Sorry to the Fords

President Ford died last night and instead of feeling sad for his family I am just glad it happened before I retired. If it happened after March 2nd, I would not have an additional day off from work. Even so I think he was a better President then he is given credit for--and this comes from a liberal Democrat, albeit one that pays dang little attention to politics. I think he was right to pardon Nixon. But that was a long time ago.

The boys are still with the in laws and I have to say the house is a lot cleaner with them gone then it is when they are here. I enjoy that - but I miss them. They will be home tomorrow and I am ready.

Thank God for Grandparents

It is Christmas break for the Howard County schools. The schools will be closed for a week and a day. Both Hubby and I are trying to save leave so we don't want to stay home all week, yet we think the boys are, even at 13 and 15, too young to stay home by them selves for the entire winter break. Hubby’s parents have yet again come to the rescue. They picked the boys up this morning and will take them to a not too far away resort for the next two nights. We get the boys back Thursday. The boys will be loved and spoiled rotten. The hotel has two things that they dearly love an indoor pool and never ending supply of hot chocolate. I should have said four things they dearly love, the above two and a set of grandparents who act as though the world revolves around them.

The only problem is I miss the boys. I like the idea of a break from the boys a lot more then I really like the break from the boys. They have only been gone for a few hours and I want them back. Of course I realize once they were back I would be ready for a break all over again.

Mostly I think how lucky I am to have in-laws and parents who love us, let us be us and adore our children. I am blessed that they are grandparents who pass down a connection, a family history with every day interactions. I am blessed because they want to be a part of our lives and make sacrifices to be a part of our lives.

Both sets of grandparents love their grandchildren whole heartedly. But it is easy to see that they are different people and show the love differently. Hubby’s parents love the boys in a way, that when I was a new parent I found overwhelming, but as a more experienced mom I value. Their love is child centered. They treat the boys as if they are little Gods. In other words they shower them with time, attention and love. When the boys visit, that visit centers around what they want to do, what their interests are. It is not really spoiling. His parents use common sense, they don’t shower money and gifts on them, but they do shower time and attention on them. I think every child deserves grandparents like that. Thank you Mom-mom and Pop-pop. We love you.

I Know I Can, I Know I Can

I hate being dependent on medication. And I hate doing the things that I could do to not be dependent on medication.

Since I forgot to take my pills for two days I was depressed, crabby, dizzy and my blood pressure was probably too high. It's hard, in the rush of the morning, to remember to take those stupid pills--but if I don't I feel the impact. I tell myself that if I would just take a long walk, or listen to Dr. Mama and run, I could be - hopefully medication free in no time. I tell my self that exercise will be my retirement priority. I need to get the little engine that could motif going--I know I can, I know I can...

Mean Mom

I am in the dog house with boy B. Yesterday he brought his interim grades home. He had a had A's and B's and a couple C's. What was frustrating was the average grade for the tests and the class work was usually a solid A or a B, but homework was usually a D or E. He could have had all A's and B's if he would just do his homework. So mean mom has come out. He has to sit in the dining room for an hour a night -- doing home work. He is very cross with me. But I love him and I like being mean mom.

Crocs and Santa Socks

Good Looking took a this picture yesterday. She hosted a wonderful lunch and afternoon of festivities for Sweetie and me. We had fun. I especially enjoyed showing off my fashonista side.

Flower Power

Nice day today. Weather in Maryland is gorgeous and I only have 11 weeks left until I retire. It is hard to wait that long.

pontas para minhas cabras pequenas maravilhosas do caranguejo

1. If you are wearing cherry red shoes you are dressed appropriately for the holidays – no matter what.
2. Being on the 50-days-or-less to get out of bed and drive to work is a good place to be.
   There is no need to do research- the pile in the car and drive west looking for a place cut down (and pay for) a Christmas tree still works.
3. Cutting down your own Christmas tree is always worth it and a lot easier with two teenage boys in the family.
4. If you always buy, yet rarely send Christmas cards, you have plenty around the house the year you finally get your act together early enough to send them.
5. Forget this organization stuff that tells you to throw out all the stuff you don’t really need. A couple months after you either throw out or put away that over-the-front door wreath holder that was cluttering up the laundry room, you will need it.
6. The Internet was invented for people who hate crowds and hate shopping.
7. If you are a husband, it is a very bad idea to ask your wonderful wife to help pay for the wonderful Christmas gift you want to give her.

Sandy and Kattie

Kattie is our oldest cat. She was a year old when Sandy joined us. The two are very loving and often cuddle together. Sadly neither one of them wants to have much to do with the other two cats.

Excitement!

Our excitement this weekend revolved around a party, cutting down the tree and applying for passports for the boys. We still have the excitement of decorating the tree still ahead.

The party was a tree trimming party that is held by the same couple each year, a gathering of the old volley ball team. This year it really hit home that old is the operative word. One of our team mates died this year. The husband host is retireing at the end of the year, another player retired a year ago and I'm retireing in 11.6 weeks. Naturally much of the conversation was about getting older, retirement and aches and pains. The sad thing is that those conversations are enjoyable now. I am getting old.

Boy A is going to Europe the end of March and needs a passport. Hubby and I figured Boy B might as well get a passport at the same time. While I am a firm believer in procrastinating, I am not a firm believer in paying for a trip that can’t be taken because I procrastinated too long. So hubby and I rose at the crack of 9:30 Saturday, read the paper in bed and finally pushed the boys out of bed aournd 10:30. We then had the pleasure of listening to them whine about the horrors of having to do things other then play video games. We listend to whineing all the way until we walked into the passport office at a near by post office. We also had to listen to the horrors of walking past the homeless man who was begging in front of the post office, the pain of haing to get back in the car and drive to a near by CVS to get pictures because the post office camera was broken. Luckily that side trip didn't take long, neither did the rest of the passport application process. Both Boy A and Boy B should have their own passport in 6 weeks or so.

After the passport whine fest we went out looking for a tree to cut down. Our method is to pile into the car and head west and hope we can find a sign. This year we drove North on one promising road saw no sign, turned around and drove south and stil saw nothing. Next we took a cross road that took us a bit further west and lucked into a little mom and pop operation. We ended up with a beautiful tree and a beautiful wreath for $50.00. Boy A cut it down while hubby held it. Then they tied it to the top of the car while Boy B and I went looking for hot drinks. The day was cold enough to let you know it was winter but warm enough so that tree hunting and gathering was a lot of fun. We came home, put the tree up and are still waiting to decorate it. I don't really have the Christmas spirt yet.

Sunday was the boys piano recitial. Normally I hate them because they go on forever. I like listening to all the kids, but it seems to go on and on. This one was over in less then an hour. Life was good.

Felting Part II and Boys vs. Girls

Crafts:
The bowls have been felted and shaved and I’m feeling better about them. Shaving makes a world of difference. I would have to say good grooming matters as much in crafts as it does in person.

I have a bunch of things to felt tonight. I crocheted a bag for my work Santa gift and I have another bowl and a bunch of small baskets. I am going to use the baskets and a couple bowls for the book club ladies. I can fill them with nice little treats and be good to go. I did have a lot of fun making them. I even had fun shaving them. But I sure don’t think they will come in all that useful.

Tonight I’ll post the picture of the felted bowls, and take and post pictures of all the stuff waiting to be felted. Then I’ll work on felting a ton of stuff. I do find that it takes a while to felt Lopi. Last time I put it through 3 wash cycle and added boiling water to the last 2 cycles. But it could be that adding a cup or two of boiling water has very little impact. Tonight I’ll try adding a kettleful. I also read about someone using tennis balls to help with the process. I think I will try that too. The boys will never know I took their balls.

Next on my knit list is the Mason-Dixon felted boxes. And of course I should get back to the blanket and my sweater I put on hold when I hit the felting craze. Every knit crazy girl needs to have at least three projects going at once. Right?

One of my most loved bloggers recently posted about the line she straddles with her almost grown daughters-finding the right balance between the girls loved, protected daughters and being loved young women allowed to find their own way. Much of her post was about communication and how communication has changed over the years. She writes about how some of the communication is hurtful because she is struggling to allow her daughters to grow up and they are struggling to grow up. Her post made me ache. In my heart I don’t see the boys maintaining (or for that matter ever having) the same level of communication with me that a daughter would. I am happy that when they really need my support they come to me and tell me what is bothering them, but they don’t talk that much about their feelings, or what is going on at school. They are boys. I love them. They give me joy. But I am afraid that has they grow up and move on. I think I would have a bigger part of their day to day lives if they were girls. But all in all you get what you get and I sure love what I have.

That Felting Feeling

My first 2 felting projects. The very first was the bag, on the left I love it. It was quick and easy and turned out nicely. It holds knitting of course since that is my latest craze. The aqua knitting in the bag is going to be a blanket. I picked up the idea from my new favorite book - Mason Dixon Knitting. It will be a variaton of the log cabin pattern in varying shades of blue and green. The problem is I have gone crazy on felting so over the weekend so I don't know when I'll get back to it.

The bowls to the right were the next set. I've felted them already, but I need to shave them before I take their pictures. I am a little disappointed in the way they turned out. I wanted them to be stiffer. Oh well, next time I'll try the garter stitch and see if that stiffens them up.

Every Cloud has a Silver Lining

• Cloud--Everyone one else in the house is messily sick and you are the only one who can clean up and cater to them.
  Lining -- The house is quiet.
  
• Cloud--You catch their very nasty bug and have only enough energy to lie flat.
  Lining--You can fit into those pants you haven’t been able to wear in a while
  
• Cloud--You recover and go back to work.
  Lining--The boys tell you they miss you and can’t wait till you retire and are home when they get home
  
• Cloud--It’s one in the morning and you can’t sleep.
  Lining--One of the episodes that you missed of Grey’s Anatomy is on TV
  
• Cloud--It’s two in the morning and you are wide awake.
  Lining--HGTV has 2 episodes of House Hunters that you haven’t seen
  
• Cloud--It’s four in the morning, you’ve been back in bed for an hour and you are still wide awake.
  Lining--There are only infomercials on TV at this hour and they are so boring they put you to sleep.

It Feels Good to Feel Good

I am mostly over the bug from heck and it feels good to feel good.

The only thing this picture has to do with the rest of the post is that I took it in Aruba and that was a wonderful trip and on it I felt really good.

I am also in a felting craze. I only have two colors of feltable yarn, a lovely tweedy rusty red and a pale beige. They are nice but don't have a lot of zest. So I ordered some from a discount place online. They sent a letter saying there would be a delay before they could send the yarn I ordered. Don't they know I can't wait that long.

My first project was a bag that turned out really nicely. If I would get off my butt and take a picture I could post it!! Now I'm working on coasters. If they turn out nicely I can give sets of 4 to each of the bookclub ladies. But I need my pretty yarns. Discount company please send them.

The Joy of Getting

The joy of giving continued. First I was given a bed filled with germs. Boy A had climbed in bed with hubby early Saturday morning, and he breathed on my pillow, and spread germs all over my side of the bed. Of course hubby's side of the bed was filled with the same kind of germs. I wasn’t going near that bed until both guys were better and I could change the sheets. Which leads me to the second gift, the joy of sleeping on the sofa for two nights. It was the first time since before we were married and were sleeping under the same roof that we didn’t sleep in the same bed. I enjoyed it. No one to steal the covers, no one to wake me up with snoring and no extra germs. I think this means I’ve reached a new stage in my marriage. And I think it is a good stage. Last but not least they also gave the bug to me. It was a nasty bug and it earned me 2.5 days off of work. Of course most of the time was off work and either sleeping or feeling so miserable I wished I was sleeping.
I did knit a lot while the guys were sick. In fact I made my first felted bag. I am pretty pleased with it. If I do another one I do something different for the handle. I did it with two strands of yarn -two different colors. I would have liked it better if I had kept the colors separate, either done it in blocks or stripes. Oh well next time.
I have fallen in love with Mason Dixon Knitting. It has lots of ideas for things other then sweaters. While I am working on a sweater, I want to do other things. So I’m working on blanket too. I am just too cool for words.

House of the Sick

Each of the guys is sick. They woke up at various times in the night to throw up. Would fall back asleep and then wake up again a few hours later. At least Hubby made it to the bathroom. Unfortunately neither boy did. That means I've been cleaning rugs, bedding and just about everything else in the house.

The bad thing is I don't like being around sick people, even if they are the people I love more then anything else in the world. It wasn't so bad when they were little and helpless. Now they may be helpless but they are big and I don't want them breathing on me, or touching me. I think I'll sleep in the spare room tonight.

Thanksgiving

I had a really nice Thanksgiving with hubby's family. Hubby's niece and her husband did all most all of the work. We just showed up with pie and good wishes. Their house was beautiful, the food was fantastic and the company was wonderful and I spent some of the day thinking how much easier family gatherings are with his family then they are with mine. I don't carry all the baggage into his family gatherings that I do with my own.

I have been reading tons of adoption blogs recently. The first one I found and the one I have always loved is the Naked Ovary, the blog of an infertile woman who very recently adopted a baby from China. I like her. I like her because she is living a part of a life I always wanted to live-adopting a baby from China. I like her because she is honest and real and secure enough to show her strengths and weakness. I like her because she loves being a Mom. I like her because she thinks that being a parent makes us one of the lucky ones. I like her because I feel connected to much of what she writes about. I like her because reading her makes me feel a bit, just a tiny bit, as if I adopted a baby girl from China.

I am thankful for many things in my life and one of them is people I only know through reading about their lives on the Internet.

What Was I Thinking

I'm home alone, hubby and the boys are out of town and won't be home till very late. I decided to watch a scary movie. What in the good lord's name was I thinking. Scary movies scare me and make me keep a watch out for the axe murder. Once the music started getting weird, I realized I was going to be up all night listening for the axe murder if I watched any more. I turned it off.

What the heck, they are gone, I'm going to have fun. I don't have to listen to any fussing.

Tips An On Again and Off Again Weekly Series

Sometimes Weekly Tips

• The term "scum sucking crow dog" has a nice ring to it. But it will never replace "pig" as a term of endearment.
• This parking lot is huge and filled with many cars. Brightly colored spray paint can be used to mark a trail to your car. (thanks Good Looking for this tip)
• Fool the guards by having the paint end at car near yours.
• I like to use spray paint that matches my outfit (using the term "outfit" to describe what I typically wear, makes me giggle.)
• If you have a car with no trunk hide the cans of spray paint in a box.
• Some dogs are bed hogs (so are some men).
• Professional Crocs (shoes) come with fewer holes.
• The term professional Crocs, makes me laugh.
• I love crocs especially because they make me laugh.
• Co-workers who promise to provide Valet parking are to be cherished. Even if you know you that you will never actually ask, becuase if you did, they would know you are truly insane.

My Camera won't recharge so I have to choose from old pictures. This is Boy A and Boy B at Ocean City about a year ago. It was a beautiful day. And we were staying in a Condo with a small parking lot so I could easily find my car. That statement is not apropos of the fact that I always have a hard time finding my car at work. I work at the headquarters of a huge company/agency. Zillions of people work here and most of them, including me, drive themselves to work. Which means I park in a huge parking lot and by the time I leave in the afternoon I can never remember where I parked. I am getting tired of wandering around and looking for my car every day. I wonder if I could glue a telephone post on the top of the car, at least then it would be easy to find.

Boy B is working on driving me crazy this week. He "forgot" to do his English homework all last week, even after his teacher talked to him several times. Oh well, he promises to do better now.

Dog and Sweater

Camden is one sweet but lazy dog. He also hates to get his feet wet. And the way he lets us know he wants to go out is to come and look at us. That made it hard at night, I couldn't tell when he was looking at me when I was sound asleep. Since I wouldn't get up and let him out he would leave me a present on the living room rug.

The rug is now gone, which is a pain, because I loved that rug.

Camden has gotten better. I've learned not to let him up if all he has done is pee, I make him go back down the stairs and try again. The thing that surprises me, is he will go back down easily and poop once I tell him to go back down again, but I always have to tell him to go back down. The draw back to that method is that I have to stand on the back deck and watch.

The making him go down for a second time and closing him in the boys room at night has worked. He only poops outside now. In fact he woke up the boys one day last week, whining to be let out. Way to go Camden, you can teach an old mom new tricks.

I am about a third of the way through knitting my second sweater. I screwed the first one up so much that I hid it away. I had finished all the pieces, but refused to put them together. This one is cute, at least in the book. But in real life, if looks kind of ragged. Some people can do such beautiful work, and mine never is. I am not a detail oriented girl. I can do and redo and re-redo and it still looks home made. Sometimes I don't care and sometimes I do. This sweater is one that I do.

I Hate Blogger

I just lost my whole entire post. So what if ist was insipid. It took me a while to write it up.

Oh well.

I bought those Heelies a while ago and I am trying to learn how to skate with them. It is hard. I borrowed my fathers walker, but that only has wheels on the front and not on the back. I need to lean on something that moves easily. I can use the wheeled stool, but I have to bend way over to do that. Oh well maybe a new idea will come to me.

Not Everyone Loves Me

Sandy Al-O-Purr - He is not dead.


One of the things that cancer taught me was that I have the right to choose not to do things I don't want to do, even at the doctor's office. And I exercise that right often. I choose to do or to not do, what makes me comfortable, whether or not it is convenient for the medical personnel. If they can make me understand the need to do what they ask I will do it, but if it just common practice I often choose not to. Yesterday I upset the tech at the doctor's office because I would not get on the scale. She told me the reason and I still declined to do as she wished. She made it clear that she thought I was being silly and I made it clear I still would not do it. She was very clearly irked with me and that upset me. I want everyone to like me. Why can't I accept that when I go against the tide not everyone will like me? And that is okay. Except for the fact that she is a pig.

The new blood pressure medicines is working well, I am not dizzy. The doctor and I discussed increasing the antidepressant, and I am still thinking about, because I may start exercising some time soon, but will probably choose to increase the meds when I see him next. I still have a love hate relationship with my doctors.

SOWISA

I don’t really hate doctors, but I sure hate going to the doctor. The way I look at it my health issues are my fault, if I would just eat healthy and exercise I would not have high blood pressure and I would not feel depressed. If I took care of myself I would not have to see the Stupid, Vicious, No-Good (SVN) doctor. And no, none of my doctors are stupid, vicious or no-good, but it makes me feel better to label them that way. So going to the SVN doctor reminds me of some of my many failings and I get crabby. Why can’t hubby go for me? Why can’t I just do the things I should do and be in perfect health? Why can’t my hair be long, blond and curly?

Oh well, Stephen King’s latest book has an acronym that I love SOWISA –Strap it on when it seems appropriate. So SOWISA girl, SOWISA.

Retirement, More then just a Nap

Sandy and Cattie love snuggling together. They are our two oldest cats and they are the ones who spend time snuggling. All the other animals stay seperate. Kind of like Congress.


I stayed home today. I was tired and headachy. Probably stayed up to late and too concerned about the election. I was surprised at how it went and happy. And with Rumsfeld gone, it looks like Bush got the message too. It was a nice day. I did chores and shopping and took a nap. Tonight I had to take Boy A to the organizer.





It was kind of a taste of what is to come. Though I will have to admit, that I would be pretty bored if all I did was chores and naps. I'm planning on helping teach reading at the local elementary school and working on quilts, boxes and knitting.





In fact I did two quickie boxes for charity auction at work. The had to be fast, since I didn't think about doing them till about 8:00 the night before. One turned out beautifully, I had a day by day calendar of scrapbooking stuff. It's made up of rectangles that can be cut for designs, or used to frame picture. One of them was just the right size for the box top and was dreamy looking and said "Once upon a time". I decoupaged it on the top of the box. Loved it.


The second, I used my new stamps (Peace, Love and Hope) and card stock paper. I think the modgepodge wicked into the prints a bit too much and it ended looking home made. I think I also need to try harder to get the corners square, the art centered, etc.





That's enough for now.

Vote

Hubby and I voted after work. It will be a long slog to know who wins, and as Democrats we may once again be sorely disappointed. A couple can hope.

Mostly Marriage -- And some Horror

Once again I have flipped to feeling pretty dang good even though I was miserable all weekend. This was the power of the wonderful talk cure. So P-J, life is good even though life was shit yesterday. And I still adore you P-J.

The problem is I felt so miserable all weekend so I did no chores and now the house is a disaster area. I left early today, since Boy B was home alone, and have done dishes, two loads of laundry, the cat litter box, put away clothes, picked up the bed room and the family room. The house still has a way to go, but I would not be horrified if someone came in.

Speaking of horror, I finished reading Stephen King's new book Lisey's Story. I am not normally a fan of his, too much horror is too much horror. But this was more a story about the abiding power of love then it was a horror story. I really enjoyed it. It makes me wonder how much of it is about him and his wife and how much is made up. The fact that they have been married for so long, makes me think that they have a good strong marriage. And this book is about a couple that have a good strong marriage.

My brother and his sweetie got married Sunday. They have lived together for 15 years or so. I think he was reluctant. She is a very special person, she brings out the best in home. I think this is something she has wanted very much and I am glad for her.

I really like being married. Hubby can drive me crazy, but he is my safety zone, he is the person I turn to when life is hard. Thank you God for giving me Hubby.

Speaking of thanking God, we found a tutor for Boy A. She is a young SAHM with two little girls, one 3 and one 6. She tutors in her home, in a room upstairs. Parent's can stay while their child is up with her, but she actively discourages it. She has a hubby home and 3 little girls, one 3 and one 6 and no doubt the family likes if better when they have don't have a stranger sitting there. but this was the first time I had ever met her and dang if I was going to leave Boy A there alone the first time. For all I knew she was an axe murder. Luckily the session went well, both Boy A and I liked her. Her girls were adorable and next week I'll just drop him off and pick him up at the end of the hour.

Getting There

I had a very good talk with "What's His Name: today. Talked about being able to set boundaries, accepting that I can't be everything for everyone, that not everyone has to like me and that it is okay to be assertive. Things fell into place and I am feeling better.


Met a friend for dinner tonight. Had a lot of fun and spent a lot of time talking. One would think I was talked out, but I slept all weekend so I have a weekend of talking stored up. I'll probably talk hubby's ear off tonight.

Last, but not least, I am so tired of negative election ads that I can't wait till the election is over. Of course we will have to listen to election results for a while. In Maryland, it may be a long while since an unprecedented number of folks have elected to use absentee ballots. It may be days till we know the results. I don't know if I can stand it.

Or Maybe I'm Fooling Myself

Yesterday I wrote that life was good and I was feeling good. I think I was fooling myself.

It usually takes a few seconds, after I wake up, for me to know I am depressed. I've gotten used to waking up and waiting for the weight of depression to settle in on my chest. It's not much, it doesn't stop me from enjoying life, it's just extra baggage I carry with me. It's secret, I keep it hidden, I don't tell my family, my friends or even What's His Name (the therapist).

I guess I am ashamed of it, embarrassed by it. I am on medication, I am in therapy, my life is moving forward, yet I can't shake the depression. Or maybe it's such a part of who I am that I am afraid to let it go. Afraid that I won't know who I am without it'

I was reading a post by Dead Bug about her dealing with mild PPD and not wanting to go on medication and I was going to add a comment about my experiences with PPD. Thinking about what I would say to her made me realize I am doing the same thing to myself right now. It's hard to ... move on...to admit to everyone else that I have been in effect lying to them when I say the depression is under control. Thanks Dead Bug

Life is good!!!!

Life is good. Yeah, my moods can change on a dime . Tutoring is set up for Boy A and I know he'll pull his act together.

Neither boy wanted to go out to dinner with us so Hubby and I had a date night. But I gotta say, date night was more fun when we were actually dating. Now we talk about the kids, the bills, or politics. When we were dating conversation seemed to have a lot more zing. That is not to say that I want to go back to those days. I love being married, at least I like being married to hubby.
Seventeen weeks to go.

Chill Baby, Chill

My mantra yesterday was “Chill Baby, Chill”. I was so sick of being ready to mouth off at the slightest provocation that I decided I needed to CHIL. I told myself to “Chill Baby, Chill” when the driver in front of me was going to slow for me and once again when the driver behind us pulled out and zoomed around us slowpokes (if I had to suffer that slow rate, who was he to go faster). I used it often last night, on just about every driver on the road near me (they were all in on the conspiracy to tick me off) on hubby for sleeping on the sofa, on the boys for having a genetic inability to close a cabinet door, on the cats for wanting to be petted for 20 years in one evening, on the stupid omnipresent political ads. It helped. Some. But not much.

The local Country Music radio station (I either listen to country music on NPR and NPR was going on and on about politics) has a Simple Pleasures Thursday. The DJs tell their simple pleasures and the listeners call in with theirs. My simple pleasure was at least I wasn’t dead.

All I want to do is lie in bed and feel sorry for myself. Not that I need to be in bed to feel sorry for myself, I’m doing a good enough job of that just sitting here.

I blame in all on Boy A’s teacher. He is struggling with this class. Last year he got a high school letter for being on the honor roll all 4 quarters. But this year, for this class and only this class he is struggling. The hard thing is after each test he thinks he did really well, but it turns out he did poorly. Due to circumstances he has been in three different geometry classes this year. This teacher, who has only had him for a few weeks, can see he is struggling. Why can’t she talk to him and see what she can do to help him? Why can’t she suggest he stay after school for extra help? Why can’t she reach out to him and see what he needs? Why can’t she call me? Why do I have to be the one to always initiate contact? Why does it take her several days to respond to me?

At this point Boy A hates her and geometry. And I don’t like that. I think that attitude will interfere with learning. It is hard to want to do well for someone who you can’t stand. And I am a firm supporter of teachers. I think my guys need to pay attention to teachers, do their homework, follow the rules, be respectful and know the teacher is the boss. Those rules don’t change even if the kid doesn’t like the teacher or finds the class hard. But I think Boy A would like her if she would reach out to him, if she would treat him as a person, instead of a problem.

But I know this is a bump in the road. We will get a tutor. We will meet with the teacher, bring flowers to make nice, and see what Boy A can do, what we the parents can do and to see if we can smooth a path for Boy A and the teacher to work together better.

Crabs R Me

So I can’t smack Boy A’s teacher up the side of the head because not only is it unproductive, it is just plain rude and can land me in jail. I can’t go to jail I don’t like bologna.

Apropos of nothing, one of the women I work with is always in a great mood. She has this big beautiful, genuine smile always on her face. This morning it drove me crazy. As soon as I saw her I turned around and went another way. Seeing that smile made me want to smack her senseless.

Boy I sound like a lot of fun don’t I.

I think I just may be in a bit of a crabby mood.

I should have worn jeans to work today.

It’s hubby’s fault.

Not Ready for Prime Time

The problem with whining around hubby and the boys, that they never read my blog, is that when I want to write about one of the boys, I have to be careful. Neither has enough life experience to have perspective when I write about them. And I love them and I don’t want to hurt their feelings.

One son is going through a tough learning experience. He wanted to try something, we all knew it would be a stretch, but we thought it was reachable. It turned out to be just out of his reach.

I’m feeling rather depressed about it. Not that he tried and didn’t make it. He’s a tough kid and this is a learning experience. But …well that:
· I can’t protect him – he is the one that has to go through this. All I can do is give support.
· He’s growing up. I don’t think he’s too upset by the experience, but what if he is hiding his real feelings from me. He’s growing up and needing me less—that does seem to be a constant theme with me
Maybe I should grow up. He is dealing with it


Plain Jane has a list of comments she would put on various blogs if she were in the mood to get the grief. Plain Jane is only one of 6 people to whom I have given the keys to my kingdom (the link to the blog) and the other five are my 3 guys and two good friends (Good Looking and Sweetie). I gave her the link because I was writing about her mothering skills and cause she is my favorite. But after I gave her the link I got a bad case of cold feet and realized I’m not ready for prime time. So I don’t link to anyone and I have a new blog reveal policy of don’t ask don’t tell. And all of that is background to the fact that she I can’t decide what my worst fear is (Jane list fear that is). Either she doesn’t ever read me, or I am number 34.

No, what would be worse is if she said something nice and then I might turn into a years ago Sally Fields and chirp all over these pages “She likes me, she likes me”.

I think I’ll go do real work.

I Can Fly

I’m so disappointed! I just realized I can’t fly, well really I just realized I can’t glide.

Boy A forgot to turn his clock back last night and woke up an hour early this morning. And of course, if he wakes up early he wakes up too. He must have woken me from a sound sleep, because I remembered my dream and I though about it while I was waiting to fall back asleep. Most of it was silly and dumb, but in the dream I could get around by gliding. I would step off a steep hill and gently glide, standing fully upright, to my destination, --so long as it was downhill. The dream was about something else entirely, this was just my method of transportation, but it was wonderful. It felt real. I was lying in bed remembering the gliding when I suddenly realized it was only a dream. I was so disappointed; it still feels like I just learned Santa Claus isn’t real.

Take a Number

1. I am much funnier and much more interesting in person then I am on this site. And I think that is dang unfair. I think I should be able to write better and show how fantastic I am.
2. luckily no one reads this, not even dear hubby, good looking, sweetie, Boy A or Boy B
3. I have a love hate relationship with doctors. I went to see my wonderful, intelligent, stupid scum-sucking doctor for a blood pressure check and I complained about feeling lightheaded and dizzy especially after bending over. He said it was probably a reaction to either blood pressure medicine or the antidepressant and did it bother me enough to change. Yes it bothers me enough to want to change. It makes me feel sick. It makes me walk like a drunk, staggering from side to side. And I never want to look like I am a drunk.
4. mostly I want him to read my mind and know that it bothers me a lot. I don’t want to have to say it. Saying it makes me sound (at least to me) like a wuss. And yes I know that is stupid. I don’t want to have to read his mind, or my husbands mind, or my bosses mind, but they should all be able to read part of my mind, though only the part I want them to read. I sure don’t want doctor to read the part that calls him a stupid scum sucker.
5. I think I’ll try my heelies again. Last time I fell and hit my head. This time I will be protected. I’ll wear a helmet and use my father’s walker. When I told the boys what I was going to do, they forbade me to do it outside. They would be humiliated.
6. I have only 18 more weeks till R-day.
7. I have a newly discovered blog love--Fat Doctor
8. I can't post any pictures until I get my laptop back.
9. I still miss my laptop.
10. I still love Plain-Jane, Vast Veranda and Bitchypoo.
11. My love for them is unrequited.

Boys have Adventures--Moms Have None

It looks like Boy A is going on a school sponsored trip to London, Paris and Rome this spring break. He is going with a friend and the friends parents are going too. He is so excited. And I am so scared. Planes fall out of the sky, subways are attacked. What if he doesn’t come home? Why can’t I wrap him in a hand made quilt and pack him away? I could pull him out when I needed a hug and put him back when he got too mouthy?

This growing up stuff is both great and horrible. I love seeing him mature and become more responsible – though he sure has heck can’t turn off lights, close a door he opens or pick up after himself. But I miss him being little. I miss him needing me.

Boy B is wrapped up in the World of Warcraft game. He wants to spend his life on the computer. Now that mine is broken, he needs to share the table top one with his brother. He is quite annoyed. I did set up parental controls, limiting his time. Or at least I got his older brother to set up the controls. But Boy B figured out how to get around them. He wanted to start on the game 15 minutes early one day. When I said I did not know the password he sent off to their automated system and had the pass word sent via e-mail. He changed the time to 15 minutes earlier and proudly told me what he did. Somehow when they do something off, but tell you about it, it is hard to scold.

More of Nothing

I love Project Runway, but I can’t watch it when it first airs. It makes me uncomfortable to see someone booted off or on the last show to see the others lose. I like to read about it first online before I watch it. Weird!

I’m listening to The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman. It is the November book for book club. I bought the book at Audible.com and downloaded it on my iPod. It is good, but is too long. I like unabridged books; I don’t want to miss anything. But I wish I had checked to see if there was an abridged copy of this book available. I’m having a hard time staying awake while I listen to it.

Speaking of falling asleep while listening to the iPod, it works. I am having a lot of trouble sleeping these days, and I have found that listening to a book or podcast on the iPod, in bed helps me fall asleep. I try to listen to a history lesson type podcast, or a written history. They work a lot better then a Stephen King novel. The only down side is I don’t seem to hear much of it because I usually fall asleep quite soon. And if it is something I am really interested in I have to click back to find the last part I remember hearing.

I am Woman and Life is Hard

I had this plan in my head about the way things would work out. I was going to stand up for myself, I was going to be strong, I could hear Helen Reddy singing in the background (I am woman, I am strong…). But things did not work out the way I has planned. I didn’t get the outcome I thought I would. I didn’t get the outcome I wanted. And I understood that that could happen, but I wanted the outcome I wanted.

I know that if I had the chance to do it all over again, there is not much I would change. I still prefer the me who stood up for herself, but every once and I while something happens that makes me realize there is often a price to every gain. And that price can sometimes be very high. The price I paid for standing up form my self was high; I lost someone I thought was a good friend.

That loss makes me sad. Even though the price was worth the gain, it is a hard price to pay.

And my lap top won't turn on. I have to get in line at home behind 3 guys. Life is hard. I am addicted to that lap top.

Disjointed Ramblings

Went out last night with the girls and had a great time. Mostly we sit and talk about our lives. It’s especially interesting since though we are all relatively close in age, we are at very different stages in our relationship live. Good looking is single and was looking, though she recently started dating someone very, very special, Sweetie and her husband are empty nesters, living far away from the grandkids, but close to the granddog and I am the mother of teens who both dreams about and dreads the empty nest days. We have different political beliefs, different religions different out looks on life, but we always have a great time together. Most of that is because we can and do talk about anything. Nothing is taboo and while we offer feedback on each others actions, it is loving feedback. In a way they are like my husband or my therapist. I can say what I feel or think and know they will still love me. It’s what friendship should be.


My parents frequently say that getting older is not for sissies. The physical changes are hard to take. I can see some of what they are saying in my own life. I take medicine for blood pressure and recently I have started to feel lightheaded when I get up in the morning. The feeling gets worse after I take my shower. The other day I bent over to pick up the dirty clothes thought I going to pass out. I could not walk in a straight line and even holding on to the furniture I staggered around like a drunk, and no I don’t drink a bottle of wine before I even get out of bed. I do have an appointment with the stupid doctor (he’s not stupid and I like him-but it makes me feel better to call him the stupid doctor-though not to his face) next week. I guess that is a good thing.

My life seems to be paralleling plain-Jane (through no fault of her own), Boy B is now obsessed with that dang World of Warcraft –or some such name- game. The worst part of it is has taken over my laptop so he can play on it while Boy A hogs the table top. I am going through computer withdrawal. I have to admit it that I think Hubby is happier, I talk to him now instead of catching up on my blogs and playing dynamite.

This was just a series of disjointed stories, I am feeling disjointed. It took me an extra half hour to get to work because their was an accident on the beltway, the beltway was backed up and the feeder roads were also backed up. Unfortunately the folks on Route 70 don’t realize the far left lane is all mine.

26 Candles

I was going to remove a candle a week and take a picture a week. I do remove the candle, but only take a picture every couple of weeks. That's okay. I'm getting closer and closer to retiring and really looking forward to it.

In this picture, hubby has a fire extinguisher -- part of me was afraid I was going to burn the house down. Twenty six candles on one small mantle was a lot.

That was 6 and a half weeks ago.

I'm home today. I felt really light headed and couldn't even walk straight. That has happened several times recently. I should call the stupid doctor, bt I hate doctors. I hate going to the doctor.

I Want Him to Need Me

One of the county high schools is organizing a Spring break trip to London, Paris and Rome. One of Boy A’s friends is going on the trip, and his parents will be going too. Boy A wants to go. I want to let him, it would be a great opportunity, it would also be the first time he went anywhere (for other then a day) with out us or grandparents. I want him to go, he probably will go, but at the same time it scares the hell out of me. What if the plane explodes, what if there is another attack on a subway system over there, what if…, you parents know all the “what ifs” that are going through my mind. I worry about all the bad things that could, but are very unlikely to happen. I also worry about the good things that are likely to happen, he’ll mature, he’ll realize he doesn’t need us so much; he’ll grow up more and more. He is growing up. And I like it, but I miss his needing me so much. Every week he needs me a little less. He is hanging with friends, making intelligent decisions, needing me less. I still need him to need me.

Misery Does Not Want Company

Boy A had a Birthday, Poker, Sleep Over Party and I am exhauseted and feeling miserable and sorry for myself. I don't know why I'm feeling so blah. His party went well, the guys were very nice. He had a great time, they didn't get much sleep, but they were relatively quiet and if I could have slept I would have gotten enough sleep. I'm not sleep deprived.

Partly I'm angry with myself. I brought home some wine, because I had promised the mom of one of the boys that I would have chilled white wine ready for her. Unfortunately I had a glass with her and two more after she left. The last was while I was watching TV in my room (Hubby and I were banished to our bedroom except for periodic parent checks) until takeout dinner arrived. It took about 20 minutes for it to come, or so I hear. I was sound asleep by the time the delivery guy arrived and I didn't wake up until midnight. I was tired, but I doubt I would have slept so soundly if I hadn't had so much to drink. Why didn't I stop at one or two glasses. I feel like an alcoholic in the making and I don't like it. I missed my son's party. I didn't lead the singing of happy birthday. I wasn't there when he opened his presents. I feel very. very remiss.

Misery doesn't want company because all I want to do is sulk in my room. And dang, at 55 I think it is against the law to sulk all day.

Tips of the Day

Fashion Tip for the day—snazzy shoes with lots of air holes may not be a good choice for the cooler fall days.
Driving Tip for the day—Allowing one or two school busesexit from the school parking lot to the main road is nice, allowing all 5 million and 8 is rude and the normally pleasant person behind you will resist getting out of the car and beating you with a stick only by sitting on the horn and talking about your lack of brains.
Parking Tip of the day--remember where you park you stupid car so you don't need to call your long suffsufferinguse (who works for the same place) saying "honey I can't find my car. Can you come help me look?" The when he finds it where you swore you did'didn'tk you wont have to feel like a fool.

Weekend At the Spa

Hubby and I spent a wonderful weekend at Deerfield spa in Pa. I had a wonderful time and he had a nice time. The food was fantastic and healthy. It really surprised me that I could eat so well on so few calories. It inspired me to cook with less fat and more vegetables. The first dinner I made when we came back was chicken and mixed veggies. Each portion had about a cup of veggies and the meat from a chicken thigh. Hubby and I loved it, the boys not so much.

We each had a massage. I loved the part where she pulled on my neck as if to make me taller.

We exercised some, but didn't really take good advantage of the opportunity. We took a nice walk in a nearby park, about a mile or a little more and I swam laps in the heated outdoor pool. I loved the pool, the water was the perfect temperature, I was the only one in the pool and it felt like I was in heaven. I liked it so much I think I'll start swimming at the local indoor pool. I say that now, but body image is hard. Part of the reason I didn't do more exercises at the spa, was body image, skill----what the heck, it all goes back to I didn't do group exercises because I did not want people to see me exercise, I did not want them to see me jiggle, to see my lack of skill and grace.

Oh well, I did take a walk after dinner. I ate healthy. And I only have 21 more weeks till I retire.

God Loves His Children

The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost. ~Arthur Schopenhauer

There is a Fly in His Drink

We went to a new restaurant tonight, and it was fancier and pricier then we thought it would be. All the guys loved their food, by I tried some dang kind of shark and it tasted ick. I spent $30 bucks for a meal that I could not eat. The problem is I didn't like it. I don't think food is returnable if I just make a wrong choice. If it had been poorly cooked or prepared, that would of bee different, but since I just made a bad choice I ate my salad and my rice and drank my wine.

Luckily, I received a free glass of wine because Boy A found a fly in his soda. He got a new drink too. I enjoyed the wine.

I've been thinking about the Amish today. I am struck by the way they deal with tragedy. I see the value of working not to hold anger against the person who has done them wrong. Especially in a case like this. I look at the hurtful things that have happened to me. I want to hold on to the anger, I want to blame, I want the person who hurt me to hurt. The sad thing is that none of that brings relief. Holding on to anger and blame, hurts the holder and has no effect on the person we blame. If the Amish can forgive the man who killed their children, I should be able to forgive all those I think have harmed me. I still have my children. I can hold them, see them. I can and do thank God for adding them to my life. I have all that I really need. I have my family.

My Boys are Driving me Bonkers

Boy A was just sent to his room for taking my wallet out of my purse and sneaking it into the computer room. He was going to sign up so he could bid for something on eBay.

He had asked his dad for a credit card and we told him no. We did not want to sign up on eBay till we knew more about it. So he walked into the other room and took my wallet. When he was caught, he spent his time alternating between saying he did not do anything wrong and we were so dumb because we would not sign up for eBay. Grrr. I sent him to his room. He came out after a few minutes asking if he could come down, because after all he didn't do anything wrong.

Oh well, it goes with his age. In many ways I think this is a wonderful age. I see him alternating between being a wonderful, thoughtful, caring young man and a self centered little pain in the butt. I see him grow and expand and become an interesting person. We'll all get through it.

PreRetirement Trial

I was off all last week, on sick leave. Monday was the CAT scan to verify that the cancer has not come back, Tuesday I just felt miserable - either a reaction to the contrast dye, or the start of the cold that kept me home for the rest of the week. It is just wrong, I want to spend my days off doing something a little more exciting then drinking tons of water to bloat myself so the CAT scan can see all there is to see or feeling miserable and sleeping. Oh well in 22 weeks, I will.

And of course, going back to work after taking an unplanned week off is like dropping into hell for a short while. I was way to busy. And I'll be way to busy tomorrow.
Even so, it was good to get out of the house and do stuff.

Hubby and I are going to a health spa this weekend - Friday thru Sunday. I'm kind of scared. I am neither fit nor thin. I am going because I want to make health and fitness a priority. I want to jump start exercise and good eating. What if we don't fit in with the other people there? What if the staff look at us with disgust? I tell myself I'm 55 and don't care what people think about me, but really I do. I shouldn't but I do.

Maybe I'll just plain be out and out rude to anyone who disses me.

I will tell myself all the way up that we are there to make a big change. We are there for ourselves and if they are rude to me, I will talk about them like a dirt dog.

First Sweater

I getting close to being finished knitting my first sweater. It's a disappointment. I under guesstimated on the amount of yarn I would need, twice. I started it with a light green yarn but ran out at a little below bust level. I bought some new yarn, figuring I would complete the rest of it in a darker green, saving a little of the lighter green to add some interest to the sleeves. I don't think I have enough of the darker green to finish the sleeves. I could not find any more of the same color at the yarn store. Oh well, maybe I have enough to do 3/4 sleeves.

I liked the simplicity of the pattern (though it turned out to be too complex for me-I would have had to count and keep track of where I was, what row, what stitch) but did not like the weight of the yarn, I wanted something lighter. So I changed the yarn, the pattern and tried to do it on my own. The problem is I did not understand how changing the pattern to a ribbed pattern would affect the fit and I sure didn't think that running short on yarn would mean I would have to make it shorter. And of course I don't like to measure myself, so I did the size based on guess work. And the results it it is too short, too clingy and at the same time shapeless. But it my first completed, or will be my first completed sweater, so I will love it and wear it.

I have plans for my second and third. The second will just be a simple cardigan, of Paton's Grace in lilac. This time I will check the gauge and use the yarn called for. I will even measure myself.

My real interest is in making my own designs. I have been buying tons of varying shades of purple yarn. My third sweater will be a simple cardigan, made up of color blocks. I will use a simple shape and pattern and I will plan. I will measure the gauge and figure out how to make the same pattern in the new gauge.

I can do it. I am woman.

Sun Rise

I took this picture several years ago, but it is still one of my favorites. I love pictures of sunrise, but usually I prefer to snooze my way through all sunrises.

CAT Scan

I should have a CAT scan each year, just to make sure the cancer is not coming back. I hate going, I hate thinking about it, I hate making arrangements but most of all I hate going to the doctor. So I'm most of the way there, I had the CAT scan, I still need to get blood work done and I still need to make an appointment to see the doctor.

Cancer bites duck eggs.

The good news is that the prep work for the CAT scan has changed significantly. I no longer need to drink lots of disgusting stuff, I just need to drink 40 oz. of water in 20 minutes; that's bad enough.

Enough of stupid medical stuff. I borrowed my fathers walker to use while I try to learn to roller skate using my heelies. My balance is not good enough for me to do this without a support system. I tried it with a wheeled stool, which did not even come up to my waist, so I had to lean way over to use it as a support and that is not a good way to learn to skate.

Heelies

I bought myself a pair of Heelies, tennis shoes with roller skate wheels in the heels. After all if a 10 year old kid can walk and skate around the mall in them, I should be able to skate in my neighborhood. The problem is I can't. I can't even walk in the dang things. I'll be taking mincing steps, being careful to keep my weight on my toes, because when ever I put too much weight on my heel, that foot scoots off a mile a minute while the other foot stays not so firmly planted. Half the time I end up flat on my butt.

I am going to figure out how to do this. I am going to learn how to skate standing up. I even have a plan. I am going to borrow my fathers walker and roller skate in the garage holding on to the walker, until my balance is good enough to roller skate on my street.

I am woman.

Twenty Three Weeks and Three Days To Go

In 23 weeks and three days I will retire. Yippee.

I have the candle on the mantle deal going. I started two and a half weeks ago with 26 candles, one for each week I still have to go to work. I took the first one down, the once I couldn't get to light anyway. Hubby took the second one down, next week boy A will take one down, then boy B. We take turns choosing where to go out to dinner each week, we might as well take turns pulling off the candles.

The thing is I'm adding to my hobbies. I'm not sure that is such a good thing, I will have extra time, but I sure won't have extra money. Friend-K has been a stamping fool for years. She makes gorgeous hand made holiday cards. She does such nice work she has gotten Friend N and I interested too. Now I'm spending mucho bucks on stamps, inks, papers, etc. But it will be fun. Actually the most fun will be when the three of us get together, make cards and/or scrapbook pages and sit and talk.

Lots of Candles and Lots of Body Image

Candles:

I wanted a visual indicator of the passing of time till I retire. I filled the mantle with candles, one for each week until I retire. Every Friday I take one down, light the rest and have one of the guys take a picture of me in front of the blazing mantle. It's fun. So far I have two picture, one of all the candles, and one with me holding one and all the rest glowing with the promise that each week one of them would be liberated.

I still have way too many weeks to go but this makes time pass just a tad faster.

Body Image:

I finished the body of the first sweater I ever made and once I tried it on, I just about lost interest in finishing the arms. It's not the sweater itself. I think it is my body image. Maybe a part of me thought I would look tall and svelte in a sweater I made myself. I don't I look, or at least I don't think I look ( didn't look in the mirror-I am basing this mostly on fit) thin, svelte or even cute. I look like me, an aging woman who really should lose -- well lose lots of pounds.

Body image is tough. From what I have read most of us don't like our bodies, but I really hate being fat. I hate the way I look. I hate the way it impacts my life. I hate the way I feel I can't control my eating. I could go on, but I think that is enouugh. I hate being fat, but I love me. I love my life. I have a great life. I am very happily married (most of the time). I love being a mom and seeing my guys grow up. I have a good job--its not every thing I want, but it is a good job. I like the person I am, I like my personality, I like the way I relate to people. I like who I am. Why isn't that enough? Why don't I do to myself what I do to the people around me? I look at them as a package, a grouping, a range of things from wonderful to a lot less then wonderful. I try to evaluate them as a whole. Why can't I do the same for myself.

Ceremony

I’ve decided I need something visual, something that will allow me to see that time is actual passing that retirement really is in reach. I’ve decided to fill my mantle with candles, one for each week until I retire. I searched the house, pulling candles from anyplace I could find them. I pulled them from the bedroom, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the china cabinets, the closets and finally the boxes of holiday ornaments. I came up with 26! I needed 26! Life is good!

I’m going to inaugurate the ceremony this Friday. I’ll light all of them (and pray to God I don’t burn the house down) and take a picture of the family standing in front of the brightly burning mantle. Each Friday, beginning with the 9/8/06, I’ll take away a candle, light the remaining ones and take the family picture. It will be nice to see the number of candles go down each week. It will be nice to be able to see the progress.

Mom Camp is Over

and it is time to go back to work.

Mom camp is when I take the week off and boy A and boy B, each have friends over. They have to amuse themselves in the morning and I take them somewhere in the afternoon. My first choice for the afternoon is the pool. I sit in the shade and read while they wear off energy. This year they were too grown to go to the pool all five days. Dang.

Each boy had a friend over. The played video games, went to the pool 2 days, bowling 1 day, the driving range one day and 18 holes of golf one very long day. In fact the golf came took so long I was beginning to be really worried. I dropped four of them off to play 18 holes--walking only, no one is old enough to drive, at 9:30. When I hadn't heard from them by 2;30 I began to worry. By 3:00 I had them killed and buried in the back nine. I was somewhat relieved after calling the front dest, but not really relieved until they called me T 4:30. And yes they had a cell phone and no I did not know the number. Luckily they came home after haveing a great, though tiring day.

In any case, I need to go back to work come Monday and I don't wnat to. It is fun being home. I got stuff done. I have lots more to do and I don't wnat to go to work.

The Powerful, the Brave and the Free

I’m sitting here thinking I don’t have anything to say, I don’t want to think. I didn’t write yesterday. I don’t feel like writing today. So why do I have a blog. What purpose does it serve? I know it calls to me. I know I feel the need to have a blog.

I started this blog months ago yet stopped after a few entries because I was hurt that no one read it or left comments. I would leave a comment on other sites with a link to my site and excitedly check the next day to see if they had left a comment on my site. No one ever did. I was hurt and I was tired of always being disappointed, so I stopped. The problems is, I missed it. Having an online blog fulfills a need I didn’t know I had. It makes me feel powerful and brave. It doesn’t matter, at least for now, that no one reads it. It just matters that I have the courage to be open and real.

Right now there may not be much in here that looks like any big deal. It may not look like there is anything written here to worry about. But it is a big deal to me. It shows that I am not perfect. It shows that I have failed; I did not get a promotion I desperately wanted and know I deserved. It shows I’m not a perfect mom and my kids aren’t perfect kids. Maybe that’s why I don’t care whether or not anyone reads it. Being open means I am vulnerable. It comes under that tree falling in the forest story. If I write personal information in a journal that no one reads am I really making myself vulnerable?

I’m vulnerable because I have always worried too much about what people think about me. I don’t really expect others to think I am perfect, they can tell readily that I’m not, but I want everyone to think I am on the wonderful side of good, of interesting, of funny, of nice, of likeable. I want to be likeable. I want everyone to like me, though I don’t feel compelled to like everyone. Since I want everyone to like me, I struggle with being open and real.

This online blog is another step towards being real and being open; with letting people see the real me. After all I like the real me. I don’t want to change me and be someone else. I just need to learn to accept that people who are important to me will still like the real me and If they don’t then they aren’t worth being important to me.

Back From Vacation

So the ship was beautiful. So the stateroom was pretty dang big. So drinks were plentiful, varied and less expensive then I thought they would be. So the food was usually good. So the massage was out of this world. I have learned I am not a cruise person. There are just too dang many people on the boat. And they think they have a right to get in my way, they think they have a right to sit around my pool, they think they have a right to go the parties I want to go, to get off the boat when I want to get off the boat, to sit in the lounge when I want to sit in the lounge. In other words they think they have the same rights that I have. When I win the lottery I am going to hire a private yacht.

Boy-A added to the excitement, he cut his toe while opening the door to the in-laws cabin the first morning. The nurse in the infirmary (Carnival Lines) was out and out rude. And I had to restrain myself from smacking her over the head. But the Doctor was excellent, and his toe got stitched and the rest of the cruise was much better. Except that he couldn’t go in the pool, he couldn’t practice running on the track (he wants to try out for track when school starts). And he and his brother could not wear off all their energy and they were a pain much of the time we spent in the cabin. But we survived.

The in-laws drove all 6 of us. And for us Marylanders, driving and getting lost in NY City is no fun. And we all know what happens when a car full of family is lost in a strange place. The driver and the navigator begin to squabble. I found it really interesting seeing how the in-laws fight. It is way too civil and polite. Neither raised a voice. At the most one or the other would have a bit of an edge to their voice. When that happened, the other would back down. That is not the way I fight with their son. I get cross quickly and when I am cross I get loud. I get angry if he doesn’t agree with me and even angrier when he backs down just to shut me up. I’m a lot of fun to live with.

The Story of Rocky

Rocky is one of our four cats. The boys found him several years ago. He and his sister, Star, had been abandoned in the woods. None of us could bear the though of leaving two kittens to fend for themselves, so we collected them with every intention of taking them to the animal shelter. At least hubby and I intended to take them to the animal shelter. But the boys had other ideas. And here we are several years later with Rocky and his sister Star. They are sweet, loving animals and at this point I can't imagine living with out them. Except for the times they pee in the dirty clothes.

Can I Walk a Mile in a Cruise Ship Cabin?

I have Restless Leg Syndrome (AKA Ucky Foot). Ucky Foot means that just as I fall asleep I'm jerked wide a wake by the uncontrollable need to move my feet. In fact one of the reasons Hubby and I got a bigger bed was he was tired of me kicking him as I was waking up. The urge to move my legs won't end until I get up and pace the floor (usually at least 500 steps).

For the last few years, taking extra iron pills has been helping keep it under control most nights. It would only bother me a couple of times a month, but recently the iron pills aren't working. Almost every night, just as I am falling wonderfully asleep, just as I doze off and the urge to move my feet strikes me and I kick myself awake. The stupid thing is I will invariable lie in bed, debating with myself whether or not I really need to get up and pace. It's stupid, because the urge never-ever-ever goes away unless I get up and walk. Eventually I get up and pace and count steps.

This morning, I realized there is dang little room to pace in the cabin. After all it will be filled with beds and guys. (Now doesn't that sound cool--I'll be in a small cabin filled with guys!) It would if they weren't all related to me either by birth or marriage. And I Boy-A weren't a newly minted teen-ager who thinks I am too dumb for words.

Vacation is Coming

Going on a cruise, first cruise ever. Too bad we can't take the dog.

Mel Gibson

There is something about being rich and famous that is a soul killer. The rich and famous need to protect themselves from all the people who want to talk to them, meet them, want a part of them. Much of that protection is made up from an infrastructure of people; lawyers, assistants, body guards, service folks and all sorts of other kinds of staff.

If you are one of the infrastructure, where is the line between doing your job and protecting Mr. or Ms. Rich and Famous (R&F) and being a sycophant? Of course R&F has to be the one in charge of the line, but you can’t do it alone. They need to have someone they trust to help them keep their heads on straight. The problem is I don’t think many of the R&F do that well. Most seem so coddled and protected that they don’t have a clue what life is about.

This all started out because of Mel Gibson’s recent self destructive anti-Semitic rant. The thing him is he knows that kind of behavior is socially unacceptable. He is recanting what he said. He is saying he does not believe what he said. He is blaming alcohol. His denials are unbelievable and at this point his apologies are (IMHO) unacceptable. But, to me, that is not the point. To me, the point is how he can believe in something that he has to publicly disavow. Doesn’t that fact that he has to deny his believes make him wonder about their validity? If you can’t, when necessary support your beliefs publicly, maybe it is time to re-think them.

I believe in denial.

My oncologist checkup is overdue. Long overdue, months over due. I’ve told my husband I’ll make the appointment when I am ready. I’ve promised friends I’ll make the appointment soon. But I don’t. I’m too scared. I’m not scared of what he will say, or what the test will find. I’m scared of thinking about it, dealing with it. I get through some of life on denial. And making appointments, dealing with CAT scans and blood tests is not denial. It’s proactive. And it is too hard to be proactive about this. Thinking about making the appointments brings back memories of some of the worst times of my life.

When I learned I had cancer my worst fear was that I would die and leave my babies. And the thought of leaving my boys was far worse then the fear of dying. Boys need their mommy and mommies need to see their boys grow up. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t have been well cared for, after all they had would still have had the world’s best daddy, loving grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. But they wouldn’t have had me.

Well, obviously I didn’t die. And I know I need to make the various appointments and see the stupid, viscous, scum sucking Oncologist (he is really a fantastic doctor and a wonderful man. He saved my life and helped give me the courage and support I needed to get through a very difficult time—but I feel better calling him those names). I can do it. I can do it. After all I am woman!! I can roar!! Right, Helen Reddy?

Cakes

This is Camden Dog-de-Luna, aka Cakes or Sweet Cakes. He is a little over 3 and the best dog in the universe. The last time I owned a dog I was 16 years old and I had forgotten how absoulutely wonderful dogs are. He is my baby.

I Want to Retire!!

For the last 11 weeks I’ve been making all sorts of plans for retiring. Just when I have really settled into the retirement is the best option track; they (the bosses) have posted a job I would love. A promotion – a job that would be a good fit for me. I have lots of experience so I would be comfortable but it would be challenging enough to require growth and learning.

The problem is my mind is now firmly into the “I’m going to retire” camp. I don’t want to open up the possible promotion camp. I don’t want to get back into the work for a million more years camp. I like being in the retirement camp. Its comfortable and comforting.

It’s not so much that I might not get the job; though not getting it will hurt. What I’m really frightened of is that I might get the job. That will mean postponing, or dropping all together, my retirement mindset. I won’t be able to sleep all I want, I won’t be able to quilt and knit, and scrapbook to my hearts desire. The closets will remain unorganized, the corners Ms E. doesn’t get to won’t get cleaned.

Life is hard. Once we’ve made plans, why can’t life readily accommodate our plans?

Sandy

He is a handsome hunk of cat. He is loving, demanding and sweet tempered. Sandy is the oldest guy cat. He sleeps in bed, under the covers, next to me. When he wants petting he nudges and nudges until I pet him. If I stop too earyly he starts nudging all over again. If I don't clean out the litter box soon enough, he pees in the dirty clothes. Any of you wnat a cat?

Sandy Al-o-Purr

Out Door Education

I Feel GOOD!!!!

I’m sitting at work feeling absolutely fantastic. It is all I can do to restrain myself from getting up and dancing around the office.

I haven’t felt this way at work in a long time, not since losing “the promotion” (there was only one, at least there was only one that I knew was mine.” I’m enjoying feeling good and thinking it will continue. I still get stuck on the believe that feeling good at work means I’ve agree with the decision (to not promote me). I’m not in the mood to analyze myself. It just feels good to feel good.

Ways to have fun

I sit at my desk and figure out how many more week days I have until I retire. Once I subtract vacation days and holidays I’m left with the remaining “drive to work” days. While that number is better then the actual days between then and now, it is still way too high. My latest plan is how many days would it take, if as soon as I got here, I went home and drove to work again, repeatedly, all day long but only during regular work and commute hours. It would still take me weeks—but a whole lot fewer weeks then it takes if I can only count one drive to work each work day. Hmm…I wish it worked that way.

Relive the 60s. Boy A has a new passion for the Beatles, Dylan and Arlo Gutherie. Right now he is stuck on the Beatles and plays and replays every Beatles song ever recorded. All day long, every day. He plays in the car on the way home from camp, each afternoon—which I don’t really mind except for the fact that just as I start car-dancing to the music and singing along, he either changes to a new song or commands me to stop embarrassing him.

I Love Being a Mom

It's slow, very slow at work right now. So I'm catching up on my surreptitious blog reading. Plain-Jane (she's my girl-- at least in my own mind) is talking my life today. At least the part about living with a 13 year old boy with ADD. Boy-A is 14 and has ADD. She and I are living the same life.

The Washington Post has a quest blogger writing a column. This blogger, a married woman with 3 children under 6 years, and invited a Russian teenage orphan girl to live with them for the summer. Her short blog captures both the joy and the hard work of the new additon to the family.

Both Plain-Jane and the Post guest blogger capture a moment of family life, the joy, the hard work. It's these quick, sharp slices of live that resonate so deeply with me, that draw me into blogging. I want to be able to touch people with the same power.

Pink Shoes

What does it say about me, that upon seeing an appropriately shoed youung woman, my immediate first feeling was to smack her over the head with my diet coke!

It is no doubt, the fault of those pink shoes that I am oh so inadvisedly wearing. They do not go with my olive green print pants, dark beige jacket or pale beige tank top. But I was late this morning and these were the only shoes I could find. I kow I should stay at my desk and keep my feet savely hidden, but I am too bored. I have to wander and if I am going to wander I need to resist the urge to soda smack others.

Better mood today.

Probably because I got off my butt and took my pill. When I think about there is something upsetting about depending on drugs to keep my mind centered. So I try not to think about it.

Anyway, today is better, except that it is Monday and I have work. Some days, these days, the only way I can get to work is to count down the number of days left to go. I tell myself I can get up because I only have X number week days to go and those days include Y vacation days and Z holidays. So I’m here.

I’m sitting here wondering why I am willing to write about depression and medication, but I am not willing to put in the number of days until I retire. Go figure.

The nice thing about knowing I will retire soon is that I can put off all sorts of tasks until after the big day. Of course once I retire I’ll have to come up with a new excuse.

Depression Sucks

All three guys are out playing golf and I am doing chores, odds and ends and feeling miserable. I forgot the stupid, ugly, scum sucking pill this morning. Not taking Effexor sucks. At least not taking Effexor sucks when you are fighting depression. What is with me. I hate the term sucks. It is way to middle school.

But most of all I hate depression. I hate that feeling of pressure in the middle of my chest--a balloon expanded just enough to make me constantly aware that it is there and for me to constantly be uncomfortable and sad.

I hate the way it takes my energy away. I hate the way it takes the fun out of my life, how it steals my willingness to do something extra, do something more.

For example, I told the guys I would go shopping and make a dinner with a salad, squash stir-fry and cookies. And I can’t--or at least I won’t, get in the car and shop. I’ll make a nice dinner, but not the dinner I promised. I’ll do the chores I need to do, but not move on to do the fun things.

I hate depression, it means I do what I need to do, I do more then just exist, but not what I should. I don’t do what I need to enjoy my life.--I don’t look for enjoyment, I wait for it to come to me. And I may not always recognize enjoyment if it slaps me in the face.

Teens

My boys are teens...at least one is and the other will be in a few months. It is so very easy to embarrass them. Some times I do, just for the fun of it and sometinmes I "cherish their emerging adulthood and respect their feelings" and other times I just don't worry about it and do what I want to do.

We were driving home last night and I let Big Guy control the music. He was listening to Beatles and I was singing along, at least for all of 10 seconds. He asked (well demanded) that I stop, because he wanted to be able to hear himself. I agreed, after all I can't carry a tune. But I was still in the mood, I needed an outlet. So I silently grooved to Eleanor Rigby. Lip syncing and one handed air guitaring (the other spent most of it's time steering). Well at least I tried. I had to stop because I was too embarrrasing, people could see me. In the car at 45 MPH.

I gave in, rather crabbily. I was just going to head bob to the music. But I gave one, exceedingly cool, sophisticated, head jiving bob and pulled a muscle in my neck.

It hurts to get old.

Things about me.

I:

Think the road should belong to me and if you are driving the speed limit in the far left lane you should move to the right or be shot (by the universal “Linell’s rules” enforcer.

Think I have the 2 best kids in the world. And know for a cold hard fact that sometimes aliens invade their bodies and turn them into monsters.

Love my husband and can’t imagine not being married to him. That said he is a pain in the butt. Would it kill him to throw trash in the trash, put away the things he takes out and finish the tasks he starts?

Love my Chardonnay but can easily drink too much if I have it in the house.

Thank Bill Gates for spell check, because I can’t spell my way through this entry.

Wish I could consistently make healthy choices about what I should eat and how much I should exercise. In fact if I could make those intelligent choices just a little more consitently, I would be happy.

Love to read. Currently I am enjoying what I call “slice of life” books. They are biographies or autobiographies that discuss in depth a segment of a person’s life. My recent favorite is “Lincoln’s Melancholy” by Joshua Wolf Shenk. I also like quick, fun reads, i.e. Janet Evanovitch or Stephen King.

Wish I had the ability to write as well as my favorite online journalists

Wish I was as warm and interesting in writing as I really am (in my own very humble opinion).

Have always wanted long, think, blonde hair.

Counting the Days

I making serious plans to retire. I'll be 55 soon, have worked at the same place for 32 years and I'm ready to say goodbye. I'm planning on volunteering at the local elementary school helping children learn to read, cleaning out and organizing closets, working on quilting, knitting and scrap booking and getting in decent shape.

But first I plan on sleeping for a week solid.

Hubby has always had morning duty, he is responsible for getting the boys ready for school or summer camp or what ever they had to do on a week day morning. I have always been responsible for being home to meet the bus and take care of the afternoon stuff. We both think the other has the better deal. He has had to get crabby guys up and get them dressed and out of the house on time. I had to get up early so I could leave in time to meet the bus and supervise homework.

I'm tired of getting up early and he is tired of being morning dad. Since he won't retire when I do, I will take over the morning responsibilities. But we have both reached agreement that I get to sleep in for the first week and he hands over responsibilty on week two of retirement.

Back to counting down. I have 164.5 week days of work remaining. That includes 2 weeks of vacation and 8 holidays or a grand total of a maximum of driving to work another 146 days. It seems forever.

Next Time He Goes Away

The big guy is on a business trip and I can't sleep. I was talking about it to a co-worker and I ended up inviting her husband to come over to spend the night. Don't get me wrong, I just need sleep and I can't sleep without some one next to me. She said no!!

Next time the big guy goes away I may start looking for a someone to be a warm, snoring body next to me. That will teach him to go on a buisnesss trip.

I tried to get the pooch to sleep with me last night, but he left the room after about two minutes. Of course during those 2 minutes, he chased the cats, turned circles on the bed and licked my face. I hate, absolutlely hate dog kisses. But I like cat kisses. It's just the difference between the cat's rough and relatively dry tongue and the dog's oh so slobbery, drippy, slippery tongue.