend part comes when they are grown and married). A COOL mom, for sure, a HIP mom, sometimes, but NOT a HOT MOM.
You know,I don't feel 53 either, but I KNOW that I am, and the MIRROR DON'T LIE. I try really hard to find the balance between dressing modern and dressing inappropriate for my age. I have always told my daughter to just put me away if I start dressing frumpy, but there are certain places you just don't go, fashion-wise, if you are of a CERTAIN AGE. And 45 is definitely in the CERTAIN AGE bracket.
MIDDLE-AGED WOMEN of the WORLD, DO US ALL A FAVOR. STEP AWAY FROM THE MINI SKIRTS and HALTERS and no one will get hurt.
This morning, I saw a commercial for a weight loss product, and THIS is their sales pitch. The woman in the commercial had lost a lot of weight (over 50 pounds), and was exclaiming, ever so proudly, that she is 45 . . . but she doesn't FEEL 45! Sooooo, this 45 year old woman was proudly proclaiming that, thanks to this MAGICAL weight loss wonder product . . . NOW, as a mom of a 17 YEAR OLD GIRL, I can wear short skirts, tiny tank tops, PRETTY MUCH ANYTHING A 17 YEAR OLD CAN WEAR!!!!!
Oh.my.Lord. Lady, if you are over 30, YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SHOPPING at FOREVER freakin' 21! A 45 year old woman, I don't care how slim she is (and this woman had a nice figure, but again, she's 45 and she LOOKS it), CANNOT wear short skirts and dress like a teenager. It just comes off looking pathetic, or trashy, or both. And what 17 year old girl actually WANTS her mom to borrow her clothes and dress like her? Not to mention how a teenage BOY would feel about his mom dressing like his girlfriend. EWWWWWWWW. Kids want a MOM, not a best friend (the best friend part comes when they are grown and married). A COOL mom, for sure, a HIP mom, sometimes, but NOT a HOT MOM.
You know,I don't feel 53 either, but I KNOW that I am, and the MIRROR DON'T LIE. I try really hard to find the balance between dressing modern and dressing inappropriate for my age. I have always told my daughter to just put me away if I start dressing frumpy, but there are certain places you just don't go, fashion-wise, if you are of a CERTAIN AGE. And 45 is definitely in the CERTAIN AGE bracket.
MIDDLE-AGED WOMEN of the WORLD, DO US ALL A FAVOR. STEP AWAY FROM THE MINI SKIRTS and HALTERS and no one will get hurt.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Sticks and Stones - Mullings on Virginia Tech
I have read a number of blog posts and comments about the Virginia Tech tragedy of last week. I want to throw in my two cents, but my thoughts are from a different perspective.
I have read and watched a number of news stories about the gunman (though I, like many others, have tried to avoid the photos and videos - do we really need to see that?), and it seems that he was a target of teasing by other young people in high school and even at Virginia Tech. Granted, he seems to have been quite odd and from what I have read, pretty unwilling to form relationships with his peers. And at least some of his fellow college students had tried to reach out to him and had been rebuffed. And who knows what demons tormented this young man that would make him so filled with hatred and rage. Even his family is baffled and confused by his actions.
The thing I want to remark on here is that a common thread in so many of these sorts of tragedies, of serial killers, mass killers, hostage situations, etc., is that the perpetrator, almost always a male, has a history of being taunted, teased, mocked, and being made to feel somehow inferior during his school days. I am certainly not saying that this treatment was the only reason for a person going over the edge and committing murder, but I have to stop and wonder if we really underestimate the effect of emotional cruelty by peers can have on a young person's psyche.
What is it that makes our children feel the need to hurt others so with their words and behavior? I know it's not a new problem, but it seems to me that it the level and the means of inflicting hurt and pain on other kids has really burgeoned in the last 5 or 6 years. MySpace and other similar "personal diary" tools give opportunity for kids to say things to one another that they might never say in person (though many of them do). There seems to be a mentality that in order to feel good about yourself, you have to find someone that you can humiliate so that they seem dumber, uglier, nerdier, sluttier, poorer, and so on.
The "mean girls" culture, which doesn't just extend to girls by the way, is frightening to me, and it is beginning earlier and earlier - as early as preschool in some instances. I have a number of friends with preschool age children, and I see a lot of young kids interacting at my church, and I can see inklings of that sort of thinking even in kids as young as 4 and 5 years old. I don't think at that age they even understand the effects of the things they say and do, but it's there. Are we teaching it to our kids without realizing it? Are they learning it from their peers or from TV? Or is it a hardwired part of who we are as humans - of our instinct to preserve ourselves at any cost?
I look at my own children, two grown and one a teen, and I see very little of this sort of behavior and thinking, and I wonder, what did I do right? With my teen, who is a boy, we have a lot of dialogue about this very issue, when we see something happen among his friends, or watch something on TV. We talk about why it is wrong and how hard it is to understand why others want to hurt each other. He has a very compassionate heart and I sincerely believe that he tries to be kind to everyone, no matter who they are. He's not perfect, but I believe that's his heart. My middle child, a girl, was the brunt of much teasing and cruelty in adolescence because she was "chubby," and so she has a particularly sensitive heart about unkindness to others. Not to say she never has her moments, but generally speaking, she tries to think the best of others and always have something nice to say, because she learned the hard way how hurtful words can be. She tends to want to champion the underdog and speak up for anyone whom others speak ill about, sometimes with a righteous spirit that can be a little off-putting. But her heart is in the right place. My oldest, a boy (well a man now), is quiet, and truthfully I don't know his mindset as much now as he lives away and I don't see him as often. But as a teen, he had only a few friends but seemed to be nice to most everyone. He never had conflicts with school friends, and I never heard him make rude comments about others. What is the difference in their attitudes and what I observe in kids on TV, at my son's school, and even sometimes at my church? I know it sounds like I'm bragging that my kids are great and never do anything wrong, and that's certainly NOT the case. But I think anyone who knows them well would agree with me about their character.
I wish I could say that I am as kindhearted as my children, but the truth is I am not. I try not to be unkind about others, but I judge and criticize and I know that I categorize people in my heart, if not out loud. It's hard to confess that, but it's the truth. But I like to think that I would never deliberately try to make someone look bad to make me feel better about myself.
I think we must take a hard look at the culture our young people are living in, a culture where it is acceptable to completely tear apart a person, to humiliate and destroy who they are, simply based on the fact that they are different from themselves. The fact that it is such a common thread in people who end up on the news for completely snapping and committing such horrific acts should be enough to give us pause to think. Sticks and stones indeed.
I have read and watched a number of news stories about the gunman (though I, like many others, have tried to avoid the photos and videos - do we really need to see that?), and it seems that he was a target of teasing by other young people in high school and even at Virginia Tech. Granted, he seems to have been quite odd and from what I have read, pretty unwilling to form relationships with his peers. And at least some of his fellow college students had tried to reach out to him and had been rebuffed. And who knows what demons tormented this young man that would make him so filled with hatred and rage. Even his family is baffled and confused by his actions.
The thing I want to remark on here is that a common thread in so many of these sorts of tragedies, of serial killers, mass killers, hostage situations, etc., is that the perpetrator, almost always a male, has a history of being taunted, teased, mocked, and being made to feel somehow inferior during his school days. I am certainly not saying that this treatment was the only reason for a person going over the edge and committing murder, but I have to stop and wonder if we really underestimate the effect of emotional cruelty by peers can have on a young person's psyche.
What is it that makes our children feel the need to hurt others so with their words and behavior? I know it's not a new problem, but it seems to me that it the level and the means of inflicting hurt and pain on other kids has really burgeoned in the last 5 or 6 years. MySpace and other similar "personal diary" tools give opportunity for kids to say things to one another that they might never say in person (though many of them do). There seems to be a mentality that in order to feel good about yourself, you have to find someone that you can humiliate so that they seem dumber, uglier, nerdier, sluttier, poorer, and so on.
The "mean girls" culture, which doesn't just extend to girls by the way, is frightening to me, and it is beginning earlier and earlier - as early as preschool in some instances. I have a number of friends with preschool age children, and I see a lot of young kids interacting at my church, and I can see inklings of that sort of thinking even in kids as young as 4 and 5 years old. I don't think at that age they even understand the effects of the things they say and do, but it's there. Are we teaching it to our kids without realizing it? Are they learning it from their peers or from TV? Or is it a hardwired part of who we are as humans - of our instinct to preserve ourselves at any cost?
I look at my own children, two grown and one a teen, and I see very little of this sort of behavior and thinking, and I wonder, what did I do right? With my teen, who is a boy, we have a lot of dialogue about this very issue, when we see something happen among his friends, or watch something on TV. We talk about why it is wrong and how hard it is to understand why others want to hurt each other. He has a very compassionate heart and I sincerely believe that he tries to be kind to everyone, no matter who they are. He's not perfect, but I believe that's his heart. My middle child, a girl, was the brunt of much teasing and cruelty in adolescence because she was "chubby," and so she has a particularly sensitive heart about unkindness to others. Not to say she never has her moments, but generally speaking, she tries to think the best of others and always have something nice to say, because she learned the hard way how hurtful words can be. She tends to want to champion the underdog and speak up for anyone whom others speak ill about, sometimes with a righteous spirit that can be a little off-putting. But her heart is in the right place. My oldest, a boy (well a man now), is quiet, and truthfully I don't know his mindset as much now as he lives away and I don't see him as often. But as a teen, he had only a few friends but seemed to be nice to most everyone. He never had conflicts with school friends, and I never heard him make rude comments about others. What is the difference in their attitudes and what I observe in kids on TV, at my son's school, and even sometimes at my church? I know it sounds like I'm bragging that my kids are great and never do anything wrong, and that's certainly NOT the case. But I think anyone who knows them well would agree with me about their character.
I wish I could say that I am as kindhearted as my children, but the truth is I am not. I try not to be unkind about others, but I judge and criticize and I know that I categorize people in my heart, if not out loud. It's hard to confess that, but it's the truth. But I like to think that I would never deliberately try to make someone look bad to make me feel better about myself.
I think we must take a hard look at the culture our young people are living in, a culture where it is acceptable to completely tear apart a person, to humiliate and destroy who they are, simply based on the fact that they are different from themselves. The fact that it is such a common thread in people who end up on the news for completely snapping and committing such horrific acts should be enough to give us pause to think. Sticks and stones indeed.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
So much to say, so little time. . .
Okay, so I haven't posted in a while. Not that anyone reads this anyway, but . . . I am making a resolution to post at least once a week. I have to just post something, not necessarily a long, IMPORTANT essay or a brilliantly HILARIOUS and witty story. Though those can be fun. EDIT: Just noticed that I had 46 posts in 2005 (my first year), a pathetic 12 in 2006 (what the heck was I DOING?) and I already have 14 this year, so I'm on an uphill swing . . .)
So, today. . . well, what the heck is it with this weather? Every freaking Friday and Saturday! WHY, OH WHY can't it rain on Tuesday, or Wednesday? We have only one day each week that we can seriously work in our yard, and that would be . . . SATURDAY. So when it rains, or for that matter SNOWS, or is in the winter coat temps, it is not very conducive to an attractive yard. Our yard is FAR from attractive, we just have aspirations to make it presentable enough that our neighbors don't start a petition to have us forcibly removed from the area. So today, we are going to venture out to see if it's even tolerable. If not, we will stay indoors and work on organizing and cleaning up our office so I can go back to working in there instead of on the couch in the living room. Last Saturday during the Big Blizzard of Ought Seven, we stayed on our butts and watched three movies. A delightful afternoon, to be sure, but not particularly productive. I guess we all need those kind of days though, and if a snowstorm on the the day before Easter isn't an occasion, well I don't know what is.
But today . . . well, it would just be lazy, wouldn't it . . .
So, today. . . well, what the heck is it with this weather? Every freaking Friday and Saturday! WHY, OH WHY can't it rain on Tuesday, or Wednesday? We have only one day each week that we can seriously work in our yard, and that would be . . . SATURDAY. So when it rains, or for that matter SNOWS, or is in the winter coat temps, it is not very conducive to an attractive yard. Our yard is FAR from attractive, we just have aspirations to make it presentable enough that our neighbors don't start a petition to have us forcibly removed from the area. So today, we are going to venture out to see if it's even tolerable. If not, we will stay indoors and work on organizing and cleaning up our office so I can go back to working in there instead of on the couch in the living room. Last Saturday during the Big Blizzard of Ought Seven, we stayed on our butts and watched three movies. A delightful afternoon, to be sure, but not particularly productive. I guess we all need those kind of days though, and if a snowstorm on the the day before Easter isn't an occasion, well I don't know what is.
But today . . . well, it would just be lazy, wouldn't it . . .
Thursday, March 08, 2007
I LOVE DOVE!!!!!
If you have not seen this, go here: http://www.doveproage.com/default.asp.
I am switching all my products to Dove. I totally support their Campaign for Real Beauty, and I applaud them for their vision and courage. I hope they can make a difference in how we view women and what really is "real beauty."
This is the ad I was talking about - the one I told Andy about (my 16 year old son) and his response was "That's really COOL!" He's also the one that believes curvy girls are just as pretty as skinny ones, and remarks on them on TV all the time. Did I mention he ROCKS?
Hahaha, I KNEW my gray hair and fluffy body were beeeeeyyyyyuuuuutteeeefullll!
I am switching all my products to Dove. I totally support their Campaign for Real Beauty, and I applaud them for their vision and courage. I hope they can make a difference in how we view women and what really is "real beauty."
This is the ad I was talking about - the one I told Andy about (my 16 year old son) and his response was "That's really COOL!" He's also the one that believes curvy girls are just as pretty as skinny ones, and remarks on them on TV all the time. Did I mention he ROCKS?
Hahaha, I KNEW my gray hair and fluffy body were beeeeeyyyyyuuuuutteeeefullll!
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Sweet Baby Gwel
Jilly is now saying "hi" and "dye-dye". Not sure why it's not "bye-bye" since I know she can say "b" since she says "Bubba." Anyway, "hi" is accompanied by an open-handed wave and a smile that lights up her whole face, and "dye-dye" comes with a bend-at-the-wrist twisty kind of wave. She also claps her hands and says "Yay!"
By the way, "gwel" is how Sam used to say "girl." Now, to me, "gwel" is much harder to pronounce than girl. It kind of sounds like Old English or something. There are some words that toddlers say that are just so darn cute, and you KNOW they are going to stop saying it that way at some point, but it's just so CUTE. Like how Sam used to say "Hupmits" for Muppets. And "Beggie" Tales. So CUTE. But alas, he is growing up and using big words, like "Minnesota Cuke." BUT he does say it "Minn-a-so-da" very deliberately. SO CUTE.
Andy used to say "w" for "r." Our pastor's sons were "Cwaig" and "Wobin." CUUUUTTTTEEE.
Okay, now I'm rambling . . .
By the way, "gwel" is how Sam used to say "girl." Now, to me, "gwel" is much harder to pronounce than girl. It kind of sounds like Old English or something. There are some words that toddlers say that are just so darn cute, and you KNOW they are going to stop saying it that way at some point, but it's just so CUTE. Like how Sam used to say "Hupmits" for Muppets. And "Beggie" Tales. So CUTE. But alas, he is growing up and using big words, like "Minnesota Cuke." BUT he does say it "Minn-a-so-da" very deliberately. SO CUTE.
Andy used to say "w" for "r." Our pastor's sons were "Cwaig" and "Wobin." CUUUUTTTTEEE.
Okay, now I'm rambling . . .
Thursday, February 15, 2007
How to Save a Life
Okay, Grey's Anatomy is officially the best show on television right now. And I watch a LOT of TV, as those of you who know me can attest. Every single week as I watch, I find myself holding my breath or biting on my hand, and then a few minutes later I'm laughing out loud. I have watched a lot of TV in my life, did I remember to say A LOT, and I have only seen a few shows in my many years that had writing this consistently excellent. I care about these people - I WANT them to be happy - I WANT them to heal their patients. Along with excellent writing and great performances - with one of the finest ensemble casts anywhere around today - this show makes excellent use of music that sets the mood and weaves seamlessly into the storylines.
And of course I'm at the end of Part 2 of a three part episode, and OF COURSE they aren't going to show if Meredith survives until Part 3. I know she must, since the show's named after her, but it's a testament to the writing that I even wonder just a little bit, because the show is just so real and so raw sometimes.
A few weeks ago the father of George, one of the interns, was dying and the family had to decide to end life support. They were gathered around his bed, and I was weeping because it was so eerily like the scene at my own father's death a few years ago. We . . . no really it was me, I had to make that decision, and our whole family was gathered around him as he died peacefully. But I didn't really cry much at the time, I was so full of adrenaline from the stress of calling the paramedics in the middle of the night, and being in the emergency room all night and all the next day and dealing with all of this (I'm an only child, and I do have other family, but it was really up to me since my mother and stepmother were already gone). So when I watched that Grey's episode, it was like I was weeping for my own father's passing. It was sad and yet a relief at the same time - a burden lifted. And those of you who don't watch much television probably think this is really pathetic and that people who get caught up in TV characters are just lacking in their own personal relationships. But that's what good TV is all about - it tells the truth in such a way that we feel a personal connection with something in our own life.
Grey's. Good stuff. Every time.
And of course I'm at the end of Part 2 of a three part episode, and OF COURSE they aren't going to show if Meredith survives until Part 3. I know she must, since the show's named after her, but it's a testament to the writing that I even wonder just a little bit, because the show is just so real and so raw sometimes.
A few weeks ago the father of George, one of the interns, was dying and the family had to decide to end life support. They were gathered around his bed, and I was weeping because it was so eerily like the scene at my own father's death a few years ago. We . . . no really it was me, I had to make that decision, and our whole family was gathered around him as he died peacefully. But I didn't really cry much at the time, I was so full of adrenaline from the stress of calling the paramedics in the middle of the night, and being in the emergency room all night and all the next day and dealing with all of this (I'm an only child, and I do have other family, but it was really up to me since my mother and stepmother were already gone). So when I watched that Grey's episode, it was like I was weeping for my own father's passing. It was sad and yet a relief at the same time - a burden lifted. And those of you who don't watch much television probably think this is really pathetic and that people who get caught up in TV characters are just lacking in their own personal relationships. But that's what good TV is all about - it tells the truth in such a way that we feel a personal connection with something in our own life.
Grey's. Good stuff. Every time.
Words
I was searching for some Sara Groves lyrics and came across this quote from her (if you've never listened to a Sara Groves CD, you must - she writes the most meaningful lyrics - she reminds me of Rich Mullins in her storytelling and depth):
Imagine how thick the air would be if every word from our mouths flew up toward the sky and hung there, like a cloud. Like the dialog in cartoon strips, only floating free above our heads, without a bubble to contain them. Now imagine the shock of seeing the words we think, but never say, gathered there as well. Our pride, our anger, our doubts, our fears all spelled out and undeniable. How could we live like that?Wow, that's some serious thinkin' there. Just ponder that for a few minutes. Read it over a few times and let it roll around in your brain.
Happy V-Day to Me
Well, my Valentine's Day started out rather interestingly. I was sleeping soundly when my dogs began to make a ruckus (that's such a FUN word), so I grudgingly decided to get up, since I had oodles of work to do. As I opened the bedroom door (which opens into the front entryway - so charming), I heard what sounded like someone turning the lock or the doorknob. Now, at 8 in the morning I am generally the only one here besides my pet entourage, so I was a bit alarmed. Well, as alarmed as one can be when one still only has one eye open. I shuffled to the other side of the house to look out the office window (not a long trip, I assure you), and didn't see anyone on the porch. I noticed a vehicle in the driveway, next to my car, but from the angle of the window you can only see part of the vehicle parked on that side of the driveway. In my state of half-eyed sleepiness, it looked to me like a minivan. Don't ask me why, but it did. So I stood there for a few seconds wondering WHO would be visiting me at 8 in the FREAKING MORNING in a MINIVAN, and where were they anyway? Then the vehicle began backing out and I realized it was Jay in his truck. So, again, in my state of not-fully-alert, fuzzy-brained and fuzzy-eyed. . . ness, I wondered, why is he just now leaving, I thought he left a long time ago to take Andy to school. I shrugged off this mystery and shuffled into the kitchen, where, LO AND BEHOLD, a BEAUTIFUL vase of LOVELY VALENTINE FLOWERS was sitting next to my coffee pot. Does my man know me or what? That's my first stop after the potty, and really, who'd want to find flowers sitting on the potty? Not too romantic.
So of course this causes me to remember that the card I'd bought for said man THREE WEEKS AGO, along with the candy I bought for him on Tuesday, were still in the closet, because I had forgotten to set them out for his enjoyment when he got up in the morning. I called to thank him profusely for the sweet gesture, and to confess that I DID in fact have a reciprocal Valentine for him, but I had . . . ahem . . . FORGOTTEN to put it out. I signed the card, put it with the candy next to his sink in the bathroom, since that is the first place he goes when he gets home from work . . . BUT, when I returned home from church, he was unloading groceries and then made some cheese dip and several other things, and after about an hour, I finally said "Did you ever even GO in the bathroom?" To which he replied, "Well, no, I didn't need to go . . . " Guess I should have clarified why I was asking. So I sent him in there to "discover" his suprise LATE Valentine. We are nothing if not clever and romantic in our gestures, are we not?
Valentine's Day is a wild card with this man anyway - some years I get flowers, some years I get flowers and a card, some years I get an actual gift and a card, some years I JUST get a card, and then there are those years where I get zipadeedoodah because he "didn't get a chance to go to the store." Now I'm sorry, but most women would rather hear "I forgot" than "I didn't get a chance to go to the store." But in his defense, that hasn't happened in a long time. And it sure keeps me on my toes - I never know what's coming so I have NO expectations, which means on years like this one, I am so sweetly surprised by the gesture that it means a whole lot to me. He's definitely on the good list right now, since he also gave me a wonderful surprise Christmas gift and another one just a week later for our 20th anniversary. Yep, he's a suitor . . . he's bona fide.
So of course this causes me to remember that the card I'd bought for said man THREE WEEKS AGO, along with the candy I bought for him on Tuesday, were still in the closet, because I had forgotten to set them out for his enjoyment when he got up in the morning. I called to thank him profusely for the sweet gesture, and to confess that I DID in fact have a reciprocal Valentine for him, but I had . . . ahem . . . FORGOTTEN to put it out. I signed the card, put it with the candy next to his sink in the bathroom, since that is the first place he goes when he gets home from work . . . BUT, when I returned home from church, he was unloading groceries and then made some cheese dip and several other things, and after about an hour, I finally said "Did you ever even GO in the bathroom?" To which he replied, "Well, no, I didn't need to go . . . " Guess I should have clarified why I was asking. So I sent him in there to "discover" his suprise LATE Valentine. We are nothing if not clever and romantic in our gestures, are we not?
Valentine's Day is a wild card with this man anyway - some years I get flowers, some years I get flowers and a card, some years I get an actual gift and a card, some years I JUST get a card, and then there are those years where I get zipadeedoodah because he "didn't get a chance to go to the store." Now I'm sorry, but most women would rather hear "I forgot" than "I didn't get a chance to go to the store." But in his defense, that hasn't happened in a long time. And it sure keeps me on my toes - I never know what's coming so I have NO expectations, which means on years like this one, I am so sweetly surprised by the gesture that it means a whole lot to me. He's definitely on the good list right now, since he also gave me a wonderful surprise Christmas gift and another one just a week later for our 20th anniversary. Yep, he's a suitor . . . he's bona fide.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Peace Out, Anna Anna Anna Anna Anna Nicole
What a sad, tragic mess that woman was. She has been unglued since the death of her son, which I think was under very fishy circumstances. But in spite of all that, what a sad end for anyone. That poor baby girl - what will become of her? Even when they determine who her real daddy is, are either of them fit to raise her? The lawyer/lover seems very shady to me, and I have my suspicions of his part in Daniel Smith's death, and that perhaps that may be one reason Anna "married" him, and also the fact that she was pretty much always with him and always drugged up since it happened. And the actor/model guy, well who knows if he's any better. And now I hear Anna's mother, who from what I've seen of her in interviews is pretty much trailer trashy and dumb, is wanting custody. That poor baby girl - I just pray that God will protect her and perhaps she can end up with a normal family who can raise her out of the public eye. Tragic. Sometimes fame is toxic.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Silly Andy . . .
Recently Sam was over to visit, and he was in the gameroom playing with Andy. Andy has a life-sized cardboard standup of Batman in one corner of the room. It has been there ever since we built the gameroom, but I guess Sam just noticed it on this day.
He came into the living room with a very serious expression and announced, "I don't like Batman." I replied "You don't? Why not?" He solemnly said, "I want Batman to go away." I thought for a minute, and decided that perhaps Andy was teasing him and pretending. So I told him that was not REALLY Batman, but just a cardboard PICTURE of Batman.
He turned around, marched into the gameroom and said, in a laughing tone of voice, "Andy, that's not REALLY Batman, it's just a cardboard PICTURE of Batman!"
Silly Andy. Don't be afraid - Sam's here to protect you.
He came into the living room with a very serious expression and announced, "I don't like Batman." I replied "You don't? Why not?" He solemnly said, "I want Batman to go away." I thought for a minute, and decided that perhaps Andy was teasing him and pretending. So I told him that was not REALLY Batman, but just a cardboard PICTURE of Batman.
He turned around, marched into the gameroom and said, in a laughing tone of voice, "Andy, that's not REALLY Batman, it's just a cardboard PICTURE of Batman!"
Silly Andy. Don't be afraid - Sam's here to protect you.
An Ode to Flannel Sheets
Ahhhh, flannel sheets. So cozy, so warm. So hard to part from on a cold winter's morn, with the dogs snuggled up around me, kindly resting patiently until I am ready to crawl out of my warm nest. Yes, flannel sheets are a beautiful thing.
Except when you get the "flannel-board effect," an annoying phenomenon that happens when one is wearing flannel pajamas and one attempts to roll over in bed. There are velcro-like properties when two pieces of flannel are put together, and they seem reluctant to release so that a smooth roll can be accomplished. The result is a fair amount of scooching, rustling, and grunting, sometimes accompanied by the inadvertent - I SWEAR it's inadvertent, dear - pulling of the covers off of your partner in the flannel sandwich of coziness.
Small price to pay for the pleasure of warm, cozy, softness that is flannel sheets in the winter . . .
Except when you get the "flannel-board effect," an annoying phenomenon that happens when one is wearing flannel pajamas and one attempts to roll over in bed. There are velcro-like properties when two pieces of flannel are put together, and they seem reluctant to release so that a smooth roll can be accomplished. The result is a fair amount of scooching, rustling, and grunting, sometimes accompanied by the inadvertent - I SWEAR it's inadvertent, dear - pulling of the covers off of your partner in the flannel sandwich of coziness.
Small price to pay for the pleasure of warm, cozy, softness that is flannel sheets in the winter . . .
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Have it your way . . .
I just saw a commercial for a new show at the Nokia Theater called AetheriA. The lineup was -drumroll please - the Fort Worth Symphony (we're okay so far), the Dallas Black Dance Theater (still good), Willie Nelson (whaaaa????), and . . . wait for it . . . JESSICA SIMPSON.
Now that's what I call an eclectic (or is that word too classy?) lineup. WHO IN THE WORLD came up with the idea to put together a show with those particular acts, all in one place? One has to wonder exactly what crowd would enjoy all of those in one place together. Guess there's something for everyone . . . something classic; something exotic; something stoned; and something . . . that sounds like you are strangling your cat . . . yeeeeaaaaah, what's not to like?
Now that's what I call an eclectic (or is that word too classy?) lineup. WHO IN THE WORLD came up with the idea to put together a show with those particular acts, all in one place? One has to wonder exactly what crowd would enjoy all of those in one place together. Guess there's something for everyone . . . something classic; something exotic; something stoned; and something . . . that sounds like you are strangling your cat . . . yeeeeaaaaah, what's not to like?
Monday, January 29, 2007
Flashin Back to the Oldies . . .
Okay, I'm officially old. I'm watching a Time-Life informercial on the "Classic Soft Rock Collection," pretty much songs from the 70s and early 80s. Geez, I know EVERY SINGLE SONG, and ALL THE WORDS TO EVERY SINGLE SONG they have played so far. They are showing clips of the original videos, and I'm having a serious flashback. But seriously . . . in the 70s (aaahhh, a Doobie Brothers song . . .), there weren't nearly as many different genres of music played on the radio, and Top 40 music was what most people listened to. It was the early days of FM radio, which meant they played a lot of music and very few commercials - those were the days - and pretty much everyone in your general age group knew and loved the same songs and artists. Yeah, we bought albums by our favorite artists - for me, Three Dog Night, Linda Ronstadt, Chicago, Fleetwood Mac, Doobie Brothers, Cat Stevens, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Boz Scaggs, Kenny Loggins/Loggins & Messina, and Gino Vanelli, and tons of others I'm sure. But there were lots of one hit wonders that had really great songs and then disappeared from the music scene. They are just playing one great song after another (ahhhh, Waiting by Foreigner is on). The Cars, Phil Collins, the hits just keep on coming . . . along with the BIG hair and spandex and leather. Hee hee.
Now the weird thing about this infomercial - aside from the obvious - is that most of the people they have talking about how great it is (you know, those generic couples that are supposed to look like they are really loving the music) are WAAAAAYYYYY too young to remember any of this music from the 70s. Lord, I was a teenager then, and these folks look not even 40. Maybe it's botox . . .
My point is, a lot of this music is just so great, and you don't hear it much any more, except on American Idol where it may be mangled beyond recognition. Or on the Oldies station. It's amazing how a song can transport you back to a particular time in your life, sometimes to a particular day or event. Music is a very powerful thing, a tangible piece of memory that gets ingrained in your soul. (Ahhhhh, Bread - Baby I'ma Want You - a classic.) See what I mean? I can remember exactly what was happening in my life, exactly where I lived, where I worked, who I was in love with, etc., when that song was on the radio (I actually had an eight track of Bread - but that's another issue altogether).
With the eclectic, often weird varieties of music out there today, I wonder what this generation of teenagers and young adults will flash back to when they hear their own "oldies?" So much of it is sad, angry, unpleasant, misogynistic, and just plain raunchy . . . I'm not sure I'd want to walk down that memory lane.
Don't get me wrong, I like a lot of the music out today, and I listen to a much wider range of stuff these days, from classical to alternative to blues to jazz, and so on. But a lot of it just makes me uncomfortable - or bored. And it's hard to sing along with in the car. I mean, where's your modern day Bohemian Rhapsody? Singing along in the car used to be a bonding experience - or a way to practice your skills where no one could hear you.
Yep, I'm old. But I still like my music loud . . .
Now the weird thing about this infomercial - aside from the obvious - is that most of the people they have talking about how great it is (you know, those generic couples that are supposed to look like they are really loving the music) are WAAAAAYYYYY too young to remember any of this music from the 70s. Lord, I was a teenager then, and these folks look not even 40. Maybe it's botox . . .
My point is, a lot of this music is just so great, and you don't hear it much any more, except on American Idol where it may be mangled beyond recognition. Or on the Oldies station. It's amazing how a song can transport you back to a particular time in your life, sometimes to a particular day or event. Music is a very powerful thing, a tangible piece of memory that gets ingrained in your soul. (Ahhhhh, Bread - Baby I'ma Want You - a classic.) See what I mean? I can remember exactly what was happening in my life, exactly where I lived, where I worked, who I was in love with, etc., when that song was on the radio (I actually had an eight track of Bread - but that's another issue altogether).
With the eclectic, often weird varieties of music out there today, I wonder what this generation of teenagers and young adults will flash back to when they hear their own "oldies?" So much of it is sad, angry, unpleasant, misogynistic, and just plain raunchy . . . I'm not sure I'd want to walk down that memory lane.
Don't get me wrong, I like a lot of the music out today, and I listen to a much wider range of stuff these days, from classical to alternative to blues to jazz, and so on. But a lot of it just makes me uncomfortable - or bored. And it's hard to sing along with in the car. I mean, where's your modern day Bohemian Rhapsody? Singing along in the car used to be a bonding experience - or a way to practice your skills where no one could hear you.
Yep, I'm old. But I still like my music loud . . .
I left my mind . . . somewhere
Does it mean I'm getting senile if I ran the dryer for a full 60 minute cycle with NOTHING IN IT?
In my defense, my habit while doing laundry is to take a load out of the dryer, move the basket (the one that always has those few things that you must was SEPARATELY or they will BLEED on everything else or they are DELICATE and must be washed by fairy wings) that normally sits on the washer over to the top of the dryer, open the washer and put in the next load, close the lid and start said washer, move said SPECIAL basket back on top of washer, and then start the dryer. This system has worked for me lo these many years without a hitch - well, except for a few times when I forgot the "start the dryer" step.
Well, last night I had put a load in the dryer before bed - a load I had washed in the afternoon but forgot to put in the dryer. Okay, well my defense isn't going too well here . . . but let me continue. This morning, when I got ready to do laundry, I took the dry load out, but there was no wet load to put in the dryer, as I had not started another load before bed AFTER I took the forgotten load out and put it in the dryer. I know you are on the edge of your seat here, but just stay with me.
Sooooo, I put a load on to wash this morning, in my usual and time-tested fashion, and then proceeded to start the dryer in the usual said fashion and go about my work. Some time later (about 60 minutes, actually), I heard the little "beep beep beep" signaling that my load was dry. I got up, went to the laundry closet (it's too small to really earn the name "laundry room"), opened the dryer . . . and just stood there staring at it for a good minute, trying to process WHO TOOK MY LAUNDRY? Why is there no freshly dried, sweet-smelling and toasty warm load waiting for me to gather it in my arms, breathe deeply and feel that little surge of joy I weirdly get from my favorite smell in the world? Did I suddenly acquire domestic help of which I was unaware?
Of course, the truth finally dawned on me. I felt pretty silly, to be sure. I continued on with my laundry system, which I swear to you works MOST OF THE TIME, content in the knowledge that this little "incident" had given me fresh fodder for my goal of blogging several times a week.
So to my massive reading audience, though this may not be the most interesting blog I've ever posted, I am a confessional writer and so there you go - every time I do something dumb, if it is fit to print, you'll read it here first. If I remember to write it . . .
P.S. It has been brought to my attention that when I refer to a ". . . sweet smelling, toasty warm load . . . breathe deeply . . . favorite smell in the world" that SOME people with JUNIOR HIGH sensibilities (you know who you are) might MISCONSTRUE the word "load" to refer to a different sort of fragrant, uh, item. So let me be clear - my favorite smell in the world is CLEAN LAUNDRY. (Thanks TT for the heads up!) :-)
In my defense, my habit while doing laundry is to take a load out of the dryer, move the basket (the one that always has those few things that you must was SEPARATELY or they will BLEED on everything else or they are DELICATE and must be washed by fairy wings) that normally sits on the washer over to the top of the dryer, open the washer and put in the next load, close the lid and start said washer, move said SPECIAL basket back on top of washer, and then start the dryer. This system has worked for me lo these many years without a hitch - well, except for a few times when I forgot the "start the dryer" step.
Well, last night I had put a load in the dryer before bed - a load I had washed in the afternoon but forgot to put in the dryer. Okay, well my defense isn't going too well here . . . but let me continue. This morning, when I got ready to do laundry, I took the dry load out, but there was no wet load to put in the dryer, as I had not started another load before bed AFTER I took the forgotten load out and put it in the dryer. I know you are on the edge of your seat here, but just stay with me.
Sooooo, I put a load on to wash this morning, in my usual and time-tested fashion, and then proceeded to start the dryer in the usual said fashion and go about my work. Some time later (about 60 minutes, actually), I heard the little "beep beep beep" signaling that my load was dry. I got up, went to the laundry closet (it's too small to really earn the name "laundry room"), opened the dryer . . . and just stood there staring at it for a good minute, trying to process WHO TOOK MY LAUNDRY? Why is there no freshly dried, sweet-smelling and toasty warm load waiting for me to gather it in my arms, breathe deeply and feel that little surge of joy I weirdly get from my favorite smell in the world? Did I suddenly acquire domestic help of which I was unaware?
Of course, the truth finally dawned on me. I felt pretty silly, to be sure. I continued on with my laundry system, which I swear to you works MOST OF THE TIME, content in the knowledge that this little "incident" had given me fresh fodder for my goal of blogging several times a week.
So to my massive reading audience, though this may not be the most interesting blog I've ever posted, I am a confessional writer and so there you go - every time I do something dumb, if it is fit to print, you'll read it here first. If I remember to write it . . .
P.S. It has been brought to my attention that when I refer to a ". . . sweet smelling, toasty warm load . . . breathe deeply . . . favorite smell in the world" that SOME people with JUNIOR HIGH sensibilities (you know who you are) might MISCONSTRUE the word "load" to refer to a different sort of fragrant, uh, item. So let me be clear - my favorite smell in the world is CLEAN LAUNDRY. (Thanks TT for the heads up!) :-)
Sunday, January 28, 2007
If I say, they will play . . .
The other day, Sam, my 3-year old grandson, was visiting us. He was in the game room with Andy (my 16-year old son), and I heard him talking to himself as he walked from the game room into the living room where I was sitting with Lindsay (my daughter/his mom), saying "I can't wait to show this to my GiGi (his nickname for me)!" He was carrying the new Monopoly game we had received for Christmas, still wrapped in cellophane, and asked "Can we play this?" I told him that it was a "big people" game and that we couldn't play right now. He said nothing, turned and headed back toward the game room. He said, again to himself, "I can 't wait to show this to Andy!" I chuckled to myself but made no comment to Lindsay.
In a few minutes, he came walking back from the game room, again speaking to himself, "I can't wait to show this to my mom!" He walked up to Lindsay, asked if we could play the game, and received the same response as from me and I'm certain the same as he received from Andy. He was determined to find a willing partner to play this game, and he was having no luck at all.
Of course, the funniest part of all was that each of the three times, he said the same thing in EXACTLY the same inflection, as if saying would make it so. It almost sounded like he was rehearsing his lines. He had to go home shortly after that, but next time he comes over, maybe we'll break out Monopoly and learn about counting money . . .
In a few minutes, he came walking back from the game room, again speaking to himself, "I can't wait to show this to my mom!" He walked up to Lindsay, asked if we could play the game, and received the same response as from me and I'm certain the same as he received from Andy. He was determined to find a willing partner to play this game, and he was having no luck at all.
Of course, the funniest part of all was that each of the three times, he said the same thing in EXACTLY the same inflection, as if saying would make it so. It almost sounded like he was rehearsing his lines. He had to go home shortly after that, but next time he comes over, maybe we'll break out Monopoly and learn about counting money . . .
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
When the Levees Broke
I tried to think of a clever title for this post, but anything I came up with seemed too frivolous, so I'll just stick with the title of the documentary I want to talk about.
I spent last week watching "When the Levees Broke," a documentary about Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans by Spike Lee. I have not been so mesmerized and moved by a piece of film in a long time. As most of you know, I spent a few days in New Orleans last summer preparing for our youth mission trip, and got fairly familiar with the layout of the city, including driving down to the Lower Ninth Ward a couple of times. THAT was an experience I will never forget. As I watched this program, I saw footage and still photos of places I'd driven by, and saw interviews with a wide variety of individuals who lived in various parts of the Crescent City. It was eerie to see the footage during and immediately post-Katrina compared to what I had seen nine months later, but I was really glad that I was familiar enough to have an appreciation of what I was seeing.
This is not a feel-good documentary, but I came away with a sense of hope and inspiration after seeing the amazing resilience of the residents of New Orleans, their refusal to give up and their immense pride in their hometown and the great history and heritage of the city. Some of the interviews were done immediately after the hurricane on location, and then others were done in a studio at various times. Interviews ran the gamut from devastated and displaced residents to politicians, radio hosts, historians, meteorologists, government workers, news anchors, and Sean Penn, who had seen some footage and felt compelled to take action and use his celebrity to do some good.
Some of the footage is hard to watch, but I could not look away. Bloated and rotting bodies, weeping mothers, rubble and devastation everywhere. Angry people, angry and sometimes foul language, but understandable under the circumstances. You need to prepare yourself to have your heart broken and your conscience challenged.
On another note, the soundtrack, by Terence Blanchard, is haunting, melancholy, and will get in your head and live there. I wish I could buy it, but because the program was an HBO special, it seems that the music is not available.
I think every American citizen should see this program. I don't care if you are a supporter of Bush or if you aren't, if you are a Democrat or a Republican, if you are a liberal or a conservative, if you are black, white, or somewhere in between. This is an important piece of film history and we all need to see the reality that America is already forgetting. New Orleans is coming back, slowly, but it's a long way from being the city it once was. But the people there have an indomitable spirit and I pray that they will continue to get the support they need to rebuild this amazing city.
I challenge you to invest the several hours it will require and see this film. It will change you forever.
I spent last week watching "When the Levees Broke," a documentary about Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans by Spike Lee. I have not been so mesmerized and moved by a piece of film in a long time. As most of you know, I spent a few days in New Orleans last summer preparing for our youth mission trip, and got fairly familiar with the layout of the city, including driving down to the Lower Ninth Ward a couple of times. THAT was an experience I will never forget. As I watched this program, I saw footage and still photos of places I'd driven by, and saw interviews with a wide variety of individuals who lived in various parts of the Crescent City. It was eerie to see the footage during and immediately post-Katrina compared to what I had seen nine months later, but I was really glad that I was familiar enough to have an appreciation of what I was seeing.
This is not a feel-good documentary, but I came away with a sense of hope and inspiration after seeing the amazing resilience of the residents of New Orleans, their refusal to give up and their immense pride in their hometown and the great history and heritage of the city. Some of the interviews were done immediately after the hurricane on location, and then others were done in a studio at various times. Interviews ran the gamut from devastated and displaced residents to politicians, radio hosts, historians, meteorologists, government workers, news anchors, and Sean Penn, who had seen some footage and felt compelled to take action and use his celebrity to do some good.
Some of the footage is hard to watch, but I could not look away. Bloated and rotting bodies, weeping mothers, rubble and devastation everywhere. Angry people, angry and sometimes foul language, but understandable under the circumstances. You need to prepare yourself to have your heart broken and your conscience challenged.
On another note, the soundtrack, by Terence Blanchard, is haunting, melancholy, and will get in your head and live there. I wish I could buy it, but because the program was an HBO special, it seems that the music is not available.
I think every American citizen should see this program. I don't care if you are a supporter of Bush or if you aren't, if you are a Democrat or a Republican, if you are a liberal or a conservative, if you are black, white, or somewhere in between. This is an important piece of film history and we all need to see the reality that America is already forgetting. New Orleans is coming back, slowly, but it's a long way from being the city it once was. But the people there have an indomitable spirit and I pray that they will continue to get the support they need to rebuild this amazing city.
I challenge you to invest the several hours it will require and see this film. It will change you forever.
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