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?
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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.

Dig this...

I love reading old journals and previous blog entries. So I'm super-glad to get this meme and go digging around in my archives. Again, it's one that everyone's done before:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

He can't wait for kisses from Polie, through the spindles of the banister.

AJ had just discovered slobbery kisses from the dog. I'm reminded that this was before we'd installed the netting across all our upstairs banister spindles. Before the days of the baby gate, and well before the days when he could go up and down them all by himself! (He's finally figured out "down." We are a Tummy-Toes family. It's fun to watch him slide down! Such a big boy!)

No tagging this time. Don't want to wear out my welcome in that department!

Wish I may, wish I might

First of all, I wish I had the time to really write more, and I don't just mean my usual drivel, but I mean a good, solid, well-thought-out entry about something I care deeply about. Or a really impressive Blogging For Books entry. I feel like I'm squeezing time in for the blog between work stuff and of course, life stuff. What I'd do if I had my druthers would be to have a list of posts I'm working on, and come back to each one several times and get it right, and feel great about it. But that does not seem likely as I can barely start one before some other committment calls.

I also wish I would quit whining about my lack of time. There are 24 hours, that is that, I can't change it or fix it, so why am I so consumed by it? I apologize to you, my readers, for this constant grumbling. I resolve to do better. :)

Yesterday on the way home, I was driving next to this little old beat up Corolla, which caught my eye as I, too, own a Corolla (DH drives it), and it has a special place in my heart. It's My Little Car. My "Crayola," as Dad called it. Anyway, I peered into the window to see who was driving (I'm nosy like that -- always want to know more about the car next to me than its color and style -- and this way, in theory at least, if said car cuts in front of me, I can put a face to it and not just glare hatefully... of course it works the other way, too, if I get cut off before I see who the driver is, I glare in direct hateful proportion once I do see them). The driver was a little nun. I say "little" nun out of great respect, mind you. She looked about my age, was wearing a veil, and had a rosary hanging from the mirror and a little gold crucifix on her dashboard. And I got to thinking, what a nice life that might be. It was almost, "I wish I were a nun..." but not quite. More like I wish I had some of the benefits that go with it. I bet you didn't know there were benefits. ;)

I wonder why I never ever considered nun-dom seriously when I was at the "what to do with my life" stage. One might say it's not such an attractive option, what with the vow of poverty and all. But.... when I think about it now... with all this LIFE EXPERIENCE behind me -- it sure would be nice to have just a little bit of the poverty, by choice. Poverty's okay in a small dose, if it's by choice (and if the parish is paying for your meals and housing). If I were a nun, I wouldn't own a home, and therefore wouldn't have to worry about the fact that new siding is going to cost us $AnEnormousSum.95. I wouldn't have to care that the house will never sell without the new siding. No one has to sell their own convent and hope to make a profit! They just "live in community" within it, and let Someone Else handle the details. Quelle Bliss!

I would also sorta like to try my hand at teaching, but am not at all interested, right now, in changing my career direction and going back to school (especially not as I listen to my friend who's in grad school talk about all the crap she has to do). But if I were a nun, I'd have known teaching was in my future, and I'd have taken Education courses to prepare for it. And I'd be Expected to teach. So it'd have been an easy choice. (Of course, one of the reasons I wish to be a teacher is for their nice hours and to be with my kids while they're in school -- and that obviously wouldn't apply if I were a nun. But they still get summer vacation... they just don't get to wear their swimsuit at the beach for a week. Whoa, I'm derailing here...)

And oh, the wish for time to spend in prayer and contemplation! Those nuns probably get up early to do it, but having a Mass or chapel gathering at least a couple times a day -- right in your own house? -- that wouldn't be such a bad deal. (Plus, I am now GOOD AT getting up early! 4 days in a row, people, 5:30 am!!) I'd know the Bible backwards and forwards, and I'd know prayers and even know (better) how to listen for God in the silence. I'm not talking about being a cloistered nun, but I have to say, a silent retreat or two would probably do me a world of good, too. As long as I'm imagining this nun-life. I was even thinking, as I drove past her, "I bet she's praying right now, in the solitude of her car." And I've tried to do that, but it's not easy. I bet nuns are much better at it. Their Job is to pray, after all. It would feel like such a "sisterhood," the bond with all the other nuns. There aren't that many these days, you know. So we'd be rare and interesting -- and I can tell you, among Catholics, they're always held in pretty high regard, especially since there are so few. It's like seeing Santa Claus -- you don't get to very often, so when you do, it's special. Kids are in awe of 'em, parents remember having them as teachers, and the priests rely on them to help run the schools and churches. It might actually be fun to be Sister Mary Lee Cecelia Felicity Perpetua.

It goes without saying how much I'd be missing, of course, without my wonderful husband, and my days as a Wife and a Mother. I'd never give that up now. I truly love my life (siding issues notwithstanding). But it's interesting to imagine it. I do hope young girls out there are considering it for their lives. I'd hate to lose the nuns altogether. I have a cousin-in-law who really did consider it. Prayed about it. And chose marriage and motherhood, in the end. I think it's wonderful she was even that close to it, though.

Ah, the morning air

I have An Announcement to make:

I got up this morning at FIVE THIRTY to go for a walk.

I am so, so proud of myself. Krissy inspired me a week or two ago, but I am also constantly thinking about being 31. And not-getting-any-younger. And family history. And bad eating habits. And how you lose the ability to fight off the fat as you get older. I SO want to be a healthy example for my little man and his possible siblings. And, let's face it, I SO want to buy the cute outfits at Talbot's and not have to shop at Lane Bryant. (Vanity's perhaps an okay thing in this instance?) So I did it, I did it, I did it. I just can't NOT do it. I have to make this one of my non-negotiables, and get out there every day. Just, period. No questions or reasons, it's just one of those things I Must Do, like brushing teeth. (After a full week last week of Good Intentions, I just have to say, "Well, hooey," and get on with it.)

It was not as hard as I thought it would be to get my butt out of the house that early. For some reason I was awake today at 5, kind-of waiting for the alarm. My internal clock was beeping me stealthily, I guess. So by the time 5:30 rolled around I was actually bored, and ready to do something. (Thanks, internal clock!) I only walked about 20 minutes but I figure if I can make that a habit (would every day be too much to ask of myself?), I'll be good to go. No worries about cholesterol or heart disease for me (genetics be damned)! I will persevere and not back down and eat healthy things more than salty/yummy/sugary/tasty things. Yes, I will. (No, I won't, not all of that.) But I will, So Help Me.

I'm it

And by that I mean, someone tagged me! Chantal at Bread Crumbs in the Butter (and everyone else) is doing this meme and hey, I’ll admit to being a joiner.

Ten Years Ago:
In September, 1995, I was just beginning my senior year of college, for the first time living off-campus in a cute little apartment with my friend Cantus. It was an effort for me to ask my parents to let me do this, and I don’t know if by doing it, I was bleeding them dry, but I was also excited to have just started a work-study job that paid – get this -- $5.25/hour! I said in my diary, “But it’s about to go up to $5.75! Hope I can pay my bills!” Oh, the innocence. I “didn’t know from bills” back then! ...I was also dating, long-distance, My College BF (it had been 2 years by this point). He’d graduated a year earlier than me and moved home to Texas. I was whine-ily missing him in the particular diary entry I found for this date. *dry-heave* He wasn't a bad person, it's just that I'm realizing now what I thought was Love was really just a ginormous crush. I had a crush on him my whole freshman year, then he kissed me sophomore year, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. So I stuck with it longer than I should have. ANyway....!

Five Years Ago:
I was engaged to be married to DH, and had just moved myself into what would be our first little apartment home together. I had “split up” with Cantus and cried about it – it was the end of a long era of being roommates and best pals! – but was definitely enjoying having a place ALL to myself. What a treat! I was shopping for bridal dresses (I remember doing this all alone and feeling lonely), and working at the Job I Hated. That was possibly the oddest time of my life – I was living alone for the first time in my life, yet very much together with Soon-To-Be-Husband. I was thrilled and In Love, but Hated my job. It was All Paradox, All the Time.

One Year Ago:
One year ago, actually, I was counting out the last remaining hours of my maternity leave, grieving that 12 weeks -- what seemed like a lifetime of job-free days, at the beginning! -- could fizzle out so soon. I was making sure to sit outside in the cool early fall morning air each day, nuzzling the sweet little folds of AJ's creamy skin, and cooing at him, teaching him the difference between a cardinal’s "peep, peep" and a blue jay’s distant chirp. I was also walking, daily. That was nice. And I was finally comfortable with his feeding and napping schedule. It took me forever to get confident that whatever worked for us, was OK. I had read wayyyy too many books. I was sad, a year ago. Did I say that? I couldn’t imagine how to leave him.

(But we did it, and we managed, and look how far we’ve come.)

Yesterday:
I was at the office from 8-4, working working. And checking things off the list. I had lunch with DH in the lunchroom. Afterwards, I was at home with AJ, who’d had a bit of a rough tummy according to his Wonderful Teacher -– but he seemed just fine and dandy to me. I was making boxed Mac & Cheese (Gerah!) with broccoli and tuna -– a mighty delicious dinner if I do say so myself. Then I was briefing DH on the goings-on, handing AJ over, and sneaking out to choir practice. Then I was singing. Then I was rolling my eyes. Then, thanks be to God, I was home again, watching Lost and folding itty-bitty socks.

Five Songs I Know All The Words To:
The Morning Mambo, by Bear
Insomniac, by Billy Pilgrim
Livin’ on a Prayer, Bon Jovi
Lord of All Hopefulness
Another Suitcase in Another Hall, from Evita

Five Snacks:
Chips and Salsa
Chips and Guacamole
Chips and cheese dip
Chips and bean dip
Chips and I don’t know, what else is there?!… Um… Peach Salsa

Five things I'd do with 100 million dollars:
Lordy. Buy a new house. Well, first, fix up and sell this one. DECORATE new house. Buy husband a new car. (Or three.) Hire an accountant.

Five places I'd run away to:
Paris
Canada
Minnesota
Colorado
Episcopal Church

Five things I would never wear:
A wet suit
A Scuba tank
Gauchos
Leg warmers
army fatigues

Five Favourite TV Shows
Lost
Queer Eye
Amazing Race
Will & Grace
Ally McBeal

Five greatest joys
Husband
AJ
Family
Singing
Great food

Five favourite toys:
? I have no idea.


Current Reads:
Good Wives
Parenting magazine (I’m a sucker, I read it)
A Million Blogs
Real Simple magazine
My cookbooks

Five People I am tagging to do this:
I think a lot of my peeps have already done it. Krissy? Have you? SDW? Feel like a goof-off exercise? Beansy? Indigo Girl? Stacie? How 'bout it?

How he melts my heart

I think I stole that title from my friend at poop & suits. But hers was about Baby. Mine is about Husband.

Have you ever heard the theme song to Charlie and Lola? Go to that link right now and listen. It's not particularly sad, I don't think, but it is kind-of sweet, and obviously British, so it's different from the music of most of our US kids' shows. Well, AJ, in his love for Playhouse Disney, hears this theme song quite a bit as he waits for Breakfast with Bear. (I'd link it, too, but I'm lazy. Bear's his actual favorite.) As a result, Husband and I hear it quite a bit. We sing it to each other for a laugh sometimes, when we're not singing Elmo's theme song, or Bear's.

The sweetest thing is, Husband says this Charlie and Lola song makes him kind-of sad. When he thinks about it at work. When he's away from his little boy.

It isn't even Friday

...and yet, I'm playing stupid Internet games!

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

Kirk Cameron

Who's Your 80's Heartthrob?

Ah, Kirk -- I did have quite the crush on him at one time. He was always in my "M-A-S-H" lineup, along with Ricky Schroeder when he was Ricky. :) Too funny.

Bonne anniversaire a toi

And zat, my frennz, is how ve say Happy Birz-day En Francais.

It was my Mom's birthday yesterday. And many bloggers I know would have written a long, loving letter to Mom, a letter that would make readers weep with its beauty, and actually feel like they could hang on the strength of that bond of biological goodness connecting one to the other. My blog, however, sat dormant while I struggled to corral the papers on my desk. Those stinking papers would not be tamed. Every time I delved into one project, the guy from the other project called me to interrupt. And I couldn't sit for five minutes and DO something without having to get up to go do something else. Frustrating. I did call my Mom and tell her I love her (I do, y'know), and I sent a card. I didn't manage a present. It's hard enough for me to get groceries (sorry, whine) let alone get a gift, wrap it, and get to the post office to send it. WHERE IN THE HE** IS A POST OFFICE, anyway? I can't find one near our new office.

So Mom's either getting a belated (online) gift, or none at all. Terrible. I'm her first-BORN! It is I that MADE her a mother! And yesterday I failed her. ;) Luckily, she is very kind and said, "Oh, honey, you don't have to send gifts." When meanwhile I know my cousin and cousin's wife who don't even have the money to spend on presents, got her one, and went to her party. So, the guilt. Terrible.

Even WORSE: I completely forgot my friend's birthday on the 24th!! Cantus NEVER EVER forgets my birthday. She was my roommate in college and for 4 years after, until I met DH. She is a dear, dear friend even though I hardly ever see her anymore, since she lives Inside the Perimeter and I live OTP. I called her up on a whim yesterday and as it was ringing.... I remembered. So instead of a happy little "I was thinking about you" voice mail, I had to leave her a "I'm so sorry, happy belated" voice mail. Bummer.

It makes me mad, sort-of, that my life as a working mommy has made me so much LESS focused on my friends and family. I feel like, when I talk to Mom and Dad on the phone, it's so one-sided and "Here's what else we did. And then this. And then AJ did this cute thing, and this, and this one, too." And I also hate having to talk TO him while I'm on the phone with them, because Before I was a mommy, that was a serious pet-peeve about other Mommies I knew. (What can I say? I didn't know things then.)

"Honey, no no don't touch that cord... Hang on, yeah what were you saying about the wedding? Oh, yes, I agr -- no, NO, AJ. Come over here, let's look at your puzzle. Mm-hm, mm-hm, definitely wear the green one... good job, AJ! Yeah, with the strappy sandals."

I know my parents love to hear all that stuff, but it still feels different from how we used to talk. Mom and I (and Sis) can sit at the kitchen table All Day and chat about nothing much. But in that time we learn so much about each other, and share opinions, and often get very Philosophical. Used-ta could on the phone, too.

And I just hate forgetting someone's birthday. Because when it's MY birthday, I LOVE getting the phone calls and cards in the mail, especially from people other than family. Like Cantus. Or my cousins. I want to be the girl who sends (at least e-) cards, every year. Who thinks about Other People once in a while.

I need to set alarms, I guess, to ensure I vill remembah zeez tings.

It's not a brain-cloud

...it's a house-cloud. This weekend our refrigerator died. Or at least, fell on its back gasping. Clutching at its heart. I'm sitting here with Boris now, who's replacing the defrost mechanism. To the tune of $400, la-la-la. Our poor house. Can't get out from under this pox it's got.

Friday fives

Let's all give a high-five to the weekend! This week has crawled by. To celebrate: Friday's Feast:

Appetizer
Name something someone has done lately that impressed you.
My friend showed me something yesterday that she figured out all by herself. It was a workaround solution to a problem I had, and she saved me about 40 bucks and a lot of downloading time. Nice! She is entirely too smart and I sometimes wish I could figure stuff out like she does. It is impressive.

Soup
Do you have any relaxing rituals? If so, what are they?
I do love to take a nice bath. There's not much ceremony to it, I just soak and sigh!

Salad
If you could spend the winter season somewhere other than your current location, where would you choose to stay?
Oooh, the winter season! Well, my husband has a fascination with Colorado, and I did, once, go skiing there and stayed in a nice cabin in the mountains. I think it'd be fun to hole up like that for the winter. We might actually see some snow, and have a fire every night, and have to wear boots. The novelty would be just about right for a 3-month stay (although I know winter lasts longer out/up there!) Winter for us isn't much of a season -- just cold and sometimes rainy. There's absolutely no magic to it. We sometimes get snow but it's never until the end of March, when we're ready for it to be spring already. I'd like to experience the tall, silent pine trees, blanketed with snow and dripping icicles. Once.

Main Course
When was the last time you had dinner out, and what was the name of the restaurant?
My last dinner out... let's see... that would have to have been months ago weeks... no, wait, when we went to Savannah on the 9th-10th we went out to dinner at The Lady & Sons. Spent a boatload of cash, had wine, appetizers, desserts...y-u-m-m-y.

Dessert
If you had a boat, what would you name it?
(Great reference: Lyle Lovett's "If I Had a Boat." One of my very favorite songs ever.) I've seen so many great boat names in the marinas in Florida. Like, The "Her Diamond." The "Jack N A Splash" (ha!). The "Nograstomo" (get it?). People are so clever. However, being that I'm not much for sea legs, I'd probably have to name mine the "Lady Dram-a-Mine." Or else, the "Ku-ku Ka-choo" (from Finding Nemo, duuude)!


And now, let's get our grateful on:

• For my little man, who woke up so sweetly this morning and makes every day worth waking up for...
  
• For my grown-up man, who's making difficult decisions at work this week, but keeping his loyalites to our family and our quality of life....and still remembering to take good care of me with kindness...
  
• For getting things checked off the to-do list at work...
  
• For good music, and even the songs that get stuck in my head, because they make me think of loved ones, lately...
  
• For a life that's full and satisfying, if a bit overcrowded sometimes... this is the way it's supposed to be, isn't it? Family, work, dinner, singing, driving, rushing, cleaning, sighing, playing, reading, tickling, answering, striving, wishing, trying... living.
  
• Updated 10:25 am to add: Grateful for that We had pasta with fresh basil last night. Fresh basil that is planted in my (container) garden, which is something I've longed for, for many moons. So fresh! So sweet! So delicious with lemon and parmesan. :)
  

A-Brewin'

God in heaven, what is the meaning of the violent storms?? MUST WE? AGAIN? And of course, what's going to happen is the political bull---t; how, just because Texas is MOBILIZING and getting the HELL out of DODGE, everyone's going to say, "ohssshure, that's GEORGE BUSH's home state, no WONDER the federal government's taking care of the TEXANS..." and that is a bunch of CRAP. One of my co-workers already tried to start something like that this morning and I am telling you, I do not want to HEAR IT. I just about put my headphones on WHILE HE WAS TALKING. If the Texans are getting evacuated it is because no one, not one state, could possibly have missed the news in the last 4 weeks, and perhaps now we've all seen what can happen and We Are Not Stupid! If FEMA is sending water and supplies it is because, well duh! I mean, it's because they have to! They've already been roasted and raked, they can't afford to screw it up again, so they won't. I'm just sick and tired of all the politicizing, and don't tell me my head's in the sand. If the Prez HAD gone on TV the day of the last Incredibly Devastating Hurricane, what would that have accomplished? The people who needed his Capital-R Reassurance? ...They Didn't Have Power, Y'all. The people who began criticizing were, what? Sitting at their TVs waiting to see him on there? (Read: Also not helping.)

Anyway, forgive my rant -- I am SO against party politics it isn't even worth engaging me, because I'm not going to answer -- but can't we just for once, STAND TOGETHER and cluck our tongues at the severity of NATURE? Without having to wonder who caused it? And wouldn't it be nice if somehow, storms could magically Dissolve just the same way they appear (only backwards)?

Infinite possibilities

I present... my To Do list!

(AJ's at daycare and I'm WFH today, so I have grand delusions that I'll accomplish oodles of things that normally are left by the wayside. Shut up, I know -- less typing, more doing!)

1. at least 2 hours of content input make that 5.5 hrs -- SCORE!
   
2. at least 2 hours of content writing
   
3. go to the nursery (plants, not kids) and get pots, soil, and plants
   
4. two loads of laundry
   
5. make pie
   
6. plant new containers while AJ plays alongside me
   

See what I mean? Delusions. But a girl's gotta dream.

Same old

There are some great discussions happening on the 'net. Selkie's got homeschooling, Gerah's got full-time-working-mom questions, and I've got... the following.

blah blah blah blah not really feelin' work today blah blah blah blah the "Morning Mambo" is stuck in my head (from Disney Channel) blah blah blah blah at least husband told me I'm Pretty blah blah blah blah blah I definitely need new shoes blah blah blah blah neck still hurts blah blah blah blah blah blah blah am hungry for breakfast blah blah blah blah ooh, better put a load of laundry in blah blah blah blah blah some days I wish I was a novelist with really great stories that needed telling blah blah blah blah guess I need to get to work.

20 random things

Please tell us 20 random things about yourself. Keep track of how many minutes you take, and tag that many people to perform this exercise themselves.
8:05 am

1. My neck is very sore this morning, for the 2nd day in a row. I can't turn my head in any direction.
2. I drink coffee every weekday morning. 2 Splendas, Fat-free half-n-half.
3. I am doing CMS training today.
4. I'm still wearing sandals even though it's almost officially Fall.
5. I pulled a few weeds this weekend.
6. I've been reading a book for a month now and am only on Chapter 3.
7. I even like the book.
8. My watch battery has been dead for 3 weeks.
9. I'm getting used to going without a watch.
10. I took at least 1 music class every semester of college, but have no music degree.
11. I majored in French but can't speak it confidently anymore.
12. I only have 3 pairs of earrings that I wear regularly.
13. I have a U2 song stuck in my head.
14. I love yoga.
15. I forgot to get milk, of all things, last time I went grocery shopping.
16. I hate getting my feet wet in dew-soaked grass.
17. But I often go barefoot, when I go outside.
18. My favorite candy bar is Whatchamacalit.
19. I used to love going to the teacher-store (school-supplies store) when I was little.
20. I have green tea & aloe fragranced hand soap, which smells yummy.

End:8:11 am

I'm not tagging 6 people, but I finished this faster than I thought I would. I barely know 6 people on the Internet! Join in, if you like, in Comments or your own blog.

Radios should have a "replay" button

I had to do an aural double-take this morning when, after the local NPR affiliate's traffic guy gave me the low-down on the highways and byways, he said: "This traffic report sponsored by the WWE Friday Night Smackdown."

Something just not quite right about that.

Like the Tower of Pisa...

I'm leaning toward not singing in "Herod." As flattered as I am by the invitation, and as much as I think it'd be a fun endeavor, I am haunted by this: "They're only young once." I don't think it's unreasonable for me to crave as much time as possible with my little one. IF I were a full-time SAHM, the story would be entirely different. But three nights out of seven is too many to be away, and, I think, a big request to make of my spouse, and those nights don't even include Book Clubs and Date Nights. I just felt egocentric & bratty, wanting to chase my precious vocalist/soloist dream, and while I *definitely* want to teach AJ to pursue his interests and use his talents, I also want him to know -- to believe, deep in his bones -- that family matters most in this world.

Besides that, I have gotten just about NO work done today. It would behoove me to to be home tonight, WRITING. And not in my blog. :)

I really appreciate all your advices.

The Longest Post Ever Written, Ever

I’ve been composing this entry since about 5:00 p.m. today while in my car, so forgive me if it’s a bit disjointed, ‘cause there’s a lot of information in me that wants to get out. It’s been swimming around in my brain all afternoon and I’ve been saying, “hold onto it, just hold onto these thoughts,” because they’re good ones and I don’t want to lose them. There’s going to be run-ons and stream-of-consciousness, though, because all of a sudden today -- this week, really -- I am VERY conscious. Meaning I have lots of thoughts. That want to pour out. So pour, they shall. Forgive me in advance, it’s going to be Lo-Hong.

What I wanted to title this was The Navy Blue Girl with the Little Umbrella, and channel her because when it rains, it pours, and it has been pouring on me lately. In the form of:

…Work…
I mean to tell you, I am BUSY as a little bee these last coupl'a weeks. It’s going well, actually – much to my surprise I am enjoying the art of Project Management for two clients, whose websites are being produced in roughly the exact same time frame. With roughly the exact same designers and writers doing both. And meanwhile writing content for a third site. And meanwhile, needing to input content for a fourth site, that I wrote months ago, but all of a sudden after sitting, is hot-hot-hot. IT’s a little crazy. I send emails all day and coordinate this and don’t forget that, and schedule one thing right as I’m crossing another off my list. (And this is NOTHING, NOTHING in comparison to the work that some of my colleagues do every day who happen to read this blog; just want them to know I realize that my blip on the screen is their MAJOR PROJECT!, and I appreciate very much the idea that they do really hard work day in, day out.) But I’m rather swamped. Yesterday as I walked in my clicky high-heeled sandals to our weekly tech meeting, carrying my laptop with me and feeling a little bit self-important, I thought of my best friend MB. She’s been a SAHM her whole married life, and has often said how she envies me and my career. I thought, “This is exactly the kind of situation she probably craves –- got my hair all done, wearing a skirt and a new blouse, feeling all career-minded, carrying my laptop. So “Executive” am I. And she WANTS this. And that made me LIKE IT just that tiny bit more, yesterday. Not that I want her jealous, that’s not what I mean –- just that there’s someone out there in the world who’d like to do this, and I GET to do it. But then today, after sending the aforementioned emails and coordinating etc., it all bubbled up in my head and seemed so superficial and so unnecessary. All this random crap, paperwork, clients, office supplies, deadlines –- I don’t know what to do about it but because I was feeling overwhelmed, I guess, my brain started wanting to release it all –- just to scatter it away because it’s too much, too much stupid bogus rat-racing. Maybe that’s how this post got started. Anyway, those are my thoughts about work.

…Choir and Life…
Okay, here’s the real reason I got all “twitterpated” to use a word my friend used recently and I hadn’t heard in a hundred years, and love. I called my old choir director today. “Old” meaning former. He has recently asked me to be a part of (or at least audition* for, but I’m guessing I’m already guaranteed a spot by his tone) a holiday play called “Herod” that he’s worked on for years and years – it’s a very respected work in the Atlanta arts community, I think, (or at least by one woman I know who’s tuned into the Atl Arts scene), locally written I believe, and choral and plainsong (kinda chant-like but not quite so medieval). He’s complimenting me more than he knows by telling me my voice would be perfect for it. He’s told me twice, and each time my head swells a teensy bit. And he asked me to consider it last year and I had to turn him down ‘cause AJ was still so little. So, okay, what’s the big deal? AJ’s not that little anymore. It'd be GOOD music, something I enjoy singing, as opposed to the crapola that I mentioned last week. This Director, Director-K, we’ll call him, is a respected musician, Director of Choirs for the cathedral, the seat of the Archdiocese, the last 20 years, and he LIKES MY VOICE –- it seems to be a pretty easy decision that I’d very politely say, “Thank You, Mr. Director-Sir, I would LOVE to be in your play, thank you again, and see you on Wednesday!” That’s a no-brainer. That’s something you WANT to do -– sing gorgeous, ethereal music in a stone cathedral. Yes, yes, yes, no brainer. Except. Sigh..... Except it’s another 2 nights a week that I’d be away from my boy. At least two, in addition to Wednesday, when I sing in the St. J’s choir (the one that SU-hucks, but to which I’m feeling sorta committed and loyal and it hasn’t even been a year since I joined it). So what to do? I’m going to be out of town for Christmas anyway, so perhaps it’d be a great excuse to go “on sabbatical” from St. J’s this fall, since next week I believe we’ll be starting the Christmas music anyway. And then go right back and resume my position in January as if nothing happened, and everyone’s happy. Except in my self-important way, I’m thinking I’m kinda a decent soprano at St J’s, and that Director, Director-J we’ll call him, relies on me quite a bit. Not to carry the section, (not that I’m going to say that OUT LOUD), but just to be there, on time, when I’m supposed to be. You know. And besides that, I read music which is helpful. And which precious few other of the St J’s choir members do, actually. (ahem, meow, and all that).

So, (new paragraph, you’re welcome), does it become SELFISH and VAIN for me to want to do this other performance? OR is it me being ME, and taking the time to develop my skills and hobbies and be my best self, thus delivering me as a better Mommy and Wife because I’m happy with who I am and what I’m doing with my life. Or is it the selfish one? I just can’t reconcile the time away from AJ, although Husband has said emphatically that he’ll support me and do whatever he needs to do if I really want this. So Helpful, he is. And not that AJ is old enough to remember, anyway, but he’s still at the separation anxiety stage and I can hardly bear hearing him cry 3 nights a week as I walk out the door… even though I KNOW, I know he goes right back to playing 5 minutes later. But if this opportunity is of the “best self” variety, do I quit the other choir to lessen my own guilt? And how about that Husband? How about I spend a little time with him once in a while, huh? Oh, SIGH. And how many times will Director-K (the important one) keep asking me to do this, and hear me turn it down, before he stops? Sometimes ya gotta strike while the iron’s hot, y’know. Get while the getten’s good. Snap up that worm. Etc.

I could write another book about choir, and taking myself less seriously in the face of all this contemporary vs. traditional, good bad and otherwise music, and actually hearing the words of verse two: “Open my Ears, Lord, help me to Hear Your Voice…. And we’ll speak in new ways, and we’ll see God’s face….” – speak in new ways, that’s the line that got me -– that maybe with my ears and heart open and less focused on what we're NOT singing, I’ll learn that this contemporary stuff isn’t so bad, and wow, what a reward, to see God’s face in all that… and then another book about the crickets and tree-frogs singing their own (probably contemporary) music during my drive home through the National Forest, meanwhile I’m listening to Beethoven on Karl Haas’s show on NPR… hmm. But Lordy, this is getting longer and longer.

…AJ…
Ending on a fun note, I am LOVING the teacher in AJ’s Infant 2 room. Miss S. She has privataely told me AJ’s her favorite and I can only hope that she says the very same thing to all the other parents. But man, is she good. She really gives me the full report at the end of the day telling me who he played with and what he liked and didn’t’ like and how much or how little he cried. And… AND! Today that included he has a little GIRLFRIEND!!! Hee hee! I am so in love with this: she said that Anna has taken to him with a nickname and everything, and that today they walked around HOLDING HANDS. OMG is that the cutest thing you have ever heard??? They’re ONE!!! Year old, I mean! Bless her for telling me that. Husband said, “Son, they have COOTIES, don’t you know??” hahahaha. Precious. Precious.

Meanwhile, someone in the class has Stomatitis, from the Foot-n-Mouth category of highly contagious illnesses, ewww, so I certainly hope all of that hand-holding isn’t going to get him into trouble at such a young age! Of course they disinfected the whole place multiple times and kicked the sick kid out, but still. A mother worries.

My GAWD, does it feel good to have it all out. I told you it pours.

*Edited to add that the real obstacle is that the audition gathering is TOMORROW, at 6:30pm, which is of course AJ’s dinner-time and not the easiest time to be traveling to the center of town, especially considering Darling Husband can’t be home before 6:30 (especially not on short notice), and I can’t ask the neighbor because I still owe her from the dogs last weekend, and this is when it would be really handy to have my mother living across the street. So do I take him with me and pray to St. Cecelia (surely she was a mother as well as a singer?) that he doesn’t create holy hell and distraction while Mommy’s trying to sound like an angel? Do I give him a BOTTLE, from which he’s been officially WEANED, but which I know will occupy his mouth for at least 10 minutes and keep the noise levels down? For crying out loud. I guess it’s all I can really do, though...

Why iTunes makes it better

Tuesday again, the warmly welcomed morning at home alone, with coffee and my laptop. And this morning it's even more wonderful because I've been furiously ripping CDs to iTunes these last few days. My CDs. For Christmas, I have asked DH to get me an iPod. Yeah,yeah, behind the times, I know, but better late than never. I am forever indebted to my husband, mind you, for introducing me to a lot of great artists, like Liz Phair and Modest Mouse and the Judybats, but his collection is a little bit heavy on Unknown-Alternative, and sorely lacking in Cutting Crew and Amy Grant and Lyle Lovett (with his Large Band). So today I've heard all three of those, plus a little Norah Jones, and I'm purring like a little kitten with a dish of milk all to herself. Purrrrrr.

If only iTunes could toast a bagel, we'd be all set.

Entree, side dish, salad, dessert

Today I have made a new kind of list. It is relative to the never-ending grocery list, and certainly dependent on the weekly menu listing I always try to make. It is the "Dinner Guests" list. There are about 6 different families/couples that DH and I constantly say, "We need to have them over for dinner," and never do. SO -- starting this week I'm going to be inviting people. First, the next-door neighbors, whose dogs I said we'd look after this weekend, right before we made plans to be out of town. Ooops. I probably owe the across-the-street-neighbors, too, who ended up pinch-hitting for me. Let the stress fun begin.

I really like having people over, actually. I get that from my Dad, who'd have guests every night if he could. My Mom is not as keen on that idea, but she does an amazing job of being hostess when he plans a party of 15 without telling her first (asking?)! My DH gets a wee bit more stressed about entertaining -- he wants the house to be perfect and spotless before even considering letting the world in to see. Me? I mean, yeah, it'd be nice, but.... bah. If my dust bunnies scare you, don't look in the corners. Come be with us and laugh with us and eat our food.

Here are some yummy things I have made for guests:
Jerk Chicken on the grill. (Grilling is always a winner because it gets the husband involved and he shines at it). Side items: yellow rice, maybe "party broccoli," chips and dips.
BBQ Brisket. One of Mom and Dad's standards. With pinto beans and coleslaw on the side.
Gumbo. What could be easier? Throw it all in the pot. Cook up some rice. Done.
Chili. Especially good for Monday night football get-togethers.
Taco Salad. One of my favorites and easy as pie. -- Oooh, pie! That, too.
Lasanga, Ceasar, and Garlic Bread. Who doesn't cook this? I am not above Stouffer's, either. :)

You know, none of these things is gourmet. It'd be nice to get all trendy and do something with feta, but... well, maybe I have extraordinarily forgiving friends, because when I don't go nuts over the menu, I can relax and enjoy the company. So, this is one of my goals for the next few months (before the holiday craziness begins). To feast and fete and fellowship (v.) with friends.

Mini-break

We're off to visit the paternal grandparents this weekend, so they can smooch on AJ at will (and we can go out on a real live date). They haven't seen him in a while and I feel an eensy bit bad that my parents, semi-retired, get to see him whenever they want. Of course, it's just like when I was a kid -- my Mom's parents lived far away and my Dad's were in town. Luckily, you don't grow up loving one set any more or less than the other -- it all works out just fine. :) I'm blessed to have very nice people for in-laws. They're not quite like me, but easy enough to get along with. AND, they're providing some very superfluous new toys for AJ! Just what he needs! Let's hope that at least one of them has Elmo on it. (Mo-mo, our new best friend!)

We'll be sans Internet for the weekend and sans clean laundry when we return, so I bid you a temporary farewell -- I gotta get busy packing, and/or cleaning the dog cr*p out of the bottom of my shoe, thanks to this morning's "recess," during which I did not pay attention to where I was stepping, because I was busy talking to three different neighbors who popped outside to say hi. Eww. (The dog mess, not the neighbors. The neighbors are quite nice).

Get out the Twizzlers, we're goin' on a road trip. :)

And in entertainment news...

With their debut album certified platinum, country music's latest sensation is local Atlanta trio, Sugarland, and they aced the CMA award nominations yesterday -- that's Country Music Association for you non-believers -- with three, including Vocal Group of the Year!

The reason this is so exciting for me is that I feel like I know them. I don't, really, but see the lone guy in the group? That's Kristian Bush, and I've been a fan of his since way back when he played The Depot at Emory University in 1992 with his then-musical-partner, Andrew Hyra. They were 2 guys with guitars, folk-rock to the Nth degree, and I absolutely fell in LOVE with it, and with them. They wrote cutting lyrics and singable melodies -- my kind of tunes. I have every album. I saw them at least 8 times. My roommate and I shared this little fan-dom, and we weren't alone -- Billy Pilgrim, as they named their act, still has scores of devoted fans although they broke up several years ago. Some of their fans are annoyingly rabid -- to the point where they're still whining in emails to the list-serv, "Why doesn't BP get back together?!?!" (Yes, I'm still on the list-serv.)

Meanwhile, Kristian has taken this wonderful turn with his music and is SUCCEEDING! It's impressive because he's thirty-something. He has a wife and a little boy. He has played the local bar circuit and sold CDs out of his trunk his whole life. BP did well, and signed with Atlantic records at one point, but it wasn't the perfect management situation for them, so they gave it up. And how courageous of them -- the chance to be on a major label, but they didn't want it if they couldn't be in control of the music. And now lookee -- he's Platinum! He's going to win a national award! He is so cool. And yes, yes I did: I knew him when. Sort-of.

One of the band's managers/closest friends -- she's mentioned in the liner notes, right at the top! -- works here, at my company, during the daylight hours. So my degree of separation is ONE, direct to my musical hero (and, admittedly, one of my few celebrity crushes, hee). Guess that makes this entry less congratulatory and more "screaming girly fan." But really, I'm very proud of them. They deserve it, no doubt about that.

Summer beauty

This afternoon, we saw our Butterfly.

AJ and I have been noticing, when we play outside in the yard, this year's abundance of butterflies. Have you noticed them, too? I've never before seen such big, beautiful ones so often. Of course, I've never played outside so much, not since I was a kid. ;) So we've been watching for them. He seems to be intrigued, which is adorable. He turns his head and follows their scattered flight patterns, and calls out to me, "Buuuuhhhh---?" Which is his way of saying "Buuuuutter-fly!" like Mommy does. I have visions of a little boy with a white net on a stick, running after the butterflies in a glowy, hazy summer dream...me, watching him from the window, smiling, wistfully.... then I remember he's not quite there yet. But I am. If it weren't for needing to stay by him and make sure he doesn't trip on our uneven driveway and sidewalk, I'd run and jump and laugh with every one. The big, yellow and black and blue (gorgeous!) ones, and the little solid-butter-yellow ones, and even sometimes the brown moths, which catch my eye because I'm absolutely Waiting for something to flutter in my peripheral vision.

Lepidoptera, in case you were wondering the scientific name.

So today, we were coming home from work and from daycare, and as always, we trekked out onto the driveway with Napoleon and his tennis ball, all the way to the mailbox to get the mail. We have Gerber daisies and a perennial red dianthus planted there, so it's a good cultivating spot, I guess. I wasn't much paying attention, but very softly, she alighted in the dianthus and went about her work -- it looked like she was harvesting nectar, although I didn't realize they did that. (How dumb am I? I never took botany or horticulture, I guess.) And I whispered, as loudly as I could, "AJ!!! Come over here quick, and see the Butterfly!" It was hard to keep the environment safe and welcoming for her, what with a 65-pound Lab panting and smacking and pawing at his tennis ball, and at me. But she stayed, and continued her fluttering, for at least 10 minutes. She'd be off and about for a minute or two, across to the neighbor's yard, up, up into the trees, then back down again. And kept returning to our garden. I was so honored. So blessed. And AJ quieted down and really stood there and watched her with me, up close, her wings moving more slowly as she drank that nectar. My arms around his little waist, his mouth open in wonder, my heart racing with excitement.

I wanted to freeze that moment. Instead, I tried to get too close. My granola neighbor, upon learning that AJ is into butterflies lately, showed off his skillz last weekend and let one of the big pretty yellow ones sit on his finger for a minute. So I got all ambitious and tried to do the same, today, and she realized she was being watched. She wasn't as into us as we were into her! She flew far away. But I do hope she'll come back. I am sure, in my little personal fiction, that we keep seeing the same one over and over. Sweet, sweet buuuuuter-fly.

(Something about butterflies, and having a mini-obsession with them, strikes me as very '70s all of a sudden. Next thing you know I'll get a screen-printed t-shirt -- or better yet, a glitter decal -- of the Butterfly, the Unicorn, and the Rainbow all holding hands and singing "I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke." But I don't care. She's pretty. I like her. If I was a homeschool Mom, we'd have a unit on Leo...Luh....I mean, Lepidoptera.)

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

I'm as vain as Snow White's Queen, y'all.

I'm wearing my hair back in a barette today, for the first time in about 10 years (besides Sis's wedding). As a matter of fact, even 10 years ago when I had long-ish hair, in college, I rarely put it in a barette. I was a headband girl. But anyway, today, since it's still in the "growing" stage, there are bits and pieces that stray All The Damn Time and it's driving me crazy. As a result, I've been to the restroom about One Hundred Times to play with it. And re-position it. And re-do. And finger-comb. And gaze, gaze, gaze into the mirror. It's vanity in its purest form! How do I look?!?! I even went to Target to buy some new Hair Implements, since mine are from about 1989. Sis* says I can just play off the stray pieces as "Sexy-Messy," like Elliott on Scrubs. Great idea! Sexy-Messy. I can aspire to that.

*To whom I owe most of the content of this blog. She's awful sweet to let me gack everything she says and publish it here.

IM me

re: choir woes

Here's where I point out how much of a music snob I am, and how I wish I could find a traditional church choir that sings the OLD HYMNS like "Faith of our Fathers" and "Lift High the Cross." Instead, we have a mix of about 1/3 those old greats and 2/3 things like the following. Sigh. It's okay. But sometimes it gets to me, how we're ignoring the years and years of good music in the Catholic church... hello, things like Mozart and Beethoven and, who's that other guy? Oh yeah, St. Gregory of Gregorian chant fame.... music that transcends time and connects us with our forefathers and mothers. We've focused so much on adding the modern things from contemporary Christian radio because we're all very "open minded." Don't get me wrong, I love some of the CC things. On the RADIO. Or in the "contemporary" service. There's a time and a place. Anyway, without further adieu, my sister and I, talking about the contemporary song my choir studied at rehearsal last Wednesday:

MySelf says: (2:27:03 PM)
YES!! On to happier things!

MySelf says: (2:27:20 PM)
ummm...... *crickets*.....

Sis says: (2:27:28 PM)
hahaha

MySelf says: (2:28:31 PM)
My choir SUCKS! How 'bout that? We're singing "With one Vooooice, we'll pass the Word along! With one voooooiiiiice, bring justice to the wooooooorld!" CLAP CLAP CLAP --claps written into the Freaking Score!!!! Bllllahghghghg. I could die.

Sis says: (2:29:17 PM)
Ewwwwww! And you're actually doing the claps? Yuck!!!!! and cheesy words, too.

MySelf says: (2:30:30 PM)
NO way will I do the clapping. (she says resolutely, knowing she will). It's too much. AND --- ANNND! He's hired a DRUMMER for the 10:45am "traditional" Mass!!! Or else the guy volunteered. But I'm saying, "TRADITIONAL" does not mean Rock and Roll Drummer!!! Let him play ANY other mass but not this, this Last Vestige of Musical Decency!!!!

MySelf says: (2:30:51 PM)
(which isn't even that decent anymore!)

Sis says: (2:31:42 PM)
can't the choir argue that you can't CLAP and hold music at the same time? All clapping must be nixed. And oh, geez, a drummer? no other instruments, just drums and piano/organ? Horrifying.

MySelf says: (2:32:26 PM)
Probably flute and violin, too. It IS horrifying. What a perfect word. LOL

MySelf says: (2:34:05 PM)
Of course now that stinking song is in my head!

Sis says: (2:34:06 PM)
flute, violin, and frums. what a perfect trio!

Sis says: (2:34:06 PM)
drums

Sis says: (2:34:15 PM)
i'm glad I don't know it

Sis says: (2:34:52 PM)
we're going to go to the cathedral on Sunday and hear the big choir and fancy organ. I'll think of you, being miserable, clapping to the beat of the drum.

MySelf says: (2:35:28 PM)
I know! How divinely inspired, right?! Oh, and the worst thing is that it's for "nine-eleven," which is what Director calls the week after this one -- he refuses just to say Sunday, the 11th. It's NINE-ELEVEN. The ANNIVERSARY. Gggggag. "Bringing justice to the world.... (like Iraq?)."

MySelf says: (2:35:47 PM)
LUKCY YOU, going to the cathedral! I will listen from afar.

Sis says: (2:36:03 PM)
teehee! can't stop laughing

Sis says: (2:36:14 PM)
9/11. whoa

Sis says: (2:36:27 PM)
justice to the terrorists

MySelf says: (2:36:29 PM)
My pain, your laughter. No, I'm kidding. it's so awful it's funny.

Sis says: (2:37:56 PM)
good luck trying to keep a straight face next sunday

MySelf says: (2:38:23 PM)
seriously!!

MySelf says: (2:38:26 PM)
I may have to leave.

MySelf says: (2:38:51 PM)
It WOULD be inappropriate to be laughing out loud in the middle of such a MOVING presentation!! hahahaha!!!!!!

Sis says: (2:39:22 PM)
moving, yeah. moving folks out of the choir maybe

MySelf says: (2:39:47 PM)
lollolol!

Nicest things I've heard

Among all the severely depressing news about Louisiana and Mississippi -- which continues to make me cry every time I turn on the TV or NPR -- I have heard a couple of very encouraging things.

-- Governor of Mississippi, this morning, saying "...we're gonna 'hitch up our britches'..." and get things back in order as fast as possible. Makes me want to hug him. "Hitch up our britches."

-- Atlanta Falcons player Warrick Dunn, challenging every player in the NFL to donate (at least) $5,000.00 to disaster relief. The total would be in the 2 billions. I am now a big fan of Warrick Dunn. (And of the Falcons, who've ALL already ponied up, according to reports.)

-- In Houston, at the Astrodome, some guy who owns a pizza restaurant has his employees (and himself, I presume) over there making pizzas for the refugees. Now THAT is a great way to contribute. It's the little things, you know? But hell, FOOD is rather a big thing. Kudos to him.

It's a disaster down there (understatement of the year) and I can't imagine how in the world the relief organizations can even organize themselves, right there in the thick of it, to get anything accomplished. The name "organization" is sort-of a misnomer in this situation. They're more like "relief intentions." But there are so many local aid efforts going on, all around the country, that are going to make a big difference. Eventually. I hope.

Lullaby and good night

This is for posterity. I want to remember all the lullabies I ever sang to AJ. Don't bother reading it if you're not into lullabies. :)

Also wondering if any of you (besides my mom and sister) know any of these sweet songs.

Frog Went A'Courtin', which Grandmother (Mom's mom) sang to me:
Froggy went a'courtin' and he did ride, mm-mm.
Froggy went a'courtin' and he did ride,
A sword and pistol by his side, mm-mm.

He took Miss Mousie on bended knee, mm-mm.
He took Miss Mousie on bended knee,
Said, "Miss Mousie, will you marry me?" Mm-mm.

"Without my Uncle Rat's consent," said she...
"Without my Uncle Rat's consent I would not marry
The President," mm-mm.

Then Uncle Rat, he soon came home, mm-mm.
Then Uncle Rat, he soon came home.
"Who's been here since I've been gone?" mm-mm.

"A pretty little dandyman," said she.
"A pretty little dandyman
Who says he wants to marry me." Mm-mm.

"Where will the wedding breakfast be," mm-mm.
"Where will the wedding breakfast be?"
"Way down yonder, in a hollow tree." Mm-mm.

"What will the wedding breakfast be?" Mm-mm.
"What will the wedding breakfast be?"
"Three green beans and a black-eyed pea," mm-mm.

Then Uncle Rat gave his consent, mm-mm.
Then Uncle Rat gave his consent, and
That's the way the marriage went, mm-mm.

Froggy and Mousie went to France, mm-mm.
Froggy and Mousie went to France, and
That's the end of my romance, mm-mm.

The storybook sits on the shelf, mm-mm.
The storybook sits on the shelf,
If you want more, you'll have to read it yourself! Mm-mm.

In the Evening, which my Granny (Dad's mom) sang to me:
In the evening, when the daylight goes,
Little Flowers all begin to close.
Mama holds her little one
Quite close against her breast,
So that like the other Flowers,
He, too, may go to rest.
Angels, dear, hover near.
Watch o'er my darling boy tonight,
Stars so bright, shine your light.
Watch o'er my darling,
Keep him safe from fear.

The Angel Band/Harps of Gold (also from Granny)
"We come, we come
With our harps of gold,
From a far-off Summer Land.
The crystal River we've crossed again,
We've left the Angel Band
To bring to you on our harps of gold
Sweet Music from afar!"
With cadence soft, the angels sing
As they glide from star to star.

Rock-a-Bye, Baby, which my own Mom sang to me, and sings to AJ

(And here are some other songs I have sung when I'm tired of those top four:)
Do-Re-Mi
I Love You a Bushel and a Peck
Simple Gifts
If I Were a Butterfly
Slumber Song (Sleep, Oh My Darling)
Pirate Dreams (These last two were tucked into the far corners of my memory; I sang them in voice lessons when I was, like, 12. It was hard work to recall all the lyrics, but I did it in the deep, dark hours of those midnight feedings, when AJ was tiny.)
The Farmer in the Dell
Hush, Little Baby, Don't Say a Word (once I finally figured out all the words)