A blessing today

My college chorus director is a musician whose talent and musical style I admire probably more than any other person I've had the pleasure to sing with. He was strict and disciplined, but fun to work for. He demanded a lot from us, but also went out for beers with us (once. In Europe.). His was the first classical chorus I'd ever been part of; he introduced me to that musical world, and I've never given it up. Choral music is now such a huge part of who I am. (In fact, I just got the schedule for next year's Festival Chorus, and learned I was selected for a small ensemble who'll sing at the Deaconate Ordination in February, yay!) I hope to always sing in some capacity, but especially in a large, trained chorus. Complete with the black skirts/white tops, and standing on risers. :)

Last week I got to feeling really sappy and wistful about my college choirs -- I'd been listening to a Christmas CD we recorded in '93 -- and I Googled this professor, found him, and hesitantly sent him an email. I wanted him to know that I was thinking of him with gratitude for all he taught me, at this very musical time of year. I was always kind-of in awe of (read: intimidated by) him, whether he deserved that or not. So it's very special to me that he wrote back this morning. His note was sweet, just one old friend wishing Christmas blessings to another -- no hint of any conductor's ego (which I do believe he had a touch of, at one time). He said he'd kept up with my whereabouts through a mutual friend, which touched me. He cared enough to know I'd married and had a baby. It kind-of sounds like a celebrity crush, doesn't it? Maybe it was, in a way.

I'm going to be smiling about it all day. :)

Edited to add: I just think it's so nice when the holiday works the way it's supposed to -- bringing old friends together again, you know, Auld-Lang-Syne-style. Things like this email, however small it may be, signify the importance of the modern-day Christmas for me. I hope you have many similar blessings this year.

Me and my big red nose

You Are Rudolph

Sweet and shy, you tend to be happiest when you're making someone else happy. Why You're Naughty: You sometimes stick that nose where it doesn't belong Why You're Nice: Christmas would be a sad affair without you!

Which of Santa's Reindeer Are You?

Tee hee! These are funny. I definitely stick my nose where it doesn't belong sometimes. In fact, I just stuck my nose in Ikea for half an hour. Shouldn't have done that! Ended up buying something for myself! At this time of year! BUT... the prices there justify everything. Ikea rules.

Pass the Lysol, please

We are living in the House of Sick. AJ started it by all of a sudden throwing up last Monday night, without much of a warning at all, except that he begged me for a 2nd nap that afternoon, which is HIGHLY ununsual. He went to the doc, was tested for strep, and determined to have contracted a bug.

I DO NOT LIKE BUGS. I WANT TO SQUISH THIS PARTICULAR ONE, HARD, WITH MY SHOE.

He was feverish all day Tuesday, better on Wednesday and Thursday, but then on Friday he developed the weeeeeirdest manifestation of a virus that I've ever seen: skin splotches! Daycare called to ask if they could give him a little Benadryl to see if "these little spots on his face" would go down. They did, but kept reappearing all day, coming and going, on various parts of his body. Bizarre. They look like bug bites, only bigger. They only seem to itch once in a while. I called the doctor's office again and they assured me it's probably just part of the bug. Wha-huh? I've never heard of this. Anyway, they said as long as he didn't have a fever and was eating and drinking normally, all's well. Of course, it's not "all", because he LOOKS so sad and disfigured! He's had those spots on his eyelid, his ear, his legs, his widdow bottom... poor leper! :( And if by "normal" eating they mean he takes one or 4 bites of whatever I've given him to ease his cries of "EEET! EEET!" and then picks at the rest or moves it from his plate to his tray to the dog and back again, then yes, he's eating normally. Saturday he seemed fine. Meanwhile I'd gotten a cold. Lost my voice. And Saturday night we both must have passed it to Husband because he threw up and had the shivers.

Yes, yes Mr. Andy Williams, it IS the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Sunday AJ started displaying a REALLY runny nose. And coughing. And Sunday night right before bedtime.... MORE SPOTS!! Damn you, Bug, I thought you were on your way out! I found some Aveeno oatmeal baby bath and it did the trick -- no more spots this morning. But man!! This bug actually attempts to EAT babies! Yuck!

We are desperately trying not to infect all of our friends -- deciding to skip two of the holiday parties I would actually like to attend -- and hoping that the leprosy doesn't appear on us grown-ups, at least until after we've hugged all our relatives on Christmas Day.

A very Snotty Holiday to you and yours.
Season's Coughings.
...On Vomit and Blitzen!

Peace!

Reading Me

"The Whole Internet" has been tagged by several people to do this reading meme. And I? Am the Internet! I've loved reading other people's literary memories, and it's reminded me of all sorts of childhood things I might never have thought of again. So, here's me, via my history with books and reading:

1. The first book I remember reading was "Raggedy Ann and the Cookie Snatcher." I could recite it, actually, at age 3 or 4. (Only now do I fully understand JUST how many times my parents must have read it to me!) My parents tape-recorded me doing it and I am SO thankful they did. It's fun to listen to.

2. My parents read to us a lot. Not only at bedtime. Some evenings we had a family book-reading time, where Mom or Dad would read aloud from James & the Giant Peach, or similar chapter-books. That's the only specific one I remember (help, Sis) -- but I do know it made a huge impression on me and I plan to do the same with my kids.

3. In First Grade, our reading groups were classified by birds and by colors. The best readers were Red Cardinals (my group), and the other kids were Bluebirds.

4. I do NOT dog-ear the pages of books (only magazines), nor can I abide writing with any sort of INK in a book. Pencil only, if required!! (This also applies to music -- even music I own.) My friend Melissa used to torture me by telling me she'd been in the bathtub with her paperback and showing me all the pages she'd folded over. *shudder*

5. My teacher in 5th grade made us do book reports, but she let us choose the books from her reading shelf, which I thought was so cool. (Just like with a toddler, you give them Choices and they respect you!) "Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret" was in high demand, and I got it at one point -- I just loved the huge selection this teacher kept on-hand.

6. Growing up I never could read or study with any background noise. By necessity, I have learned. I can now read to the tune of Monday Night Football, (or baseball or hockey), or to the sounds of Xbox or PlayStation2.

7. The first (and practically only) romance novel I ever read was called "Night Jasmine" and I ADORED it. However, I've never read it a 2nd time, nor have I ever been much interested in romance novels.

8. Or mysteries. Although, another young adult author I read and loved was John Bellairs and his mysteries. They were pretty dark, for kids' books, but I felt like they were more grown up than most of the mysteries I'd tried. They're now being compared to Harry Potter.

9. Moving on, to high school and grown-up reading: Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca. I chose it for a project in freshman English, and was LOVING IT, when my friend, Kate, decided to ruin it for me by saying, "You know how it ends, right?" And SPOILING it before I even could say "No" or cover my ears!!

10. Huckleberry Finn: I laughed out loud during a reading period in junior English class, which somehow impressed my teacher. She said that when literature moves someone to outward expression, that is a good thing. (And I agree!) I often still laugh out loud while reading. My husband gives me quizzical looks.

11. I have tons of books on my shelves that I've "been meaning to read" for years. Atlas Shrugged, Corelli's Mandolin, A Man in Full, Skinny Legs and All, several Jane Austens, and Jane Smiley's "Moo," are just a few.

12. I've read, or started to read, 6 of John Irving's books. I liked him at one time, but I think I've outgrown him. My favorite was "Owen Meany," but the 2nd time I read it (after several of his others), I couldn't even finish.

13. I admit it: I liked Jan Karon's Mitford series. I want to live in Mitford, really. I'd have to convert, though, and go to Father Tim's Episcopal church.

14. I didn't read Walden until just after college. At the time I was walking in the mornings along a beautiful nature trail, so it doesn't strike me at all strange that I totally cried when I got to the famous parts. I could anticipate them coming up as I read it the first time, since I'd heard them before. They still touch me every time:
--"Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself. I have been as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks. I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religious exercise, and one of the best things which I did…. The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour."
--"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
--"Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand.... Simplify, simplify."


...most people have done 15 things or more, but I'm worn out! Thanks for reading.

Imagine this

I know it isn't anywhere near Epiphany yet, but I've been listening to my old college choir recordings of Christmas carols and concerts, and remembered this, one of my favorites. Its soaring harmonies and reverent, whispering ending illustrate the lyrics beautifully:

Three Kings stood at the gate,
Each with a crown on head.
The serving man bowed down,
The inn was full, he knew.
Said he, "In all this town is
no fit place for you."

A light the stable lit,
There lay the mother meek.
Said they, "This place is fit,
Here is the rest we seek."

Come in, Come in ye Kings,
And kiss the feet of God.

Can you imagine? Little Baby feet? Of God?

Kind-of takes my breath away to think about it.

Cells on fire

I completely zoned out last night. I watched VH1's latest countdown show, the 101 Top Kid Stars hosted by ex-Brady and celeb-reality clown, Chris Knight. Complete waste of time. Then flipped it to Carrie Bradshaw and the tame version of her girls over on TBS. Husband said I had seen the episode before, but I had no recollection. After that I just HAD to see the conclusion of last week's Queer Eye, which was "to be continued." I don't know why, it wasn't even that good.

I guess it was a thinking break for my mind, but by the end my eyeballs were burning. I guess brain cells sizzle when they die.

You're not supposed to blog about work.

So, the thing with work that was chapping my hide late last week? Kinda puffed up into a big, festering mess yesterday, and then un-puffed again and mostly went away. But right during the puffiest part, I panicked again.

I don't know why I react so violently to client conflict. I guess it's just because I simply h-h-h-a-a-t-t-e confrontation in my personal life; I work to avoid it. Probably to a dangerous level: I can pout silently until I'm about to explode with anger, just waiting for the risk of conflict to subside. So when my work demands that I meet conflict head-on -- to the point of forwarding all calls to my cell phone so I can't even let the difficult ones go into Voice Mail and call back when I'm ready! -- all in the name of Customer Service, I guess that bugs me.

Conflict exhausts my psyche. It frays my nerves. Further aggravated yesterday by the fact that I was at home and AJ had gotten into the CDs while I was on the phone, but since it was a client, I couldn't exactly pause to say, "No-No, honey."

There's a disconnect here.

I am not able to be fully present for my clients (ugh, what a sick thought that I even want to), nor, more important by far, be fully present for my son.

I have been distressed about it, thinking this was the end of the line and there was no option but to go back to the office 5 full days a week. But my logical Husband suggested a compromise. Why not continue working 2 days/week at home, but put AJ in daycare anyway -- just finish my work fast enough that I can pick him up at, say, 2:30 or 3 on those days. That just might work. Full investiture in work, during work, and full attention to AJ when work is done. I kind-of knew that by the time he reached this age, the work-from-home arrangement was going to need tweaking. So, there we are. I'm considering it.

...and I STILL haven't done any shopping!

Another weekend gone by and still no Christmas shopping done, YEAH! I am challenging myself this year, that's what. I want to see how long I can go before I FREAK OUT and start howling with the nervous. Prediction: Not Much Longer!

A Christmas Survey

Colored lights or white lights?
On the tree? Colored. I like a "family" tree with family ornaments, and I grew up with colored lights. Now, on the house? If we did lights outside? All white.

Real tree or fake tree?
Fake fake fake. Grew up with fake and that was part of the tradition, putting the branches together! :) It's such a hassle to get a real one. And so expensive. And the darn pine needles in the carpet make me crazy.

What is your least favorite thing about the holidays?
(Stole from a friend): Overwrought renditions of Christmas carols by pop stars.
(And mine:) The stress of so many parties that I feel obligated to attend.

What is the one thing that you would like to see under the tree this year?
Lots of fun toys for AJ

What is your favorite thing to do/build in the snow?
Snow ice cream was a favorite when I was a kid!

What is your favorite holiday drink?
I love me some Gluhwein! My friend Mark made this one year for us, and it was deeeelicious. Packs a punch, though, so beware!

What is your favorite holiday smell?
Actually, the smell of morning coffee used to always remind me of Christmas.

Who is your favorite reindeer?
Rudolph, duh!

What is your Christmas Eve ritual?
When I was little, we went to Granny's for a present exchange, and I learned later that it's a very German tradition to open presents on C. Eve. Which fits, 'cause that side of the family was German. Now we don't really have official ritual, except that my sister and I always like to hop in bed together (at least for a little while) and giggle and anticipate the next morning. Don't guess we'll do that this year… could be a bit awkward since we both have husbands now!

Are you a Friday after Thanksgiving shopper?
No way, no how.

What is your favorite holiday food?
So many foods, so little time. I might have to say "sand tarts," this version of the Italian wedding cookie my Granny used to make (and now my sister makes), but I generally prefer salty to sweet, so it might be Chex mix… I could go on and on with this question, really. :)

How did you find out that Santa wasn't real?
I don't remember.

Who do you want to be under the mistletoe with?
My husband. Or AJ. Although, don't you remember the days when you really had a crush on someone at the Christmas parties? My college friend (Mark, the same one as the Gluhwein story) used to have a party every year and he'd climb up big trees in order to get plenty of mistletoe to hang. I remember that feeling of wishing to be "accidentally" under it with someone… it never quite happened as romantically as I wanted it to, sigh.

Have you bought all your presents yet?
Are you kidding?

Do you spend Christmas with a lot of family?
When we go to Florida, I do! One year it was like a revolving door of family members coming by for present exchanges. Mom's side, then Dad's side right after. Then off to Aunt's house for dinner! Crazy!

Do you still make snowmen and snow angels?
If it would ever snow I'd totally make a snowman.

What's your favorite Christmas movie?
Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase

What do you plan to do for New Year's Eve?
As little as possible.

What's the weirdest thing you've ever gotten for Christmas?
2 years ago when I was pregnant, we got a miniature (toy?) car, like a model car (a Hummer), from DH's grandparents. ?! We didn't even know it was a boy yet so we couldn't figure out if it was for us or the baby.

What's the most expensive thing you've gotten for Christmas?
I guess last year my laptop was my Christmas present.

How early do you wake up on Christmas morning?
It's always been early. 6-ish, 6:30-ish.

What do you usually get in your stocking?
Lipstick, candy, nail polish, gift cards, cash. I LOVE stockings. We have ours in a different room than the tree and we always go, "Oh! We still have stockings to open!" after the other presents are done. It's a nice little post-lude!

Hey, feel free to play along if you like. In Comments or your own blog. Let me know, I love reading about other people's traditions.

Things I'm grateful for

...Coventry Carol
...Starbuck's Peppermint Mocha
...Project Runway
...Fridays (the day, not the restaurant)
...Rachael Ray's French Bread Pizza Rustica recipe


Things I'm Not Grateful for:
...the blind leading the blind
...being solely accused when it's a shared mistake
...Christmas medleys
...project management. I signed up to write, not be a tech wizard.
...work, in general


Sorry, it's Gripe About Work Day. I'm ticked because a project I was put in charge of is not going as smoothly as it should. It's partly my fault, for not catching certain errors, but there are others who put their eyes on the very first documentation, and signed the agreements, who should have noticed the goof-ups, too. I was never really trained in the back-end technical stuff (nor do I have much interest in it). I came to this department because I wanted to write. To be honest, I wanted an easy-ish job (not that writing is easy)... one that would allow me to work from home part-time, because I have a child now and need to be able to focus my attention on him when I'm off-duty. I wanted to be able to leave work at work. I also wanted a position that would allow me to USE the skills that I have.

Instead, I was not surprisingly asked to become a project manager, and I guess that's fine, I agreed to it -- but I wasn't given the same training that the other project managers got. I went to no classes. I wasn't quizzed. I was just expected to figure things out. Thankfully I get constant help from my very kind coworkers along the way, but it's a bit unfair to ask me later, when something's gone wrong, "Why did you let this happen?" IT'S BECAUSE NO ONE EVER TAUGHT ME NOT TO. Not to mention, the least knowledgable programmer is the one they paired me up with on this particular project. So he didn't catch things, either. (Blind leading blind.)

ANYWAY. Sorry. I had to collect my thoughts on that matter. It's not as big a deal as I'm making it out to be. But I got a tad depressed about it all last night, when I got online to cruise the local job listings, just hypothetically you know, and realized I don't really even have a marketable skills set. I mean, yeah Customer Service and yeah "good communication skills," but I'm a master of nothing. I graduated college with honors but I feel qualified to be a receptionist. Or an "executive assistant." (I can set up lunch dates with the best of 'em.) But even the Exec. Ass't jobs I read required 3-5 years experience. Blllllllllah. Hate work. Not even this particular job, I just hate the general life-fact of work. I don't know if I'll ever find the kind of job that is "So much fun it doesn't feel like work." Ha ha ha, I laugh in that statement's general direction.

...I should concentrate on the Pizza Rustica and Project Runway instead, huh?

Joy in his feet (and sleep in my eyes)

I'm debating whether or not I can afford a wee little thirty-minute snooze. I think I can. I felt like I got good sleep last night -- I had vivid dreams -- and I had my however-many-ounces of coffee that I always have (I think it's about 18), but for some reason my eyes are tired this morning. Must be the weather. Overcast, cold: My favorite. Where's my blankie?.....yawwwwwn... there it is again, I'm just so drowszzz... *zzzonk. head hits laptozzzzzzzzzz.....ooof, snufflzzzzz, mmmymmmymmmmymmymmm....snort, twitch. shaking head.* See?

Want to hear something cool? AJ boogied with the Peanuts gang the other night when we watched the Christmas special on TV. He wasn't much intrested in it, besides Snoopy, who is, of course, a word that we know, DOG. But after barking with him once or twice it was right back to his books and toys on the floor of the living room. Except -- when the kids all starting bobbing up and down, turning their little cartoon heads left and right, and Schroder played "Linus and Lucy" on the piano, AJ got up and Danced. Round and round and stomping his little feet with happiness. :)

The weatherman's my Santa Claus

Thank you, Mr. Weatherman, for giving me the best Christmas present a girl could ask for: a very rainy Saturday, and cold, so that my Darling Husband was forced to postpone his leaf-raking extravaganza, and instead cozied up in the house with me and AJ, listening to Christmas tunes, walking around in sock-feet, and putting up the tree, all together family-like, the way it is Supposed to Be.

I am very, very grateful. And warm inside. :)

Roll call

When AJ has to go down for his 4:30pm nap, which is becoming less and less frequent of late, since he's doing pretty OK on just a 2.5-hour midday nap (so growing up!!), he usually lays quietly in the crib and plays teacher. I say that because he calls out, as if from a list, each and every name of his loyal friends and relations:

"Mama?"

"Ah-ba-dah?" (Napoleon.)

"Dada?"

"Beer?" (Bear.)

"Lola?"

"Jo Jo?"

"Beer?"

"Mama?"

"Polie?" (also Napoleon.)

"Paci?"

"Bob?" (The Builder.)

"Lola?"

"Bop?" (Baby Bop. Distinguishable from Bob.)

"Ba-dee?" (Barney.)

...and then, even down to the lowliest of the low, his friend,

"Boo-boo?" (Poo Poo.)


No kidding.
I sit by the monitor and grin.

Thankyaverymuuuch

My. House. Is. Decorated. For Christmas!! Yippie!

All that's left is the tree, and I admit that IS a big-ticket item, but I get more wigged out about all the other knicky-knacks and where do they go, and what do I take down and replace with something Christmas, and where should I hang garland or tie ribbons, etc. -- at least the tree is contained in one spot and I know where it goes and what goes on it. I've been puttering around the house this morning (sorry, Boss-man, but I also took 2 client phone calls) and realized just now... hey! I'm done! Pass the bubbly.

Decorating tip -- my Christmas gift to you: Use fresh coffee beans in your hurricane-lamp candle holders. Like this:



They smell all homey and delicious -- a nice, sweet compliment to your Yankee Candle "Mistletoe" candle burning in the other room -- and look pretty good too, if I do say so.

On the other end of the Friend-spectrum:

There is another woman I rilly, rilly WANT to be friends with. She's my son's daycare teacher. I said to Husband recently, "I rilly, rilly want her to be my friend in real life. Not just at daycare. You think I could ask her to lunch or something, like on a Saturday?" He looked at me like I was Weird. I probably am. But would it be totally out of the question to strike up a personal friendship with her? Would it be contrived? She's actually expecting her FIFTH! baby. Her first girl. (Meanwhile, she cares for 10 one-year-olds, eight hours a day. Did I mention this woman is quite amazing? I admire from afar.) And so her last day is most likely this Friday. SOB! Whimper! I am ever-so-thankful she's only taking 3 or 4 weeks off (her hubby works at home). Of course, she mentioned to me that SHE was glad, too -- she'll only miss a few weeks of her students' development. (Again, um... amazing?? She is so invested in MY kid et al, that she's cutting short her maternity leave? Perhaps the mentality is a bit more relaxed after five maternity leaves.) I'm thinking I will get her a wee little baby gift so she'll know I *like like* her. Hee! It's like 3rd grade over here. Maybe I should include "Check yes or no" boxes on the card.

You've got a little Reebok in your teeth, there

There is a new woman in my Book Club. Let's call her Betty. I have to tell you something: (stage whisper) I don't care for her. She's very nice, I guess, but I just haven't been able warm up to her At All. She feels very distant to me, very uninterested, and she's just... an outsider. We're a pretty tight group, and I know that my friend S. likes her, or she wouldn't have invited her to join us, but... Well, but nothing, I just don't dig her. My Book Club friends are a group of funny, outgoing, socially adept women with whom to dish and giggle, and also share this time in our lives -- wifehood and motherhood and whatever else we happen think about. Groceries. Health. Movies. Oh yeah, and books. Well, Betty's not a giggler, or a sharer. When she does talk, it's really slowly. She places every. word. deliberately. and matter-of-factly. and without expression. There just isn't any spice to her. I've not seen her laugh. Her 3 kids are older than all of ours, so she kinda hangs on the fringes of our teething/toddlering/baby stories. And besides that, she started her family rather late in her life, making her several years older than the rest of us. Sigh.

I know now why she might be like this. I think she she needs us -- I'm guessing that's why S. includes her. Found out last night that her brother, to whom she was closest in age, died in April. I found this out because I attempted to bring her into our conversation. -- I often try to do this when I think someone in a group isn't being included. (Is it a good habit, or a flaw? Should I just leave shy/quiet people alone? Sometimes I want to be left alone... need to think about this.) -- Anyway, S., J., and I have known each other for nearly 10 years now; we know each others' stories and details and histories. So I, politely, I thought, attempted to steer the conversation Betty's way. We were talking about families: "Betty, do you have any siblings?" And she had to leave the room before she started crying. I felt so bad. I'm sure she's still hurting. Open mouth, insert foot -- but how was I supposed to know that? Of course, I wasn't. But the incident is going to stick with me now. I'll have sympathy for her, yes, but I am going to feel guilty around her and won't let myself forget that I made her cry, and I still won't be able to warm up to her with this standing in my way. A conundrum.

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas

A tidbit or two

It's wintery. Raining, not snowing, but the sky is dark with clouds and it's c-c-c-cold out there. I like being home with my little guy on days like this. In our PJs. We sat under blankets and did his puzzle about 4 times this morning. With milk. He's also a bit snuffly, so even better that I'm here to cuddle on him frequently (and wipe his nose, which he hates!) -- Mom's special duty. And by a bit snuffly, I mean the box of Kleenex I bought yesterday is half gone with the wiping.

Status Update on the Puh-deeeew: It's -- I'm -- in the laundry room. The washing machine stands at just about the right height for me to stand here and type, and I have the door pulled just far enough to conceal my true activity from Mr. Curious. He thinks I'm doing a LOT of laundry. It's going really well, actually, except for my bare feet starting to be tired from all the standing. When he needs me, he calls, "Mama," and I hop back over the gate. I've been able to conduct a bit of business with a lovely Dreft aromatherapy keeping me calm.

Kiss me and call me efficient: I have two, count'em, two crates of Christmas decorations activated, contents placed carefully by me, the Christmas fairy, around the house. Go fairy! Instead of trying to do it all in one long, ridiculous Decorating Day, I am trying to do it little by little and thus, not overwhelm myself. Husband's idea. He thought very hard about carrying all the stuff up from the basement last night, imagined what my reaction might be (melted into a puddle on the floor), and wisely decided on this one-at-a-time method. Such a smart fella. Only thing is, the mantle is looking a shade "off," what with the clock, the red taper candles, the can of Pledge and the bare stocking holders. Stockings and garland, I guess, are in Crate #3. We'll see how long it takes me to finish them all, and then next weekend: Tree!

And Every Day after that: "AJ, no-NO! We DON'T pull the ornaments off the tree and throw them into the fireplace. And don't touch those lights. Hothothot. No-no."

Hold hands if you're thankful

Happy Thanksgiving weekend. :)

Oh, the Brainwaves

Yesterday. All my troubles seemed so.... right in front of my face. It was the grown-up version of "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day," starting with work -- one of those days when I really wanted to concentrate and everyone around me was having fun, how dare they?, laughing and talking it up outside my cube. (This was just in the morning, for about 5 minutes, dear coworkers who read me - not to worry - but for some reason it Set Me Off.) I tried headphones, but all the music did was totally jam up my brain and distract me even further.

Sally Client kept asking me questions, how dare she?, showing just how much she DOESN'T know and making me crazy with the questions when I was trying to wrap up a project for her before the stinking holiday. I kept trying to end our email conversation with "Sorry for being unclear before. Hope this helps," and "Thanks for your email, have a great holiday weekend," but she kept. Replying.

Then when I got in the car to drive home, my radio was too loud, I had to wait for the traffic light too long, and the heater was too hot. And I wanted a Coke. So, therefore, being insane and unreasonable, I broke down. I cried and I cried over hating my job sometimes, and over not being able to just quit and be a mommy, and by the way, I'd be a BETTER mommy if I didn't have to work -- I'd be able to actually spend time with AJ instead of sending him off to be cared for by Strangers!, and also when I got home I wouldn't give in and let him watch a half-hour of Barney just so I could get dinner started without any fuss, and also I want a Coke but I don't have any cash, and oh! don't even get me started on what a terrible WIFE I am, just barely scraping by as a Co-Parent/Roommate... not really being a very Good Friend to my husband, much less a good partner... and I just sobbed and hiccupped and messed up my makeup, and OH CRAP, now the daycare receptionists are going to see me and wonder what's wrong, and I'll probably break down in their office if they ask, and then they'll talk about me after I leave and worry that I'm unstable, and I probably am - I maybe need to ask the doctor about depression - and they'll be worried for AJ's sake... and, crap. Just stop. STOP THE MADNESS. Roll down the window, get some fresh air -- stay back, stupid tears! I will not have this. Breathe. Dammit. And then this started all over 2 or 3 times (I have a pretty long commute).

You ever have a day like this? WELL, I DO. Just about every Fracking month and I swear to god it always catches me with no warning. How can a person be THIS hormonally imbalanced?? How can I not KNOW that it's just the monthly woman-thing messing with my brain? How? Why? Usually it manifests with 2 days of me silently thinking my marriage is in trouble. Husband will say one thing to me, one word, even, like "Hey." And I'll just DIE of the sad.

It is mind-boggling, the day after.

When they invent a Palm-pilot organizer microchip that we can have installed in our brains, I'm going to be the first in line. I'm going to set mine with the loudest alarm it's got, that goes off every 4 weeks, shouting, "RED FLAG!! WARNING: EMOTIONAL BOMB AHEAD. TAKE COVER."

Wait. Why did I post that?

I am feeling very negative this morning about everything. About my blog, first and foremost, because that last entry was rather depressing, and because I just don't have the time to write how I wish I could write. Even right now, I'm sitting here looking at the clock thinking, 8:16am, I need to be wrapping it up and getting on the road in about 15 minutes. Oh no, not enough time to finish a good entry or think of just the right way to say something With! Puunch! Just write something. Hit publish. Get it updated, because don't you Hate it when your favorite blogs don't update?! And I don't purport to think that my blog is anyone's favorite (except my Mom's, of course) -- but I do know that 4 people, maybe 5, actually read it regularly, so: the Pressure. Just know that I WISH it was better for you, my loyal readers. I WANT to entertain you (and hell, I want to entertain my own self, too. I'd like to go back and read all this one day and smile at my cleverness, my flair)! But that just ain't happ'nin.

More negativity about this week, because there's a ton of stuff to do before we hit the road, as always, including Laundry, the Bane of My Existence, and besides that we Intended with a REALLY capital "I" to get ALL of our Christmas shopping finished before Thanksgiving. And a hahahahahahahahaha, hahaha. Ha. We are So Foolish. But now that defeated Intention makes me want to kick and scream with the unfairness of it.

Boooooo.

A few more hours out

And after a day of life in the actual world

Whew, got a little philosophical and wishy there, thinking alllll the bad in the world can go away. I have to say.... a bit unrealistic. Nothing wrong with a little hope -- and I guess if you take on HOPE as your major theme and become a crusader for it, aka Bono, you have to speak it unceasingly and not falter from that. He had me going, too. I like having hope, I really do. Unfortunately, poverty isn't something that we can eradicate in the real, real world. (Which Bono says he would like to do.) How come no? Well, what if all the people in the world were somehow, rich. How nice that would be! But, umm... how rich? 'Cause you'd have to figure that out. You'd have to establish some common denominator, or common currency. The difficulty of just that, spanning all the languages and religious differences and government systems, I think, would end the whole project before it ever got started. And then if all the currency isn't equal, then there WOULD be some people who ended up with more cash than others. It's just the sad way things are. So anyway... yeah. (But the music still kicked ass.)

I did hear a news story today about the poverty that actually exists IN this country. Strangely, the family they profiled as rural have-nots lived near Saltville, Virginia, which is where AJ's paternal great-grandparents grew up, so it hit home a little. The wife in the report said she had to "save up or roll pennies" to buy toothpaste for her 5 little ones. Those were her options. She'd lie to her husband, telling him she "had a big lunch," in order that there was enough dinner to go around her evening table. So it made me feel pretty bad that when I passed the Mexican restaurant, I looooonged to eat dinner there instead of having to make my own. Selfish me. Just being able to whine like that -- thinking I don't have the OPTION, when really, I totally COULD afford it -- is something to be extremely thankful for. And I am.

P.S. You have sucessfully endured my Morality Essays. We now return to our regularly scheduled anecdotes of the most precious little toddler-boy ever. And, my everyday whining. Aren't you glad??

This I believe

On Saturday, we went to the U2 concert. I have had a hard time, since then, describing it to people who've asked, "how was it?" because it was, without a doubt, indescribable. Unforgettable. Unexpected. And unbelieveable. That's the word I've used most often. Unbelieveable.

Of course, we expected a fantastic show. But not the feeling of gratitute. Not the CALM that seemed to be part of the whole thing, even amidst the crazy loud WONDERFUL loud that is rock-and-roll music. It was calm. It was peaceful. It was Good.

It's interesting, because as much as U2 is the world's biggest band, and as grateful and happy that I am to have seen them during the height of their fame and talent and glory -- when they appeared onstage I didn't scream and shake like so many Beatles fans, with the thrill of seeing them in the Same Room. I just felt...um... content. Concrete. It was Right, the way I felt about them being there. Maybe it's because they have so many performance videos, or because I've watched Rattle and Hum about six (or ten) times. But I felt kind-of a sense of completeness -- like, here is this band that I've seen so many times before, and all it is, is perfect.

Each one of them, Bono, Edge, Larry, and Adam, is just so solid -- they're... pillars, so incredibly strong in their talents. (We heard Larry last night on 60 minutes, and when Ed Bradley asked him why doesn't he do big drum solos, he responded, "Because I'm not that good and I have to concentrate pretty hard." Hahahahahahaha. That made me laugh. Not that good. Yeah.) The way their show is set up, there's a camera on each of the performers, and of course the requisite huge video screens. I thought that was perfect. Each of them deserves -- and gets -- equal amounts of respect as musicians. Without one of them, there's no band. So it was good to be able to watch them all as individuals.

The opening was the most gorgeous display, maybe even "enactment," of a song that I've ever witnessed. Surprisingly, they've opened most of their shows on this tour with "City of Blinding Lights." Which is a great song, but not the one you hear all over the radio. It caught me off-guard. But it couldn't have been more perfect. The set had these huge panels of lightbulbs -- strung together and hanging down from the rafters, not on boards like the old days. Those panels served both as light apparatus and as video screens, which was simply amazing. During "Lights," obviously, they became bright lights stretching out over the crowd, showcasing the glitter confetti that was released to fall over us. It was magnificent -- such a celebration! (And, I'll admit somewhat greedily, it felt like U2 was celebrating US, the fans. Actually that's not greedy, I think they were. Bono said at one point during the show, "You've given us a great life." I love when stars thank their fans. He followed it with, "And in return.... we don't make crap music." !! All that he is, and he's also a comedian. So funny.)

They sang "Sunday Bloody Sunday," and Bono said "This is your song now, America." Touched my heart, made me so, so sad. They sang, "Where the Streets Have No Name," which I've never really understood 'til hearing it live. They sang, "Bullet the Blue Sky," which probably isn't everyone's favorite, but it is one of mine since I discovered them with that album. They sang "Mysterious Ways" and pulled one lucky fan onstage to dance, and we all hated her loved her. We sang "Pride/In the Name of Love" and "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," and I absolutely had tears spilling over. This is what the world needs more of, my friends -- thousands of people standing, singing about LOVE and kindness, together, at the tops of our lungs. It's simply amazing to join together like that -- it's what the world should be.

Forgive me for being SUCH a sap about this event. At one point I thought to myself, "Is this, like, a defining moment in my adult life?" And you know what? I think it was. Not that all of a sudden I'm going to go out and save the world with my activism, or start following the band around like an uber-fan, but it just made me aware. Bono's always spoken out about world issues, but it's not just his schtick -- it's the right thing for him to do. He is a good person. And we all ought to be part of that. Not for him, but for each other. I think my warm feelings about the concert are also becuase U2 has been important at every stage of my life. At age 12, it was "With or Without You," and I didn't even know or care who sang it. But I knew it. In 9th grade, I really became a fan and bought some albums, and my best friend and I cooed over her date with a Senior who took her to see Rattle and Hum, the first "concert" movie of its kind. I was just starting college with "Actung Baby," and played that CD over and over and over in my dorm room. The songs are just part of all of us.

U2, the Vertigo tour, was for me like one big enjoyable sermon, with Bono preaching his gospel of tolerance and human rights and One-ness. The concert ended with everyone singing "People... Have the Power...People... Have the Power..." Power to what? -- to change lives. To help each other. To be together. To love. That's what I felt we got out of it. A great reminder -- along with an enormous helping of all our favorite life-songs -- to love each other. I believe this is what Bono intends for us to get from his life, and from their music. (I sort-of believe he's reached demi-god status in my generation, or at least prophet-status.) I believe this is going to stay with me a long time (I still haven't been able to listen to music other than U2 yet.) And I believe it's nothing short of God's own work that they do.

I'm a turkey

In anticipation of next week's feasting, I thought I'd preview my blessings. But instead of reflecting on what has been, here's what I'm looking forward to. And by that, I mean the food:

• Deviled Eggs!!! Lurrrrrvh them. (Probably the only thing that I can help my mother-in-law make)
  
• Ham rolls for breakfast
  
• That is, real live Homemade yeast rolls, you understand. How many people get those anymore? It's a treat!
  
• Cranberry Jelly. Ocean Spray, with the can's ridges imprinted.
  
• Homemade cookies galore. And she does make the best cookies.

And these are the things I will miss, since my feet won't be underneath my own Mommy's table:

• Pumpkin soup. Oh, how I love my mom's pumpkin soup. It's not a childhood tradition, but just in the last few years she's made it, and it is divine. Thick, creamy, spicy. Maybe I'll make it early next week before we leave town.
  
• Cajun dressing and the post-feast dressing sandwiches. (But at least there's Christmas to look forward to; we make it then, too!)
  
• Cold White Zin. Dad's always forthcoming with the wine on major holidays.
  
• Dozens of relatives around the table. It's the one thing that doesn't feel normal to me, when we're not in Pensacola. The table is small and there are just 6 of us. Not that it's a bad thing to have an "intimate setting;" it's less sink-time washing china and silver, that's for sure! But growing up I don't think we ever had Thanksgiving with fewer than 12 attendees. Everything's just so festive when there's a crowd.

Time to snap back into this week, for now, and eat my morning pop-tart. Gobble, gobble.

Happy country

Taking a short break from my data entry task today, to make note of some recent splashing I did in the familiar puddle of country music.

I watched the CMA awards last night, hoping to cheer for "my friends" in Sugarland as they won the Horizon award and several others for which they were nominated. But they didn't win. Instead, I cheered them in their stellar performance, and just in the fact that they were there. They have arrived. They had so much fun on stage, as they always do, and I am so happy for them. It's a strange pride to see someone on national TV that I've heard play so many times, in such small bars, where I was *this close* and could swear they were singing right to me and looking in my eyes. :)

Actually, the whole show was kind-of a "hello, old friends" episode for me. From about '96 to '99, my radio dial was all about country. Somehow I stopped listening to it, though, right about the time I met my husband. He was introducing me to a lot of great new, alternative music, for which I'm eternally grateful. That's how my musical tastes go, really -- always rotating around. Seems to me today's country music is a lot about hanging in there, about good lovin', long-time marriages, simpler times, and embracing, with a slightly embarrased laugh, the rednecks among us. At least those are the songs that speak to me lately.

Anyway, Keith Urban, CMA's Entertainer of the Year, was one of my favorites for a long time. I pulled out his first album and listened to it on my drive in today. (Who needs NPR anyway?) It's a fantastic album -- lots of love songs, some of which triggered my tear ducts. I miss having love songs in my head. Too many daily details pushing them off the edges, I guess.

That, and the Sesame Street songs. I think AJ asked for "C is for Cookie" about eighteen times yesterday.... 'Course, that one IS a love song, if you want to get technical. :)

An idea hits me with the *smack* of a 2x4

Or, My New Plan.

This clearly is not working. AJ's wailing through the monitor to let me know he Wants with a capital W, my Puh-Deeeeewwwwwww (computer). He alternates pitiful sobs with "Puhdeeeeewwww" and "Bye-byyyyyye?" Because I told him the puhdew was going bye-bye, and he was going to nap. So heartbreakingly cute. And yet, so everything opposite of cute.

I think the kitchen table arrangement is going to have to end forever. And it should have ended a long time ago, but I am too dense started working at home with him when he was 6 months old, and he'd bounce happily in his bouncy seat next to me, on the table, while I tappety-tapped on the keyboard. Then I'd switch him to the Exer-saucer and back, and he remained a happy camper. And I never thought that our location was going to cause problems as he got older. No matter that I didn't have a real "office" space in my house; this worked fine. And I let it become my routine. Well, now we have a whole nother story.

I'm going to admit something -- I only use my baby gates (portable ones, not hard-mounted) at the staircases. I don't ever "gate" baby in, just to keep him contained. For me the gates were a critical measure of safety, but I didn't like the idea of building a "pen" where Baby would be "imprisoned." Silly Idealist Mommy. After these last two days (plus some months) of the whining and screaming, I think I'm going to try it. How many of you mommies out there do this? The baby-gate box shows a mommy who's perfectly happy to have her kids cordonned off, so that she can go about her day -- maybe it works?

I'm thinking I will position our 2 gates, 1 at the top of the stairs, obviously, and the other in the doorway to my bedroom. There's a tabletop in my room where I can set the laptop, and if I position it just right, he may not even see me using it (that is the goal, because if he does see it, he'll just whine at the gate and I've gained nothing). This leaves him his entire room, his bathroom, the guest room, and the area in front of my room which has a nice bookcase for him to destroy explore. I have also been thinking lately that I play too closely with AJ. I need to try and wean him of the habit of having me Right There next to him, on the floor at all times. He can be in one room while I'm in another, right? (Sheesh, when I put it out there on paper it makes me feel an awful lot like I spoil him. I have never intended to.)

Do you think this might work? I'll totally go over the gate and play with him or rescue him, whenever. And I don't mean this is how we'll spend our entire day. It's just that he'll be kept away from the temptation that is the computer. I think leaving it out, where he can see it, is teasing him. "Mommy can use the computer any time, but you can't." Not that I think kids should be sheltered from the word "No," mind you. Or that kids should ever be given open access -- there are obviously things that are just for grown-ups. But this way seems a kinder approach. If it works everyone will be happier. And he'll grow up independent and self-assured and content. Right? :) We'll test it next Monday and see. (Of course I realize there will be somewhat of a learning period to get used to the arrangement.)

I am open to your suggestions.

Weekend

I finished my book in 4 days flat. I sucked it right down and chased it with sweet tea. It was delicious.

...

Leaves, leaves, and more stinking leaves. They tend to fall here in large gusts, so one minute, you've just raked up thirty gatrillion of them and your yard is pristine, and then next minute, a gust comes by and it rains leaves for 2 or 3 minutes, and then you cry. Of course, lucky for me, yard duty is my Husband's, in general. Although I did rake 4 whole piles for him while simultaneously chasing AJ and making sure he didn't step in dog poop.

...

I am sad that I'm going to miss Blogging 4 Books. I think it's a good topic this time. But by midnight tonight a winning entry probably isn't gonna happen for me. AJ's sickly. Spent the first part of this morning vomiting -- we think it was the brats that did it. Bratwurst, that is. He LOVED the stuff and ate a lot of it. I stupidly thought, "Hey, it's like hot dogs." But his little tummy let me know that it is Not At All like hot dogs. So the 2nd part of this morning was spent with AJ holding me hostage in nothing but a bra and jeans. I had to take my shirt off for vomity reasons, ew, and he was so tired and sickly that he just Needed His Mama. He was fast asleep before I managed to run upstairs, set him down, and throw on a t-shirt. I couldn't resist him, anyway; was perfectly willing to be held hostage by him, as long as the side of his head that smelled *good* was nearest my nose. Ha. Just kidding. I'd smell the pukey side and Like It. That is what mother's love is, people.

Note to Self:

When I become a mother-in-law one day, God willing, and have a lovely daughter-in-law with whom to share my son and my future grandkids, I must remember the following:

If, for example, she works from home on Mondays and Thursdays -- HYPOTHETICALLY, you understand... and if I've been told gently, several times, that she has precious little time in which to actually DO her work on those days -- like, while the baby is napping, which is usually from around 10:30am to around 1:30pm...? I MUST REMEMBER NOT TO CALL HER AT THOSE TIMES OF THE DAY.

And also, it probably would be best NOT to call repeatedly at, say, 7:00 p.m., and open my conversation, every time, not with "Hi!" but with "Did I catch you right at dinner?" Because, YES, YES I WILL HAVE CAUGHT THEM RIGHT AT DINNER, AND SAYING SO FIRST RATTLE OUT OF THE BOX JUST EMPHASIZES THE FACT THAT I KNOW I will catch them at dinner, and therefore they will wonder, "Why in the hell did she call at this time??"

Bless my future heart.

Looking at TV

All those smarty-pants American Academy of Pediatrics people who say that children under 2 should Never, No Never Watch One Single Moment of TV, EVER, can kiss my butt. How can kids these days avoid it? AJ watches his shows, and he gets smarter every day. And to all the mouths from whom the phrase "As long as you don't use it as a babysitter" drips judgmentally, I say: Hogwash. If it keeps him occupied for 5 or 10 minutes at a stretch, and I'm trying to get my work done, then that Babysitter is Hired.

I've been thinking about it (because I Worry, you know, about Things) -- if we were the "TV generation," then what are our kids going to be? It's only gotten more prevalent, with more channels and more TVs in every home they'll ever visit. I think about my TV childhood, because despite my mother's best intentions, we watched a good bit of TV. Not 24 hours a day, mind you, but I think she probably got to a point where she just quit fighting it -- because you just can't win. The force of its pull is too great. I see it already, that big glowing Eye looking at AJ saying, "Come here, my child. I'm fascinating and I'm going to gently eat your brain cells, and you're going to slip into a daze and you'll kinda like it. Mwahahahahahaaaa."

I know it can be a setup for lazy habits later, but he still likes to run around - A LOT - so I'm not worried at this point about the deadly sin of Sloth. And believe me, I won't allow it when we reach school age and tween-dom. I fully intend to enforce rules about when and what to watch, and Praise God for the V-Chip. No TVs in Kids' Rooms, Ever. And I SO will encourage TV Turnoff Week. I think it's a fabulous idea. In fact, I bet my kid(s) won't protest as much as my Husband and I will, after they've gone to bed! An exercise in patience and discipline.

Anyway, I've accepted that he's going to watch. I can't stop him. I actually love some of the shows we let him see. Little Einsteins is great for the music and art. Higglytown Heroes shows that everyone is important. Bob the Builder throws in little environmental lessons here and there. And the half-hour Barney episode at 3:30pm saves my life some days. I don't think it's going to kill him.

The bookworm's back

Dudes, I finally got gods in Alabama after Barnes & Noble made me wait and wait for it, argh. Last night I read about 65 pages in about 10 minutes. Okay, maybe not that fast, but it felt that fast. Compelling! Interesting! Funny! I think I'm in love.

My husband says to me the other night, "I hardly ever see you reading anymore." Well, that is because it has been a super-long time since I've read a GOOD book. Our last book club selection was Cloud Atlas. It was difficult and boring. Before that, Good Wives, a women's studies dissertation project, I think. Interesting, but difficult, and also boring. Not that we aren't intelligent people -- we are. But we sometimes need to read for pleasure. I think this one's going to be just the ticket. Yay. :)

Pew-pew

My child can en-un-ci-ate!

Not to worry, there is no actual poo-poo in this story, it's just that AJ has taken to talking about it. It's very funny. It usually occurs as he wakes up -- he blinks a few times and then lets us know a Very Important Thing: "Pew-pew?" Like a question, but also a statement. He screws up his face and works his little mouth around the new words, and he's really TRYING to communicate. It is SO. CUTE. The weird part is that there usually isn't, in fact, any poo-poo. But he's patting his bottom, so he evidently knows that of which he speaks... or at least, where it lives... It makes me laugh and then frightens me a little. Is this a sign he's on the advanced track toward Potty Training? I know he's not ready yet, but 18 months is supposedly when you can start thinking about it, and that's not very far away. And he's also showing lots of interest in flushing the potty lately. He doesn't so much care what's in it, but today he did look at the empty, clean potty, and say, "Pew-pew?" Yes, honey, that's where poo-poo goes. (MY LORD, is this what it has come to?? ...Yes, yes, I guess it is... This is Real Life Mit Toddler. Enjoy!) Next thing you know I'll have to buy that red book. You know, the one my sister and I used to giggle about mightily when we were 8 and 10, because we were born in the era BEFORE that book and it seemed so utterly nonsensical. I have to admit, I fear Potty Training a little bit.

*pause while I consider the fear*

Moving on!

--I'm coveting. I want new Clothes and new Stuff, including the Most Adorable Quilted Christmas Stockings from Pottery Barn Kids (I'm going to order 4 and leave one without a monogram for -- gasp! -- a future child! So we will all match, someday. Is that crazy? I'm sure it's asking for trouble but I Have to order it, don't I?) Pottery Barn Kids, why do you mock me so? I'd like something on every page, please. Well, except the Very Pretentious Decorator Kids' Rooms. Those are a bit out of control with their matching painted wood drawers and handy-but-stylish monogrammed cubby baskets, and little retro multiplication flash cards pinned to a cork board, and smart blue gingham valances. Sigh. I love these rooms but I just don't think they're very realistic. At least not in my reality. My reality seems to be a lot more plastic than Pottery Barn's.

--After 2 weeks "off," I got up to workout this morning with my pal, Gilad. That man is out of his gourd and mostly creepy. I wouldn't want to be one of his minions-in-leotards, pumping and kicking and Smiling behind him. Blech. But he does a pretty kickass workout. My body is headed toward sculpture-dom, woo hoo!

--I now have $138.42 in credit at the Book Nook. (Local used bookstore.) I LOVE me a good local used bookstore. Didn't have time or energy to fight AJ and really browse today, so we came home with a Barney Little Golden Book and a Baby Mickey something kind of book. He is in love with both of them. But, $138!! When am I going to find time to read that many books?! Who knows. But it's a nice feeling, anyway. Something for FREE! And I got rid of the books that had been sitting in my coat closet these past 16 months. They were going to be a "while on maternity leave" project. Ahem.

Ooh, and the book clerk gave me a sorta backhanded compliment while checking my trade-ins. He said, "Did you read all these books? Because they're all pretty.... literary. Usually when we see Moms come in with kids..." and I knew he was going to say something rude about my fellow mommies and Romance novels, so I Laughed Politely to stop the comment before it happened. Because who are we to judge what people like to read?! Those mommies probably need to escape to somewhere that has Fire and Passion, so I say good for them (and also, gaaaack, SO not my taste). But anyway, I'm Literary, isn't that nice? I guess it's good he took note of me, because I will be spending lots of time and $138 free dollars in there.

--Ginger the Neighbor Dog (who is forced to live outdoors, poor thing) has Not Stopped Barking for the past hour. This is Not one of the nice things about Working From Home.

--Only 12 days until the U2 concert, and we Have Procured a Babysitter. Score.

Edited to add: I have now edited revised this post approximately 11 12 times and I declare it's time to Stop. That is all.

You're older than you've ever been

Where have I been? I've been lost in my own mind. Thinking a lot lately, mostly about politics. Mostly because I listen to NPR on both commutes, which can be fun, but also tires the mind out after a while. Indictments and Appointments and filibusters and global health... whew! I'm tired just writing all that.

I got stuck on NPR mostly because the radio sucks for music these days and I'm not kidding. I love classical music anyway, so that's a bonus. I think I'm destined to become an old fuddy-duddy though, because currently it's either NPR or AM 1160, which is "the voice of the arts in Atlanta." (They play a mix of Broadway and Sinatra and classical. Sometimes they throw a few oldies -- too many for my liking, really -- I mean, would you put the Shirelles in the same playlist as Bach or Leonard Bernstein? I THINK NOT. But on the whole, it's a much, much more palatable mix than the Alternative station, the "non-station" station, the Soft Hits station, or the Christian station, all of which I am just barely able to tolerate anymore for various reasons.)

At any rate, I've decided it's high time for me to embrace adulthood. (Hi, I'm 31.) As AJ gets older he'll need a Mommy who is informed, opinionated, and organized -- mostly organized -- and those are things I am currently Not. So, I'm developing Opinions about things. I'm reading some political blogs. (I'm not telling which ones, are you crazy? I don't do confrontation. Not even now, With Opinions. But I will tell you it took me for-freakin-ever to dig through all the EXTREMISTS before I found what I was looking for. Sheesh, there are some Wackos out there.)

Monday, Husband and I refinanced our mortgage after a month of planning and waiting for the closing date. I feel very smart about that, and even though we didn't save an Enormous Bundle on our monthly payment, we knocked our interest rate down a good bit and got out from under PMI, so that's all good. (See? Only Real Grown-Ups use acronyms like PMI.) Next on my list is to reevaluate our 401k plans and make sure we're invested in all the right things, then set up AJ's 529 for college savings, which should have been done a year ago. And, oh yeah, to contribute to it. (Ha! Contribute what, I'm not too sure.) And then: To Organize.

I use a Palm, but since AJ's birth I have not been very good about keeping up with it. But I have declared it is to become The Master Calendar, and I will be the Calendar Keeper. The Social Secretary. The Family Manager. I will know who has a soccer game and who has an orthodontist appointment, because by the time we get to THOSE kinds of commitments, I'll be an old pro. And I'll also be OLD by that time, so it's good that I'll have all these adult habits broken in.

Here is cute

Oh, but we had fun! The whole neighborhood was out -- it was a huge, friendly party in the streets. Someone even had the fire department bring a truck out, and lots of the big kids were riding on the back while the fireman blew the horn a few times (not spooky, but it defnitely scared the pants off me a couple of times)! I was so glad we were a part of the festivities. AJ seemed to have fun... and he scored us some sweet candy, yo! Because you know I'm not letting HIM eat Nerds and Twizzlers. He's only ONE. And he eats only the healthiest of health foods. You know.

We did give him a lollipop when we got home since he was such a good puppy. (Made him shake and roll over first.) I think he was pleased:

Fat American Consumer

In other news, I can't decide if I'm going to slap down the $25 for a full year's membership to BJ's, our friendly neighborhood warehouse store, or if I'm going to let my trial membership die a peaceful death. On the one hand, I won't have to buy deodorant for the next YEAR, because I needed some yesterday and I got a 6-pack for $6.99. And I think those places are handy for your Gotta-Have staples, like toilet paper and Lysol wipes and Hot Pockets (shut up). And maybe, in the long run, it'll save me some dollars.

But it isn't like I live 60 miles from the nearest town. No need to stock up on supplies 'cause the long winter's ahead and Pa's leg is broke. I live in metro Atlanta. It might get down to 32 a few times this winter. And Publix is exactly 3.6 minutes from my door.

So, I dunno. Something about shopping there at the warehouse with its super-size boxes of Everything makes me feel fat and duped (e.g., "Welcome, Mrs. Middle-Class American! Just by being here you're saving money! Try a mini-quiche." ...When anyone with a brain can see that the impulse is to SPEND more, because: "Look at this Deal! And That Deal! Must Buy! When normally I wouldn't! Buy! Buy!").

Happy Halloweenie!

Halloween's never been my all-time favorite holiday, but I have to admit, it's hella lot more fun with kiddos around. I couldn't care less about dressing up myself -- in fact, I have a friend who has a costume party every year, and as much as I like her, I d-r-e-a-d getting that invitation when October comes around, because I begin the annual procrastinating about what I'll wear, and then 2 days before the party, I still have no good ideas and end up being something REALLY stupid, like a "farmer," wearing an old flannel shirt and putting freckles on my face with eyeliner pencil. (Until now I didn't even have long enough hair to put in pigtals.) Lame!!

But! With a little one to entertain, I find myself WANTING to decorate the house with cute little ghosties and black cats. I'm dying for AJ to taste a Kit-Kat, and I am anxious for him to go trapsing around the neighborhood tonight with us, ringing doorbells (because he likes to push buttons) and saying "Trick or Treat." He's going to be a puppy dog. Complete with "Arf!" sound effects -- he's taken to barking to himself in the wee hours of the morning, in his crib, by the way. We wake up to the monitor squeaking. "Arrr! Arrr!" I can only assume he's practicing. I haven't practiced "Trick or Treat" with him, but he generally clams up in front of strangers anyway so it'd probably have been futile.

We carved our punkins Saturday and I'm hoping for plenty of little goblins at my front door. We have lots of toddlers in our neighborhood, but I even like the 13-year-olds -- it's fun to give 'em the evil eye when they wear a baseball cap and say they're Uhh, the "The Mad Hatter." You gotta give 'em at least a couple points for creativity. I guess.

Boo for now. Don't eat too much candy.

Menu... and, Manoooo

The first item is our dinner menu.

Broccoli and Garlic Cheddar Soup
Fresh Romaine and Parmesan Salad (which is a fancy way of saying lettuce, with dressing that has parmesan in it)
Steak, grilled on the deck (in 50-degree weather, God Bless my husband!)
Baked Sweet Potatoes with butter and cinnamon sugar

And it was Dee-lish.

The second item is AJ's "Meow."

And it is Preh-shis.


(Check me out, another poem!)

Pretty pretty poems

I used to write a lot of poetry; mostly in my journals and diaries. Not to worry, I don't plan on subjecting anyone in this journal. I don't even remember any of them; only snippets, like this one, the last line from a haiku about Autumn leaves:

Stand amid dancers.

Five syllables, boo-yah. I was soooo proud of that poem. And it was sooooo seventh grade. :)

I've had poetry on my mind a lot lately because it seems to be Right Here in front of my face. Of course, I've reacquainted myself with sweet old Mother Goose, and I think I have my own Mother to thank for the illustrated board-book version that AJ LOVES WITH ALL HIS HEART. We read it about a katrillion times a week. I have re-memorized many a stanza that I once knew as a child, most especially, the Three Little Kittens who lost their mittens. That is his Favorite, bar none. If only he knew the word "squeeeeeee!," he would say it the moment he reached that rhyme. (It was always one of my favorites, too.)

Mee-ow, Mee-ow, Mee-ow. No, you shall have no pie.

A few weeks ago I was cleaning out a file cabinet in the basement and found some leftover college papers, specifically, an assignment from English 205/Poetry. In that class, we read a book of Rita Dove's work, and I LOVED it. She wrote so gorgeously (there's how you know I'm NOT actually a poet -- gorgeously??), and every single word had meaning. I learned in that class how to really read poetry, and that it took more than one reading to really get it. And that, reading even MORE times would yield even MORE amazing, symbolic insights. I decided I want to go back and read more of her. I found this interview from a while back, where she says: "I carry a notebook with me everywhere. I write down lines that come to me... words that sound good...overheard conversation...anything that takes me out of daily existence. Then some of those jottings make it onto paper. I keep the drafts of each poem in color-coded folders... I don't want to think about the poems in terms of themes... I just say, "This feels green..." Don't you love that? I wish I had a career where I could just "feel green" and file things there. In "Weathering Out," she begins:

She liked mornings the best--Thomas gone
to look for work, her coffee flushed with milk,

outside autumn trees blowsy and dripping.

I love the word "blowsy."

Last week on "All Things Considered," they did this wonderful story on our national Poet Laureate, Ted Kooser. I had forgotten, in my everyday working (read: boring details) existence, that we even HAVE a Poet Laureate. But I'm fascinated by this guy. He's regular and normal -- he was some sort of business man for 30 years or something. An insurance underwriter, I think. Studied poetry in grad school, but you know, had to feed the family. Wrote poems in the early morning, while drinking his coffee. In his recliner. It's so breadbasket American and thoughtful, and grandpa-like. I love his "So This Is Nebraska." An excerpt:

You feel like that; you feel like letting
your tires go flat, like letting the mice
build a nest in your muffler, like being
no more than a truck in the weeds,

clucking with chickens or sticky with honey
or holding a skinny old man in your lap
while he watches the road, waiting
for someone to wave to.

I'm reminded of something I read once about writing: That every piece of writing you see in the world, down to the indicia on your postage-paid envelope, was written by someone. "Affix Stamp Here" is mightily different from "To Help Defray our Costs, Please Use a Stamp," and both were written by someone. They're both worthy of having been written. Good to remember that when what I write seems nonessential or mundane. Kinda like this post will be if I don't find a point soon.... :)

That's it, really... poetry's neat. It makes the more ordinary details of life, like lost mittens and coffee with milk and rusted-out cars on the side of the road, seem like little diamonds to be marveled at.

Hey, is anyone documenting this?

I experienced another one of those killer headaches this past weekend. Sunday evening, I think. I had put my now-long, flowing hair in a barette-and-two-clippies for a couple of hours. (I'm going to be dumbfounded if that is the connection between the headaches. A Barette?? A Headband??) But anyway, got a slight headache during the afternoon and by evening, it Hurt with a capital H. So I swallowed two Advil and went to get dinner at Applebee's, Carside To Go. (Husband and I have taken to ordering this, frivolously, on the occassional Sunday evening when I've Had It Up To Here with cooking. I think it's a winning new tradition. Except...) Driving there, the Headache, she got worse. Sitting in my special Pick-Up Parking Spot, she expanded to immeasurable depths. Waiting for the slow-ass server, she began driving railroad spikes into the top of my skull. Driving home, she caused that horrible sensation you get when... you know, the salivating sensation -- sorry.

But can I just say? OW.

Don't migraines have something to do with pain behind your eyes and an aversion to light? I didn't have that. Headache Research is on my to-do list. Kinda ruined the excitement of "good food, fast," too.

Our very own swing

Despite our concern that we didn't have a branch that would fit the demands of such a prize, we have secured the Number One Object of AJ's desire -- A. Swing. Later in his life, when he reads this, he'll have to call up his Grandad, or Papa J, or Grampa J - whatever he ends up calling him - and say, "Wow, thanks!" because this item has changed his world. When he masters Zen and realizes his potential to be kind, loving, and graceful, he will remember his Grandad. He feels True Joy now and forever, because that man is a Genius. Who knew that a small purchase at Lowe's could create such a smile on a little boy! He must have known, having been a little boy once himself. But I didn't. (As a matter of fact, swinging kinda makes me seasick.) I knew AJ liked to swing -- weeen! -- but having one in his own front yard??? It's Nirvana. Utopia. Heaven on Earth. The minute I go to put his jacket on him these days, he smiles and says "I?" Which means, "outside?" and immediately following that, he says, "Ween???" which means, "ohboyohboyohboydoIgettoswingnowinmyswingdoIdoIdoI??" The grin is unbelieveably charming, and wide, and toothy. His eyes narrow and his cheeks pinch themselves with the smiling! So, we're in a happy place right now. We Are Swinging. :) We did find the perfect branch; the swing sits low and therefore, has a great big loooooong arc (another of Grandad's genius indicators -- due to all the physics in his pilot's mind); and it is absolutely A Treasure.

Ya learn somethin' every day...

I am half-asleep, apparently, because I just noticed I can add photos for free without using any kind of photo service dealie-bopper. Um, duh.

Here's us, for your reference. A whole new world has opened up to me!

Again, duh.

Two things

You wanna know the two cutest and funnest things EVER EVER In This World?

1) All three of us on Mommy and Daddy's bed, AJ romping around like it's one of those plastic jumpy things at other kids' birthday parties. He throws himself at the pillows with a grin, and then turns his head to the side and pretends to go "ni-night," and then lays there for a minute to catch his breath. Then he holds out his arms and says "Da-DA," and crashes into Daddy on his right. Then same treatment for me, "Ma-MA!" Then he gets tickled by us (because how can we resist), then it's back to the pillows for ni-night! and another little rest. We do this for at least 15 minutes every day now. He'll play this game on the couch, too, but in that edition, when he climbs up onto the couch, he immediately stands, looking over the back of it into the kitchen, and asks politely: "Meee-oook?" (Milk, for you non-native-AJ-speakers.) Aaaahhhh, how do I love this child!

2) My AJ knows his vowels. He was given the Leap Frog Fridge Phonics System, and they can thank me later for the free ad, because I sit here before you, Singing its Praises. Is it normal for a 15-month-old to KNOW letters? Maybe it is. I probably suffer from 1st-time-parent amazement. But it makes my little heart burst with pride and yesterday I even had the thought, while reading him a Barney book about "what will I be when I grow up," on the Doctor page, "I bet AJ will consider becoming a doctor." Y'think I am getting a little ahead of myself? But he knows his letters, y'all! A, E, I, O, U, and sometimes S (still some work to do, as you can see). Oh yes, and B, and D. You can ask him "AJ, where's "S?" and he will search the fridge 'til he finds it. He concentrates. This is serious. But at the same time, he's like, "Easy one, Mom." Grabs that S and puts it right into its magnetic holder so it sings. And it is CUTE.

15 months is a magnificent age, I have decided. I think I am going to put a brick on his head so he stays this precious and small forever.

Lists a-plenty

To Do:
Call vet to schedule annual exam.
Call financial advisor to set up 529 for AJ.
Call contractor about revised estimate.
Email DH that fax number he needs.
Look up freezing fresh basil/pesto recipes.
Do health benefits questionnaire and sign-up.
Write blog post about poetry that's in my head.

To Buy:
New 8x10 and 5x7 picture frames.
Next Book Club selection: Cloud Atlas: A Novel, by David Mitchell
Milk (skim and whole).
Fat-free half-n-half.
Cheddar cheese (hey, we like our dairy, what can I say?).
Bananas.

I'm sure there are more tasks on my list. And these don't even include work-stuff, which is also a-plenty. Can't think of them right now, though... wait 'til I finish my coffee!

Hiya!

You are Scooter.
You are a loyal, hardworking person, better known
as a doormat.

SPECIAL TALENTS:
Going for stuff.
LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE:
"Go For Broke!"

QUOTE:
"15 seconds to showtime."

LAST BOOK READ:
"300 New Ways to Get Your Uncle to Get You a
Better Job "

NEVER LEAVES HOME WITHOUT:
Coffee, clipboard, and Very Special Guest Stars.


What Muppet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Three graphs of nothin'

I should be getting to work right now. Although I did get my work done yesterday -- more than I expected to, actually -- I just haven't had any time to sit and Think lately, and that is bothersome. I like to Think. To Ponder. I wonder when the Slow-Down is supposed to happen at work? Or if. I think it's "if" more than "when" at this point. Sigh.

It's gotten cool and I have contracted my annual sore throat. You can call me Demi...uh, Kucher -- I'm that sexy croaky. Perfect timing since I was the choir soloist last Sunday morning. No broken stained glass, so I think I did okay, but some of the middle-range notes sure felt like high ones. Ouch. I just set up the humidifier in AJ's room to combat this change of seasons. It would figure that we'd pick the hottest AND coldest room in the house for him. Last night he was bundled up in sweatpants so I wasn't worried, but when he woke up at 3:45 am because he'd flung his passie out of the crib, man! were his little feets c-c-c-old! He didn't seem to mind, and went right back to sleepy-land, but Mommy minded. Poor feets.

We had one of my favorite dinners last night -- Taco Kit. :) I adore Mexican food (maybe I've mentioned this before??) but I won't eat a taco at a restaurant. G-ross. All greasy on the bottom and they're nothing but plain meat. But with Taco Kit dinner, you get those Super-Crispitty shells and the tasty red powder stuff to go in the meat -- and plenty of lettuce, tomato and sour cream lite. It's a little pocket of processed-food heaven right there. GGAh! I ate too many, and... skipped the walk this morning. But see above: it's Cold. I'm planning to DVR some FitTV and not use any more excuses this week.

Creative parenting

I worry -- what, me? worry? I should have just named this blog "Me, Fretting" -- about being a creative parent. Sometimes, I Just Don't Know What To Do with the young creature under my immediate supervision. We'll play in the den, scoot about through the kitchen, pull out all the pots and pans, move to the fridge magnets, hit the living room and that set of toys, look out the window together, go upstairs to his room for more books and toys, and then... I'm out of ideas. Oh wait, we also go outside and do our requisite perimeter-walkabout of the yard. And play a little ball with the dog. And water flowers. And that is It. We have to start over.

I'm not too concerned about my lack of ideas at this point because, thank heavens, the same old toys still seem to interest him -- and, seriously, he's only 15 months old! Not like he needs Shakespeare performed LIVE or a 2-part lab experiment to stimulate his thinking! But I just hope that someday I can be the kind of parent who provides wondermous, thought-provoking activities and FUN things to do on a rainy day (or any other day). My Mom seemed to have a knack for it, although I know she wasn't down on her hands and knees with us all the time. I guess I worry because of the kind of babysitter I always was -- never the kind who would get out all the Star Wars action figures and set up a "land" and create "missions." I'd play a board game, or a good few rounds of Hide-n-Seek (okay, I admit I still love H-n-S), and then I'd want the kids to settle down and watch a video! And, then, hooray! They're going to bed!

Anyway, in this spirit, I've bought AJ his first Crayons (the fat ones in a pack of 8), I've been exploring Crayola.com and creativeparents.com, and madly clipping arts and crafts projects from "Parenting" mag. Hope they'll all come in handy someday.

Clean is relative, and other truths about toddlerhood

There are, in fact, a few things I've learned in this 15-month-lifetime that I've been a parent. Many of them have occured just in the last few months. Perhaps they will be helpful to me in the future. Or perhaps they'll be helpful to someone else.

1. Being smug about the pacifier might come back to bite you. AJ wasn't exactly hooked on it in his infanthood, and DH and I.... we let it go to our heads a little. "Aren't we good parents? OUR baby doesn't need his passie." (Yes, that's what we call it. I just can't do "binkie" for some reason. Could be that our friends call their SON "Binkie." His name is perfectly good -- Brennan -- why they choose to give him such a sissie nickname is beyond me. But, back to the smugness:) "We must have a super-well-adjusted child, because he is Very Independent. He sleeps with no sleep aid. He is talking a lot, and early, according to the daycare teachers, and it's probably because we're such good parents that he Doesn't Need His Passie and therefore, his mouth is available for all the talking. [pat ourselves on our collective back]"
   
   WELL.... at 13 months, I'm being called out. I’m that explorer -- who was it? Oh yes, Vasco Nunez de Balboa, thank you Google -- looking at the Paci-rific Ocean for the first time and calling it "Peace." He began wanting it again, And How. We discovered it after the fact -- one day at daycare I showed up and he was Using! Shock-n-awe! So now at home, when nothing else will soothe him, we give in to his addiction, we feed him the baby-crack. We're okay with it -- he's supervised. Sometimes he asks for it in his pitiful crying, hiccuping voice: "Paaad-deeeee??" It's adorable. Although the first time he walked around, passie casually hanging from his mouth, I laughed out loud. I'd not seen him use one in so long, he kinda looked like someone else's kid for a second.
   
   
2. Unpredictability is a way of life. This I intend for the Feeding category, although I could type for days and days about my uncertainty as far as feeding is concerned. Table food feeding, that is. But by unpredictable, I mean AJ will eat like a horse one day, and the next day refuse to put anything near his mouth except the Dog's bone, which he's been repeatedly instructed NOT TO EAT. On those days he will pooh-pooh the foods he once lovingly inhaled, preferring instead to writhe about in his high chair and ask to get "Owww?" exactly 2 minutes after he's gotten in. Sigh. I worry, every single stinking time, that I need to get him something that he WANTS to eat, or else he'll starve. Even though I know from The Books that my responsibility is only to provide the healthy balanced meal. His is to eat it (or not, if his little body says no, thanks). Usually on these delightful occassions, at around 8:00 pm he will ask for 2 full sippy-cups of milk and drink each one in a single swallow, and I'll be reassured that he won't, in fact, starve. But it gets me every time.
   
   
3. The next size up, in diapers, is often your best friend. Don't resist growing with Baby. Or else you might be sorry.
   
   
4. This is a gimme, but: Babies need to be loved as much as possible in the first year (and a half). And comforted when they cry. But at about 8 months it's okay to leave them in the crib for a while, after dutifully doing your bedtime routine. They will learn to love the crib! This is a message for the Future Me: Just stick with it! Remember how AJ, at first, cried and cried when you left? But then around 14 months, he started reeeeeaching for his mattress, knowing how cool and clean and comforting the sheet and the blankie can feel after a long day! The same way you, yourself, feel about the sheets and the blankie! So stick with the routine.
   
   
5. Letting Little Ones HELP you works. We have both found that if we act like AJ is essential to the Very Important Thing we want to do instead of obediently sitting on the floor playing with His Highness him -- Dishes, Reading the Mail, Putting on Socks, Feeding the Dog, etc. -- he will very gladly touch whatever object it is we're trying to use, in the name of HELPING. :)
   
   And, a fringe benefit -- he's learned to say "Tank Oo" while pulling spoons from the dishwasher, because I say "Thank You" ever-so-politely each time he hands me one. This morning he said it directly to the cook at daycare who brought his breakfast in! Everyone was Impressed! I was Best Mother In The Room for a moment. Cue Whitney Houston -- "Oooonne moment in time, when I'm all that I thought I could be..."
   
   
6. The vacuum-/dust-/insert-housekeeping-chore-ing will keep. Sure, the dog hair is swirling around your feet each time you swish through the kitchen. Who cares. The longer you put it off, the MORE satisfying it will be when you finally have it done.
   

Wait, wait, wait....!

I want to change my b4b entry! (Not really, you b4b judges and spies. It's just a nice lead-in...) I am listening to one of my favorite albums of ALL TIME, BAR NONE, FOREVER AND EVER, AMEN: Johnny Mathis' Merry Christmas. (Shut up, I know the date.) Now THOSE songs, sung by him, transport me right back to being a kid in my parents' home, and the excitement and wonder and FAMILY that Christmas is absolutely supposed to be. They hit me like no other music I know.

(I got my eMac at work 2 years ago around holiday time, and loaded all this Christmas music -- including Barry M.! -- into iTunes. Then I got sidetracked, so it's all I've got, locally. Hee. Good for the soul, though, in October.)

Monster in the bedroom?

I can't decide if I'm getting sick or if I'm just tired, or if it's a weird combination of both, plus a headband. The headband I wore yesterday -- since I was working from home, I didn't bother drying my hair, just pushed it back and left it there all day. I had the inklings of a small headache by end of day, which isn't unusual for me and headbands, but in the middle of the night, WHAMMO. "Hello, it's 12:47 a.m., and I am the Headache Monster, and you'd better get your head up off the pillow, for I am SPLITTING it down the middle." The only thing that felt better was to stand up, but even that didn't help much. I even had a touch of nausea on the side -- how nice. I stayed upright for about half an hour or 45 minutes, sitting on the tub, walking around the hallway -- which seemed so silly without holding and shushing a newborn or something -- then I gently eased back down into my pillow, hoping not to piss off the monster again. It worked and I slept and woke up fine, but as I sit here sipping my morning caffeinated beverage, I'm feeling kinda ookie again. Boooo.

The disco in my life

Okay, this month's Blogging for Books has got me all conflicted. On the one hand I'm enthused, because the theme is "your personal relationship with a song." And, I mean, who doesn't have one of those? Songs are everywhere, songs are eternal, it's the perfect writing topic for the masses. But it's hard to pick just ONE song I have a relationship with. There are too many and some of them are too stupid. For starters, I can personally recall the day before I left my home and my high school boyfriend, bound for college -- singing Garth Brooks' "The Dance" all the way there, in my head. "Our lives are better left to chance... I coulda missed the pai-ai-ain, but I'da had to miss... The-uh-uh-uh..... Dance." (Sob, "Our Prom!!" I wailed inside.) Hindsight... quite the personal cliché. A little embarassing, but that's the memory that happens when I hear that one, these days.

There are certainly songs in my life that, in all seriousness, make me cry every time -- one is an insturmental lullaby by Bobby McFerrin that I heard early in my pregnancy with AJ, when I was vulnerable and overwhelmed with the whole idea of becoming a Mom. Its tenderness and innocence (the words are simply, "La-la-la-la-la,") spoke to the frightened child -- me -- who just needed comforting that day. The other is a sweet Amy Grant song about believing God's going to handle things, which: Sing to me of my faith and watch out -- I really get going.

I think I'd really prefer to talk about a happy song. One that makes me laugh, and is associated with one of the sweetest memories of my life. You can laugh when I tell you. Go on, I want you to: "It's A Miracle," by Barry Manilow.

The Story?...I'd been single for nearly 2 years, and had stopped "looking." That stage where you're all of a sudden Happy with Who You Are and you realize you don't NEED a capital-R Relationship to be fulfilled. I was there: working, succeeding, hanging out with friends, but not even that -- hanging out with myself, and FINE with it. And then, at work of all places, I met a guy. There had been one or two that I'd considered 'cute,' at the office, but all of a sudden, where did this one come from?? He blew me away at first glance. When I think about it now, I realize there is, in fact, a "type" that I am attracted to, and he's It. Big, sensitive eyes (some say Puppy Dog), clean hair, tall and thin, and a straight, perfect smile. And then, after we'd talked a couple of times, I was intrigued. He didn't attempt in any overt way to flirt with me. He was Nice. He was Casual and Genuine. He was friendly, but in a way that didn't make me wonder what he wanted, and I hadn't seen that in a LONG time.

So we played Professional for a few weeks, and then, the Company Picnic. I went. He went. We chatted over ice cream, with co-workers looking on and raising their eyebrows, unbeknownst to us. When we drove away separately, I did watch his car go down the highway and note to myself, "He is a very nice guy. I wouldn't mind a date with him, even."

The very next day I was in his part of the building for a meeting. I stopped by his desk since now we were officially friends, just to exchange small talk and see his smile. My stomach was starting to feel a bit fluttery around him. He Very Casually asked me if I'd like to have lunch Wednesday. I mean, it was such a subtle invitation, I almost didn't even catch it -- y'know how coworkers team up for lunch? You going? We're going? *shrug* It was almost like that. But, as I walked away, I realized he meant "Would you like to go to lunch with ME?" and in my mind I started thinking, "It's a miracle: A guy that I'm actually attracted to, and enjoy talking with, has just asked me out!" And then, before I could stop it and thanks to a childhood full of the Barry Manilow 8-track, "It's a Miracle" started playing in my head. I practically danced down the stairs, a goofy smile oozing out of me. Not kidding.

"...And baby, there'll be
Dancin in the streets!
For the miracle
A true blue spectacle
The miracle is you!"

Perhaps you don't know this song. You're missing out -- it's disco to the Nth. And it's AWESOME. With background "doot-doot-doos" and everything. Not one of Manilow's lovey ballads, but a dance hit. 'Cause you know Manilow was a dancin' machine. (And so am I, naturally. Ahem.) It's too cheesy for words, that song -- I thought so even as it was spinning in my brain that day. But it made me laugh, too, that my heart wanted to sing a song like that, just because of a little lunch invitation. Surely you've guessed that The Guy ended up being my husband. So, that's the song that started it all for me. When I hear it, I remember the heart racing, spring-in-my-step feeling of everything being new, and... um... true-blue... and spectacular.

Ooh, I just thought of the other thing I've been wishing...

It's not all convents and rosaries:

I've been wishing that I'd chosen to teach music lessons for a living. How great would it be to (be an accomplished pianist and) teach voice lessons to sweet high school students, in my own home, with my very own grand piano, and collect cash doing it?

Plus, unlike the nunnery option, I'd still get to have a real-live husband.

Suh-weet!

My cholesterol just got checked -- first time ever, that I'm aware of -- and it was 172. And now, all together now, let's siiiiiiiiiigh with relief. It could be better, of course (thus, the workout regimen that began this week), but I'm just happy it's within normal levels. I fully expected it to be through the roof. Especially since I had a PIECE OF CAKE for breakfast! HA! I am of the "Bill Cosby, Himself" generation that fully believes cake has eggs, milk, and flour in it -- it's absolutely breakfast food. But I now qualify for lower health insurance rates because I took their little tests, right here at the office with all my coworkers standing by. One guy stood a bit too close to the scale while I was on it. Rude. (Can you believe they didn't have any curtained-off areas for this? I fully expected that, too, in this age of health information privacy and all. But as is the case with most of my company's procedures, this is the cheap seats, people. No frills.)

My friend J is moving in a few months, to beautiful coastal North Carolina. I am going to miss her terrifically but... last night she called me to her house to go through years' worth of her 5-year-old son's garage-sale-bound clothes. SCORE! I got jammies, long-sleeved t-shirts, the cutest mittens/hat set I've ever seen (like we need it), and a bunch of precious, preppy Striped Socks. She said I was preppy and that's why I liked the socks -- I was flattered but told her I think I only Aspire to be preppy. I think having a boy helps, though. What does a preppy girl wear, exactly, these days? I'm not sure. I think "classic relaxed" wins over "preppy" in current trends for women. I also bought AJ some jeans and cords the other day at Target, so we should be set for Fall. Of course, there's always room for more clothes (GRANDMOM). ;)

Tonight, DH and I will be poring over the loan papers for our mortgage re-fi. What fun. And then we'll talk about the health insurance we were tested for this morning -- enrollment next week. And then, if we're not trying to throw things at each other or cross-eyed with our tongues lolling about like CRAZY PEOPLE, we will revisit this vinyl siding situation and see just exactly how much cash we can afford to put into it. Don't you wish you had such an awesome Friday night planned? You know you do. Don't worry, we'll be having Stiff Drinks with a side of Alcohol for supper.

P.S. I love using the word "cords." I used to read it in books like "SuperFudge" but didn't exactly know what it meant. But it sounds so sturdy. And sort-of sophisticated. Next, I'll start calling AJ's jeans "dungarees," for that essential rough-n-tumble connotation.