The Thought Processes of a Fourteen Year Old - What Did I Know?

When I was about fourteen years old, a philanthropist from our church offered me a chance of a lifetime. Actually, she offered it to two of us, Mark Aliopoulis and me. She offered to pay for us to go to Juliard to study. One small problem...I had a life, a boyfriend, friends, and was a solo performer in our youth choir, New Dawn. I politely refused her offer and my parents supported my decision. Mark, on the other hand, said yes and went to Juliard in the fall. It has been almost 40 years and I have never seen Mark again...I graduated from high school....went to Junior College, was engaged, was not engaged, moved to Alabama, married, had Kat, finished college, taught, got a Master's degree, was an NEH fellow...and felt I had a full life. Mark went to Juliard, never married, studied in Vienna, played for the Vienna Boy's Choir, played at Carnegie Hall, traveled all over the world, was part of the Boston and New York Philharmonics, did I mention never married? One day someone asked me if I regretted the youthful decision and I had to say...no. I don't regret it. I was meant to be Kat's mom...and if I had gone to Juliard to study music...true I might be a Beverly Sills Opera singer today....BUT would I be Kat's mom? That to me is one of the greatest accomplishments I have ever done in my life....I have been Kat's mom. Kat made every day a joy. She was a little piece of heaven on earth....and to be honest I would not have traded one moment at Juliard for her. I believe we all make choices in life and those choices effect outcomes. I may never be a success in the world's eyes...but I am a success in my daughter's eyes. She thinks I am something special....and I would not trade an audience at Carnegie Hall for that...ever! She rejoices in my successes and cries when I get knocked down. I wish you all could know her. She is so very special. Oh I know...if I had gone to Juliard...I never would have known that I missed out on having her...but that is ok. I made a choice...and what a difference it made in my life. Success do come in different shapes...my group, Still Magnolias did open for George Jones....it was not Carnegie Hall...but he is a Hall of Famer. Life does not get much better than this!

Texas Bound (Again)

Ack!

I am not having a good day. For starters, my Twitter account was hacked into and Twitter locked it when they found out. However, they haven’t told me what I have to do to get it re-opened. I miss my Twitter. Also, on the front page of Yahoo there is apparently some cranky swimmer bashing Michael Phelps. Why is he bashing Michael Phelps? What did Michael Phelps ever do to him? Apparently he’s bitter because Michael Phelps beat him at the Olympic Games by a second or something and he claims that he’s the real winner. Why do men always have to win? My husband moans when he loses. He was playing Wii Sports and whenever he’d lose he’d scream that the game was cheating.

I also need to pack because our flight to Texas leaves tomorrow. I am not packed. I’m running around with clothes in my hands trying to decide if I really need to bring them. Do I need a fancy shirt? Suppose I go to a fancy place? I doubt I’ll go to a fancy place but what if I do? Do I really need two different pairs of flip flops? I think I do. I have a black pair that goes with certain outfits and a purple pair that goes with another. Do I really need to match? Does it matter? I don’t think people will gasp if my flip flops don’t match my shirt. Or WOULD they?

Do I need to bring jeans? It’s sweltering hot in Texas so when would I wear jeans? But suppose it gets chilly at night and I want to walk along the beach? Why would I walk along the beach? I’m allergic to exercise. But I might walk along the beach hand in hand with my husband because it’s the romantic thing to do. I want to be warm because it would kill the romance if my teeth were chattering beside him as he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Wait, why would my husband be whispering sweet nothings in my ear? I’ve confused him with someone who is romantic.

What outfits should I bring the kids? They have such cute outfits. The problem is, they have a lot of cute outfits so I never know exactly what to bring. I’ll bring Tommy’s patchwork shorts with the matching shirt and...oh...should I take the blue shirt that brings out the color of his eyes? What dress should I bring for Natalie? They’re all adorable. The red one? The blue one? The green one? The white one? The brown one? ALL OF THE ABOVE?

I need to bring my straightener. Otherwise I’ll be a giant puffball because my hair does not like beach air. Do I want my lotion that makes me smell like a rose?

I’m giving myself a headache.

I cannot pack.

I laid out some of my husband’s nice shirts so he can pick which ones he wanted to bring. He mainly wears shirts with sayings on them. Sayings like “Save the trees! Wipe your ass with an owl!” or “Only Chuck Norris Can Prevent Forrest Fires.” Chuck Norris is his hero. But he can’t wear a lot of those shirts around the beach house. It might give my poor dear Grandma a heart attack if profanity is emblazoned across my husband’s chest.

I bought Tom this lovely light blue shirt because he has light blue eyes and I knew he’d look handsome in it. Tom took one look at it and went,

“No way. Not wearing it.”

?????????

What’s wrong with the light blue shirt? What has the light blue shirt ever done to him?

“That’s what old people wear,” Tom grumbled. “Why do you want me to look like an old man?”

Excuse me? I know several young people who wear light blue.

Still, I didn’t have time to argue. So I showed him a white polo shirt I found.

“Are those PALM TREES on that?” Tom looked disgusted. Oh the HORROR! Palm trees! Dear God.

“Yes, Tom but you can barely see them,” I said through gritted teeth. My patience was wearing. Why can’t he be one of those men who wear whatever I lay out for him? Why does he have to have an OPINION?

“I don’t know...palm trees...” Tom mumbled, rubbing his chin.

“Tom, please. We don’t have time to argue. I need to get ORGANIZED!” I shrieked. I wanted to crumple to the ground and curl into a little ball and hire someone to pack for me.

“Fine. I’ll wear the palm tree shirt,” Tom said because he could see that I was close to losing it. He knew I was two seconds away from bursting into tears and yelling at him to do the packing because I was DONE!

I also need to find room for Tom’s nice shoes because we’re going to my Grandma’s church on Sunday before heading to the beach. I haven’t set foot in a church in….I can’t even remember when the last time I set foot in church. I believe in God, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never felt totally comfortable in a church. My butt starts to ache from sitting on the pews and then I start to wonder why pews can’t come with arm rests.

Oh no. I just realized that I need to shave. When can I shave? I suppose I’ll do it tonight. That way I’m nice and smooth for the flight and I can wear shorts without people pointing and laughing.

What shoes am I going to wear to church? Are flip flops allowed in a church? Didn’t Jesus wear sandals which are sort of like flip flops? So it should be okay. I don’t think I’ll have room for heels. Plus I can’t walk in heels properly. What if I go stumbling across the pews and land in front of pastor and he asks me how I feel about Jesus? The first thing that comes to my mind is, “I totally dig his robes,” which I don’t think is exactly what the congregation wants to hear.

Note to self: don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in church. If I stub my toe or lose my balance I need to say “Ooopsie” in a sweet 1950s wife sort of way.

I need to gather the entertainment for the children so they don’t scream down the plane. I have books, coloring books, crayons, toys, food….at least this time my husband will be traveling with me so if the kids get too loud all he has to do is give them a Look and they’ll fall silent again. Why don’t the kids quiet down when I give them a Look? I look quite frightening when I’m pissed but they just laugh at me and say that they can see my nose hairs because apparently my nostrils flare when I’m angry.

So...I better finish this packing business. When I write again I will be on Texas soil. My body is going to go through quite a shock because it’s only been the seventies over here and it’s in the 100s over there. I look so unattractive when I’m hot. I resemble a lobster with bad hair.

Good Lord I almost tripped over the suitcase and nearly slammed into the wall. I do not want to board the flight with a black eye.

Wait. I can’t say Good Lord. I’ll be going to church on Saturday.

So. Oopsie. I meant to say oopsie.

9th Grade Orientation Day

Today is 9th grade orientation day and I will be there to meet all the new incoming freshmen. I love orientation. Most of the teachers gripe because they have to give up a day and come in and work. I look at it as a great big reunion when I get to see all the new faces and some old ones I have not seen in a while. I will have a freshman advisement(homeroom) this year so for the next four years these babies will be mine. That is the one thing I love about our school. The homeroom/advisement teacher follows the student all the way through their high school career. Oh there are some changes from time to time....because the classes have to be leveled, or we lose a teacher unit and have to break up an existing advisement...but for the most part you learn all about these students...because they are yours til they graduate. I love it! This year I have three of my little sweeties from church and I am thrilled. I remember 9th grade. You think you are a big kid...and find out you are just a small fish in a big pond...and get suckered into everything. It never fails to amaze me at the number of ninth graders who buy pep rally tickets. You would think that that one had passed it's prime...yet every year...another freshman falls for it. By the time 10th grade rolls around...they are at home...and then their senior year....they all develop senioritis and are impossible to live with. I love beginnings. If you have a child heading back to school soon...enjoy these last few days of summer with them. Happy Thursday!

The 75% off Sale at Target

First of all, I need to write more about Rob Pattinson in here. Because when I do, I get over 200 visitors which is like a record for me. So..Rob Pattinson (stinks), Rob Pattinson, Rob Pattinson...mwahaha..

Anyhow.

When I went downstairs this morning Tom was in front of the computer about to start a game.

“Tom,” I said. “Can I check something real quick?” I wanted to check the Target forum to see if there was any news about the toys going 75% off.

He reluctantly let me and I hurriedly checked the website. I didn’t expect to see anything. But then I saw a new thread with THE 75% OFF SALE HAS STARTED!!!! in bold letters.

My heart immediately began to race. I nearly fell out of the chair.

“TOM!” I shrieked, leaping to a standing position. I stumbled and nearly went careening into the couch. Sometimes being a klutz is no fun.

“Jesus. What?” Tom said. He had been standing behind me the entire time. “Are you okay? Why are you flapping your arms like that?”

I hadn’t realized that I was. But sure enough I was prancing around the room and my arms were going wild. I felt like a chicken with its head cut off.

“The toys,” I gasped out. “The toys have gone 75% off.”

Then I darted up the stairs to get dressed.

“Um. Excuse me? Does that mean you’re leaving?” Tom wondered, following me. He found me in the room racing across it.

“Where are my PANTS?” I wailed.

“You’re holding them,” he pointed out.

Oh. Right.

I started to pull them up over my pajama bottoms.

“Um. You might want to take those off first,” Tom suggested.

Yes. Of course.

So I did that and yanked up my jeans and threw on a shirt and then I said goodbye.

“Wait!” Tom yelled. “What about me?”

Huh?

I paused and he nearly collided into my back.

“You’re going to watch the kids, of course,” I said. If he thought I was bringing them with me then he had another thing coming.

“Maybe I want to come,” Tom said in his pouty voice. Oh no. I didn’t have TIME for pouty Tom. I had to get to the toys before Old Lady Hog showed up. What part of this was he not comprehending?

“You can’t come,” I said firmly, pulling on my shoes.

“Why not?” Tom puffed his lower lip out. “Maybe I want to come.”

“You CAN’T come!” I said again. “You’ll rush me.”

“But maybe I want to come. Why do you just get to go? I’d like to come and spend time with you and—”

“Oh my GOD, Tom. I think we’ve just set a world record of using the word come the most in a conversation. I don’t have time to argue so if you want to come, come!” I burst out.

Tom looked like he was about to say something suggestive over our abundance usage of the word come but I had already darted into another room to find my purse.

“Let’s go!” I said and marched towards the front door.

“Is Natalie going in her pajamas?” Tom said, gesturing to Natalie who was clad in her pink kitty pjs with messy bed hair to boot.

HAIR! I needed to brush my hair too.

“No. She needs clothes!” I rushed back upstairs at top speed and pulled an outfit from her closet. I came back downstairs and threw it at Tom. “Please get her dressed while I do my hair.”

I ran a brush through my hair and then went back out hoping to see Natalie dressed. But Tom had her skirt in his hands and he was gazing at it in confusion.

“Which way does this go?” He turned it around and wrinkled his nose.

“The daisy goes in front, Tom,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Oh never mind. I’ll do it!” I took the skirt and put it on Natalie.

“Why does girl stuff have to be so confusing?” Tom said beside me.

I’m amused that he can’t figure out a skirt yet he knows how to put together complicated weapons.

On the drive down I realized I hadn’t brushed my teeth. Crap! I always brush my teeth before I go out because it says to the public I care enough not to make you inhale my breath that smells like old kiwi. Oh, and there's the whole not wanting cavities and gum disease too. I puffed into my palm and inhaled and nearly keeled over. My mouth smelled as though I had been sucking on old gym socks or something.

“Do you have a mint?” I asked Tom frantically. “My breath reeks.”

“I know! When you were by me I nearly passed out from the stench,” Tom mocked.

“I don’t have time for jokes! I need a mint! I can’t go into a store with my breath smelling like this,” I said, rooting around in my purse. Surely I had to have some sort of mint in there. It was filled with all sorts of stuff. I pushed past receipts and my keys and my wallet and more receipts and change and a lemon jolly ranger—SCORE! A lemon jolly ranger would do. I would just smell as though I were sucking on lemon.

I popped it in my mouth and settled back in the seat. The candy tasted a little off because it had probably been in my purse for a year but oh well. You do what you need to do not to make other people think that you stink.

When we finally got to Target I grabbed a cart and put Natalie in the front.

“I’ll meet you in the toys,” Tom said, taking Tommy with him to the video game section. This is what always happens when we go to Target.

When I first got to the toy area I just saw the signs that said 30% off and my heart dropped a little.

Ahh well...maybe another time...maybe...wait...wait...that red price tag says 75% off...and so does that one...and so does that one...THE SALE HAS STARTED!

I practically did a happy dance right then and there. But I contained myself. I peered around the area and realized that Old Lady Hog wasn’t there. It was just me alone with the toys that were 75% off.

Tom found me five minutes later with my cart filled.

“Okay, I’ve been gone for a few minutes. How is the cart already full?” Tom asked, scratching his head.

“I’m a professional,” I answered simply. I have the ability to scan things quickly and figure out if I need it or not. You have to be able to move fast for sales like this because the toy can be gone in a matter of seconds. I learned the hard way when I was trying to decide whether or not to get this Hot Wheels set for Tommy. I was so busy tapping my chin that I didn’t even realize that Old Lady Hog had grabbed it and placed it in her cart.

Of course Old Lady Hog wasn't even there but she has super powers and can probably morph out of thin air.

Tom started looking at the variety of toys and picked up a Lego set.

“Awesome! Let’s get this. It’s on clearance.” Then he tried to stick it in the cart. I checked the red tag and it was only 30% off.

“No Tom,” I said kindly, removing it. “This is not how shopping is done. We only want the toys that are 75% off.”

Tom looked baffled. “But it’s on clearance. And it’s here. Why not buy it now?”

Sometimes I wonder about his hearing. “Tom. The toys in my cart are all 75% off. I never buy toys at 30% off because I know I can get a better deal eventually,” I tried again.

Tom stared at me with his mouth agape. This was not computing.

“Here Tom. I’ll ask a worker to scan your Lego and see if perhaps it is 75% off,” I said and picked it back up. I found a worker and politely asked if she’d check the toy.

“Of course,” she chirped and scanned it. “Yup!” Then she printed out a red tag and stuck it on the box.

Awesome.

I headed back to Tom and waved it proudly over my head. “It was 75% off,” I said and put it in the cart.

“SAH-WEET!” Tom said, punching the air. He’s 27 and still loves Legos. He says they’re for Tommy but he’s usually hunched over building them. “Are we done?” Tom begged.

“Yup,” I said and we headed off to check out.

A few people tossed me a few odd looks as I walked with my cart full of toys. I thought it was because they assumed that I was an eBayer. I am so not an eBayer. All the toys are for Christmas. Natalie will forget all about them and I just told Tommy that an elf was coming tonight to take them back to the North Pole to make them special.

When we were standing in line I couldn’t stop scratching my neck. It was then when I realized that my shirt was on backwards and it was the tag that was bothering me. The collar was practically at the middle of my neck. I looked like I was in the 1800s or something. I hadn’t noticed because I was so busy shopping.

“Tom,” I hissed. “My shirt is on backwards. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “I thought it was the new style. I don’t get girl styles.”

So basically I had been walking around with my collar basically up to my chin. Lovely. That’s probably why people were staring. They were like, “Um, what’s that chick doing wearing her shirt like that? We’re not on a compound..”

Want to see what I got?



This was one of my most exciting finds. Natalie has been wanting a train set like Tommy's big one and this is perfect. I got it for $8.



The creepy Yo Gabba Gabba stuff. Everything was under $5.



Tom convinced Tommy that he wanted the car thing for Christmas. And Elmo is just..well, everyone loves Elmo. Plus Natalie was all, "ELMO! THERE YOU ARE!" when she spotted him in the store.



The car thing was a little over $5 and the binoculars were only $1!



This was only $7.



And this was Tom's beloved Lego set.

And let it be known that I left a lot of toys behind lest you think I am like Old Lady Hog. I left a ton. Natalie wanted more Yo Gabba Gabba stuff because they had all the characters there but I only let her pick out one of each.

I would definately check out your Target if you want some awesome deals. Granted, some people were saying that their Targets are still holding at 30% off for toys but it's always good to check.

Now. I need to go find a place for all of these. Hmmmm...

Dreams of The University of the South

One of my favorite southern places to go is Sewanee: The University of the South. It is the home of one of the nation's top liberal arts colleges, a School of Letters, and a seminary of the Episcopal Church. When I graduated from high school, almost 40 years ago, it was one of my three choices of colleges I planned to attend. The other two were UCLA and University of Appalachia in Boone, NC. When I realized my choices were not going to happen I moved on to lesser choices like Andrews College in Cuthbert, GA. I attended Palm Beach Junior College (loving named Peanut Butter and Jelly College)for two years and then eventually graduated from Auburn University. I got a good education. I did things the hard way...and before I was able to finish all four years of college I was married and had children....so I never did the soro life, never lived on campus, I commuted. I am notorious for doing everything the hard way, so college was no exception. I studied after my kids went to bed, never missed a little league game, never missed a child pick up or cupcakes delivery...I did it all.

This college,known simply as "Sewanee" by the students, faculty, staff, travelers, and friends, offers an unmatched educational experience. The University remains purposefully small and dedicated to building a sense of community. All of the classes are taught by professors, not graduate teaching assistants, and close faculty-student interaction ensures that each student enjoys a rich and personal educational experience. It is not unusual for students and faculty members to work shoulder to shoulder on research projects and journal articles, to meet for coffee at a local eatery, or to serve together as members of the University orchestra, volunteer fire department, and other civic groups. This campus is in a very small rural area.

The University can boast of 25 Rhodes Scholars--a number that puts Sewanee in the top four nationally among American liberal arts colleges--as well as 26 NCAA Postgraduate Fellows, 36 Watson Fellows, and dozens of Fulbright Scholars, and has an acceptance rate to graduate and professional schools that far outpaces its peers. The School of Theology has added to its alumni ranks countless bishops, including three of the last four presiding bishops of the Episcopal Church.

At Sewanee you can chose from 36 majors, 27 minors, and 15 special programs, along with pre-medicine, pre-nursing, pre-law, and pre-business. More than 40 percent of students participate in study-abroad programs, and a comprehensive endowed program that provides financial support for summer internships has greatly strengthened career development for undergraduates.

Why was I drawn to this school? Well, the University sits atop the Cumberland Plateau between Nashville and Chattanooga, Tennessee. Sewanee's physical environment, which includes the 13,000-acre Domain (as the campus and surrounding area is known), provides a remarkable academic and recreational resource, and an unparalleled place in which to study and reflect. It invites students to engage in both a multitude of outdoor activities and careful study of the natural environment. I have always been drawn to the Appalachians. I used to dream of being a teacher like the one in the Catherine Marshall book, "Christy." I could see myself teaching grades 1-6 in a small one room school house hidden somewhere in the mountains....prime example of Karen's movie life. I also envision myself busting out into song at the right moment. Where is that reality check?

Anyways, I love the classrooms, they look like something straight out of Oxford or Cambridge in England...and reek of "Dead Poet's Society." But the thing that I love the most about the campus is the huge cross I discovered on the side of the mountain. As I was driving down a rural road in the area the sun broke through the shade of the trees and there it was...and I just had to capture the moment. It was a reminder to me that no matter where you travel...God is there. I am living proof that God has a plan for you...and it does not matter what YOUR plans were...God has a way of working them to his advantage. Remind me to tell you the story of Juliard someday...living proof that God exists.

Nothing Good Can Come From Rob Pattinson

I knew I made a mistake as soon as I placed the magazine down. The cashier took one look at it and her face lit up. I braced myself, knowing what was about to come.



“ROB PATTINSON!” the twenty-something cashier shrieked as she scooped up the magazine. To be honest, I was worried that she was about to make out with it because she brought it close to her face and gave a long sigh. I make the same noise when I see Michael Phelps but when he’s on a magazine cover I don’t feel an urge to bring it inches from my face so I can see his pores.

“Isn’t he ADORABLE?” the cashier practically shouted as she scanned it. As soon as she did she brought it near her face again.

I pulled out my wallet and brought out some bills. “He’s...not my type,” I admitted and tried not to make a face. I seriously wonder if the whole world has gone mad. It seems like there is a Twilight epidemic going on and I’m the only one who hasn’t been claimed by it. Of course I enjoyed the series—I thought it was original—but when I finished, I didn’t cry that I was sorry that I was finished with the books like most people did. I easily moved on and started to read books about humans again.

I used to have people on my side—you know, the types that haven’t been seduced by Twilight--but they’re slowly dropping like flies. They’ll read the series and I’ll keep my fingers crossed that they won’t turn into a Rob Pattinson Crazy—but then there they go, gushing about Rob, gushing about the series and I want to scream, “Noooo! Come BACK!” with my arms outstretched.

My best friend loves Twilight but thankfully she hasn’t gone and put a countdown to New Moon on every one of her web pages. She doesn’t talk my ear off about the books. She isn’t attracted to Rob Pattinson!

Of course it’s fine that people drool over Rob Pattinson. People like who they like. But I don’t need to hear about what he’s doing every second of the day. The cashier obviously was one of those types because she leaned towards me as though she had a deep secret.

“My friend got to see him at Comic-Con,” she whispered, her eyes darting all over the place as though this news were confidential. “She says he looks even better in person.” She looked at me expectantly. I think she was waiting for me to do the famous Girl Squeal that I only reserve for fancy desserts.

“That’s...nice,” I said, wanting to get on my way. She had obviously not heard me when I had mentioned that Rob wasn’t my type. Or maybe those words didn’t compute in her Rob obsessed mind.

“Kristen is a fool for not wanting to be with him,” the cashier said, flipping through my magazine. Um HELLO? Buy your own...

“Maybe Kristen prefers a man who actually washes his hair,” I said dryly. I had heard that Rob doesn’t wash his hair often.

The cashier looked up with a start as though I had insulted her. “That’s not true,” she said firmly. “He washes his hair. That’s not true! ”

Woah. Okay there. She was obviously a Scary Twilighter. There are some Twilighters that I can tolerate because they’re still sane. But people like the cashier? No thanks.

“I have to go now,” I said, reaching for my magazine.

The cashier reluctantly handed it over with my change and receipt.

“You take care of Rob,” she said.

!!!!!!!!!!!

“Well, Rob’ll be going into the trash when I’m done reading him,” I said cheerfully and I swear, you’d have thought that I had just called her Vinegar Tits from her horrified expression.

I headed to McDonalds after that because I had a craving for a Big Mac. When I pulled up to retrieve my order the worker handed me one of those drink carriers with a mini cup filled with those mocha things that they serve. This would be nice if I actually liked mocha.

“Oh, I don’t need the sample,” I said, trying to hand it back.

The worker looked stunned. “But it’s free,” she argued.

“I get that. But I don’t drink coffee,” I explained.

“But it’s free,” she said, blinking rapidly.

I did not want a cold Big Mac so I went, “Never mind,” and set the carrier down in the seat beside me. As I pulled away the little sample drink tipped over and mocha spilled all over the seat of my NEW CAR.

“Stupid MOCHA! This just proves that NOTHING GOOD CAN COME FROM ROB PATTINSON!” I screeched which made no sense but the magazine was on the floor of the passenger side and Rob’s face looked like he was gloating. That’s what you get for not liking me. Mwahahaha!

When I got home I decided that I had to do something to the magazine to show people that no, I did NOT like Rob so no, I did not want to start a lengthy conversation about him. This magazine is my reading material for the airplane on Saturday so if I came across a Scary Twilighter then I wouldn’t be able to get away. I cannot sit for two hours talking about a guy who can’t act.

So what I did is this:



This will hopefully show all those Twilighters out there not to speak to me about Rob.

I think I may also need to add, Does not LIKE! Does not want to DISCUSS! on the cover for good measure....

My Tuesday Soapbox

In March of 2007 the Alabama legislature lambasted Alabama voters. It seems that on the very first year of their four year term, on the second day of the regular session the majority Democrats managed to introduce and push through a little piece of legislation called HJR 29. This tiny, not spoken of piece of work was not very important. It was not even hardly important enough to talk about on the election trails. Nope, it was just an insignificant little item that raised their pay by a whopping 62% effective at the beginning of the session. Governor Riley did the gentlemanly thing and vetoed the pay raise, but on to no avail. It was put into effect with a veto override on March 20th. Now, I don’t know about you….but never in my life have I ever received a 62% pay raise. I have never even received a 10% pay raise. I am in public education. The biggest one I remember was 7 and it was divided over two years. The circumstances surrounding the 62% pay raise made it clear that the legislators were no dummies and this had been being set up for a long time. I find it ironic that not one single legislator mentioned the pay raise on the campaign trail. Not one. It is also interesting that it was the very first item to pass that session. Kind of makes you wonder what the agenda was. Personally I think they were trying to put as much time between the scandalous pay raise and the next elections as possible. Four years is a long time to do wonderful things…and have your constituents forget you voted for the raise. I am shocked, although I shouldn’t be at just how well orchestrated this action was. I cannot believe how quickly it “snuck” through without hardly anyone noticing. My conclusion on this is that they knew it was wrong and would be unpopular and ever single legislator who voted for it ought to be ashamed of themselves. And the saddest part yet was that even after the veto and overwhelming groundswell of public outcry they voted to put the raise into effect anyway. But I am not going to talk about the 62% pay raise today….I just needed it as a spring board for my real topic. I am probably not going to be popular today….but you all know…I am a teacher. Earlier this month because the state tax revenues earmarked for education have continued to decline due to recession, Governor Bob Riley increased the level of proration in the Education Trust Fund to 11 percent for the 2009 fiscal year, which ends September 30. This is the year we are in right now. That means…that funding we thought we had and budgeted for….in order for the school year to begin….and the fiscal year to end (and those are two separate items)….has to be cut AGAIN another 2% for a total of 11%. Sooooo….school systems who don’t have the extra 2% laying around are just out of luck. When the 9% proration went into effect in December our school system cut our Teacher Allocation Money….(this year there will be none), field trips were eliminated using school buses, if you had a refrigerator or microwave in your room it would cost you, personally, $35.00 a semester to keep it. I became the sole Spanish teacher at my school, which meant huge classes, some coaching supplements were cut, and at one point some non-self-supporting athletic programs were cut. Some of you may not be aware of proration….but in the life of an educator it is a word that makes us shake with fear. For education it means that teachers are cut, class sizes increase, and all the fluff is trimmed. The Dictionary definition of proration is the process of cutting appropriations when revenues fall short of projections. It is sad times…The economy stinks, people are out of work and cannot find jobs, education is prorated 11%, and with all the hard times….our legislators….they get a 62% pay raise. The Federal Education program lovingly(NOT) known as No Child Left Behind on paper looked so good…..but in functional reality….stunk! Highly Qualified teachers were needed….not let me go there…I have a Master’s Degree AND additional coursework from a Nationally Accredited State University….actually two of them….and IF it had not been for the very first round of teacher tests that were given back in the late 80’s and then abolished I would have not been highly qualified….but someone with no education coursework, no experience in education….just because they were degreed in a subject….would be. DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE? I went to school, did countless observations/internships in classrooms. I studied what makes adolescents tick….and have 20+ years experience. What is wrong with this picture? No other field has this issue. When you graduate and do your residency as a doctor….you are ….a doctor. When you finish your nursing degree….you are a nurse….after you pass the state boards. I don’t think the test issue is a problem. I took tests…in every field I can teach….I paid for and took….a test in English, Spanish, Secondary Education….and Sociology. I am one Highly Qualified Teacher! But, I think the nation has made education a non-essential line item. For every great general….there was a teacher in his/her past. For every legislator….there was a teacher in the past, for ever doctor, nurse, architect, landscaper, writer, reader, you name it….there was a teacher lurking in the past. Yet, education in our nation has fallen as a casualty of war. We can bail out car companies, we can bail out banks, but….we can’t invest in the education systems of our nation. But you know….we are like the phoenix and we will rise from these ashes too. When we are given lemons…we make lemonade….we may not have money to add sugar….but we make it anyway…..and learn to like it that way. You can’t get us down….we may never get a 62% pay raise….and you may suck us dry with governmental programs that have to be complied with….but you know what….we will continue to educate the children….when we have no parental support, no money, no respect from the students we teach,….we will trudge along….because we do what we do….we teach.

Sons of Somerled and Scottish Heritage

Anyone who knows me knows that besides the Mother Road my dream is to one day visit Scotland. I have made Ireland twice and have to say I am drawn to the UK. I love everything about it, from the driving on the wrong side to the laid back life. I am sharing one of my favorite songs with you tonight. I heard it for the first time on my first trip to Ireland. I was in Dublin in a music store and they were gearing up for Steve McDonald's arrival. I wish I could have stayed...but alas our bus was leaving shortly for Killarney. The song Sons of Somerled stuck in my brain. When I got back to the states I began researching Somerled, the song, the singer, Scotland. I discovered that "Somerled was a 12th century Scottish lord and war leader who helped defend the land from Viking invaders. His grandson founded the largest and most powerful of the Scottish clans, Clan Donald. When New Age musician Steve McDonald of New Zealand became aware of his Scottish ancestry he began to intensively research his heritage as a member of Clan Donald; he also decided to write a concept album dedicated to the history of the Clan. Sons of Somerled is the very satisfying result." I began researching my own heritage several years ago and after attending a kirkin' of the tartans in Montgomery....was hopelessly hooked on the Scottish mystique I was unraveling. My family was Scottish but left Scotland shortly after the Battle of Glencoe and went to Ireland where they stayed until the 1800's when they boarded a ship and sailed to America to escape the potato famine and survive. The draw of the history is spellbinding to me. One day I am going to stand on the cliffs in the heather and know I have arrived.

Adventures in Super Target

“So what did I miss?” I asked my husband Tom as I hung up the phone with my mother. We’ll be flying back to Texas on Saturday for our beach trip so we were discussing that.

“Oh man, shit hit the fan!” Tom gushed, waving his arms in the air. “The house found out that Ronnie was playing both sides!”

He was telling me about the reality show Big Brother. It’s a program that he claims to hate, yet he seemed pretty excited as he explained to me that the house was in an uproar and people were shouting at Ronnie, especially Russell.

I’m amused that he even knows the names.

He always mocks me for watching it—“this show is awful, people always cry, blah blah blah”—but he still ends up watching.

But there is one thing for sure that I know he doesn’t like.

And that’s shopping.

We went to Fort Collins over the weekend because they have more stores (and food!) to offer. We take the kids to Toys R Us which I suppose is a store that Tom enjoys because he’s like a big kid.

I’m not going to lie. So am I. I always marvel at how many toys are out and wish that I had a dollhouse with a talking face on it when I was a kid.

Beside Toys R Us is a Super Target which I always drool over when we pass it.

“We have a Target in Cheyenne,” Tom always reminds me.

True. But it’s not a Super Target. It’s just a boring old regular Target.

“I’m just going to quickly pop in and make sure the toys haven’t gone 75% off,” I told Tom on Saturday. The last time I checked a lot of them had gone to 50% off. Suppose they suddenly switch over to 75% off and I miss it?

“Is there such thing as you going into Target quickly?” Tom questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“It can happen!” I said indignantly. “I’m just going to take a gander…”

“Take a gander, my foot. Look, we’ll all go in, okay?” Tom said.

Hooray!

The first thing I noticed about Super Target was that they had better carts. The carts at my regular target are a reddish clunky thing and most of the wheels get stuck. The carts at Super Target were this stylish gray color with a thick handle bar. It was a smooth ride as I pushed it along into the store.

“Aren’t these carts amazing?” I asked Tom brightly.

“It’s a cart, Amber,” he replied dryly.

Okay, he says that but when we go to Lowes he practically does a happy dance over the boring riding lawn mowers. He really wants one. Our yard is too small for a riding lawn mower. But Tom refuses to give up the dream that he might one day get one for his birthday.

Anyhow, I was walking towards the toy section and talking to Tom about our beach trip and was all, “The rooms apparently have a king size bed in them which will be awesome so I don’t have to be shoved by your oversized man feet in the middle of the night…” when I realized he wasn’t beside me.

Did he stomp off since I mentioned his man feet? Maybe he was having an overly sensitive day. I really think men go through their own version of PMS because some weeks Tom will just latch onto everything I say and twist it around into something negative. Like when I asked him to take the trash out a few weeks ago he suddenly got all defensive.

“Do I tell you when to mop the floor?” he demanded.

Um.

“No but the trash is overflowing and I’d rather disgusting paper towels didn’t start to litter the floor,” I explained. “Plus it smells.”

“Do I tell YOU when to MOP the floor?” he repeated. A vein started to pop out from his neck. It always starts to protrude when he gets upset. I’ve named it Mr. Veiny.

“Tom, I just explained why I asked you to take the trash out,” I said, rubbing my temples.

He did it but he was in a foul mood for about two hours. This is why I don’t feel too bad when I have my own PMS moments.

“Tom?” I called out, wondering where in the world he took off to in Super Target.

“Tom?” Natalie repeated. She’s been calling us by our first names and we always correct her and explain that no, actually we’re Mom and Dad.

“That’s Daddy to you,” I said and tickled her stomach.

“TOM!” Natalie said again and laughed.

It turns out he was down the car crap aisle. He had one of those ShamWow things in his hands.

“I’m going to use this to wash the truck,” he said as though he hadn’t just pulled a disappearing act.

“Tom, could you tell me when you’re going down an aisle?” I asked sweetly. “I was totally having a conversation with myself about the king sized bed at the beach.”

It was like Tom didn’t even hear me because he was all, “And I’m getting this stuff to wax the truck,” and threw in a bottle called ICE in the cart.

“You do know those ShamWow things don’t work. They tried it on The Today Show and the consensus was that you should just use paper towels,” I pointed out.

Tom thinks everything that is offered for sale on the TV actually works.

“I want to try it,” Tom said stubbornly.

I let it drop. He can learn for himself that ShamWows are crap.

Then we got into the toy section and there were no further sales. Boo. But it was still worth it to check out the Super Target and use their awesome carts.

After that we went to the mall which Tom tolerates because he always gets an Orange Julius. Plus he gets two of his candy apples from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

Tom also likes looking in the pet store because he wants a dog.

I say no way. I’d lose my mind.

Tom wants one of those Siberian Husky dogs.

“No way. I’d lose my mind,” I always say.

“But it’s so cute! Isn’t it so cute, Tommy?” Tom will attempt to try and get Tommy to coerce me.

It doesn’t work. When I see a puppy I do think that it’s cute. But I also am reminded of how you have to train it and really, I’m still working on training my husband.

Maybe when the kids are older I’ll surprise him with one. He would never suspect it.

But it wouldn’t be for many many years from now.

And by many years from now I’m talking about ten years.

What Matters Most to You- Things, Stuff, or People?

I got an email yesterday from a blogger buddy of mine and we talked about broken necklaces. I have a baggie full of pieces of a lovely turquoise, ivory, and silver necklace given to me over ten years ago. I loved this necklace...my grandson...while loving on me...broke it. I had it fixed....my granddaughter was playing with it one day and broke it again. I had it fixed a second time....and then I hung it on my desk drawer at school and broke it again. When it broke this time I put the pieces in the baggie and put it in my jewelry box. I have not missed the necklace...so obviously I don't need it. If I find someone who makes jewelry....I will probably give them the pieces so they can make something equally as beautiful out of it. The broken necklace story though reached back into the bowels of my memory storage bend and found a whole lot of "thing" stories I thought I would write about today. In priming myself for this post I went to dictionary.com and looked up the definitions for the words things, stuff, and possessions. I think it is important that we all understand just exactly what I am talking about. Things were defined as: a plural : possessions, effects b: whatever may be possessed or owned or be the object of a right c: an article of clothing dplural : equipment or utensils especially for a particular purpose 5: an object or entity not precisely designated or capable of being designated . Stuff, not to be confused with the white cloud-like substance in a teddy bear is defined as: 1: materials, supplies, or equipment used in various activities: as aobsolete : military baggage b: personal property. And Possessions were discussed as: 2: something owned, occupied, or controlled : property. To cut to the chase, all of these words refer to items one owns or possesses. How important are things to us? Well...to some they are very important. As a child when it got close to Christmas time my mom would make me clean out my toys and dolls and take them to the Salvation Army in preparation for the new stuff Santa would be bringing me. I never quite understood that concept....but followed her orders and would rid myself of toys, games and dolls I no longer used. (Now, the funny thing here is that my mom forgot this lesson too...she is the biggest pack rat on the face of the earth. If you can save it she does. She does not understand why I would want to give stuff away...I tell her, "because that is what you taught me to do." I have to remember...she is a few cards shy of a full deck in her reasoning skills.) Anyways, One year I donated my entire Barbie collection to my four younger cousins(an action I have kicked myself many times for....do you know what those things are worth????). The point here is that someone else needed something I had and since I was no longer using it I gave it away. I have always done that. I can't tell you the number of things I have donated to the Salvation Army over the years or just given away when someone's house burned or they were down on their luck....the whole fact is...I GAVE! Past tense-because somewhere between there and motherhood....I forgot that skill. When I graduated from college my now ex-husband gave me a crystal apple. I loved it. My oldest daughter was playing around in the house one afternoon....something I had told her numerous times not to do...and the crystal apple was the casualty of her carelessness. It shattered into a bazillion pieces. I came into the room...surveyed that all humanoids were ok...saw my apple...shattered on the floor...and became a screaming banshee. If I live to be 100 I will never forget the look on my daughter's shattered face. I realized in that brief shining moment...that things are not as important as peoples feelings. It was a great experience and object lesson for me. I play guitar. I love my acoustic guitars. I have a beautiful black one that my parents gave me for my birthday one year and a student dropped it and dinged it one day at school....he was mortified. I looked at him and said, "hey, accidents happen and it is just a guitar." Now don't get me wrong....I don't want people deliberately breaking my stuff...but accidents do happen. I also have a gorgeous red acoustic/electric guitar that Frank gave me for my birthday one year. I fret over it all the time...but believe me...if I had to chose between it...or Frank...or one of my kids. I would be at the front of the guitar giveaway line. People come before stuff! There is nothing I possess that is worth more to me than any one of the people I love. That was a hard lesson for me to learn. It took me a while to get that one down, but once I got it down...I had it. The moral of this post: No matter how special something is to you...it is just that...a thing...and you cannot or should not value it above another person's feelings. Have a wonderful Sunday!

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Frank took me to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince the other night. I am a huge Harry Potter fan. I originally bought the books for the grandkids for Christmas and when there was such a controversy about them I read them to make sure they were ok. J.K. Rowland is an awesome writer and since I read the first book I have been to England and seen many of the places that were used in filming various scene's in the movies. Half Blood Prince was, I must say one. of my favorites...but then Frank says I say that every one. I guess when you wait as long as Potter fans do to see one of the movies they can become your favorites very quickly. I am a Christian. I believe in all the things Christians believe in. I know that these movies/books are about witchcraft et.al. but I also can discern the difference between real and fantasy. True, a child might not be able to....but then...when you were little...did you have an imaginary friend? I was taught to use my imagination and always have. I feel sorry for kids today because with the video games out there....they have no reason to have an imagination. I wanted to be the sorcerer's apprentice from Fantasia when I was a child. I went trick or treating at Halloween, when I was a child. My youngest daughter, on the other hand, did not! Life is a bowl of contradictions. I went because when I was a child neighbors took care of you, watched over you, gave you good treats. My children did not because when they were children....the world had turned mean. Our church always had a Fall Festival when the other kids were trick or treating. That eventually evolved with Hurricane Katrina into Trunk or treating when the youth of our church went to the local state parks where the victims of Katrina were staying in FEMA trailers and took Halloween to the children there who had lost everything. Ok so how did I digress from Harry Potter to Halloween? Who knows. I just know that the Harry Potter movies are well made and very interesting. This one was a tad bit long...but all it all worth every penny I paid to see it. BTW....go see The Proposal with Sandra Bullock. It is wonderful. As you can tell...summer is my movie going time. Come fall I will just be waiting til they come out on DVD.

The Act of Being Paranoid

It happened on a Tuesday night. I was feeling frisky so I started kissing on my husband.

“I’m tired,” he told me, moving his lips away.

Wait. What? What’s this ‘I’m tired’ business that he’s rambling about? That’s MY line, not his.

But....maybe he was tired. So I let it go.

Then I tried again on Wednesday and got the same response. “You can’t do this when I’m about to go to bed,” Tom grumbled, practically pushing me off of him.

Well, I have no choice but to kiss on him when he goes to bed. I can’t try to seduce him when the children are awake. I mean I COULD but I’d scar them for life.

I don’t know why I even bothered on Thursday. But I did.

“I’m very tired,” Tom repeated.

Something was very wrong indeed. It doesn’t help that I’m PMSing which means my emotions are all over the place. The fact that I continued to be denied was starting to get to me. Plus, usually he’s constantly spanking my butt lightly and whispering naughty things in my ears. He wasn’t doing that either.

“In the book He’s Just Not That Into You it says that if a man really loves you that he’d have sex no matter WHAT!” I said to Tom dramatically. Actually, I’m not sure if it exactly says that. I know it says something about calling you if they really like you but I imagine it applies to sex too.

“Amber. Books always upset you. I don’t want to have sex because I’m TIRED,” Tom said firmly and then rolled over.

All sorts of thoughts whirled through my mind.

What if he’s having an affair????

What if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore? What if he’s tired of my non-existent boobs and my stretch marks??

I know it doesn’t make sense but that thought was worse than the affair one. How awful would it be for your spouse to sit you down and say that the marriage was over because he didn’t like the way you looked anymore?

When I woke up Friday morning I decided that I’d be extra nice to Tom. Maybe he was denying me because he thought I was too mean? I know men all over the world are starting to put their feet down over the way their wives treat them thanks to the Jon and Kate thing. Kate was awful to Jon and Jon had enough and now they’re getting divorced and Jon is off traipsing around with some twenty-something bimbo.

I mean, I’m not horribly mean to Tom. But sometimes I do raise my voice because that seems to be what he responds to. If I nicely ask him to do the dishes he rarely does them. But if I’m all, “THE DISHES NEED DONE!” then suddenly he’s racing to the sink.

When I woke up this morning Tom had the TV on Spongebob. Usually I complain about this and insist that we change the channel. But then I remembered that I was going to be extra nice so I said, “What’s that crazy sponge up to today?” in a high pitched voice.

Tom raised his eyebrow at me. I rarely talk like an over caffeinated cheerleader. I sat on the couch and forced myself to watch the cartoon. It was awful. Who can sit and watch Spongebob? When it neared an hour I said, “So, is anything else on?” Normally I’d just grab the remote and say, “I’m tired of Spongebob,” and switch it.

“Well, Family Guy is on another channel but you said it’s not appropriate when the kids are up,” Tom explained.

This is true. We used to put it on when the kids were awake. But then Tommy told me to kiss his ass and I figured the Family Guy days were over.

“Could we please watch something else?” I asked sweetly.

“This is a good episode though. It’s the one where Spongebob and the gang starts a band to impress Squidward’s rich friend,” Tom said.

Nevermind. I got up and decided to phone the cat kennel so we could book Max the cat in when we go to the beach next week. I called our usual place and was informed that they were full.

Full? What’s this full business? This is the first time that they’ve been full.

So then I had to call other kennels and they were full too.

My emotions were already all over the place and I nearly burst into tears when the final kennel in the area picked up.

“Can I help you?” a tiny voice on the other end asked.

Yes. My husband won’t have seh-seh-sehhhhhhhhhhhex with me because I’m an ugly cowwwww... I wanted to sob.

Thankfully they had spaces available.

Then I went out and plopped down on my husband’s lap. “Your biceps are looking bigger,” I admired, squeezing one. My goal was to constantly compliment him. In all the magazines that I read they all say that men love to be complimented.

“I haven’t even been working out,” Tom replied, confused.

Oh my God. I don’t praise him enough! Normally men would be all, “Thank you! They ARE bigger!” but my husband is all, “I haven’t been working out.”

“Still. They look fantastic,” I continued. I threw my arm around his neck and snuggled against his chest. “YOU look fantastic.” I had seen on a talk show that if you constantly praise a man then they’re not as inclined to be as thrilled when another woman says it to them…thus leading to an affair.

“Okay Amber,” Tom said, looking me straight in the eye. “What do you want?”

Huh? “Nothing,” I insisted but Tom still gave me a Look.

“Is there a sale going on at Gymboree?” Tom questioned.

Well. There is one starting Wednesday but that’s beside the point. “No!” I promised. “I just wanted you to know that I love you. And that you look fantastic!”

Tom still looked wary.

“Honest! I don’t think I tell you enough what a great guy you are!” I gushed.

“Whatever,” Tom mumbled and went back to watching Spongebob.

So he was suspicious. Fine. But what if he really didn’t find me attractive anymore? I mean, he was gone for over two months. Maybe he decided he preferred to be a bachelor. That he didn’t like the family life anymore.

I started to tear up because I cry easily when I’m PMSing. I can’t help it. Tom found me in the kitchen sniffling as I washed down the counters.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as a snot bubble popped from my nose. I really wish I were a more attractive crier.

I couldn’t tell him what I was really thinking. That would be lame. Of course he’d deny it anyhow.

“I’m just really upset that Walter Cronkite died,” I lied. “He was a wonderful man.”

Tom stared at me as though I had just let out a massive fart. “You’re acting weird today,” he observed.

Because you don’t find me attractive anymore!

“What’s for lunch?” Tom asked.

Usually we just have leftovers or whatever you can find for lunch. Tom doesn’t understand this concept. I usually fix the children a Kid’s Cuisine meal or a sandwich and I’ll have cereal or last night’s dinner and Tom will just be standing there in confusion.

“Tom!” I’ve told him many times. “You just FIND something and you EAT it.”

He still doesn’t comprehend this.

He sort of pads around the kitchen and opens and re-opens the cabinets and the fridge and the freezer and then will moan that we have nothing to eat.

“We have tons to eat! You’re a grown man! Find something!” I usually snap at him. It’s like he expects me to prepare an entire meal for lunch like I do for dinner. Sometimes I think he forgets that he married someone who hates to cook.

But I couldn’t snap at him this time. Not when he’s probably on the verge of leaving me. So I forced a big smile on my face and said, “What would you like, Sweetums?”

Tom wrinkled his nose. “What’s a sweetums?”

Well. It was a new nickname that I decided to try out. I guess it didn’t go over well.

Tom asked if I we could have the crispy thin frozen pizza.

“Sure!” I said and preheated the oven even though I had planned on having that for dinner on Saturday.

While I was in the kitchen cleaning up the few dishes in the sink Tom suddenly pressed himself against my back.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said into my ear and then smacked my butt before heading back out to the living room.

My heart lifted. He still found me attractive! He really WAS tired those other nights. He doesn’t want to be a bachelor after all!

So...why was I doing these dishes then? I had already cleaned the counters and got Max in a kennel after all..

“Tom!” I called out. “There are some dishes with your name on it!”

No response.

“TOM! DISHES! If I’m making lunch then the least you could do is the dishes!”

He rushed in. “I’ll get them,” he promised.

Ahhh. Things are exactly as they should be...

Aquapalooza Starts Today

If today is Friday, and it is, then Aquapalooza starts today. Am I going? There is not enough money on God's green earth to make me venture into the water with 3000 other boats to see a concert...even Alan Jackson, Jimmy Buffet, and Kid Rock. I will watch it from the safety of my home on Sept 3rd when it airs on CMT. Aquapalooza in the past has been a big event and I have attended...but this year I don't have a good vibe about it. I don't like the fact that for two nights boaters are on the water...over 30,000 people are expected....over 3000 boats....and when the concert ends....all these people....that have been drinking since 11:00 in the morning...if not before....will fire up the engines of their boats and try to leave. THAT is what frightens me. Many years ago, the Fourth of July fireworks show was held at Kowliga. We lived on the lake, we had a boat, so we went. I have never been so afraid as I was when everyone tried to leave at one time. We were in a pontoon boat and I had my kids with me and by the time we got home I vowed never again would I do this. So, Saturday night...while everyone is at the lake and in the water enjoying Alan Jackson...I am going to be at the local movie theater watching the movie G-Force. I can't wait to see the little mice say, "poop in his hand." If you are planning to attend the concert...please be careful and enjoy. Tell Alan I am a big chicken. If you want to check it out visit Aquapalooza.com or click and follow. Have fun!

Love as a Way of Life

My sweet daughter Kathryn's Sunday School class at Frazier United Methodist is doing a study right now on Gary Chapman's book, Love as a Way of Life. The topic for the last two weeks has been kindness. Kindness comes easy for Kat...because she is a kind person....but she has been instructed to not only be kind....but find kindness in others. She and her friend Mandy did a small pay-it-forward this morning that I think is kind of neat....and if more people treated others like this....the world would be a much nicer place to live in. This morning the girls went to Starbucks and paid for coffee....for people coming in....ahead of time...and instructed the manager not to tell. The cashier asked them...."if there was a hidden camera." It was sad to think that we only do nice things when we think someone is watching. Anyways,after they paid the money (and it was not a bunch of money) they sat at one of those cute little Starbucks tables and watched. People came to get coffee...and were told that their cup had already been taken care of. Kat said that some of the people...actually paid it forward again...others looked around trying to see if there was a hidden camera...or a gotcha waiting for them....but for around an hour....Kathryn and her friend Mandy were thrilled beyond words as they paid-it-forward and showed a random act of kindness. Funny thing...after she shared her story with me...I had the urge to do something totally random. So I mailed Spirit Jump cards. My encouragement to you today....do one random act of kindness every week....and see how it makes you feel. You know...when you practice love as a way of life...you really bloom.

That's What I Call Exercise

The other day we went to Lowes. This is one of my husband’s favorite stores so this meant he was in a fantastic mood on the drive down. He was humming and drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel.

“Can we stop by Target after?” I asked. Target is across the street and I have a compulsion to go into the store whenever I see it. Mainly because rumor has it that Target is going to be marking toys 75% off anytime now. What if the toys get marked on a day when I don’t stop by? The thought makes me feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. I have to get there on the day that the toys are marked 75% off or else my nemesis Old Lady Hog will take everything.

Old Lady Hog, for those who don’t know, always seems to sense when toys go 75% off because she’s always there with two carts filled by the time I arrive. We sort of nod coolly at each other when we lock eyes. She’s still a little bitter that I found the last Dancing Brobee the last time there was a gigantic clearance.

“I guess,” Tom agreed. He can tolerate Target for ten minutes. He usually browses the video game section and then asks if I’m ready to go. This is why I rarely go to Target with Tom.

Tom had to get a new blade for the lawn mower at Lowes. I didn’t even realize you had to replace those things. We wandered into the lawn mower section and Tom drooled over one of those self propelled mowers for a few seconds before rummaging through the blades. There were tons of blades, by the way. Tom kept pulling out the different blades and clucking his tongue and I wanted to shout, “Could you PICK a blade already?” I mean, if you’ve seen one blade, you’ve seen them all.

“Tom,” I said when I felt like I was about to kick his shin for staring intently at another blade. “I’m going to look at the washer and dryers.” I had to get out of there. I was surrounded by blades and mowers and I felt like they were about to cave in on me. I bet if I were in a horror movie that they would have.

“Mmmm,” Tom mumbled. I’m not sure if he heard me but I took off with the kids anyway.

I always coo over the washer and dryers when I go to Lowes. I run my hands over the tops and fiddle with the buttons. I pretend that I’m doing an imaginary load and I’ll open up the washer and toss it in.

“Oh, I’m just doing the laundry in my beautiful red washer,” I’ll whisper.

I’m in love with the Whirlpool Duets. I don’t even know what half the buttons mean. For instance, when would I use a sanitary cycle? Who knows? Who cares? The washer is beautiful. Now I know how men feel when they admire cars.

Tom found me practically making out with the dryer. This one was a gorgeous shade of blue.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Tom joked as he approached with his blade.

Mmm. Maybe.

“Do you need help?” a Lowes worker finally asked as he walked over. He had been watching me from across the room for a few minutes with a look of confusion on his face. He probably doesn’t get a lot of customers pretending to do a load of laundry.

“I’m okay. Just looking,” I told him. I pointed to the various buttons on the machine. “Look Tom! It steams! That way I wouldn’t have to ever learn how to iron.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said.

“Are we going to Target now?” I wondered hopefully.

“No. I’m going to look around,” Tom said.

“AHA!” I said and Tom gave me a bewildered look. “Now you know how I feel when I have to look around the entire store even though I came in for one thing!”

“This is different,” Tom insisted.

“How?”

“It just is.”

Um. Okay. It’s really not.

We wandered down aisles and I’m not going to lie, I was bored. Thankfully a good song came from the overhead speakers. It was What About Love? by Heart. I pulled a small pipe that was labeled PVC or something—who knows—and pretended it was my microphone.

I’ve been lonely/I’ve been waiting for you/…. I started to lip synch to Tom, who looked horrified.

“Put that down,” he hissed, his cheeks growing red.

I’m pretending and that’s all I can do/The love I’m sending/ain’t making it through to your heart… I started to get into it, thumping my other hand over my heart for emphasis.

“I’m telling you to put down that pipe,” Tom broke in. “How would you like if I broke out into song when we were in Gymboree?”

Actually, I would prefer that to his outbursts of, “Holy crap! They want nearly forty dollars for ONE shirt! My shirt doesn’t cost this much!” For the record, I never pay that much for one shirt. I only shop during sales and I always am armed with a coupon but Tom doesn’t seem to comprehend this.

What about love/don’t you want someone to care about you? When I sang those lines I gripped Tom’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.

“Taking you out in public was a mistake,” Tom muttered.

“Sing it, Tom!” I chanted, pushing the PVC pipe under his mouth.

“No. Besides, this kind of music sucks,” he said, pushing the pipe away.

Tom prefers to listen to music where the artist screams at you or calls you a ho.

We left soon after that because Tom was tired of me serenading him.

Then we got to Target and my heart started thumping with anticipation. Would I find some toys for 75% off? Would I beat Old Lady Hog? I rushed back to the toy section and...

The toys were still holding at 30% off. Not good enough. I sighed and headed over to Natalie’s clothes section. I was flipping through a rack of dresses when Natalie practically jumped out of the cart.

“NI-HAO!” she shrieked, standing up in her seat. “NI-HAO KAI-LAN!” She was naming a show that she’s seen on Noggin about a Chinese girl who has a friend named Ho-Ho. This makes me giggle. Natalie was pointing wildly at a shirt with Kai-Lan and Ho Ho (snickers) on it.

“Mines?” Natalie screeched. “MINES?”

“I guess so. It’s on sale,” I said.

Natalie hugged the shirt to her chest. “KAI-LAN AND HO HO!” (Chuckles)

“That’s right, Natalie. But how about we lower our voice?” I suggested.

Tom found us a few seconds later.

“I just followed our daughter’s voice.” He informed me. “Are you ready to go?”

Ready to go? I just got started. When you go to Target you HAVE to look everywhere because you never know when you’ll stumble upon the 75% off items. One time I found a variety of frames marked 75% off that I would have never come across had I not gone down that aisle.

“I just need to check out the shoe section,” I said and walked over. There was a pair of sparkly pink shoes in Natalie’s size for 75% off. Score!

“Does she really need another pair of shoes?” came Tom’s irritating voice.

“Yes. She goes through shoes quickly,” I explained.

“Mommy! Look what Daddy got me!” Tommy spoke up, showing me a Transformer he was holding. Sometimes Tom pretends that Tommy wants a toy when it’s him that really wants it.

“Does he really need another Transformer?” I shot back at Tom.

“Yes! This is Smokescreen,” Tom said as though that made all the difference. (Huh? What’s a Smokescreen?)

I checked Tommy’s section and then went down the frame section.

“I don’t understand why we’re down here,” Tom said even though I had just explained the 75% off thing to him minutes before.

I ended up finding a book for our beach trip next week. Yes, I’m going BACK to Texas for a mini family reunion. We go to the beach in August. I should probably start watching what I eat so I can still squeeze into my swimsuit but can I help it if ice cream tastes extra good in the summer?

Anyhow, the book I picked out was Sophie Kinsella’s new novel called Twenties Girl. I told Tom to hide it from me. Otherwise I’d finish it before we even left.

“Shopping with you is exhausting,” Tom said as we walked to the truck.

Hey. At least I get some form of exercise in.

A Jolt From My Past in the Form of Chet Wancewicz

I love lighthouses and have planned many trips around lighthouses most of my life. I fell in love with my first lighthouse when I was just a little girl in South Florida. The lighthouse was a red one located in Jupiter, just a hop, skip, and jump away from where I lived. My whole life I have been attracted to the might and power of a lighthouse. I have read stories about them, I have collected ones I have been too...(and of course you know that when you collect something and somebody finds out you collect...that is all you get forever. I finally had to quit collecting the ones I visited...to keep from getting generic ones. Ok...so I have gotten distracted from my goal...My Forest Hill high school classmate, Chet Wancewicz, moved to Maine not long after we graduated and has apparently done quite well for himself. Out of the blue he found me on facebook and after adding him as my friend I decided to google him. (I am goofy like that. I love to see if other people have my name and what they do.) What I found was amazing. He is an artist. I was so very impressed by his lighthouse painting that I just felt the need to share it with the blogging world. The lighthouse I am showing you, is one of the more popular ones of those created for an annual fundraising event in Main. This structure features 63 images of Maine’s lighthouses along with the other typical things that are common to the Maine coast such as lobsters, flowers, shells and beautiful scenery as well as a poem across the top. How creative is that. Chet teaches art to children and in my book....if he was not most likely to succeed...he should have been.

I Met Henry VIII

Can I start off by saying that my Mom rocks?

I mean, you know someone loves you if they iron your clothes:



I don't iron. I've never ironed a day in my life. This means that I've probably walked out of the house wearing wrinkly clothes on more than one occasion. I suppose I could wear a sign around my neck that reads: Please excuse the wrinkles. I don't iron.

Speaking of my Mom, she loves bugs. She'll scoop basically anything up. Even spiders. I really don't know what happened to me. She doesn't know what happened to me. When she watches me shriek when I spot a bee she'll be all, "What happened to you? I never raised you to be afraid of bugs!" Then she'll give me a lecture on how bees are GOOD because they POLLUNATE and I'm all, "That's great, but they also sting and make me cry.."

She found this thing one night and brought it in to share:



That would be a giant beetle. She was all, "Now don't scream," before showing me. I think I settled for an ew.

My Mom rocks because she also took me to The Melting Pot which is one of my favorite places to eat.

It's fondue. Everyone loves fondue.

Well, except my weird husband.

But whatever, we left him at home with the kids because The Melting Pot really isn't a kid friendly place what with the burner in the middle of the table.



Here is Mom pulling back her skin because she wants a face lift. We're hoping that Extreme Makeover contacts us for a mother/daughter makeover one day. We'd love some free veneers.



Here I am looking like a giant nerd. I swear I put on some makeup but it just melted off.

I think it would be hard working at The Melting Pot. Because you have to actually converse with the customers. Like when our waiter came to make us our cheese fondue he had to ask us what we did and all of that because otherwise there would just be silence as he mixed up the fondue and that would be weird.

The cheese fondue was amazing.

Here is Mom enjoying the cheese fondue:



As good as the cheese is my favorite part is the dessert.

The chocolate fondue.

We always get the Ying and Yang which is the dark and white chocolate mixed together. That way we can pretend that we're eating healthy since dark chocolate is good for you.



Looking at this makes me realize that I WANT MORE CHOCOLATE FONDUE!



This is the stuff that you get to dip into it.

Bottom line? Go to The Melting Pot.

Oh, and my Dad rocks too by the way. He lets the kids climb on him:



I mean, that can't be totally comfortable..

Okay, I'm moving on from cheese and chocolate to a totally different set of pictures because I realize I still have tons to share.

The following is from when we went to the wax museum:



Tommy hanging out with Batman. Doesn't he look thrilled?



Hanging out with Dr. Phil. He was lecturing me on not eating healthy. You know, I almost went on the Dr. Phil show years ago. When Tom and I were first married I was so frustrated with how messy he was and how he'd just go out and buy a lot of stuff that we couldn't afford so I ranted to Dr. Phil in a letter. I didn't realize that he'd actually CALL. Well, he didn't call. The producer did. She was all, "Would you like to be on the show? We got your letter..." Oops. Needless to say, Tom say no way, he wasn't going on television so I declined. Things did get better thank goodness. Now if we fight he'll sometimes go, "Are you going to go crying to Dr. Phil?"



Tom's World War 2 detector went off and he found this.



One of Tom's heroes is Rocky. I think I could take him. I can be quite fast.



Can someone tell me what this is? This is sort of how I look when I first wake up.



Hanging out with my favorite King. I actually stepped up and was pretending I was Anne Boleyn about to be beheaded and I was calling Henry an ass (even though the real Anne Boleyn was gracious and never uttered a bad word about Henry before her head was taken from her) and as I was hunched over a worker was all, "Oh, you can't step up, you have to get down!" "But I'm Anne Boleyn!" I argued. She didn't care.

Polimer Clay Creations Giveaway!

I got an email from the Giveaway Diva and she is hosting another great giveawy. From her site she sent me browsing through Beadpassion and I too was amazed by her creations! This jewelry artist creates amazing and very life-like pieces of jewelry and cellphone charms! I am dieting a got seriously hungry when I looked at her strawberry cupcake pendant. I, just like the Giveaway Diva, was so amazed that she created all her pieces using clay! Polimer clay is very hard to work with, but the amazing detail in each piece truly floored me! Her cupcake jewelry as well as her cymnbidium orchards were my favorites! The pricesare very reasonable! Perfect for gifts or a great and cute way to accessorize your outfit! You can seriously go on a major spending spree without breaking the bank! So if you know what is good for you, you will go on over to the Giveaway Diva's blog site and check out this great contest. See her button in my sidebar to the right.

Quiet Time? What's That?

“Amber. Stop. You don’t have to follow her when she goes upstairs. She’s old enough to play on her own,” my husband told me firmly after Natalie ran off to play with Tommy in his room.

“She’s only two,” I argued. “What if a bunch of toys fall on top of her and suffocate her?”

Tom sighed. He’s used to my paranoid ways. When the kids were babies I was the mother who would tiptoe in and stick a finger under their noses to make sure they were still breathing.

“She’ll be fine,” Tom promised me.

I tried to sit back on the couch and concentrate on NYC Prep , the show I had on my DVR and never got around to watching. But it was hard to focus on a bunch of rich kids traipsing around New York. Where were their parents?

“What if Tommy gets too rough with her and sits on her head or something?” I spoke up. I suddenly pictured my seven-year-old plopping on Natalie’s tiny face and cutting off her air. I know. The weirdest things pop in my head sometimes.

Tom gave me his famous have-you-lost-you-everloving-mind? look. “You think our competent seven-year-old is going to suddenly have a compulsion to sit on Natalie’s head?”

Well, when he said it like that it sounded ridiculous.

I settled back against the couch. It was weird actually sitting on the couch while watching a show. Usually if I have a program on I have to sit on the floor and play with Natalie while I simultaneously watch the TV. Sitting on the couch during the day was a luxury.

“What the hell are we watching?” Tom wondered. His eyes were squinting at the screen as if trying to make sense of a sixteen-year-old announcing that a $300 jacket was cheap.

“Some show called NYC Prep. I have a bunch of episodes on the DVR that I need to watch,” I explained.

“Well, it’s awful. Can I please switch the channel?” Tom begged. “Shows like this piss me off.”

He especially hates when I watch shows like The Real Housewives of Orange County. I think he gets bitter that he doesn’t own a million dollar yacht.

“No. You’ll switch it to Spongebob. Are you still going to be watching Spongebob when you’re thirty? There comes a time when you have to say goodbye to children’s cartoons, Tom,” I lectured.

“Gee, I don’t know, Amber. When are you going to stop laughing when someone farts?” Tom replied.

Touché.

(For the record, I’m probably always going to laugh when someone farts.)

“I have to go check on her,” I said, standing up. I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. My butt was confused as to why it was comfortable so early in the day so it was restless.

“She’s fine, Amber,” Tom said, reaching for the remote. “I’m sorry, I can’t watch this anymore. There’s a guy on here named PC. Who would name a child PC?”

“Wealthy people, I guess. They always want to give their kids odd names,” I answered before darting up the stairs. I just peeked in Tommy’s room quietly so the kids wouldn’t hear me. Natalie was flipping through Tommy’s books and Tommy was playing with his Transformers. Phew. They were both breathing so that was a plus.

I headed back downstairs and Tom had it on The Military Channel which is almost as bad as Spongebob. He was watching a show where they talked all about tanks.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. Usually I cleaned when Natalie went down for her nap. Perhaps I could clean earlier. But then what would I do while she napped? Write in my novel, I guess. I was at a loss. For seven years my day was usually filled with entertaining children. Tommy never went upstairs to play alone so the fact that Natalie did was a surprise. Tommy has recently started playing in his room. Before that he always wanted to be with me so I rarely got any alone time during the day.

“Read a book. You’re always saying that you wish you had more time to read,” Tom pointed out.

This was true.

“Or you could write your book. You’re always saying that you wish you had more time to write,” Tom added.

This was also true.

I headed for the computer. Usually I’ve been writing my novel at night when everyone has gone to bed. But surely I could write during the day. I pulled up my novel and stared at the screen. I poised my fingers over the keyboard...and strained to hear what the children were doing. Why was it so quiet? That couldn’t be a good thing, right? No good comes from quiet.

“I need to go check on them,” I said and hurried back upstairs.

I peeked in the room again. Natalie was playing with one of her Barbies. Tommy was still playing with his Transformers.

They were fine.

Back downstairs I went. I sat down in front of the computer. Poised my fingers over the keyboard. I was about to write when....

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Natalie’s bloodcurdling scream filled the air.

“You see, Tom? You see? She’s too little to be left alone!” I snapped, taking two steps at a time to get to her.

I found Natalie in the bathroom doorway, standing beside this:



Tommy was beside her looking sheepish.

“Brother do!” Natalie tattled. “BROTHER DO!” She reached out and shoved Tommy.

“Hey! Natalie pushed me,” Tommy whined.

“Natalie we don’t push,” I said. “Tommy, did you take Barbie’s leg off?”

Tommy looked at his feet. “I was just playing with it and it broke off...”

“You can’t play rough with toys,” I reminded him, scooping up the Barbie. I looked at Natalie, who was howling beside me. “It’s okay, Natalie. I can fix it.” The howling abruptly stopped.

I managed to snap the Barbie leg back on and handed it to Natalie.

“Tank oo, Mommy,” she said and headed back to Tommy’s room. Tommy followed her in and they started quietly playing again.

Now what?

The Missing Husband

When I woke up this morning I was alone in bed.

I wasn’t surprised. Tom usually gets out of bed around six. (If you’re wondering why he’s home it’s because he works the following schedule: two days on three days off three days on two days off….it’s really less complicated than it sounds.)

I assumed Tom was downstairs. I usually find him in front of the computer playing his Company of Heroes game. Most of the time he just grunts out a hello because he’s so busy concentrating on his pixilated soldier that’s racing across the screen. I don’t take offense. I don’t like speaking the second I wake up. I have to drink a glass of water and get a bite to eat before I can converse properly. Before that I sort of mumble answers out.

When I got downstairs my eyes immediately swiveled to the computer—but Tom wasn’t there.

Weird.

I figured he had to be in the kitchen. He obviously wasn’t in the living room. The television wasn’t blaring Spongebob.

But he wasn’t in the kitchen. Or the dining room. Or the laundry room.

He wasn’t upstairs because I would have seen him.

Unless….

“Tom! If you’re trying to scare me it’s not funny!”

I even opened a cupboard and peeked in. Not that he can even fit in a cupboard. But you never know with him. He’ll contort his body into anything if he knows the outcome will be worth it.

He wasn’t in the cupboard. But a bunch of pots and pans crammed in there were and one dropped on my foot.

This put me in a foul mood. With a throbbing foot I limped around the house shouting Tom’s name. I threw open the closet and went, “A-ha!” expecting to find him in there, about to pop up and scare the crap out of me.

He loves to make me jump. Admittedly, I startle easily. A sudden noise can make me yelp and I practically go into convulsions when I go into one of those haunted houses they have set up at Halloween. I probably shouldn’t even go in them. But I love the thrill. Of course my heart is usually beating at an unhealthy rate by the end of it but no matter, so long as I sit for a few seconds afterwards I’m all better.

Tom never tires of making me scream. In fact, just the other day he leaped out of the bathroom when I came upstairs and I yelled at the top of my lungs and he hunched over with laughter saying, “This never gets old! Even after knowing you for over ten years this never gets old!”

I’m glad I amuse him. And really, being startled doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it by now.

The only time it does bother me is when I first wake up. Which was why I was shouting like a complete nutter around the house for Tom.

“Mommy! Daddy’s truck is still in the driveway,” Tommy pointed out.

I peeked out the window. He was right. So that meant Tom had to be here. Maybe he was outside. Maybe he decided to finally put together that ball toy. Yes! That’s what he had to be doing. I picked up Natalie and rushed to the garage.

“How nice of you to put together—” I began. But then my eyes rested on the unopened box that contained the toy. He wasn’t there.

“Where Daddy go?” Natalie asked, lifting her hands up and shrugging her shoulders.

“I have no idea,” I admitted. I spotted my neighbor outside watering his glass. Maybe he had seen Tom. Maybe Tom had decided to go for a walk! Maybe he was on another health kick. You see, once every few months Tom suddenly decides that he wants to exercise and eat right. It can get quite annoying, actually. Because suddenly he’s going through our cabinets and lecturing me about buying Little Debbie snacks when just the week before he had downed nearly an entire box of Swiss Rolls. But I’ve gotten used to it. Now I know to just nod my head and say, “Mmmhmm, Tom, that sounds great, Tom,” at the appropriate moments because I know it’ll all blow over in a few days when he realizes that exercising every day actually takes WORK and when he remembers that drinking water all day is boring. Then everything will return to as it was and he’ll be moaning that he’s out of Swiss Rolls and could I pick up some more the next time I’m out?

“Have you seen Tom?” I called out to my neighbor who looked up with a start. He’s not used to seeing me out so early. I usually stumble out around noon and let the kids run around the driveway.

“Nope,” he replied.

Weird. Where could he be?

What if he ran off with a buxom blond who thinks Britney Spears is cool and who screams whenever Rob Pattinson appears on screen? Oh no! I can’t let my kids have a stepmother like that! I’ve finally gotten them to shriek in horror whenever they see Rob Pattinson because they think he’s an evil troll! (I think it would be hilarious if we ever came across Rob and all these women are screeching and throwing themselves at him and my family is all, “AHHHHHHHHH! TROLL!” in horror.)

Then I realized that he couldn’t have run off with someone else because he’s an awful liar. When he tells a fib he refuses to look you in the eye and gets this huge grin on his face.

What if he was…abducted?

I really need to give the alien shows a rest, I know. But suppose the aliens TOOK HIM because they are also confused as to how he can throw his dirty socks on the floor when there is a perfectly good laundry basket nearby?

I was in the middle of eating my breakfast and mulling this over when the front door opened and closed.

“Hi there,” Tom said when he spotted me like nothing was amiss. He was dressed in his uniform and he calmly took his wallet out of his pocket and set it on the counter.

“Where have you been?” I shrieked, rushing over to him. “Are you okay?”

Tom looked at me as though I were wearing panties on my head. “I’m fine. Are YOU okay?” he asked pointedly.

“I’ve just been wondering where you were! Your truck is here and you were no where to be found so I thought you had been ADBUCTED!” I said dramatically.

Tom rolled his eyes. “You need to stop watching those shows. Really. I just walked over to the Change of Command ceremony. The building is right behind our house and it didn’t make sense to walk.”

Oh. He had mentioned a Change of Command ceremony but I assumed he’d drive.

“So you’re okay?” I pressed.

“Just peachy,” Tom said in a mocking tone as he started to take off his boots. He spotted the Twinkie I was eating. “You know, those really aren’t good for you...”

Oh no. The exercise kick.

Here we go again...