...We Would Have No Luck At All

This post is actually the second part to my previous post "If It Weren't For Bad Luck", in which I began the story of our downward spiral ever since we've moved to this North Raleigh town. The previous post took place in the Spring. When Summer arrived, the elevator dropped again.

Hubsy became very ill and returned to the "franchise clinic" for a diagnosis of Pneumonia. "Here's some meds, and don't work for a few days". Of course, this time he didn't stay out for long. Hubsy is a trooper and if he can walk, he'll run.

Oh, and in case you've forgotten, throughout the last six months I have continued to suffer through all of my Bipolar symptoms. That hasn't stopped. I wasn't suddenly cured just because there were more important things going on. Although I did go through a very heavy depressive cycle, I've mostly remained in a mixed state, with an increasing number of panic attacks, and the return of debilitating agoraphobia. But hold your horses. Let's not get too far into that here, because no doubt there will be a separate post about that later, on my personal page.

The elevator stabilized in July, and we began desperately trying to pry those doors apart. Hubsy was able to land temporary jobs for The Punkin and The Boy as Marketing Assistants for his own boss. They were out there, sign spinning, during some of the hottest days of the year! Then he helped me land the job as their Social Media Manager. I created a blog for them. I created new profiles and social pages, as their previous ones had been hi-jacked by prior disgruntled employees. I made frequent posts on their behalf and even took my own photos for their use. After a few weeks, Punkin left the property to pursue another job opportunity, but The Boy stayed on, spinning signs and acting as an office assistant, and Hubs picked up some overtime.

Yes, the Summer blessed us with the ability to catch up on all of the bills, and we even bought a used washer and dryer! You see, for the four months prior, we had been sneaking around, doing laundry at apartment communities because we couldn't afford the laundromat, and occasionally doing a few loads of "bathtub laundry". We bought school clothes for The Princess, since she was outgrowing everything; and a few new pieces for my closet, since everything was outgrowing me!

By the end of August, the extra income was fading away, but little did we know that the elevator was gearing up for another drop. I won't go into detail, for the sake of others, but let's just say that a couple of employees grew balls the size of Rocky Mountain Boulders... Management suddenly went deaf, dumb, and blind... and the office politics was thicker than the nation's capital. Having to travel out of town for the death of a family member in September was almost a welcomed escape. If only Punkin and I hadn't brought back a viral souvenir that had us both laid up for a month! I recovered, Punkin did not.

The end of October witnessed the slow death of our refrigerator/freezer. Two visits from the tech and new parts installed couldn't save it. Of course, this had to occur right after a visit to the grocery store. We lost about $200 worth of meat, dairy, and questionable items. You know, when in doubt, throw it out. We could not be reimbursed by management, or renter's insurance. 

So, early November had Hubsy and Punkin both traveling to see our family doctor. Punkin got meds and is recovering nicely. My dear Hubsy... not so much.

A Mother's Mantra

Becoming a parent is not an obligation, but a personal choice, that comes with great responsibility, and rights that are justly deserved.  I have chosen to bring four new human beings into existence, and so:

I have a responsibility to the world, to make sure that the people I have brought into it are worth the space they take, and the resources they consume.  I have a responsibility to make sure that they are pleasant enough people, with whom the world doesn't mind sharing the space.  I need to instill in them, a sense of reciprocation, so that they are inspired to give back a little of what they take from the world, to keep it whole for those that come up behind them.  I owe the world my very best effort to create people who are:

-- good and sincere friends, who will never hesitate to lend a listening ear, offer a supportive shoulder, and accentuate the good times when they roll.
-- solid citizens who will respect their nation's history, live within their means, and the boundaries of the law, while understanding and enjoying their rights, and exercising their own responsibility to keep those rights in tact.
-- hard working employees, who understand the value of their education, or their sweat, and know it's worth, in trade for a dollar.
-- loyal and respectful spouses, who are trusting and worthy of the same, who will cherish their blessings and honor their commitments.

From the moment they take their first breath of life, I will do my very best to:

-- educate them at every turn, through words and experience, and lead them by example.
-- see to their health and well being; physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
-- provide them a safe, loving, and supportive home to act as a solid foundation, on which to build their own lives.
-- protect them from the dangers that I can, and support them through the disappointments and heartbreaks from which I cannot protect them.

Above all else, I will dedicate all that I have, without sacrificing all that I am.  They will learn to love and respect themselves, as well as the world, by watching me do for myself all that I do for them.

If I do all that I am able, as a human being, I have the right to be accepted, respected, and valued by others.  I have the right to be honored by society as a whole, regardless of whether or not I have a college degree, or a financially rewarding career.  And I have the right to rest, because a mother's work is never done.

The Bittersweet of This First Day of School

Today is a very special day for our household.  Not only is it the first day of school, but it the very first day of Middle School for my youngest baby, The Princess.  She's such a small girl, having Turner Syndrome, that it's easy to see her as much younger than she is.  But I guess it's time for me to let go of her hand, and let her grow up.  Punkin, my teenager, has spent the whole summer continuing to grow and mature, gathering good friends, and preparing for the tenth grade.  (Now, she was technically held back in the 9th grade, but if she pulls it together and makes up certain credits, then she may be able to advance in the second semester).  I'm very proud and excited for both of them today!

Now, on to my top ten list of why I have been waiting for the first day of the 2012 school year.  From this day forward, or at least until next June...

(01)  When I clean an item... a bathtub, or the dining room table, it will stay clean for hours on end.

(02)  If I straighten an entire room, I can enjoy the stress free, organized neatness all throughout the day.

(03)  I will no longer be bothered by the constant buzzing of an argument, or the pitter patter of a spontaneous slap fight.

(04)  My children will be rising with the sun, sometimes even a whole half an hour before I do!

(05)  Those same children will be bathing on a regular basis, and once again, caring about their hairstyles and outfits.

(06)  I will be able to complete my household chores, and then sit down for an SVU marathon, without interruption!

(07)  I may actually save some money on the electric bill, not having so many lights on, and three computers running all day.

(08)  I may actually be able to keep up with my list of blogs... the ones that I read, and the ones that I write.

(09)  I can finally wrap up those unfinished projects, that I started back in the Spring... like the ancestral family photo wall, and the half painted upstairs hallway.

(10)  I can have shopping days all to myself!

Amazingly, as I finished up my list about why I'm glad that this is the first day of school, I learned that there was yet another school shooting in our nation.  For me, this is not just another shooting, but a much more personal one.... at my old high school in Baltimore.  Not only is it one of the very best schools in the state, but quite possibly, in the country.  It has always been a good and upstanding community, and no one could have ever imagined something like this happening.  I am shocked, and extremely saddened by the situation, and my thoughts are certainly with the students, parents, and faculty, as well as the single victim, and the shooter, and their respective families.         

The Real Life Friends & Family Plan

Friends and Family.  It's so nice when these two elements of your life can combine so beautifully, and create an experience that no phone company calling plan can compete with.  We invited our friends, Vegas and Malibu, and my Punkin invited her best friend, Bunny, to join our circus for a day out of town.

anybody got to go?

Although the day got off to a late start, we managed to make the drive to Wilmington interesting.  Hubsy and I led the way, while Vegas and Malibu played surrogate parents, and transported all of the kids!  Of course, Hubsy played his typical game of Musical Lanes, and passed the exit for the rest area, which Malibu had requested.  But that's okay, a few miles down the road, we managed to find him some "alternate facilities".

Our arrival at our first destination, my Aunt CC's house, erupted in a slurry of family photos.  My cousin, whom I hadn't seen in years, and her young boys had been visiting for a few days.  So our grandfather, who lives with our aunt, had the opportunity to have his picture taken with two of his grandchildren, and four of his greats.  When the flashes faded away, we scurried to load up some folding chairs and an umbrella, so that we could get on our way to Wrightsville Beach.

sirens of the sea

As many times as Vegas has walked on the beach, this was the first time in 20 years that she immersed herself in an ocean.  Like the girl with the itty bitty bikini, once she went into the water, she never came out.  Not because of her suit, but because she was fearless.  While the tide was out, a swimmer could make it past the breakers and through the swells, to reach a sandbar, where once again the water came just to thigh level, and one could play in an entirely new set of breakers.  Vegas, not caring about the very real possibility that could very well be "aquatic predators" at this depth, and in the area, swam back and forth between the shore and the sandbar many times over.  In fact, she was hoping that an encounter with an animal might give her a free pass from work on Monday.  The fear of sharks was a very real factor for me.  Usually, despite my apprehension, I do follow Hubsy out into the deep, but these conditions were different.  The sky was overcast, and the water was dark.  A distant storm miles off the coast, whose clouds were visible from the shore, was creating a steady stream of deep rolling swells, and high cresting waves.  Twice I made it halfway to the sandbar, but, let's just say... in honor of The Discovery Channel's Shark Week... I turned back.  The teens occasionally followed Vegas in her attempt to invade Great Britain by sea, while Princess stayed behind and played in the shallows with me.

Once in a while, you could find Hubsy, Malibu, and I taking a smoke break in the beach chairs by the blanket.  We chatted up a storm, and sipped from a few of the beer cans hidden in the bottom of the cooler amongst the colas.  (Sshhh, don't tell).  It turned out to be a rather nice day, considering that the predictors of weather anticipated a series of thunderstorms.  It was bright and sunny when we arrived, and gradually became more and more overcast.  A long slender ribbon of dark clouds took all afternoon to pass over, but waited until it they were off shore to gather and release their rain.  We never saw a drop, although the wind did pick up, and kick sand across the blanket ... oh and let's not forget (as Hubsy's won't let me), also blew the umbrella away.

Hubsy looking all serious

Malibu looking all Malibu

Dinner on the patio was practically waiting for us when we arrived back at Aunt's CC's.  Of course, Hubsy and I were late, after getting lost in the five miles between her house and the beach, and after changing into dry clothes, I was the last to the table, but the chicken and spinach enchiladas were still steaming hot.  The strawberry cake that followed was warm, and the vanilla ice cream that surrounded it was cold.

It was still daylight when we left, but just barely.  We still had a geocache to conquer before we hit the highway, and needed to try to get Bunny back at a decent hour.  By the way, it was she who actually found the cache!  Princess chose to stay with us for the ride home, and promptly crashed out during the drive.  The two teens wished they had stayed with us because, from what I heard, Vegas and Malibu acted a little too much like an old married couple.  You see, that's what happens when you spend a whole day with my children.

Malibu, Vegas, and Bunny

Sinking into bed around midnight, I felt refreshed and recharged, and right with the world, just like I do every time I spend the day on the edge of the ocean.  But this time was a little different. 

When your family feels more like your friends, and your friends have become a part of your family, it's not just a good day... it's a good life.

Spoiled Teenager Dreads A One Mile Walk

I sent Punkin to the store this morning to pick up some laundry detergent and kitty litter.  It was a necessity, as today is Monday, and Mondays have always (since I was a kid), been the laundry and housecleaning day.  Hubsy and I were just at the store yesterday, picking up fare for family meals, and a few other staples, but I didn't realize how low we were on these items. 

I made sure to send her first thing in the morning, before the heat index had a chance to climb to a dangerous level.  This particular grocery store is one mile, at the most, away from our home.  She certainly doesn't mind walking that far with a group of friends, or to meet up with a group of friends... to get a soda, or some makeup... or just to get away from home for a while.  Although, when she has to go at my request, for household items... OMG, you would think I just cuffed her to a chain gang.  Her "terrible ordeal" has just been posted to Facebook, and so I have chosen Blogger, as my forum of choice, to respond.

Laura Ingalls walked at least three miles to and from school every day... come rain, snow, or sweltering heat... with wild boars, bears, wolves, snakes, and bobcats.  There are children in Africa who would walk three times that distance for the opportunity to learn reading, writing, and math.  They hold out the hope that, if they survived the lions, crocs, or being abducted or raped and mutilated by guerrilla fighters, they might someday be able to move their families out of poverty.  It's the same story in some far eastern countries.  They also walk miles away from home to sell farmed goods at a street market.  Then, they'll walk miles again to find work in a factory that pays less than one would make in America simply by selling a pint of blood.

It's not as if I asked her to walk to the polluted, crocodile infested river, to beat our laundry against a rock.  All I needed was a pre-made, plastic packaged stainfighting detergent, so that I could have a machine do all the work.  It's not as if I asked her to hunt me down some small mammal that we might skin and stew up for some much needed calories.  All I needed was a box of absorbent and pretty scented sand, so that our pampered pet can do her business (indoors!), and not have to worry about a predator hunting her down.

Hmmm, I was writing this to make a point about how spoiled American teenagers are... but now... Man, even I feel so spoiled.

Previously Existing Condition: Poverty

We did it!  We've finally gotten our heads above water, in the financial tide.  We're stable enough to be denied medical coverage for my youngest kids, through the state health program.  It's a great feeling, for sure, knowing that we have finally surpassed the income requirement to qualify for government assistance programs.

In the late eighties, I stood in line for the state's semiannual grocery giveaways.  It was like Christmas peering into those brown paper bags, not knowing what you would receive.  Peanut butter, oatmeal, dried beans, and "Yes!  We got the government cheese!".  In the early nineties, I was standing in line once a month at the food stamp window, back when food stamps looked like Monopoly money.  I was also on the program when they made the big switch to the plastic re-loadable food assistance debit card.  I kicked that in the late nineties, and never went back.  Even during times, when I'm sure we would've qualified, we decided to live the struggle.  We ate a lot of hot dogs, eggs, and Ramen noodles that year.  The only assistance I relied on from then until now has been health care.  From Medicaid to an affordable state run insurance program, underwritten by Blue Cross.  I paid a yearly premium, and co-pays for doctors and prescriptions. 

Last year, just prior to filling out our re-enrollment application, Hubsy got a big fat raise.  Unfortunately, just after the denial letter arrived, the management company was sold, and in order to keep his job, he had to take a big fat pay cut. Now, maybe we re-qualify ... maybe we won't.  But in the meantime, I have two kids with ongoing medical conditions, that require regular appointments with specialists, and name brand medications on a daily basis.  I can't wait for my new application to be processed, and I can't wait for Hubsy's insurance to have their yearly "open enrollment". 

In my hunt for the appropriate private insurance program, I was amazed at all the choices, but just as amazed at the prices!  I could either get a low monthly premium, but with a high deductible, or the opposite.  Generic medications are covered for a low co-pay, but no body wants to cover name brands at all.  I was in a pickle.  Not just any pickle, but the ultimate Vlassic Sweet Gherkin... it's the Egg McMuffin of pickles.  It's a catch twenty two.  A trap.  We don't qualify for help, but we can't afford the regular stuff.  Is this that new middle class?

Luckily, at nearly the last minute, we discover that the loss of coverage from the state health program, qualifies us for immediate enrollment on Hubsy's insurance.  There will be no lapse, and my girls can still see their regular doctors, and take their regular medications (just at a slightly higher cost).  Of course, now, they're going to be taking the highest amount of money from the paycheck, and I'm afraid it's going to dunk us back down under the water.  But I am a water sign, after all.  I think I'll just tread like never before, and do my best to stay clear of the dangers like, shipwrecks, sharks, and government assistance programs.

                

A Calm Approach To Discipline For A Change

Boy, we really threw Punkin for a loop yesterday.  It was only fair, since she threw me first. 

I had just come home from grocery shopping, in the early afternoon, and I was in the middle of trying to cram it all into the pantry and fridge, when I got the phone call.  It was one of the coaches from the high school, asking to speak to the parent of my only high schooler.  Then he proceeded to tell me that he was filling in for the administrator, and that he had my daughter in his office. 

"The school resource officer had returned her to the campus..." he said, when I interrupted him with ..."Whaaaaat?!".  "Yes, Ma'am," he said, "She was picked up down by the shopping center, with a friend...".  He explained that she would be given one day of out of school suspension, effective the next day, and asked me if I wanted to speak with her.  "Oooooh, I sure do."  I replied.

Of course I reamed her out.  I reminded her that her father was going to blow a fuse.  Now, in that moment, I wished I hadn't said that, because I didn't want her to think that he was the only one she had to fear.  Although I have done it in the past, I don't like to lay it all on Dad with the old "Wait until your father gets home".  I need to be seen as a disciplinarian just as well.  So, I made up for my statement by telling her that I didn't even know which one of us was going to have to hold the other one back.

Luckily for her, by the time she arrived home at the end of the day, I had been laughing hysterically, to the point of pain and tears, at an email full of catastrophic auto-corrected cellphone texts, ("Damn You, Autocorrect!"), and I was in a pretty darn good mood.  Even though I was speaking sternly (or trying to), I was having a hard time wiping the smile from my face, and out of my voice.  So, as she made her way to her room, for the first phase of her punishment, she was slightly confused.

Leaving her to the mercy of her big brother, I left to pick Hubsy up from work.  As we had already discussed over the phone, we decided to linger at his office, and plan the rest of Punkin's consequence, over a cup of coffee.  (Vanilla caramel cream, one of best Keurig flavors).  We agreed that this was not a specific "Punkin problem", but a typical "teenager problem", and decided on a different approach.

Upon arriving home, Husby's called for Punkin to join us downstairs for a meeting.  "I believe you have something to tell me", he calmly stated.  Nearly trembling with fear, she opened with an apology, and an admission of what she had done, along with an acknowledgement of the obvious stupidity of her actions.  He then spoke to her about his disappointment, and reminded her of our expectations, as well as the behavior required by the school.  The expression on her face was one of pure shock.  She anticipated an angry reaction, and something very loud to occur.  It didn't, and she really didn't know what to do with that. Together, our response was, "You did what you did, and now we have to do what we have to do.  There's no sense in getting emotional about it." 

She then began to assume her consequences.  "I expect that my current computer punishment will be extended.", she said.  (She's been banned for two weeks due a recent attempted refusal to hand over the password to her chat program).  Hubsy simply stated "No".  Punkin was floored.  Her sudden gape made her look like she had just stepped into the Twilight Zone, and I don't mean the one with glittery romantic vampires.  She continued, "I expect that my after school curfew will be moved up."  I jumped in on that one with "Absolutely".  She nodded.  Then Hubsy and I rounded out the meeting with handing her one week of solitary confinement in her room, to be broken only by family meals, and chores."  She nodded again.

As she turned to head back upstairs, she stopped and turned back to us.  "I just want to say thank you, Dad, for not yelling at me.  I was expecting you to blow up, and I was really scared, and I really appreciate that you didn't".  Hmmm.

Before going to bed, after dinner, we got our typical goodnight hugs.  Mine came with, "I'm really sorry for what I did today, and I'm really glad that you're a parent who cares."  I was quite taken aback, and I answered, "Have I ever been a parent who didn't care?"... "No", she said, "But I've been seeing lately that a lot of my friend's parents don't punish them for the stuff that they do, when they really should."  And then she went to bed.

Mission Accomplished.

The Drama of a Teenage Wasteland

"Nothing we ever do for the rest of our lives could be as important as what we're going through right now in high school."  That statement (or something like it) was made on the TV show, Robot Chicken, when they did a segment spoofing Dawson's Creek.  And yes, I remember feeling that exact same way when I was in high school.  We were young, and we were alive (even when we wished we weren't).  We were delving into new experiences, new relationships, and very new emotions.  It was all so very dramatic.  Some of us (a-hem), who had grown up on the afternoon soaps, reveled in it.  Got down,  rolled around, and covered ourselves in the dirty thick of it all.  It took me about eight years, after graduation, to learn how to rise above it.  Yeah, I slipped and fell a few times.  I got a little drama on the bottom of my shoe, and carried it around with me for about a year or so.  But for the past twelve years I have worked very hard to keep drama out of my life.  There will be no drama in my house, so wipe your feet before entering!

My eldest daughter suffered her teenage dramas while living with her father (lucky him), and so I didn't get to witness first hand the Shakespearean tragedies in which she participated.  When she did come to live with me in her senior year, I removed her from bad situations, strengthened her focus and resolve, and kept her on the straight and narrow.  Maybe that's why, after graduation, she decided to move back to her father's until joining the Navy.

My son left his father's house for mine during the summer between his freshman and sophomore year.  But he's a loner, who didn't care much for social interaction, and so there wasn't much going on in that arena.  There still isn't.  Although he is refining his skills in creating a disturbance in his sibling circle, and then making a quick exit, leaving us to deal with the aftermath.

My youngest is a small, well behaved (for the most part) gal, who plays happily with her friends, and excels in school.  I don't expect much trouble from her.  

Which leaves me now, with a cyclonic dirt devil, spinning on the precipice of fifteen.  She attracts drama like a moth to a flame... like an iron sliver to a homemade electro-magnet in a seventh grade science lab... like the lonely specs of personified dirt, in those goofy Swiffer commercials, who happily fly up to meet the mop head.  Yeah, like that.  It used to be that she created her own situations, that in turn created insomnia, anxiety, depression, and ulcers in the rest of us.  As luck would have it, there's no need for her to do that now, as she is now a freshman in high school.  Ooh, high school, you soupy mudhole of pubescent hormones and underdeveloped grey matter.  Youth is so wasted on the young.

A few nights ago, the boy next door (who is also a teenager, and from what I gather, is some sort of a hottie) brought his girlfriend home from school with him.  Said girlfriend is having trouble at home, and after breaking up with said boyfriend, announced her intention of running away, and proceeded to head for the highway.  Literally the highway... it's about forty yards from our house, but then again, so is the off ramp that leads back to our neighborhood.  Thirty minutes on the front porch chatting with said girlfriend, before her exit, and another half hour chatting with said hottie next door, and the next thing I knew, my daughter was down and rolling around it the dirty thick of it.

Panic set in ... the chat lines were hot.  The phone was called into play.  Missing person's websites were scanned.  Requests for made for an all out search party.  Requests denied.  Tempers flared and tears erupted. 

"But she drank a half a bottle of Listerine!"

"So, her breath is very minty"

"She's gonna pass out on the side of the highway and be run over by a truck!"

"More likely, she'll barf on the side of the highway, and then head back here".

"You just don't understand!"

"I can write you a book on high school and dramatic teenage girls."

"But, she's my best friend!"

"You just met her today!"

"No, I met her last week, we became friends today!"

"Let's talk about this calmly and rationally."

"I don't want to talk to you, you're not listening to me!"

"Goodnight, then."

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

Just when you think you've crawled and scratched your way out, they make it their life's mission to drag you back in.

(The neighbor hottie's ex-girlfriend turned out just fine, by the way.)

Where Is Mom On The Periodic Table of Elements?

There are some things in this world that just don't mix, or don't mix well.  For instance, one should never attempt to operate a text messaging device and a motor vehicle at the same time.  While these things are fine on their own, they simply do not go together without risk of great bodily injury or death.

Some things can not even be put within close proximity to one another without risk:  gasoline and an open flame, or Jennifer and Angelina.  Again, while fine on their own, the combination of these substances may result in bodily injury. 

And then there are things that normally will not bond, without the addition of an emulsifier.  We know these things to be oil with water, and fathers with teenage daughters, (as well as siblings).  In the kitchen, an egg or stick of butter will help the particles of oil and water to blend together nicely.  In the case of father and daughter (or siblings), the appropriate emulsifier is commonly known as Mom.

As one of the strongest elements in the known universe, Mom can withstand great pressures (when handled properly), and has a high tolerance for stress, motion, and heat.  Mom is capable of producing large amounts of self sustaining energy, and is able to recharge through simple means (like a hot shower, a favorite television show, and/or chocolate).

However, as an emulsifier, Mom should not be overused in this capacity.  Over-reliance will cause Mom to degrade and become unstable, resulting in outbursts, withdrawal, and resentment.  To avoid these occurances, it is recommended that the other ingrediants learn the arts of conversation, empathy, respect, retreat, and restart.

This concludes our science lesson for today.  Please refer to your notes, as you may be quizzed in the future.

Warning:  do not expose Mom to low temperatures or loud noises.

Our Family's Christmas Traditions

Some things never change, and some things must.  It's up to us to figure out which things are which.  That's life, in a nutshell.  Holiday traditions are no exception to that rule.  Here is a top ten list of our family's holiday traditions, some that will never change, and some that are in the midst that very process this year.

1)  The Winter Holiday season does not begin until after the fall harvest celebration, otherwise known as Thanksgiving.  Regardless of the stores that tried to force it down our throats while we were still preparing our Halloween costumes.  As tempted as I may have been, which was somewhat tempted, I didn't even dig the Christmas boxes out of my closet until after the turkey platter was used, cleaned, and stored away.  However, my daughter had been hospitalized for two weeks before the Autumn Feast, and I had promised her that I would not put up the tree until she came home.  So this year's tradition was almost thwarted ... but we were blessed once again, as God brought her home to us on Thanksgiving Eve!

2)  The countdown begins.  Some of you have calenders, with little windows that you open each day to reveal a festive scene, as you count the days until Christmas eve.  Some have calenders with pockets that you fill with a treat to take each day until the BIG one.  We have candy ribbons.  My mom made one for my sister and I when we were very little, and each night we ate a piece of candy before bed to help us keep track of the days of December.  She crafted one for each of my children, to keep the tradition going.  I tried to go without the ribbons this year, I really did.  But on December 9th, I fell to the rebellion.  The ribbons are up.

3)  Santa Claus will NOT be coming down our chimney this year.  Not because I intend to light the logs in the fireplace.  And not because we're on the naughty list, although some of us may very well be.  But because the youngest of the young'ens has finally been made aware ... of what I won't say because I don't know who may be reading this, and I'm not one to spill someone else's secrets.  Let's just say that we've said our farewells to the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Slash (for you South Park fans).

4)  Holiday cookies... are coming out of a Pillsbury tube this year.  Last year I spent a whole day kneading and rolling dough, just so my girls could cut and decorate ONE tray of cookies before they declared boredom and abandoned me.  Hubsy, The Boy, and I were left to cut and decorate another three dozen sugar cookies on our own.  I am NOT doing that again.  Another tradition gone.

5)  The Christmas Ham.  Yummm.  Each year the whole house fills with the wafting scents of that roasting thigh of pig, the honey/brown sugar syrup in which it bathes, and the tender hint of the cloves that pin the sweet pineapple slices to the meat.  I can almost smell it now... which is weird because we're having turkey this year, dammit.  I waited and waited for the grocery store to stock their freezers with the hams that go on sale this time of year.  They never came.  Instead, those freezers just kept filling over and over again with turkeys, and at the lowest prices for the biggest birds I've ever seen.  So there's another tradition busted.  Dammit.

6)  Sort of a recent tradition that we enjoy is taking the Neighborhood Tour.  We head out just a few days before Christmas to oooh and aaah at all the twinkles and sparkles that light up the oaks and maple trees, the snowmen, stars, nativities, Santas, and such on display in front yards, and on various roofs.  I think my favorite thing to see is a Christmas tree lit up in the front window of a home, for the world to see.  Last year we began counting how many "trees in a window" we could spot.  Maybe this year we'll make a scavenger hunt out of it.

7)  Mrs Smith will not be invited for dessert this year.  One tradition I am happy to bust.  I have finally learned to make my very own pumpkin pie.  And I'm not talking about popping open a can of Libby's mashed pumpkin.  I'm telling you that I bought three huge pumpkins this past Halloween.  I cut them into chunks, I boiled them, I mashed them, and I stocked my freezer full of the pumpkin guck.  I have already baked four pumpkin pies, and three pumpkin breads since then, and I still have enough for two more pies, and three more breads.  C'mon Christmas.

8)  Homemade ornaments on display.  That is one tradition I simply cannot give up.  Whether it's the ones my twenty four year old made in Sunday School or Kindergarten, the ones my nineteen year old son made in Cub Scouts, or the ones my younger daughters have made almost every year in elementary school ... I have to have them out.  One year I felt so guilty about not including my children's ornaments on my blue and silver themed tree, that I bought a small three foot tree designated only for homemade treasures.

9)  Christmas Eve has always been a very special time for my family.  We've always had our big Christmas dinner that evening, and as we sit around the fire, we open the gifts that have been sent from our out of state relatives.  I also use this time to remind my children about the spiritual meaning behind it all.  As exciting as it is, to get that early taste of Christmas, it's also satisfying enough to help the kids get to sleep at a decent time.

10)  Christmas Day traditions?  I don't think it's a tradition as much as it's just something we always do.  There will be coffee, and Christmas music.  I'll put on the seasonal cable channel that shows us a crackling fire while playing carols in the background.  We'll pass around gifts, and watch delightfully as each person receives something they either desperately wanted, or desperately needed.  There will be horrible photographs of everyone with bedhead (and me without makeup).  Afterward, we'll snack on coffee cake and fresh baked pumpkin bread.  The rest of the day will be spent enjoying our gifts, and each other's company.  We'll make phone calls to Connecticut, Maryland, Florida, and Texas.  We'll pull out the Christmas Eve leftovers, and top it off with coffee (or cocoa) and pie.  At the end of the day, we'll all be exhausted, but who wants a day like that to end?   

Grandbabies Make For The Best Week Ever

My oldest daughter (otherwise known as my Texas Gal) and her husband, recently spent four and a half fabulous days with us, as she does every odd year, with even years belonging to her father. I thought, perhaps, the best way to sum up our visit, would be to "top ten" the highlights.  So here you have it (in no particular order)...

1)  Hubsy and I got to meet our new baby Grandson, Levi, for the very first time.  He's five months old, which is the very age our first grandson, David, was when we met him for the first time.  There is a world of difference between the two boys.  At five months, David immediately disliked anyone who couldn't offer him a tasty breast on demand (which was all the time), whereas Levi seems to love everyone, regardless of anatomy.  Levi gurgled and cooed and laughed, whereas David screamed ... and screamed some more.  Needless to say, this visit was far easier on the ears, than the last one.

2)   Approximately twenty five consecutive hours after they arrived, David, now two years old, warmed up very nicely to these two strangers, who called themselves Grandma and Grandpa.  When he opened his eyes on the morning of the second day, I waited for the cry.  But instead, he crawled right over his parents, who lay sleeping on the air mattress on the living room floor, and right into my arms.  That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.  Another one formed that evening, when David ran straight to his Grandpa, all smiles, as he walked in the door from work.  On another day, he ran to the driveway, excited to greet Grandpa at the car.

3)  Hubsy left work early one day, and the seven of us used those extra hours to bowl a few games at the local alley, not including Levi (who slept through much of the commotion), and David (who assisted some of us with our throws).  I lost my breath and bit my tongue whenever the little guy tried to pick up a ten pound ball, and carry it to the lane.  That's when we stepped in to assist him.  Because the whole family applauded whenever he rolled a ball, he clapped for us too!

4)  Since the boys are being raised on a poultry farm, surrounded by chickens, ducks, and geese (not to mention pheasant, turkey, peacock, and quail), I thought it would be fun to take them to the lake, to feed our local ducks.  I didn't realize that just before leaving the farm for vacation, David had been attacked by a rooster in a "fowl" mood, leaving him terrified of animals.  So David didn't chase the ducks, but the ducks chased whoever had the bag of bread, and David's Daddy chased my Punkin... right into the lake!

5)  David's new fear of the animal kingdom had him running and screaming every time our dog or cat came into the room.  Though, as long as he felt safe in someone's arms, he showed great interest, and would point and laugh.  For a few days, I had to keep the pets locked up in my bedroom, but by the end of their visit, it was the dog who was terrified of David!

6)  For evening entertainment, we broke out a new family game, Apples To Apples.   You should've seen us... seven people, ages 10 to 40-something, rolling on the floor in laughter so deep, it was actually painful.  Laughing at ourselves, at each other, and at Waco TX and Andy Warhol.  During one session, it took us a while to realize that David wasn't happily talking on his toy cellphone, but was actually having a conversation with his grandmother in Texas, on his daddy's very real cellphone!

7)  My twenty eight year old son in law, who is somewhere around ten at heart, is a real down home country cowboy.  A redneck.  An outdoorsman.  A survivalist.  If he can't hunt it, shoot it, skin it, build it, raise it, wreck it, or ride it ... then he just has to climb it.  He climbed to the top of the kiddie playhouse, the jungle gym, and even to the roof of the pavillion!  I think he had more fun on the playground than the little ones did. 

8)  Now that Levi is discovering that he has some control over his own tongue, I spent some wonderful moments on the floor, "la la la-ing".  Although he couldn't quite get it down, he sure did try, and my silly vocalizations made him smile and coo.


9)   David is learning to talk, but he really only makes one sound.  G-go.  It's his version of "gonna go".   He will surprise you with other words occasionally, like "daddy, doggie, please, hello, and go away".  But if you prompt him to repeat what he had said, all you're gonna get is G-go.

10)  As Punkin and Princess enjoy dancing with The Michael Jackson Experience on the Wii, we got David to bust a few moves as well.  My daughter tells me that he usually sways to music, but this time he was really jumpin', and he even "got low" ... real low ... rolling on the floor, low.

We hosted our visitors just one month after my mother hosted us, for our vacation.  Now I know why she gets so sad when we leave.  I cried for two days after watching my daughter and her men drive away.

Our Trip To Gettysburg

(A continuation of Last Blast)...

The Saturday morning sun watched us drive through some quaint country towns in upper Maryland and lower Pennsylvania.  The kind where everyone knows everyone, and on this community yard sale day, everyone owns something that once belonged to everyone else.  We counted the deer that stood by the side of the road, poised to jump into the traffic... (four).  I began to wonder if any other vegetable actually existed, because all anyone ever grows is corn!

We stopped in at some of the local tourist shops, and walked away with the typical souvenirs; a t-shirt, a shot glass, some toys soldiers, and a key chain.  We armed ourselves with refreshments and a map of the area, and headed out for an adventure.

I was fully prepared to do some ghost hunting, with my digital camera, and voice recorder.  However, I ended up just so awed by the beauty of the landscape, imagining the plight of the soldiers, on both sides, and listening as Daddy recounted the events of those three horrendous days of battle.  Besides, there were such crowds everywhere we went, that I didn't want to start talking to ghosts, and have people think I was some sort of a loon.  The girls and I did find a moment of solitude in the garden of unknown soldiers, where we conducted a brief EVP session, and said a prayer for the men "known only to God".

Punkin's Ironic T-Shirt

Between the six of us, we climbed every last boulder that jutted out of the earth, trying to imagine the Union soldiers hiding among the rocks at Little Round Top,  firing at the Rebels across the valley, who hid among the rocks at Devil's Den.  And vice-versa. Those rocks hold the memories of the history they've seen, and I needed to soak it all up before I prayed for them to forgive the horrors of man.

Princess Hiding From The Sun

When Daddy finally made it to the top of a very steep hill on Seminary Ridge, he huffed and puffed and announced "Whew, I made it!"... I replied "Okay, now go fight a battle.".  It puts things into perspective, doesn't it?  Another thing that helped us gain a little perspective was the sighting of a few throwbacks to the day, who kindly paused in mid-conversation with another visitor, to pose for my camera.  From our viewpoint on the hilltop, we could see a tour group, using modern Segways to navagate the paths below.  One of the soldiers quipped "Here come the Confederate Segways... It's the only way they can take the hill".  LOL.  At that point we began referring to everything as Confederate... like the Confederate McDonald's where we later stopped for a Rebel milkshake.

All in all, it was a most wonderful day.  A good hike on a clear and sunny day, a few tears shed over some history remembered, and a lot of laughs during some family bonding.  I walked away with an appreciation, in that the three most important men in my life have not had to experience such an ordeal... and a compassion for those who have.

Our Last Blast of Summer '11

Within the span of seven days, the kids have gone back to school, we've had an earthquake, and a hurricane.  I have lots to tell you about all of that, but I'd much rather take a few moments to re-live our last blast of the summer.

Keeping with tradition, we took our annual long weekend excursion to Baltimore, to visit with my family. It's a cookie cutter vacation, meaning it's typically the same every year, but believe me, we have no complaints what so ever. Mom's place is as clean and organized as the best hotel, and even comes complete with mini shampoos and extra toothbrushes. If I didn't know her better, I'd be wondering where she hides the staff. Here are ten the highlights:

1) We left straight from Hubsy's workplace, and took the six hour drive by night.  That way, when Hubsy opened his eyes on the very first day of his vacation, he would actually be on vacation.  It was well worth it.

2) This time, we added an extra little day trip to the itinerary:  a tour of the infamous Gettysburg Civil War battlefield, led by my father, the amateur historian, and Confederate at heart.  (This experience will be the focus of my next posting).

3) Mom's pool is a great place to catch up on some parent/child bonding, but I repeated the word "Polo" so often, that I got a little goofy with it.  "Marco" was henceforth followed by Aspen, Obsession, Brut, or English Leather.  The whole thing ended up being nothing more than a Freudian game of word association.  Peanut butter led to jelly, which led to grape... nuts... vasectomy.

4) A hostile takeover of the local Olive Garden, by twelve members of the paternal clan.  Daddy and Second Mom, Little Bro and his two little impkins, Little Sis and her new hubs, plus my fam of five.  A bottle of wine made it's rounds, and I had my annual vacation margarita.  Daddy teased the waitress as often as possible.  My favorite quip went something like "I don't like this wine, and I'm going to send it back, right after you pour it and I drink it, and you pour it again."  

5) After dinner, the troupe headed over to Little Bro's place, where we enjoyed the hilarity of the toddler's musings.  For instance, being invited into her princess castle, to be hit with  the soft spoken announcement of "I got poops".  We giggled for hours about how the usual offering that accompanies an invitation, would be coffee or wine.

6) One of the best parts are the night swims, when the air is chilled and the water is warm. Turning on the pool lights, and turning up the music makes it feel like a real party!

7) Catching up on the family gossip.  I never get involved in the dramas, but I do like to hear about them.  It's nice to be reminded of where I come from, and why I choose to live two states away!

8) Bailing a hundred gallons of water out of the pool, with every bucket and can we could find, to lower the level enough for Mom to re-glue some loose tiles on a near dry surface.  For two days, we obsessed about those tiles.  It was such an event, that as we left Baltimore, I called from the car to tease her about some possible loose tiles in the Harbor Tunnel!

9) The annual crab feast!  It's the only time I ever get to express the Chesapeake gal in me.  The kids love to eat 'em, but I always have to guide them through the process.  Hubsy thinks it's just disgusting, but enjoys watching me chew on shells, slurp on that spicy seasoned juice, and dig out the yummy innards of an ocean floor scavenger.

10) Playing with Bob the Owl.  He's the yard guard, keeping birds from gathering around the pool, and rodents from nesting in the shed.  I decided that Bob needed a vacation too, and so I invited him to join us in whatever we were doing at the time.

The time is short, but it's just enough to recharge and refresh our outlook, and after being surrounded with Mom's near perfect decor, I actually return home a little excited about cleaning my house.

Bob's Got The Right Idea!

Caught Red Handed, A Rare Occurrence

Well, it took us several months, but we finally got the confession that we've been waiting for.  We were just shy of performing one of the various techniques of old Salem.  You know, filling her pockets with rocks and throwing her into the lake.  If she sinks, she's innocent, but if she floats... then she really does have a secret Facebook page that she's been logging into, for the past three months, behind our backs, and against our wishes!  Turns out, we didn't have to go that far.  It seems that getting caught red handed on the neighbor's computer, in the middle of the night, during a sleepover, is a much better tactic.

We've held our suspicions for months, regardless of her denials, elaborate explanations, and taking outright offense at our accusations.  We've kept our eye on the page that was:

- Published under an assumed identity,

-whose status updates only seemed to change when Punkin was at the public library.

-Whose friend's list was like a roll call of our neighborhood.

-Whose profile picture was... you got it... Punkin.

If I haven't said it before, let me say now, she is very intelligent, but she's NOT that smart.

Our neighbor had given us the details of how Punkin had logged into Facebook, after the other girls at the sleepover had drifted off to sleep.  Knowing that we know what we know, she had little choice but to surrender her password, which we immediately changed.  We deleted all of her photos, and all of her information, and left her readers with one final status update for them to ponder:

"Dad Found Out".

Ten Reasons Why I Can't Wait For School To Start

At the start of the Spring season, when Summer weather begins to make it's approach here in the south, I find myself longing for those days when the kids are out of school.  I look so forward to those precious extra hours of sleep in the mornings.  I look forward to the ease of appointment scheduling, without the signing in and out, and worrying about who's missing which classes.  Bedtime battles will ease up, as the kids get to stay up later and later, quietly entertaining themselves in their bedroom, with personal gaming devices, until they drift off to sleep.  Etc, etc, and all those other sweet dreams that a stay at home mom fantasizes about.  Now, here it is, the end of the season, and my rose colored glasses broke weeks ago.  So here is the list of ten reasons why my ears are straining to hear the melodic chimes of the scheduled school bell:

1)  I expected to have more hands to help with the daily chores, but instead I just have more chores!

2)  Wet clothes ... they're in the bathtub, they're in the hamper, they're on the bathroom floor, on the bedroom floor, and hanging off the back porch railing.  They're produced by the neighbor's wading pool, the other neighbor's sprinkler, water balloons, water guns, and my own hose.  Like dirty dishes do, wet clothes tend to multiply, as a clean and dry outfit only stays clean and dry until the next water balloon is launched.

3)  The critters.  "Mom, look at the ____ I caught!" ... fill in the blank with any of the following choices:  caterpillar, butterfly, moth, beetle, frog, toad, or snake.  Luckily the snakes are not so much caught, as they are found... already dead at the hand (or wheel) of a vehicle, or a local cat.  Also luckily, they are most often of the common, non venomous variety.

4)  My front porch and surrounding shrubbery have morphed into the neighborhood landfill.  We have collected an assortment of craft projects (i.e. painted tin cans and Popsicle sticks), broken and/or abandoned toys, scraps of paper, water bottles and their caps, colorful bits of broken water balloons, dried and/or wilted flowers, homemade brooms and the collection of pine needles and twigs that are used in their creation, and empty Tupperware containers with perforated lids that once contained a critter of some kind.  Last week Hubsy created the "Clean-Up Marathon", and invited all of the neighborhood kids to earn a Popsicle.  Everyone raised their scouting fingers and vowed to keep it clean.  The next day there were bottle caps in the bushes!

5)  The doorbell.  It rings and rings and rings.  It's as if the nine other neighborhood kids are lined up, single file, in the driveway, each taking their turn to step up and push the button.  Sometimes, they counter the rings with intermittent door knocks.  They always seem to come in the middle of a movie or a show, or a game, or when my hands are full of painting, or cleaning supplies.

6)  The ins and outs.  Princess loves to play tag with her friends, but she cheats.  When someone gets a little too close to tagging her, she decides that our front hall is home base.  In she comes, then out she goes.  She's in for a drink... then out.  Then her friend wants a drink.  Then they all want Popsicles.  She's in to change her shoes... see what I'm doing... pet the kitty... grab a cookie, etc.  And if she's in for any more than three minutes, the doorbell begins it's repetitive song.

7)  Not the TV show, but my actual Clean House.  When the kids are in school, I can clean and straighten any room, and it will actually remain clean, and smell fresh, for up to six hours, consecutively!  As it stands now, by the time I make my way to the other side of a room and turn back to see the results... a pair of flip flops has mysteriously appeared on the floor, a dirty dish has magically appeared on the table, a piece of clothing has materialized across the back of a chair.

8)  Time to myself.  I can't start a Karaoke Revolution with spying eyes giggling from around the corner.  What if I want to throw on some Jason Derulo and do a little poppin' and lockin', until things start poppin' out of place and lockin' up on me?  I can't subject my children to that.  That's the sort of torture one gets at Guantanamo.

9)  On various days, there are two times the number of children in my house, than I have personally given birth to.  If I had wanted to be responsible for this many human beings, I would've married a Dugger.  (For those of you not quite up to speed, The Duggers are that reality television family with more kids than Kate Goslin and "Brangelina" combined!).

10)  Cabin Fever.  All three kids have have spent the last two months together.  All of the summer fun is winding down, and they're becoming bored with the things they couldn't wait to do all school year. They're beginning to turn on each other. I'm waiting for that moment when I find fifteen type-written pages of "all play and no work makes Punkin a dull girl".  Maybe I should start hiding the axe.

I'm sure that in about eight or nine months, I'm going to start writing another post about "Why I Can't Wait For Summer Vacation".  When you start to see signs of that happening ... somebody please slap me!

Kicking Trashy People To The Curb

taking out the trash

Today is Thursday, my son's least favorite day of the week, because he is the king of the trash in our house.  It falls upon his shoulders to monitor the level of trash, and remove it when necessary.  It is his duty, on Thursday mornings, to wheel the big green plastic bin out to the curb.  It's a race against time, and the county truck.  Unfortunately, it's a race he comes dangerously close to losing week after week, because he can't seem to distinguish a Thursday from a Tuesday from a Saturday.  I would like to believe that summer vacation is the culprit.  Without a school schedule to follow, the days of the week do seem to resemble each other.  However, even back when he had to be up by six, because he had to be somewhere, he still had to be reminded to take out the trash.  

Now that the summer days are winding down, the supply lists are being written, the open houses and tours are being scheduled, the wardrobes are being scrutinized... it means little to him, because he's not going back.  He's done his time, twelve years of hard labor (thirteen actually), and two months ago, the committee decided to release him on his own recognizance.  No, he's not a parolee, he's a high school graduate.  His days of homework may be gone with the wind, but for as long as he lives in Mama's Boarding House, he'll be standing downwind of that big green plastic bin.

Oddly enough, another duty has presented itself, for me.  On this, very literal, trash day, I will be taking out a very different kind of trash.  I will be sitting my Punkin down, and sorting through her friend's list.  Not the cyber kind, because she has yet to be allowed on Facebook, (mostly because we suspect that she's being logging on anyway, secretly, and without permission).  No, today I am going to crumble up and throw away the assortment of spoiled people that have been stinking up her life throughout the summer.  They're standing in their stagnant lives collecting flies, and misdemeanors, for so long that I suppose their parents have developed a case of nasal fatigue.  (That's when you smell the same thing for so long that the brain no longer responds to it and shuts down the receptors).  Well, Hubsy and I have recently picked up their scent, and it's nauseating.  Punkin thinks they smell like adventure, freedom, and the excitement of drama.  What they really reek of is trouble.  Let me explain:

1)  Our house was recently egged by a seventeen year old boy, that Punkin crushes on.  He is intrigued by her  infatuation, even though he has a 16 year old girlfriend, with whom he is sexually active.

2)  One boy has recently returned to the group after a mysterious absence.  Turns out that he had been in Juvenile Detention for not only using, but selling, marijuana and crashing his parents car into their house!

3)  Another boy of 14, has an uncle, of 16, who hangs around his house, and talks openly about his continued drug use, even though he's on probation.  Rumor has it that his probation officer recently caught him in the act, and hauled him off.

4)  Last night, Hubsy and I received numerous prank phone calls, from an obvious young girl, pretending to be a guy, delivering love messages to our Punkin, who was not home at the time.  (she was spending the night with a friend, who had already been mother tested-father approved).  The prankster had no respect, no fear, and no qualms about making sexually explicit statements to my husband, about our Punkin.

I guess I'll have to admit that some of the family rules have loosened up over the summer break.  It's not something that I intended, but something that seems to have happened so gradually that I hadn't really noticed.  But these recent incidents, and the fact that school starts again in a mere three weeks, have gotten my attention.  It's time to tighten things back up, and cut off the loose ends.  I'm not racing against the county truck, but I am racing against time.  There's precious little of it left to get Punkin back on the right track, before a different sort of county vehicle comes to haul her away!

A Busy (Manic) Week At The Circus

Bzzzzzzzz... this house has been a hive of activity lately.  So much so that I have neglected my blogs.  It's not that I haven't had anything to write about, it's just that I haven't had the time to sit and write it.  So, here, in one fell swoop, I'll give you an update on the status of the circus.

Hubsy is running himself ragged in his new role of Service Manager at the apartments. He is painfully understaffed, in the upkeep of two upscale five-story buildings, two parking garages, and a strip of retail stores.  Aside from keeping everything clean, his typical maintenance duties, the office politics, the inventory and reordering, and a slew of air conditioner calls throughout our recent heat wave... he's also had to deal with the tragedy of a suicide, by a resident that everyone knew well.  Without being too morbid, I'll let you know that it was done outside, at the start of the heatwave, and wasn't discovered for four days.  Hubsy had to guard the body until the police arrived, and then stay with them while they investigated the man's apartment.  Then he had to secure the scene to prevent other residents from gawking.  Then stay with the crime scene clean up crew for two days, while they attempted to remove the blood stains from the concrete.  Although this isn't the first time he's experienced death in the apartment industry, this was the first time he actually knew the victim, and it was difficult.

On the upside, a new family has moved into the neighborhood, complete with a young girl who's age falls smack dab in between the ages of my Princess and my Punkin.  These three musketeers have been together everyday for the last four days.  Of course, it just so happens that Punkin has been grounded from going out during this time, and so their new friend has been coming in.  When they're not on the phone gossiping with friends about boys... or with boys about friends... they're chasing the dog through house, and doing each other's hair.  On their downtime, they fall into heaps on the floor in front of an SVU marathon.  Although I'm not very used to having more than my own kids in the house, I have to say that I like this girl.  She's ultra polite, and coming from a very nice and strict household, she may be a good influence on my girls.  She's been  helping them with their chores, and even nudges Punkin to "shut up and obey" when her alter ego, Miss Attitude, rears her ugly head.

What can I say about The Boy?  When he's not upstairs in his room, on his computer, he's downstairs with me, on mine.  It's been nearly a month since his high school graduation, and he's done precious little in his search for work.  Everything he's done, he's done from home... filled out some online applications, and created an account with an online job search service.  Since no one has knocked on our door yet, to offer him employment, I'm sending him our today.  Out ... into the world ... feet to pavement, with the wind in his hair, and the sun on his back.  He's not happy about it, but ask me if I care.  Go ahead, ask me.

As for me, I'm still in the process of cleaning up the messes I made during the whole "house reformation" project I started two weeks ago.  After refurbishing the new dining room table, I had to:

1)  Rearrange the living room to make space for the office furniture.

2)  Patch and paint the living room walls to cover the holes I left when I moved shelves and pictures around.

3)  Rearrange shelves and pictures in the dining room, after reclaiming it from the office furniture, and place the new table.

4)  Patch and paint the dining room to cover holes left from moving shelves and pictures.

5)  Relocate Hubsy's Star Wars collection to the bedroom, since there's no longer space for it in the living room.  Luckily, all I needed to rearrange, in there, was some shelving.  I will eventually patch and paint the bedroom walls ... but OMG, not now!

6)  I've also had to take some time out last week to finally get my North Carolina driver's licence.  Geez, what's the rush?  I've only been living here for five and a half years.  

Things are almost back to normal, but I'm still struggling with a few piles of paperwork that have made a home on the new dining room table.  Once that is dealt with, I can post the photos I've been promising.  In the meantime, when I need downtime, I've been playing Sims3.  I tend to get completely addicted to it, so I've been up late at night, playing out the adventurous and lavish lifestyles, that I wish were mine.  In fact, I think I hear them calling me now.  I'd better go!

(By the way, this is what a Bipolar hypo-manic phase does to me. I discuss more about my Bipolar Disorder on my personal page).