Thank you to those of you who visited my friend over HERE; I'm sure she welcomed the warm thoughts and good wishes you sent to her. Keep her in your prayers over the next few weeks as she makes a gut-wrenching change in the lives of herself and her kids.
I'm going to take what I hope will be a temporary blogging hiatus. I have too many things that are wreaking havoc in my life right now, and the beginning of the new school year (now in the middle of week 2) is getting intense.
I have been trying to keep up with reading your blogs, but that's been tough, and I haven't commented on some in weeks. I haven't abandoned you; I'm just...not myself lately.
I'll return when I've gotten a grip on things better.
Later daze....
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Reach Out and Touch Someone
This is a shameless plug for you to click HERE and give my friend some hugs, positive vibes, and prayers. She could use some genuine affection right now. Additionally, she has a warning that all of us should heed. Trust me.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Where Was I Again?
Oh yeah, talking about the beginning of school. Yes, I'm still alive, two days into the new school year. Two days. And I'm already exhausted. I missed an important meeting at church tonight. AGAIN. My brain is not yet functioning properly.
Um....I think I'll go back to bed. I'll return when....well....you know....
Later daze...
Friday, August 14, 2009
Standing in the Middle of Life/ADDED TO EDIT
So, did I mention that school is starting on Monday? And that I have assumed some "official" PTSA duties? Oh, and now that there are restrictions on just about everything related to photocopying, my volunteer duties at the school office will probably involve doing things like cover phones when staff is at lunch and other such routine office sh...stuff?
Damn. I'd forgotten how FREAKIN' PAINFUL it is to stand on my feet for hours at a time while at school. I didn't sleep well last night, so I was exhausted to start, and then I helped out (as little as I could, since our PTSA president is a dervish) setting up lunch for the teachers as they worked to prepare for a new school year. Then we cleaned up after lunch and had a brief PTSA pow-wow. I came home limping. My back and feet are screaming at me even now. How the hell will I get through until next May?!
Okay, let me clarify a few things here based on comments received thus far: 1) Yes, I can sit while at school, but since we were setting up a luncheon, it's difficult to stand when you have physical "here and there"-ing to do; 2) Once most of the teachers were eating lunch, we took a break to eat lunch, but there was no place to sit since they were all using the break room, so we just stood in the hall with our plates, eating, and waiting to serve them more food and then clean up; 3) When I volunteer at the front office on a normal day, I'm able to sit if I'm doing things like paperwork, but to make copies, it's not all that feasible because it's a lot of getting up and moving around, and 4) Yes, I could take stuff home to do if I am doing something for the teachers or if it's a lot of routine work like cutting, stapling, assembling, etc.; I can also sit in the break room and do it - but answering the phones (while it IS a sitting job) cannot be done at my house, nor can photocopying. Did I clear up any of the confusion?
My body feels so frackin' old. I hate it. It makes feel guilty, which then makes me feel worse that I swallowed the pity pill.
Thank God my mind still works. I think.
(Hey, even though only one of you has mentioned a thing about my music player inclusions, and I was going to omit them, I've putting one here anyway. 'Cause, you know, I feel like it. So there.)
Have a good weekend, and Later daze....
Damn. I'd forgotten how FREAKIN' PAINFUL it is to stand on my feet for hours at a time while at school. I didn't sleep well last night, so I was exhausted to start, and then I helped out (as little as I could, since our PTSA president is a dervish) setting up lunch for the teachers as they worked to prepare for a new school year. Then we cleaned up after lunch and had a brief PTSA pow-wow. I came home limping. My back and feet are screaming at me even now. How the hell will I get through until next May?!
Okay, let me clarify a few things here based on comments received thus far: 1) Yes, I can sit while at school, but since we were setting up a luncheon, it's difficult to stand when you have physical "here and there"-ing to do; 2) Once most of the teachers were eating lunch, we took a break to eat lunch, but there was no place to sit since they were all using the break room, so we just stood in the hall with our plates, eating, and waiting to serve them more food and then clean up; 3) When I volunteer at the front office on a normal day, I'm able to sit if I'm doing things like paperwork, but to make copies, it's not all that feasible because it's a lot of getting up and moving around, and 4) Yes, I could take stuff home to do if I am doing something for the teachers or if it's a lot of routine work like cutting, stapling, assembling, etc.; I can also sit in the break room and do it - but answering the phones (while it IS a sitting job) cannot be done at my house, nor can photocopying. Did I clear up any of the confusion?
My body feels so frackin' old. I hate it. It makes feel guilty, which then makes me feel worse that I swallowed the pity pill.
Thank God my mind still works. I think.
(Hey, even though only one of you has mentioned a thing about my music player inclusions, and I was going to omit them, I've putting one here anyway. 'Cause, you know, I feel like it. So there.)
Have a good weekend, and Later daze....
Monday, August 10, 2009
One Week and Counting...
One week. A week from today. Next Monday, my 13-year-old daughter enters the eighth grade. My son will officially be a fifth grader.
*heavy, mournful sigh*
Some summers, I'm like the Staples commercial parent, celebrating the beginning of the school year.
*heavy, mournful sigh*
Some summers, I'm like the Staples commercial parent, celebrating the beginning of the school year.
After my son had the most horrendous third grade year that a child could possibly have, I relished that summer. It was a chance to decompress and gather the shreds of what was left of my sanity. (That was also the year that my husband was working in California, my friend Greg was booted out of school, and we parents led the revolt against our then-principal.)
This summer, however, my feelings are different. Believe it or not, I'm not really excited about my kids going back to school. I actually LOVED hanging out with my kids this summer. We went to the library, we had indoor picnics in the family room, we watched movies while snuggling in my bed. We slept in, we ate ice cream and popsicles, and we just hung out together.
My daughter is still really cool to be around. Now that she's maturing, she and I have more interesting conversations. We share shoes, we laugh at the same things while watching NCIS, and she'll even listen to my music.
My son continues to make me laugh. His imagination is a wonder to behold, and his LEGOS creations are marvels. He giggles at the classic cartoons like Tom and Jerry, and he'll make up silly dances to commercial jingles.
The irony of this summer is that my daughter, who normally is ecstatic about the start of school, is moody and panicky, contemplating her last year at the only grade school she's ever attended. My son, normally the one who bemoans the start of the new school year, is very much looking forward to the start of the new year. Dare I say, he's even....*whispering*...excited! He's heard so many incredible things about his teacher, and he's anxious to start the fun.
As for me, the new school year will bring about another item for my To Do List. Thanks to some sweet talking by my dear friend, Laura (who is the newly elected PTSA treasurer), I am the new chairperson for the PTSA membership committee.
Sigh.
A concerned mom's work is NEVER done.
This summer, however, my feelings are different. Believe it or not, I'm not really excited about my kids going back to school. I actually LOVED hanging out with my kids this summer. We went to the library, we had indoor picnics in the family room, we watched movies while snuggling in my bed. We slept in, we ate ice cream and popsicles, and we just hung out together.
My daughter is still really cool to be around. Now that she's maturing, she and I have more interesting conversations. We share shoes, we laugh at the same things while watching NCIS, and she'll even listen to my music.
My son continues to make me laugh. His imagination is a wonder to behold, and his LEGOS creations are marvels. He giggles at the classic cartoons like Tom and Jerry, and he'll make up silly dances to commercial jingles.
The irony of this summer is that my daughter, who normally is ecstatic about the start of school, is moody and panicky, contemplating her last year at the only grade school she's ever attended. My son, normally the one who bemoans the start of the new school year, is very much looking forward to the start of the new year. Dare I say, he's even....*whispering*...excited! He's heard so many incredible things about his teacher, and he's anxious to start the fun.
As for me, the new school year will bring about another item for my To Do List. Thanks to some sweet talking by my dear friend, Laura (who is the newly elected PTSA treasurer), I am the new chairperson for the PTSA membership committee.
Sigh.
A concerned mom's work is NEVER done.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Take a Walk On the Wild Side
You wouldn't know it to look at me now. I mean, I'm a respectable suburban mom who drives a minivan, volunteers at her kids' school, and makes dinner (most nights). I sing in my church choir. I wash my family's dirty clothes, I soothe their wounded feelings, and I cheer the loudest at their accomplishments.
I live a very comfortable life.
Long ago, however, I was a good girl with a penchant for the wrong thing. I loved bad boys. I mean, I LOVED bad boys. Not "rob a bank, murder innocent people" bad, but leather wearing, pot smoking, hard drinkin' bad boys. They drove hot cars very fast, lived life on the edge, and listened to music really, REALLY loudly. They had long hair and a disdain for authority. They had friends who were the same. They had friends whose minds were fried from dropping too much acid.
And they loved me. I mean, they LOVED me. For some reason, those bad boys were attracted to me. I think secretly, some of them wanted to tame their wild ways, and dating me was their way of trying to walk the straight and narrow. They never smoked pot around me, they never did drugs around me, and they refused to let me have a drink if they were drinking so that I could stay sober to drive them home and keep them from getting into too much trouble.
Back then, you would usually saw me wearing jeans with chains for a belt, boots that would kick the shit out of you, and very tight concert t-shirts. That is, unless I was at work or church. *grin* I had hair down to my ass, and I ALWAYS wore makeup. Lots and lots of makeup.
One Saturday night, a boyfriend who was a giant teddy bear of a former Marine who lived life hard and fast asked me to go for a drive with him. Surprisingly, he was reasonably sober, and all we did was hang out at a pool party at one of my friend's. As he was driving me back to my apartment, he passed my street, and decided to make a U-turn. The turn was legal, but it was done in front of a bar, and the cop that was staked out on a nearby street thought my boyfriend had just come out of the bar and suspected a DUI. The cop pulled us over. After running the plates on the car and my boyfriend's license, the cop decided he needed backup (did I mention that this boyfriend was a bad boy?). SIX MORE COP CARS pulled up. When the original patrolman decided he had sufficient back up, he came to the car window, he decided to ask my friend if he'd been drinking. After my boyfriend had said no, the cop replied, "Well, if I were you, I'd lie to me, too, given your record. Where you headed?"
I quickly spoke up that we were headed to my apartment where we would BOTH be staying for the remainder of the night. The cop returned my boyfriend's license, and then proceeded to "escort" us back to my apartment. I think a patrol car camped out in my apartment parking lot the rest of the night.
Once we got to my place, my boyfriend admitted to me that he'd been glad we hadn't been pulled out of the car and searched.
Turns out, he had a bag of pot with him.
Sigh.
Years later, I saw my then ex-boyfriend, and he'd straightened out his life. He had a wife and three kids, and he'd given up the pot. He saved his drinking for weekends, and contained it to strictly beer; no more Jack Daniels for him.
I guess we all turn away from the wild side at some point. Still, sometimes I look back on those days and get a sly smile on my face. It's fun to remember.
But I'm sure my daughter would NEVER believe I had it in me. *grin*
I live a very comfortable life.
Long ago, however, I was a good girl with a penchant for the wrong thing. I loved bad boys. I mean, I LOVED bad boys. Not "rob a bank, murder innocent people" bad, but leather wearing, pot smoking, hard drinkin' bad boys. They drove hot cars very fast, lived life on the edge, and listened to music really, REALLY loudly. They had long hair and a disdain for authority. They had friends who were the same. They had friends whose minds were fried from dropping too much acid.
And they loved me. I mean, they LOVED me. For some reason, those bad boys were attracted to me. I think secretly, some of them wanted to tame their wild ways, and dating me was their way of trying to walk the straight and narrow. They never smoked pot around me, they never did drugs around me, and they refused to let me have a drink if they were drinking so that I could stay sober to drive them home and keep them from getting into too much trouble.
Back then, you would usually saw me wearing jeans with chains for a belt, boots that would kick the shit out of you, and very tight concert t-shirts. That is, unless I was at work or church. *grin* I had hair down to my ass, and I ALWAYS wore makeup. Lots and lots of makeup.
One Saturday night, a boyfriend who was a giant teddy bear of a former Marine who lived life hard and fast asked me to go for a drive with him. Surprisingly, he was reasonably sober, and all we did was hang out at a pool party at one of my friend's. As he was driving me back to my apartment, he passed my street, and decided to make a U-turn. The turn was legal, but it was done in front of a bar, and the cop that was staked out on a nearby street thought my boyfriend had just come out of the bar and suspected a DUI. The cop pulled us over. After running the plates on the car and my boyfriend's license, the cop decided he needed backup (did I mention that this boyfriend was a bad boy?). SIX MORE COP CARS pulled up. When the original patrolman decided he had sufficient back up, he came to the car window, he decided to ask my friend if he'd been drinking. After my boyfriend had said no, the cop replied, "Well, if I were you, I'd lie to me, too, given your record. Where you headed?"
I quickly spoke up that we were headed to my apartment where we would BOTH be staying for the remainder of the night. The cop returned my boyfriend's license, and then proceeded to "escort" us back to my apartment. I think a patrol car camped out in my apartment parking lot the rest of the night.
Once we got to my place, my boyfriend admitted to me that he'd been glad we hadn't been pulled out of the car and searched.
Turns out, he had a bag of pot with him.
Sigh.
Years later, I saw my then ex-boyfriend, and he'd straightened out his life. He had a wife and three kids, and he'd given up the pot. He saved his drinking for weekends, and contained it to strictly beer; no more Jack Daniels for him.
I guess we all turn away from the wild side at some point. Still, sometimes I look back on those days and get a sly smile on my face. It's fun to remember.
But I'm sure my daughter would NEVER believe I had it in me. *grin*
There's A Hole in My Heart
No, I'm not in the market for a new pet. I'm just missing her, that's all.
Your Ideal Pet is a Big Dog |
 You're both energetic, affectionate, and a bit goofy. And neither of you seem to mind very slobbery kisses! |
Monday, August 03, 2009
Wishes DO Come True...Sometimes
September 1988. It's been nearly 21 years since I met my husband; just over 18 years since I married him. I can honestly say that the journey has been challenging, rewarding, compelling, mundane, and numerous other adjectives I don't care to share.
I learn new things about him. Still. I really do. Like it took me until this year to figure out that he doesn't like orange juice. Who knew?
He's now officially the most conservative person I know. I knew he hailed from a conservative father and a liberal mother, making him a moderate, but now he's positively righteous in his right wing attitude. Weird.
He's very intelligent, not exceptionally creative, can't carry a tune in a bucket, extremely opinionated, and softhearted when it comes to his kids. With me? Not so much.
Or so I thought.
Last night, we were watching an interview that I recorded last week. Bono and The Edge (of U2 fame, for those NOT in the know) were guests. They showed a clip from a recent concert in Barcelona, and after the segment was over, sitting there with a very forlorn expression on my face, I sadly and casually mentioned, "I can't believe we're not going to see them this year. They're playing just down the road, and we're not going. I can't believe it."
Knowing each ticket would pay for my daughter's orthodontia for a couple of months, I figured it wasn't worth pursuing.
But something about the interview triggered an impulse in my husband. The fact that CHEAP tickets in the nosebleed sections were being sold since the new stage was designed to enhance viewing as well as audio was enough for my husband to check out the possibility of purchasing said cheap tickets.
And purchase he did. Let me say that again. MY HUSBAND BOUGHT US TICKETS TO THE U2 CONCERT THIS FALL!
I can honestly say, he has surprised me once again. Not as much as he did when he handed me a diamond and emerald ring for Christmas, but surprised me nonetheless. I'm still holding a tiny glimmer of hope that plane tickets to my friend's upcoming wedding might be next.
Hey! A girl can dream, right?
Later daze...
I learn new things about him. Still. I really do. Like it took me until this year to figure out that he doesn't like orange juice. Who knew?
He's now officially the most conservative person I know. I knew he hailed from a conservative father and a liberal mother, making him a moderate, but now he's positively righteous in his right wing attitude. Weird.
He's very intelligent, not exceptionally creative, can't carry a tune in a bucket, extremely opinionated, and softhearted when it comes to his kids. With me? Not so much.
Or so I thought.
Last night, we were watching an interview that I recorded last week. Bono and The Edge (of U2 fame, for those NOT in the know) were guests. They showed a clip from a recent concert in Barcelona, and after the segment was over, sitting there with a very forlorn expression on my face, I sadly and casually mentioned, "I can't believe we're not going to see them this year. They're playing just down the road, and we're not going. I can't believe it."
Knowing each ticket would pay for my daughter's orthodontia for a couple of months, I figured it wasn't worth pursuing.
But something about the interview triggered an impulse in my husband. The fact that CHEAP tickets in the nosebleed sections were being sold since the new stage was designed to enhance viewing as well as audio was enough for my husband to check out the possibility of purchasing said cheap tickets.
And purchase he did. Let me say that again. MY HUSBAND BOUGHT US TICKETS TO THE U2 CONCERT THIS FALL!
I can honestly say, he has surprised me once again. Not as much as he did when he handed me a diamond and emerald ring for Christmas, but surprised me nonetheless. I'm still holding a tiny glimmer of hope that plane tickets to my friend's upcoming wedding might be next.
Hey! A girl can dream, right?
Later daze...
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