Happy Birthday!

A quick Happy Birthday to my high school partner in crime, Tammy Johnson. (How weird is it that not only was there another Tammy Johnson in Springfield, MO, but that not only was she a high school student, but did not go to our high school, yet lived only blocks away from the Tammy I knew?)

I won't give her age - that would be rude - but I will say she is exactly one month younger than I am. Which takes out of the market all the great birthday cards that taunt, "Ha ha, I'll always be younger than you." It's OK, though - I just buy them for my friend Helen :)

I think I've mentioned this before, but Tammy and I have been friends since the first day of fourth grade, when she - wearing the jacket with strawberries on it - said she liked the cover of my spiral notebook (Holly Hobby-like, as I recall). I promptly ripped it off and said she could have it.

We bonded instantly. Bad taste at a young age will do that to you.

We went through those awkward middle school years together, grew into insecure teens, at some point matured, and went our separate ways at college time. Oh, the stories I could tell ... though I'll refrain, because she has just as many embarrassing moments on me. I still have the book she gave me when I left for college, a book of British poetry. Though we got wrapped up in our lives from time to time, we always came back and called eventually - I would bet she could still tell you my parents' phone number.

She isn't home today, or I'd give her a call. But we'll talk soon. And maybe see one another? I certainly hope so - it's been awhile, and I'm always up for a get-away weekend.

Happy Birthday No. ??, Tammy. Drink a margarita for me.

Summer Reading

I read a quote the other day that said there are two types of women: those we read and loved the Betsy-Tacy books, and those who didn't.

Not sure where I ran across it - it's summertime, and I stumble across all sorts of summer reading advice. Newsweek has its weekly author-of-note listing five influential books; People magazine lists what celebrities are reading, and NPR's Morning Edition chats with renowned librarian Nancy Pearl, author of Book Lust, on her summer reading choices.

But I do know which category I fall into: I adore Betsy-Tacy. And Tib, too. The books are charming - they have a certain innocence and simplicty in their story-telling that has been lost today.

Which isn't to say there isn't excellent children's literature out there today - Sharon Creech and Lois Lowry, Kevin Henkes and Lisa Yee. Not to mention JK Rowling.

But my favorite part of reading with my girls is taking them back to books I adored as a child. I always loved to read. I went to school so anxious to learn to read books for myself. I had grown up with Captain Kangaroo reading aloud to me, books like Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel, Curious George. I checked out books from the library on Jeanne-Marie, the little French girl who watched the sheep. We didn't start learning to read in earnest until first grade. Which was OK - in kindergarten I contented myself with listening to Mrs. Shipman read aloud. Until we got a new girl, Janet Anderson, and she could actually read. Herself. I was crushed - I wanted to be the one who could read first.

I actually ended up being quite good friends with Janet (her older brother, Jeff, was friends with my brother John, and she and I shared a love of David Cassidy). But the sting of not being the first reader never quite left me, and I made up for it. Once I was a certified individual reader, I made up for lost time. And it's an obsession that hasn't quite left me - the master's degree in literature is testament to that affair with books.

It has been with great joy that I have shared the books of my childhood with my own daughters. I have read aloud to them the Carolyn Haywood books about Betsy and Billy, the Eleanor Estes series on the Moffat clan, and Beverly Cleary's accounts of Henry Huggins and gang. Charlotte's Web, A Wrinkle in Time, books by Lois Lenski and Sydney Taylor. I have read the Laura Ingalls Wilder books aloud three times, all from the well-worn set of paperbacks I got for my ninth birthday - they are taped together, dog-eared, and missing parts of the covers, which only shows how much they have been enjoyed.

I even got Alison turned on to Nancy Drew for a time- I love that she read Nancy critically. Her favorite part, she told me, was when Nancy lost her scuba diving equipment when it was washed overboard - so she rushed home to get her *spare* scuba set - !

I cry every time Mary goes blind, every time Jack the dog doesn't wake up one morning. I cry every time Charlotte the spider dies along at the state fair. And I cringe a little bit when they talk about putting on black face for the minstrel show or describe the Indians as red-faced savages. So I pause and explain to the girls that we don't use those terms anymore, opening up discussion on how life and mores have changed over the years.

I've had to open my canon to explore some other books with the girls, books of their choice. I've read Junie B. Jones and Mary Pope Osborne's Magic Treehouse Books. We've enjoyed many, many picture books over the years - there was a time when I could recite Fox in Socks, Green Eggs and Ham and The Cat in the Hat verbatim. And we enjoyed the American Girl books together; not too long ago I found Sylvia on her bed reading one of the Felicity books, and she proudly told me she had read the entire book in one sitting.

All three of the girls have taken up this same love of reading. Alison adores fantasy, books like Lord of the Rings and a new series of books by authors like Amelia Atwater Rhodes. Maddie prefers books by Sharon Creech, though her latest purchase was The Westing Game, a book I remember reading and that Alison has read, too. Sylvia is still well into Junie B.

And at the moment, we are reading aloud Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown. My girls, too, will fall into the category of women who read and loved Betsy-Tacy. It's the best gift I could give them.

Common sense

Each day as I drive my eldest to driving school, she gets a mini-lesson in how not to drive:

• Don't talk on the mobile
• Don't stop on train tracks (they are in operation - even in the mornings)
• Don't block the intersection just because you hope to catch the green light, thus blocking the entire intersection for the next light cycle.
• Don't block traffic by letting your kid out in the middle of the street
• Don't think you're so special that you do not have to follow the rules, wait in the queue like the rest of us. Hey, it's a drag, inconvenient for ALL of us. But it's the way it is.

I am listening to 106.9, tolerating lots of crappy 80s music, in my possibly futile quest to win Police tickets. Am I dying to see them? Not so much. It's the pursuit of the tickets. When the station plays two Police songs in a row, then you call in at the beginning of song No. 2. They keep faking me out. Devil.

Took the younger two to the mall today, so they could spend their hard-earned dollars. One bought a pricey purse. Gulp. The younger one bought Jibbetz, those ridiculous items used to adorn Crocs. It's her money - $5.39 - wow. She pulled out her twenty, and the cashier typed it in. Oh, I said, I have 40 cents. So what does Sylvia get in change? $14. Um, I said. I gave you the 40 cents. Well, she said, I didn't type that amount into the cash register, so I couldn't make that change.

???

Apparently she cannot do that simple math in her head. She handed me the dollar, but not the penny - she didn't even offer it. I mentioned that her register might be over, and she just stared at me.

This gives me new confidence about the future of the United States.

Last swim meet tomorrow - Maddie is sad, but it's time - we've had enough Saturdays eaten up by this little endeavor. But it's been good for her, so we've been properly supportive parents. Though I'm missing part of tomorrow's meet - I have another commitment.

Swimming, driving, dance class - thank goodness it's Friday. The end.

Stuff brewing ...

... but if I talk about it, I'll jinx it. So, maybe next week.

For now, I am too tired at the end of the day to post. On a brighter note, I am learning how to accomplish little tasks in the hour here, hour there I have between carting kids. Got laundry done, dishes, house sort-of tidied. Returned the library books. Attempted to lend my father tech support on his newly purchased iPod.

And made a hotel reservation for five rooms in St. Louis in July, for our mini-family reunion.

My day is complete. I'm going to watch Arrested Development and veg. Night!

Catching up

You wouldn't think being home with the kids would be so exhausting. But guess again - it's wearing me out.

And they're really good kids - go figure.

I'm blaming living in the metropolitan sprawl that is Houston. Out here in the northwest burbs, we are miles and miles from everything. So when you factor in the driving to summer school (not at our closest school, naturally) and drivers school, along with camp for the smallest this week, it all adds up to many miles spent behind the wheel.

But I am going to stop bitching about this - it is what it is.

So, recapping: Last Thursday, went to Spamalot. The first half felt like watching the movie - with less talented actors. But the second half changed things up, and the ending was an improvement over the movie. Friday night we went to the neighbors to play euchre - can you believe we lived in Indiana for nearly 10 years and never learned to play? Horrors. Saturday was swim meet day, and the meet was interrupted by torrential rain. But we waited it out in order to finish. I worked the concession stand, pulling on my vast fast food experience. And I was exhausted when it was over. Not so used to being on my feet in that way anymore.

One of the girls had a friend over, and I think I've certainly figured out who the Queen Bee is among this crowd. She's a nice girl, but wow - she's something else. We know the family, and the daughter is very different. And the QB, really, is a nice girl. She just has the air about her. I catch myself wondering how my daughter fits into the group.

Went out to brunch yesterday at a place in Montrose - it ranks very highly on the list of Gay Houston's top choices. Good food - and apparently the place to be seen. I'll keep that in mind ...

Must run - I spent a grueling 15 minutes on the eliptical, so now I must go shower. Cheers!

Llife in the car

So. Right now my life is about driving Alison around:

7.15-8 a.m. Drive Alison to summer school (stupid, stupid Houston a.m. traffic)
1.45-2.15 p.m. Pick up Alison from summer school
4.10-4.40 p.m. Drive Alison to driving school (!)
6.10-6.40 Pick up Alison from driving school
7.30 Drive Alison to Tae Kwon Do
8,30 Pick up Alison from Tae Kwon Do

And, of course, there are the other two who need to go places. This week Maddie is dog-watching, so sometimes I have to help. Or drive kids to the dentist, or grocery shopping, or, or, or ...

But this makes it all better: Alison says relax - next summer she'll be driving herself.

Oh, sure, I feel better now.

Home

Tired. Messy house. Suitcases. Laundry. In-box full of stupid e-mails. Pile of actual mail. Groceries. Etc.

But, still. It was worth it. Fun with Gary, fantastic to be in Kiel again, to see friends. The beach, shopping, fabulous cuisine. Excessive use of superlatives. A wonderful week.

(And travel with my husband - I love the perks of business travel. I love flying with gold elite status. I love the nice hotels, the service he gets as a frequent traveler. I loved that the Continental woman was so nice and moved us to the exit row. It's not business class, but it's still five or six more inches of leg room. And to think - I didn't know about any of this when I married him. The stars were certainly in alignment - !)

As an added bonus, the girls spent a week with their grandparents, which I think was good for all for all of them. I asked the girls if they had fun, and they all said yes. Maddie said, "Grandma says we can go swimming at 2 p.m. Not when you're in the mood to go swimming, not earlier if you feel like it, but only at 2." Apparently she asked Grandma one day to go out earlier, and Grandma said oh, no ... it wasn't 2 yet. So Maddie asked if Grandma would watch her swim. Grandma hesitated, said w-e-l-l ... so Maddie said, that's OK, I'll wait (!)

The old folks are not so big on spontaneity.

Sylvia's comment? "Grandma likes to cook. A lot. She cooks something for dinner EVERY NIGHT."

Um. Not sure what this says about me?

Maddie said she quite likes a big dinner every night. OK, I said - I can cook more often.

Oh no, Sylvia said. It's OK, Mommy, you don't have to.

No wonder I love these girls.

We giggled a lot about the differences between parents and grandparents. The old folks were pretty lax with bedtime and computer time. Maddie said one day Grandpa actually sounded like - horrors - a parent, telling them they needed to tidy rooms if they wanted to swim or go to the movies.

I shared with the girls some memories of my parents, back in the day when they were, in fact, a lot like parents. When they raised voices. When my dad yelled. A lot. And used four-letter words with alarming frequency, not to mention volume. And you know? Now that I have children of my own, I think I understand why he was that way. And I know I inherited his temper, something I try every day to control.

Thus a week away from parenting was OK in some ways. However, I am really glad to be home with the girls.

After all, they told me today I am fun - more fun then their grandparents. High praise, indeed. But you'll not I didn't ask if I am more fun than Johnny and Barbie - I already know I'm not, so I'll just bask in the praise I'm sure of.

Summer in Kiel

Global warming is real.

How do I know? Because the entire week here in northern Germany has been sunny and over 80. If you’ve ever been here, you would know what a fluke this is – June is typically cool and rainy.

So I’m having mixed feelings. On the one hand, what a beautiful week. We are outside, really enjoying walking and sitting in the sidewalk cafes. On the other hand – well, it’s global warming. I didn’t come to Italy – I came to Kiel.

I’ve not been here long enough for the German idiosyncrasies to start bugging me. It’s still all humorous and charming. For example, why would you turn on inside lights when there’s a window in the room? Even if it is virtually dark outside? And don’t you like it unambiguous when you enter a room? I do, so I certainly like my room entrances clearly defined: A door that you can pull shut. And lock. And an inch-high threshold that you can trip over. (When we first moved here, our poor little girls tripped over the doorways for the first two months - !)

I like it that the light switch for the bathroom is conveniently located next to the door. On the wall outside the bathroom. I also like that I can choose on the toilet whether I want a large or a small flush – there are two different sized buttons on the wall behind the toilet. I also like that that the toilet essentially doesn’t hold water, but is instead sort of a shelf so you can, well … you get the idea.

If you live here for a while, bagging your own groceries, clerks who grunt at you, and people who mumble their names into the telephone become routine. But for me, at the moment, since it’s been so long, it’s all sort of a game. It’s fun to remember these things, or try to predict what will happen next.

Mostly, the week has been wonderful. I’ve seen friends – I had afternoon tea with Birgit and Heike, spent the night and all day yesterday with my friend Susanne. Tonight we’re going to dinner with Walter, Barbara, Heike, Axel, Claus and Birgit – they are a great group of people. Missing, sadly, are Pete and Sue, who have moved to Switzerland.

(I even sat in on Susanne’s German for Foreigners class – the entire class has passed the Certificate Exam, and I did pretty well – made more grammatical errors than the rest, looked up a few words, but understood almost everything, joined right in the conversation. Wow!)

Gary and I have spent a lot of time talking, making a plan for the next few years, deciding where we want to go after Houston, where we’d like to be long-term. We’ve thrown out ideas – whether or not they come to fruition, or are even feasible, we have yet to see.

I do know how lucky we are to have the opportunities we do. A lot of it we owe to his job – with his work, we’ve been able to live in some amazing places, and we’ve been able to provide out children with a rich and varied lifestyle. They’ve seen places that many people only dream about. The most important thing is – and what I’ve ascertained this week – is that we can create a life for ourselves wherever we go. That much I do know.

But man – das Internet is sooo teuer! Expensive. I have to write offline then quickly post and get off. So, no time for reading or posting to others’ blogs, no e-mails, except to the girls. But next week when I return to real life. Sadly, it’s inevitable.

It's "the little differences"

I’d forgotten how much I enjoy being in Europe.

I love the charm or European cities — the architecture, the layout of the city centers. I like the ease of walking places, the outdoor cafes, the hustle and bustle of urban life. I had forgotten the “little differences” — the things that are the same, yet different: door handles v. door knobs, the funky light switches and outlets, the shower, the way the toilets flush, the telephone rings. The post office signs and mailboxes in Germany are yellow.

There are big differences, too: cash only in so many places. The ever-present aroma of cigarette smoke. The prevalence of bicycles (watch out before crossing the bicycle path).

It all comes together to create this indefinable quality that is life in Europe. For me, it was a life that was definitely not easier. Shops close at 6 or 6.30 on weeknights, 1 p.m. Saturday. Clerks can be brusque – or downright rude. People push in front of you in line without saying “pardon me.”

On the other hand, people walk more, use bicycles, drive more fuel-efficient cars. Recycling is more than just encouraged – it’s mandated. (And I live in a neighborhood that cannot even get curbside recycling for those of us who want it.) Everyone here learns not just one, but mostly two foreign languages in school. The murder rate here is lower, and fewer people live in poverty.

Like anything else, it’s a trade-off. For me, I think the greater good is worth some of the sacrifices (higher taxes, for example). But for others, it’s not. And I’m not I would be willing to give up my life in the USA permanently. But I think we, as a country and society, could sit back and look at what’s good here and try to bring a bit more of that back to the United States.

After a good night’s sleep, my two-day headache is gone. I shopped yesterday, took care of some essentials, and am now ready to hit the streets again. Today I am visiting some friends in our old neighborhood – I am especially anxious to see the kids, who are the same ages as ours. Tonight I am spending the night with my friend Susanne and meet her son for the first time; she and I will spend tomorrow together, searching for new “schöne Sandalen” – we bought sandals together in 2000, and posed for pictures, much to the chagrin of my daughters. So we have to do it again.

I have spoken only German since we arrived – well, not with Gary, but with the hotel staff, in restaurants, with friends. I have not once apologized for having imperfect German, nor have I been asked to repeat myself – nicht schlect, huh?

But sadly, the line between Germans and Americans has blurred. We tried to play “American or German” in the airport in both Newark and Hamburg, and we were failing miserably. We used to always, always be able to tell, and it is getting much more difficult. The family dressed in tank tops, shorts and flip flops? We made the American call and were stunned to learn they were German. I was just sure the tall, thin woman with (very) short blond hair, glasses, black pants and the boxy blouse was German … then a man joined her wearing khakis, a baseball cap and – this is key – white tennis shoes. Aaaack – you make the call.

(Though the scarf around the neck - a dead give away …)

Further evidence: I got called in by immigration – and they thought I was German. And I don’t even have strange hair. It’s the flawless accent, I can assure you (!)

Last night at dinner, I ordered water, Gary got a beer, and his colleague an orange soda. All of our beverages came with glasses, doilies and pub mats that coordinated with the brand we were drinking. That, my friends, is one of the “little differences” that defines Germany for me.

Viele liebe grueße ...

... aus Deutschland. Internet time is expen$ive, so I may not be on much. But I'm enjoying Europe - you know, it's all about the "little differences." (Know the reference? It's some of my favorite all-time movie dialogue ...)

Tschüß!

Summer break: Day 3

It's only the third day.

And already, I am looking for advice. Such as, how do I teach my children to load their dirty dishes in the dishwasher? How can I motivate them to keep their rooms tidy? Will they ever stop bickering? Can they learn where to hang the wet beach towels?

(The closet that should hold the beach towels is empty - ! They are likely all on the floor in the girls' bathroom.)

Actually, we were great up through the afternoon. Morning was calm - swim practice, a babysitting job. We had planned to go to Target, and when I went to check the rooms, I was not happy. You must understand, everything was perfect just one week ago when the grandparents visited. What has happened in the meantime?

No trip to Target - maybe today I'll feel nicer, but the girls have got to keep their stuff organized. I am anal-retentive about this sort of thing, so they must be, too. Maybe they can live with the disarray of their rooms, but I can't.

My two older daughters are busy with multiple babysitting gigs - I figure they are recouping some of the many dollars I laid out over the years. If they keep it up at this rate, they will be wealthy by the end of the summer.

I did enjoy my hour in the pool yesterday. It was pure zen, as the kids played peacefully and I floated through the water. I was enveloped by calm ... probably because I had my iPod (in the pool? am I crazy?) and could watch the kids but not hear them shrieking. And they did splash me - the iPod is sacred.

Today is a new day - we're all going to be more calm, more organized. I am going to try not to flip out over the messes. But I will not reward them. If you don't clean up, you don't get trips to the library or shopping or get driven to Tae Kwon Do. We'll see how this strategy goes ... results tomorrow.

Now that my 10 a.m. time slot is open (no more Rosie), my days are more flexible. Sad but true.

I think that covers it.

Overwhelmed

Wow.

This thing on my other blog (you know, the *secret* blog) has been incredible. And I don't mean that in a good way. I have had more than 10,000 hits, 300-plus comments.

When I post on that site - or this one - I really assume I am posting for a handful of people. Thus if I had known so many people were reading, I would have written it differently - different audience, you know. I have done a lot of writing in my life - I write magazine articles, and I have written newspaper editorials and commentary. So I know how to address a particular audience. With this entry, I would have been much less sarcastic, more balanced. But hey - I thought it was written for friends.

Sigh. I have been called terrible names, been called intolerant, and much worse. What happened to freedome of speech? I was merely sharing an opinion. Doesn't mean I'm right - they're just my thoughts.

Funny thing - and another blog friend said this, too - when I read a blog I disagree with, or don't like, I usually just move on. It would never, ever occur to me to leave a negative or mean-spirited comment. I just assume we don't have much in common and keep going.

But hey - nothing wrong with some spirited discourse. And you know? Out of this I have run across some really cool people - I have excellent new subscriptions, have read some great comments. And some of the more interesting comments have come from people who do not agree with me.

But they were nice about it. It is possible to respectfully disagree.

Oh - but I digress. It was swim meet day today - and it rained. Big time. Gary drove over with the tent, etc., signed Maddie in, then came home. He took Sylvia back with him - on bikes - and Alison and I followed later, also on bikes. I left quickly, told Alison to catch up, because I didn't want to miss the upcoming race. Got there just in time to see Maddie shave 8 seconds off her time - wow. Alison showed up late; she had a flat tire on her bike so she walked.

Then it poured rain. Poured. Meet called til Monday (which means many grouchy parents). So, Gary and Alison rode bikes back home, brought the van, and picked up the rest of us, the cooler, the chairs, the tent. We're home again, dry. But we canceled our evening cook-out, scheduled for the backyard. I didn't feel like moving it indoors; we'll try again tomorrow. Instead, we're going to the movies tonight. The girls are going to see Pirates, and Gary and I will see Waitress - the reviews are very good.

And one more thing: It's my birthday. The girls have been very sweet. Sylvia came to check this morning on whether the dishes in the dishwasher were clean or dirty - she wanted to load her breakfast things. What a sweetheart. I scored some new luggage (which, oddly enough, Gary has been wanting for a while ....), a bathtub pillow, some bath salts, a new pumice stone (because my husband mistakenly used mine to clean the pool - ???), sunglasses (which I do not need today, sad), and CDs of Aida, Porgy & Bess, and Carmen. What a haul - I am feeling very loved today.

Happy Birthday to me.

Unwanted attention

(Or, Be Careful What You Wish For)

I've decided to let a secret out the bag. Well, half a secret:

I have another blog.

It's a secret blog, one that I tell no one about. That way, no one I know can read it. In this way, I can be totally honest without fear of offending anyone.

And one person I know does read it. I set it up on advice from a college friend, who had read this one. Her advice was to set up one at this other site, a bloggers' site. First, I could be really honest. And second, because it's all other bloggers, you get a lot of feedback.

But that's all I'll say - I want to keep it this way. My friend said she got burned more than once when someone she knew read her blog. And it's true - I find myself editing here, not wanting to piss anyone off. So, the other blog domain shall remain a secret.

Much of what I post there I post here - often unedited. It's only on occasion I change things. Well, yesterday, I posted on my other site about the Jim Bob Duggar family, the people in Arkansas who are expecting their 17th child in July. I took a stand, which people may or may not agree with: 17 kids is too many. I elaborated, shared my thoughts on why this particular family dynamic is perhaps not the best for the kids. And I"m not going to defend my comments - I'm entitled to my opinion.

Well, somehow - don't know how this works - somehow, it made featured content, meaning when you go to the blog's home page, it was listed there, like Blog of the Day.

It's sort of flattering - I mean wow - I'm the most interesting blog of the day! Does it mean I'm the best writer? Maybe not. Maybe just the most controversial, most provocative. But it's kind of cool.

The flip side, however, has been the comments. Last night I did not realize what was going on, but I kept getting comment after comment. It wasn't til this morning I found out that I was featured.

Some - most - of the comments have been supportive. But the crazies are out in full force, and some of the comments are really mean. I don't know how many I've gotten - more than 100 at this point - but I had to quit reading. Once I got called a Jezebel, I decided I was done for a while.

So now I'm almost afraid to post again, in fear that the crazy people will continue to read and comment. I mean, I don't know these people, but I had built up a small community of blog "friends," and I kind of miss that.

I think I'll just take a break, perhaps post something later. Maybe I'll put up a protected post and only grant access to my usual readers,.

Sigh. Even my virtual life is complicated ;)

Another year gone

No more 5.45 a.m. alarm wake-ups. No more packing lunches. No more trips to the bus stop, supervising homework, school projects, bedtime rushes.

And I'm ambivalent. I love summer vacation - who wouldn't? I love having the girls home, to swim, play with friends, go to the library, wtach movies, hang out. I loved it when they were little, and I missed out on a few years when I worked for the newspaper - talk about a job with no time off. Even holidays felt like an interruption of your work (it's the nature of the business).

Yet I'm sad, sad because it marks the passage of time. Never again will I have a second-grader. And my eldest will be a sophomore next year - which means she has only four summers left at home with us. And I'm not sure that senior summer counts - I suspect she will be mentally moving on by then.

But enough of the melancholy. I need to live in the moment, rather than dwell on what might have been. So, in that vein - hurrah! Summer vacation! Let the games begin!

Little bits of randomness

I've been tagged. My cyber and real-life friend Tammy has asked me to list seven random things about myself.

This is tricky - one, I'm not that interesting and b, I'm thinking most people know all this already. But here goes:

• I have had 20 different addresses in my life. (This includes my seven college residences.) Eight of these have been since my marriage. We've owned four houses since 1990. I've lived in five states and two foreign countries. Average length of residence since we got married? Three years.

• I wrote my master's thesis while my infant daughter napped. Wrote the bulk of it in a month on our Macintosh SE. Spent several more revising.

• Since grad school, I have gotten an offer for every job for which I've interviewed.

• It took eight months in Germany, studying intensively, before I had the courage to have a real conversation in German.

• I love to drive a standard transmission.

• I gave birth to my youngest daughter without any pain medication. Though I should probably add the caveat that we spent less than an hour at the hospital.

• I have what I consider eclectic taste, in clothing, books, music, movies. In my CD player right now I have Dean Martin, Asleep at the Wheel, MIchael Bublé, Maroon 5, Alex Chilton, and Steve, Bob & Rich.

That felt pretty random. Now, whom to tag? Sadly, no one comes to mind. But Jim, Pete, should you care to answer - you're the ones I deem most likely from my *large* and devoted readership. I'd love to read your answers.

Thanks, Tammy! (Why am I not linked on your blog? I'm trying not to take it personally, but hey, I'm as interesting as (most of) your other links. And I'm guessing I've known you longer than all but one ... not that I'm complaining ... )

Back in the groove

Routine. I cherish it. I value knowing what I'm going to do each day, doing it in that order. I love having the option of spontanaeity - when it can be planned in advance (!) In short, I like my time to myself. This is what I get after all those years of having kids home with me. My time is my own, for the present.

So, for the last few days, my house was overrun by my in-laws - Gary's parents and his sister. They are very high maintenance - and they're the worst kind - you know, they think they're low maintenance.

My relationship with my in-laws is not too unlike many others, I'm guessing. I suspect they would have preferred their son marry someone who had more in common with them - someone who came from the same part of Missouri they did, who liked to fish and camp and have fish fries. Their children are perfect (trust me - they've said so more than once), thus if we ever do anything they don't like (move far away, don't call enough, don't visit often) it must be my fault, because their *perfect son* would never do such a thing. (News flash: Their son is, like all the rest of us, a flawed human being.)

I truly think they have good intentions. They're provincial people, not well educated, not terribly sophisticated. They've lived in the same town of 5,000 people their entire lives and have limited experience. I think that they truly look at other people's lives, others' mistakes, and quietly think to themselves, "You know, we raised our kids this way, we did this. If other people simply made the same choices we did, they would have good luck too." I think it's beyond their comprehension that others might not have those same options - others' children are complex, with problems beyond their scope or realm of experience.

And I have real concerns for assuming your kids are *perfect.* I made a comment once about Gary being absent-minded. My MIL had a fit - she took it as a personal affront. What if someone called one of your children less than perfect, she asked me. Well, I said, it might be true. Just as I said about her son, my children are merely human, complete with flaws and imperfections. I think that if you set up your kids for perfection, then you're all in for a huge disappointment. Why not just be realistic? I think my children are wonderful, and I know I have to be their advocate - if I don't, then no one will. But at the same time, they will make mistakes. It's my job to make sure they don't make mistakes from which they can't recover.

So, needless to say, being around my in-laws wears me out. They mean well, but I need short doses.

It's all small stuff, really, all picky. But it all runs together and wears on me. Still, they are my in-laws, so I will bear it. And with a smile.

Still, I'm glad it's over. Two more days til summer vacation ...

Invasion

Reply from the assistant principal: The kids wer given the option to participate. Yes, they were told if they didn't they would be running that day. But it was not meant as punishment.

OK. But you know, they're sixth-graders. It's easy to see how that was grossly misleading, consequently misunderstood. I'm irritated - slightly - but I'll get over it.

However, maybe I'll make it clear that we're not doing any school fund-raisers. I'll choose my own charitable contributions, thanks.

My in-laws are here. And my SIL. My house has been taken over. They mean well - they really do. But the order and structure I crave has been thrown up in the air. My routine is shot.

I mean, will I get to watch The Sopranos tomorrow night? See what I mean?

But the house looks fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. Alison came home yesterday and said, The house looks fake. No, I replied, it looks the way it should always look.

It looks too Spartan [clutter-free, she means, ed.]. Fake.

I quite enjoy the fake house. I'm reveling in it.

I'm guessing that by next weekend we'll be back to the normal house. Good for Alison, but not so good for me.

Charity by coercion

My daughter brought home a fund-raiser yesterday. It involved the heart association. The kids were asked to being in a minimum donation. If they did not, they would have to run laps as punishment.

???

I made the bare minimum gift. But the more I thought about it, the more irritated I got. So, I fired off an e-mail to the assistant principal:

I'm not exactly sure whom to e-mail about this, so I am starting with you.

My sixth-grade daughter brought home a fund-raiser this week, for the Heart Association, I believe. The kids were asked to make a minimum donation. But they were told if they didn't, the would have to run laps in PE.

I am all for the schools raising money for worthy causes. But is this the best way to motivate families to be generous, by using punishment in order to coerce kids and families into giving?

Plus, this turns running into a punishment, when it should be encouraged as a good physical fitness activity.

For the record, we made a contribution, so this isn't about my child being punished. But I really think this sends the wrong message to kids and families. Altruism should be encouraged for its own sake, not as a means of avoiding punishment or humiliation. I will be very disappointed to see this occur again next year.

*****

We'll see what happens.

Is it just me, or is this a bad idea?

Where does the time go?

Has it really been since last Wednesday?

Egads.

Time gets away from me. I was single-parenting last week, which, while not excruciatingly difficult (my girls are generally pretty good kids), is tiring. Just knowing that I am the only parent around, that no one else can ever back me up, that I have to do everything, well, it can wear me out. Good thing I don't have demanding kids.

Gary came home Saturday afternoon. In the morning I took Maddie over to school to get on the bus for her field trip, then took Alison to a clinic to get a TD booster. I then had to drop her off at church for a rehearsal. Figuring going a different way would be faster than back-tracking, I plugged the address into the GPS. It took me to I-10 (or as we call it here, the Katy Freeway). Which is under construction. Which I kind of knew, in the back of my mind, but it was off my radar. The horrors of traffic congestion combined with construction. It would have been faster for me to go back the way I had come - grrrr. Thought I was saving time, but in fact, no.

Live and learn.

I love Mothers Day. Sylvia gave me a charming little card, filled with coupons that I can cash in for different activities - reading with her, feeding the dog, picking up her room. (I asked her to set the table last night, and she made a bee-line for the coupons; she marked that one used - !) But is it wrong that I was disappointed that I only got that card? Nothing from the other girls, no real gift? I know, my husband was out of town last week, had no time to shop. But still.

Sigh. I feel greedy, but at the same time, it's nice to be remembered. My husband always, always gets gifts on Fathers Day. I felt slighted.

And still, it's really a small thing, in the grand scheme of things.

I took the girls to the theatre Friday night. Came home at 11, realized we were out of milk. So I made the 11.30 run to the supermarket. One line was open, and one woman had a huge cart full of groceries. Sorry, she apologized, it's the only time i could shop.

How can you be annoyed at that? God, we have all had those weeks, where it feels as if there is no time to get it all done. I could so relate. She felt bad, holding up the line, but the store should have opened up another lane. That way the guy in front of me with Killian's Red and Diet Coke, the guy behind me with three bottles of wine and ice cream, I with two gallons of milk (one was $3.65, but i could get two for $6), we could check out faster. (My arms were about to fall off, holding two gallons.)

Time. It is going faster and faster. I don't have enough.

And it's nearly time for the dentist. Fun stuff.

Time to go.

Even at 41 cents, a bargain

There is always a line at the post office in Cypress, Texas. Regardless of the time of day, the time of the year, there are perpetually 15 people in line and two windows (of four) open. Generally, the clerks are friendly enough. But I do tire of the wait.

I find myself there more than I would like to admit. At Christmas time, naturally, I have to go. Then I had to mail Girl Scout cookies to people who ordered them from out of town, the phone charger that Maddie's friend left when she visited, the odd baby or birthday gift, a return to Amazon or Land's End.

Today I purchased Forever stamps - such a deal - and two-cent stamps. Postal rates go up Monday.

But you know what? I'm not complaining about the rate hike. Because I think first-class postage is a deal.

I mean, think about it. For 41 cents, I can drop a letter in the mailbox (or put it just outside my front door for someone to pick up) and it will be delivered anywhere in the United States. Imagine - a card will arrive at my mother-in-law's in Missouri, another one will be delivered to my mother in Austin. If I have a bill or a paper or a card to get to someone else in Houston, for a mere 41 cents, someone else will get it there for me. I could hand-deliver it, but it would take me 30 minutes each way, fighting traffic, with gasoline at nearly $3 a gallon.

That 41 cents is sounding better, huh?

So, no complaints here on higher postage - I still find it an incredible bargain.

*****

In other news ... I exchanged the pillows at BB&B - the new ones were too big. I like a fluffy pillow, but not one that makes me feel as if I'm sleeping sitting up. Or on a boulder.

Maddie wants basketball shorts. She is a total sucker for peer pressure, and ALL her friends are wearing basketball shorts for field day. I'm not quite sure I know what they look like ... I picked up a white skirt for her to wear to awards night tonight, so maybe that will make her happy. Gymnastics this afternoon, which means 70 minutes to sit and read (an hour is not enough time for little girls to do cartwheels?).

The adult woman in front of me at the post office had on a Britney Spears T-shirt. Sadly, I don't think it was meant to be ironic.

And on that note - later!

Bed, Bath and ... Beyond

I am inundated weekly by Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons. Ironically, whenever I need to shop there, I can't find one.

Go figure.

Today was different. I am in heavy-duty clean-up mode. When all the furniture has been moved, everything removed from the built-ins, it's a good opportunity to de-clutter, to really get things in order. You should see the shelves next to the television - I hauled all the kids' DVDs upstairs to the playroom, so there is no longer an unsightly pile of them in the family room (ours are carefully hidden behind the television ...) Everything has been dusted and put away. Even the eldest daughter - not necessarily known for her tidiness - has agreed to part with some paraphernalia out of her room; the purging, in her case, is long overdue.

(And - on a side note - I am feeling very HGTV: I came up with an idea to use her broken Tae Kwon Do boards and create some wall art. We'll paint the boards and arrange them attractively on her wall. So creative. Move over, Lynnette Jennings.)

So, today, as I hung up bath towels - old bath towels, I might add - they're all Sylvia's age or older - the colors hurt my eyes. Major clash going on. So, grabbed my paint chip and headed to BB&B, coupon in hand.

Found the towels, even splurged for new pillows. You'd think they might be for Alison ... but no, they're for me. I gave Alison our old ones. Very thoughty of me. (*Obscure reference to animated Robin Hood, circa 1970 or so. Great little film - Alison watched it daily for what felt like months many years ago.)

Anyway.

My coupon was for a mere 20 percent off ONE item. Thus, the total savings on my $164 purchase? $2.20. Sound the trumpets.

I also dropped some cash on my Target run - no coupon there. Bought Mothers' Day cards, including one for my MIL, since Gary is out of town. (He never, ever asks me to do this, and I generally don't - if he asked, I would, but she's not my mother. I don't buy cards for his family's birthday, either - if he wanted me to, I would, but he doesn't seem to get too worked up about it. I just deal with my family.)

Bottom line, here? My bathroom looks stunning now that it's all color-coordinated. This all leads to a sense of inner calm.

One time, we heard a question, for women: Would you rather have OK sex in a clean house, or great sex in a messy house? I think you can guess my answer ... though it is hypothetical. My house is very clean.

And my husband is out of town (!)

Partied out

Not me. The 8-year-old.

Friday after school, the Brownie troop went to Build-a-Bear, then out to pizza. She was dropped off at her friend's house to spend the night. Picked her up at 10 Saturday (after I had already baked cupcakes), took her to the mall to buy two birthday gifts. Came home, she changed for her soccer pool party. Noon to 3 was spent at the swimming party (which was, luckily, just up the street). Came home, changed quickly for birthday swim party. I hung out here (the mom is a friend of mine and had invited me to hang out). Stayed til 6.30, came home, changed for party No. 3. While she changed, I packed the overnight bag.

Whew. Don't know if she felt worn out, but I did.

Today? We didn't do much. Gary left around noon for the airport, so I took the girls to IKEA to get the stuff for Alison's room. She made great selections - it looks fantastic. She is happy, I am pleased.

Maddie had watched part of The King and I in World Cultures class (?), so we pulled out the movie today. I love Rodgers and Hammerstein (really, who doesn't?) and we watched. All three girls loved it - they are smart kids with excellent taste, after all.

They're getting pajamas on. Soon it will be just me, left to finish putting stuff away, watch Desperate Housewives (guilty pleasure), The Sopranos, read my Agatha Christie.

The painters are gone, so I'll be alone again this week. Which is fine by me. I'm enjoying the last few weeks til the girls are home. Rosie leaves The View in June, so I'll be done with that. With luck, I'll be back at work this fall. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy my downtime.

When being overzealous does not pay

The paper piles up around here. Newspapers (the Houston Chronicle is one big paper). Junk mail. Old magazines and catalogs. Fliers in the door. Papers from school. And on and on.

And we have no curbside recycling. Fortunately all the schools collect paper and cardboard for recycling, in big dumpsters. Alison and Maddie both have after-school activities, so I am over there often enough.

This week I needed to make a run. I gathered up everything, went through Sylvia's backpack and gathered up all the errant notes. Got it all together, took it over Wednesday afternoon when I picked up Alison.

As Sylvia got her backpack together yesterday evening, she asked me if I had seen her language arts homework sheet. (The kids are given homework on Monday to do throughout the week, turning it in Friday.)

Ooops! I must have grabbed it along with everything else Wednesday. I know I left the math papers, but I guess I thought they were all together.

I wrote a mea culpa to her teachers - It's all my fault. I did it. She did the work. Don't blame Sylvia.

Her very nice teachers said no problem - she has a very good record of doing her work on time. No problem, no questions asked.

She's off the hook. But am I?

This is what I get for trying to get things in order, trying to stay on top of things.

Devil.

Tidbits

I just read that Friday, May 18, is sixth-grade locker clean out. But school is in session through Thursday, May 24. Try to convince me again that those last few days are critical.

*****

I am so much more relaxed with my paint colors. Hear my giant sigh of relief.

*****

Poor Sylvia - she is going on a Brownie field trip today after school then home with a friend to spend the night. Yesterday she worried that she wouldn't see me at all, so I told her I would come by to see her. Then she was sad again this morning, worried that it was too long a day. I told her she didn't have to go, but she wants to. She is just worried. I reassured that her dad and I will come by to see her when they return from the Brownie trip to Build-a-Bear.

She's still little, you know?

*****

Congratulations to Alison, the recipient of high honors in English.

Also noteworthy: Alison read - AND ENJOYED - a book that I recommended. Usually she disdains my suggestions. But for her science fiction report, I recommended A Clockwork Orange. She loved it. And did a nice report. I'm so proud.

*****

Busy weekend. Then Gary leaves next week, missing elementary awards day, sixth grade awards, our theatre date on Friday. I guess I'll buy two more tickets, take the girls. Must remember that he has a very good job and not complain.

*****

Next weekend is busy, too. The weekend after that, his family is coming. Blech. I think it will be a short trip. Let's hope so.

*****

We unloaded our old wicker furniture and are now ... drumroll, please ... sixty whole dollars richer! I know you are all envious of our newfound wealth. I would have given them away, but Gary thought we should sell them. Glad I listened to him.

(Though he had the nerve to ask if our old wicker had gone to a good home - um, sorry, no background checks on people who are willing to hand over $60 cash for two 12-year-old faded wicker chairs.)

*****

Alison left some sort of squoosh ball (is that a word? squoosh?) under her bed. It was filled with some sort of silicone substance. And it burst, adhering itself to the carpet. And that stuff is not coming out. I wasn't even sure what to try, so I bought two different stain/spot removers from Lowe's that said they would work on tar. Well, silicone-type substances are different than tar. Fortunately it's a spot that will always be under her bed, but I'm still annoyed. Really annoyed.

Alison has been lectured with a stern finger-wagging. But she is full of contrition and will NEVER EVER do anything like this again.

*****

And that's it. For now.

Panic and friendship

Long post - bear with me.

The painters are making progress.

And I am only just post-meltdown.

The foyer/family room/stairway - the main part of the house - is too pink. I was going for a khaki color, and when I look at that paint chip I sill see the color I wanted. On the walls, however, I see an almost dusty rose. It was to match a color in the family room area rug (the rug is orange, red, gold, brown, and tan - looks great with our persimmon/orange couch/chair). And I think it does. But for the walls, it is too pink.

I thought I could live with it, thought it would grow on me, that once the pictures were on the wall, it would all work.

Then I saw the kitchen: too orange. And the top half of the dining room: too pink. And my main house walls? Still too pink. Panic is setting in.

I had that pit in my stomach, and I couldn't imagine that it would go away. I was going to have to live with my regret, day after day after day - right in my face. Gary came home at 11.30 last night and as he got into bed mentioned the paint colors.

Stop, I said. I can't talk about it. I couldn't sleep; I lay awake, pondering what to do. And I was exhausted.

This morning, I made up my mind: Redo the foyer/family room/stair well. They haven't done the living room, upstairs hallways, or computer area. So I only have to pay to have part of it redone. And the dining room main color (burgundy) will go above the chair rail as well.

So, step one was to visit my neighbor - she and I had talked about paint colors, so I went over to ask her advice. Compared my color swatches to her walls, and found my solution. Talked to the lead guy, and we're good - he even gave me a deal on having it redone. Nice guy.

Then I came home, peeked in the bedroom and - gasp - didn't like the color on the bedroom walls. I told the guys to stop, that I was changing to a different color. I told them to go ahead with the master bath. (Are you sure, they asked? Tee hee - fair enough!!)

So now I am feeling better. But I sill needed a little therapy - I needed to talk to a friend.

I love my husband. He's a great guy, and he's generally fun to do things with. We have a great time together. But when I really need to talk, I'll be honest: I do not go to him. I turn to my girlfriends. They know how to listen, when to give advice, when to support me, when to constructively criticize. We're women - we know these things.

Unfortunately for me, at this point in my life, my girlfriends are, without exception, long-distance. But it's OK - calls on the mobile are free, and we have plenty of long distance built into our home phone. So I can always call to chat. These days, the people I think to call first come from many different part of my life: Tammy goes waaayy back to grade school (fourth grade, to be exact); Peter and I have been friends since freshman year of college (I know, he's not a girl, but he's still a great friend, and always fun to chat with); Helen, my "kindred spirit" friend with whom I have almost too much in common sometimes (it can be scary); and JoAnn, my bowling/Mah Jongg/inside Lafayette friend - she and I totallly crack one another up with keen obervations on life in the shadow of Purdue.

Today, I called Tammy. I hope hope hoped she'd be home and, lucky me, she was. We haven't talked on the phone for a while, but we're in touch - blog comments, short e-mails back and forth on this and that. But you know? She is one of those people who, when we get on the phone, it feels as if we just talked yesterday. She knows waaaay too much about me, but she never, ever brings up embarrassing memories or reminds me of what a geek I used to be. She doesn't make me feel guilty for the times when I was a bad friend, nor does she try hard to sound superior in her decisions or lifestyle that may not exactly mirror my own. She doesn't try to pass herself as more sophisticated than she is, or sound phony, and she is not judgmental (unless she should be - you know, when we talk about people we never liked in high school. Which we usually don't do - frankly, we have better things to discuss).

Today, she was calm and patient and helped me work through the final moments of my paint crisis. With a great deal of humor. It's funny that I used to call her to discuss clothes and boys and homework and extracirricular activities; today I called and we discussed our home improvement projects. We had to hang up all too soon.

Now I am home, all relaxed, as I watch my walls transform to the colors I had in mind. I am reflecting on how lucky I am to have the friends I have - and for those whom I did not mention, you're in my thoughts, too.

Thanks, Tammy. For being there for me, then and now. For listening. For being you.

Progress

The sounds of south of the border are lilting through my house. I offered the painters use of the radio downstairs - painting can't be the most exciting way to spend your day, so I figured they could use a little music. I'm upstairs in the office, so it's not bothering me.

I'm changing sheets, tidying up - moving all the furniture in order to paint gives me a good excuse to do some cleaning behind stuff. Not that I enjoy doing this stuff, but I do enjoy having a clean house. Really clean. How long will it stay this way; that's the big question. I need a full-time assistant, really, but let's face it - it's not going to happen.

I straightened up my shoes in the closet - it's almost embarrassing how many boxes there are. And I truly only wear some of them. Yet I can't part with any of them - nope, none. I would say how many pairs there were, but I'm not sure I care to divulge the number. Though I would if the right person asked, but only because I am sure she has more than I do. (I'm protecting your identity, but you know who you are ...) Maybe I'll reevaluate next fall if I end up working again and have to dress the part.

(I forgot to mention the application I submitted ... we'll see what happens.)

Which leads to a confession: Part of the reason I miss working is dressing for work. Crazy, huh? But I like to dress up. Wear all my outfits. At the newspaper I never, ever wore heels to work (I would have looked like a freak), but I always dressed nice. I wore skirts and tights, skirts and boots, skirts and sandals in the summer. Wore pants a lot, too. But I always looked good (trust me). And I miss it. I need to get out of the house, out of the habit of wearing jeans every day. Don't get me wrong - I love jeans. And shorts, and capris/crop pants. But I need a little change.

When I taught before, the class only met twice a week. So I wrote down in my planner what I wore each day. Otherwise I would end up wearing the same thing every Monday. And students notice these things. Don't know that it would damage my credibility, but you never can tell. Plus, during one semester I was pregnant, which seriously puts a cramp in the wardrobe - I never wanted to invest in too many maternity things.

So I charted what I wore, and how often. That's right: I can't remember to get the bills in the mail or to file papers, but I do have time to monitor my wardrobe. I'm sure this says something about me.

I'm equally sure I don't want to know what it might be.

Painters and Mormons and Gays - Oh, my!

The painters are here. Thus I am holed up, house bound. It's OK - I've gotten a surprising amount done. It feels a little strange to sit and read while they work. But after I folded the laundry, there wasn't much else to do. Tidying up seems a little pointless in the midst of the disarray.

And the color on the walls in the foyer/family room/hallways/stairwell ... it's more pink than brown. I tend to lean toward the pinks, I know, but I really thought it was brown. It is meant to match a color in the rug. I'll live with it - this isn't our forever home, anyway. Still ...

Caught Dina McGreevey, ex-wife of the New Jersey governor who came out to a scandal a couple years ago. She is angry. I have a friend who found out, after 15 years, that her husband was gay. And she, too, was pissed. Maybe I'm wrong, but don't these guys deserve a little empathy? How hard is it to live in a society where you are expected to be a certain way - ie, grow up to fall in love with a woman - and you have to deny who you are every day of your life? Must be tough. And I know these women were hurt, but weren't their husbands in some pain, too? I know she is angry, but writing a book and going on Oprah? That's a way to heal - but that's just me.

And I watched part one of The Mormons on PBS. A dear friend from Germany (another American couple we knew) is Mormon, so I watched partly in deference to Claudia - she was so good to me. Plus I find scholarly looks at religion fascinating (why do you think I'm a good UU?). And, as I think I've mentioned before, I am big fan of PBS, in particular, American Experience. This one is good - though I had a tough time with the woman who clenched her jaw as she spoke (!) Having lived in both Missouri and Illinois, I was familiar with the persecution Mormons suffered there, as well as the corresponding violence they perpetrated in the West. Interesting stuff - it's all part of who we are. Being a big believer in religious freedom, I firmly support that people are free - or should be - to worship as they choose. At the same time, I should be allowed to do as I please. (Someone should enlighten my sister-in-law ... I doubt she's watching about the Mormons, whom she considers heathens. But she doesn't know Claudia, does she?)

The painters come back tomorrow ... which means another productive day for me. Yay for that, anyway.

High School Days

Stole this from my brother's MySpace (hi, Jim!).

High School Survey

Fill this out about your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be.

1. Who was your best friend?
Tammy and Jessica

2.What sports did you play?
Get serious. But I went to football and basketball games.

3.What kind of car did you drive?
My parents' 1966 Mustang - that was one cool car

4. It's Friday night, where were you?
Probably working. I was tons of fun.

5. Were you a party animal?
Um, no

6. Were you considered a flirt?
No - much too shy

7. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Choir. (Boy Kay - Tammy? Ha ha ha.)

8. Were you a nerd?
I'm thinking yes

9. Did you get suspended/expelled?
Not my senior year

10. Can you sing the fight song?
Didn't have one (though I remember the alma mater)

11. Who was your favorite teacher?
Mr. McLaren

12. Favorite class?
English

13. What was your school's full name?
Greenwood Labratory School

14. School mascot?
Bluejay

15. Did you go to the Prom?
Yes. In the cafeteria. Lame-o.

16. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
Not really interested

17. What do you remember most about graduation?
The party that followed; dancing to INXS in the driveway as the music blasted from the speakers in Robert Burk's El Camino. Making an illicit long-distance phone call.

18. Did you have any boyfriends/girlfriends?
Not so much

19. Where were you on senior skip day?
At Timm Smith's parents' cabin

20. Did you have a job your senior year?
I was employed at a local bistro on the wait staff (!)

21. Where did you go most often for lunch?
The lunchroom - no open campus, student lounge was closed

22. Have you gained weight since then?
Um, once again, yes - in my case, probably a good thing

23. What did you do after graduation?
College

24. When did you graduate?
1984

25. Who was your Senior prom date?
Jeff somebody. But it's the party afterwards that I remember - that was a good time.

26. Are you going to your 10-year reunion?
Already did. I hesitate to mention which reunion is next.

27. Who was your home room teacher?
We didn't really have homeroom; I don't even remember where we met for class elections and the like or who our adviser was. But after PE my first class was speech w/Mrs. Stinson. Such a pleasant memory - that Mark Bell was a freak.

28. Who will repost this after you?
I'm hoping Tammy does.

29: Do you miss anyone you graduated with?
Yes, though I'm still in touch with the two best friends named earlier - we e-mail frequently

30: Are you friends with the person who posted this?
No way - we're related. It's an unfortunate genetic mix-up. (Hi, Jim!)

In the news

First things first: Rosie is leaving The View. And I am sad.

To be honest, that show struck me, at first, as somewhat banal. The level of banter was less than inspiring. I had always liked Meredith Viera on 60 Minutes, but here, she looked like an idiot. And that Debbie Metanopolous? What an airhead. This was back in, what, 97? I watched once, and it was enough.

So ... fast forward to February 2007, where we were living in temporary housing in Houston. With nothing to do, I got sucked into daytime TV. And it continued when we moved and I spent days unpacking. Then came the Star Jones debacle, and I was hooked.

I've always like Rosie O'Donnell. I liked her daytime show, though I did grow tired of her schtick with "my Tommy." Gag - even then street talk was that she was a lesbian, and to see her mooning over Tom Cruise - not my favorite - was nauseating. Then she left the show, went radical, got *the* haircut, and I liked her again. (I admire a rebel.)

Having her on The View has been fun. Yes, she's outspoken and controversial. But without her, the others would be boring. Barbara is OK, but mild and ever the peace maker - she won't take a stand, because of her position with ABC, which is fine. Joy Behar is sort of dull, and Elisabeth Hasselbeck? An idiot. And not because she is conservative, either - I have seen times when Bill O'Reilly sounds intelligent and I will give him credit. George Will can make a sound argument. Hasselbeck gets riled at the merest suggestion that the GOP os out of line, and everyday she seems to simply repeat what she heard on Fox News the previous evening.

So Rosie has brought all the excitement. Sigh. Not sure I'll continue watching. Thanks, Rosie - it's been fun.

****

John McCain is running for president. Who knew?

****

Katie Couric may be in trouble. Her newscasts are losing viewers. And you know what? Told you so! I'm not a big fan. On the Today show, she, too, seemed like an idiot. I watched her do some of the stupidest interviews ever - though I turned off Today long ago, her star power grew and she turned up everywhere. I saw her interview JK Rowling when HP No. 5 came out, and she asked questions that were embarrassing - had I been Rowling, I would have been livid.

I have, however, watched her on CBS. It's habit - I grew up with Walter Cronkite, and I have not been able to switch. And I wanted to give a woman a chance. But should she go, I won't be too sorry. Bring back Bob Schieffer - him, I liked. I read today that Couric has acted like a *star* at CBS, has been patronizing to others. Hmmm. Time to go?

****

Good riddance to Heather Mills. The girls were asking last night why she is famous. Because she is ex-Mrs. McCartney, that's why. Charity campaigner? Please. Estranged wife should be her title. She wasn't even the worst dancer, but this is what happens when you screw over the cute Beatle.

****

Could someone explain to me just what Paula Abdul adds to American Idol? She mimics everything Randy Jackson says. My god, the woman does not have an original thought in her head. Other shows rotate who goes first, but they wouldn't dare let her comment first on AI - she would have nothing to say, and they would have to deal with an awkward and embarrassing mumbling as she tried to express her vacant mind. She looks stoned, or drunk, or both. Let's vote her off.

Some nights, I swear I do not hear what the judges hear. Jordin was FLAT last night! Blake did a nice job (nice song choice), and Melinda and Lakisha were fine. But Phil? Chris? Please. But Lakisha could go, even though it should be Phil or Chris.

****

Rant over. Bye!

Lazy

I went to the dentist this morning. I hate the dentist. Hatehatehatehate. Ick. But I endured. Ran to Kohl's so I could use my gift card before I lose it, then came home.

And ... that's it. I am wiped out. Why does a trip to the dentist do this to me? Good grief - you'd think I'd done something actually requiring physical exertion. I did work out this morning, but that should give me more energy, not less. Devil!

Maybe I can blame it on staying up too late watching American Experience. Every week it's a new topic, and they keep getting better. From Sister Amie to Jonestown to Robert Kennedy to Haight-Ashbury - talk about quality television. I mean, it's nearly as good as Dancing w/the Stars!

(By the way, did you know RFK and LBJ held one another in utter contempt? I did not. RFK thought Johnson was "mean and evil"; Johnson referred to Kennedy as a "snot-nosed" kid, a privileged brat. These are a paraphrase - the actual quotes last night oozed venom. Ouch.)

I haven't even read the newspaper yet. Though I did go through some papers to file. My office floor is covered with papers now, sorted, but not yet put away. I found a months-old check that I need to deposit; hope they'll still take it (!)

I got a forwarded e-mail today that is false. I get these all the time - one was about how lead is in lipstick, another about a missing girl. Today's was a claim that Britain will no longer include the Holocaust in its history cirriculum.

People need to double-check before sending these on: They are all false. Some you can check on snopes.com, others just a quick Google search. Be wary of your sources, of course, but be equally cautious of e-mails that make outrageous claims.

Naturally, I like to reply to the sender to let them know they've been propagating misinformation. I'm tempted - but only tempted - to correct their grammar and spelling while I'm at it (ie, "it's answer is misleading"), but I always resist the urge. I'm just nice that way.

Let's hope my energy level picks up. And soon!

I may go take a nap while I pretend to watch the news. Ssshhh - don't rat me out :)

First, the good

The weekend? A mix. Part of it was great - Saturday. Friday evening we just hung, ate our homemade pizza on the patio, then I read aloud to the girls. No television - nice night. Saturday morning Gary took Sylvia to her soccer game and I took Maddie to her first swim team practice. Came home, then went to soccer game No. 2 - they won - yay! Took Maddie to get a birthday gift for a party, then Gary and I went to the opera: Aida, at the Wortham Center.

In a word: Amazing. The music: Flawless. Sets: Amazing. Costumes: Fabulous. Dancers, acrobats. Sigh. The costumes comprised a dazzling color scheme - gold, green, orange, bright yellow, brilliant blues in cerulean, aquamarine. It was a stunning effect. I enjoyed every minute. Season tickets are tempting me .... but we are more than 30 minutes from downtown, and the effort of eight operas - more than one every two months - would take a toll on us. If you get tickets for Tuesdays, they are a steal, but a weeknight is so hard for us. When they were small I could just get a sitter and go. But now that they are older, someone has to be home. Homework, projects, computer, Tae Kwon Do, swimming, music lessons .... someday we'll do it. But not this year.

However, we may go to the symphony in a couple of weeks, as they are doing An American in Paris. Gershwin - be still my heart. I am a big fan of the early 20th century American composers: Berstein, Copland, and yes, Gershwin. Throw in Cole Porter and Irving Berlin, and I'm in heaven (and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak !).

Then came yesterday. We were to go to church, then to the International Fest. So we're all in the car, but Maddie, who went upstairs after she came home from her sleepover. Gary went up to get her, and she threw a fit: She wasn't going. Even after he told her to get in the car. The minutes tick by, and by the time I got up there to talk to her, we were going to be 10 minutes late to church. Which I hate. Plus I got a glance at the other girls' rooms, and no one had even made their bed. Keep in mind that is 11 a.m. by this point.

I was livid. I didn't stay mad at her too long - she's only 12 - but we did have a talk later (no festival). I made it clear that on weekends, especially when we're going to church, no one gets to opt out. Secondly, when a parent tells them to do something, they are to do it. No arguing. (I tested this twice later, when Maddie asked for ice cream and her dad said no, and when she asked to use the computer and I said no.) I felt as if my weekend had been hijacked - we hung around Sunday, did some laundry, did a little reading. But that wasn't the plan. I am not taking a second car into the city, and I am not going to make a second trip in (Maddie calmed down and said maybe we could go later - no way. It's too far, too much gas, too much waste).

All in all, everyone settled down and the day was OK. But those girls need to learn to do what they're told. And that our family is not, sadly, always a democracy. I like being a fun parent, and giving my children lots of say, but I would never have dared talk back to my parents the way my girls do. It must change.

Here comes the weekend

(Hum Dave Edmunds to yourself, everyone ...)

It's Friday - yippee. I've not done much today. Read a little ... and that's about it. So much for my list of things to do. I am home full time, and I got more done when I had a job and my kids had multiple activities. Sigh.

I've read all the op-eds this week on gun control, no gun control. Ted Nugent seems to think if we all carried concealed weapons none of these mass shootings would happen. Sure - let's return to a vigilante society. That way, every time someone is mad or loses their temper, they can whip out a gun and shoot the object of their wrath. That will make everything all better.

Others suggest that we went too far in the '60s liberalizing laws with the mentally ill and commitment procedures. But I'm not a big fan of the involuntary commitment days, when a family member with questionable intentions could have someone committed. Do we really need to go there? Yes, this kid at VaTech had problems. But what about someone who, for whatever reason, has raised the ire of family members - a spouse who wants custody, a *radical* teen who won't tow the family line, do as they're told? People who aren't truly mentally ill, but who are deemed as trouble makers? Makes me nervous.

And why do these mass shootings seem to occur more often than not in the USA? Other countries tighten gun laws when this happens. Why do people need handguns anyway? Don't go all second amendment on me - read the words. "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." This is not about handguns. I wouldn't suggest taking hunting weapons away - I don't get it, but hey, it's a sport, and I can accept that. But handguns? The evidence does not support the NRA's suggestion that people successfully use handguns to prevent crimes. From Time magazine:

"There is far more research on the question of who is most likely to get killed when someone keeps a gun at home. In a 1986 study called 'Protection or Peril?,' Dr. Arthur Kellermann, a University of Tennessee professor of medicine, and Dr. Donald Reay, chief medical examiner of King County in Washington, concluded that for each defensive, justifiable homicide there were 43 murders, suicides or accidental deaths. Out of 398 gunshot fatalities in homes in King County between 1978 and 1983, only nine were motivated by self- defense ... The one-week survey by TIME found a similar ratio on a national basis: only 14 of the 464 gun deaths resulted from defensive firing. An alarming 216 were suicides, 22 were accidental, and many of the rest involved homicides among people who knew each other well rather than citizens gunned down by strangers."

It all depends, of course, on who collects and analyzes the data - do a quick search and you'll find plenty of evidence by pro-handgun groups that will dispute these assertions.

No easy answers. I just can't see that having easy access to guns is helping anyone, ever. Ask those families at VaTech; I'm guessing they might agree.

Marathon Mah Jongg

I am strangely tired. So tired. I'm having trouble staying awake.

I'm blaming it on the Mah Jongg.

For future reference, four hours of Mah Jongg? About two hours too many. Lucky for me, I looked at my phone about halfway through, and I had a *message* and had to cut out. I love to play, but this new system (Wright Patterson, not national) is different. I'll learn, but I'm just getting used to it. Keeping score, counting flowers and winds, pungskongsquints, prevailing winds, honors and terminals ... my head is spinning.

Went grocery shopping today. I mention it because I've been putting it off for some time. But now it's done. Then, rather than put away the Easter decorations (I know, I know ...) I called a friend and yakked for about an hour, then read aloud to Sylvia several chapters of These Happy Golden Years. We are loving the saga of Laura and her *beau.*

This one of my favorite parts of parenting, reading aloud beloved books to my girls. Especially at the expense of other must-do tasks.

There's always tomorrow. For putting away said Easter stuff, for exercising, for finishing my book, for making the return to the hardware store. Must buy a baby gift, pick up a chair for the sunroom, select paint colors. And on and on.

But tomorrow is Friday. The weekend begins.

Adios, Sanjaya. I think he made the whole American Idol experience more fun. Whom will we laugh at now? I'm rooting for Melinda to win it all, which pits me against the girls, who want Blake or Jordin. We shall see.

Bacon, eggs, and a sense of order

It's TAKS week - the state of Texas's mandated testing. It's our second go-round this year. It's all taken verrrry seriously - no after-school activities the day before the test, the day's routine is all switched around. The kids are told to get plenty of sleep, eat a good breakfast.

Don't even start me on these asinine tests, on this whole No Child Left Behind nonsense. The entire system is inherently flawed and our children, our schools, are paying the price of bureaucratic mismanagement.

Yesterday Maddie says, Is bacon protein? Yes, I said. A few minutes later she says, I've been thinking. Maybe I should be asking Daddy this. But they tell us we need a really good breakfast, you know, with protein.

She pauses. Do you want me to cook you something for breakfast tomorrow, I ask.

Yes, she said. Bacon and eggs.

So this morning she came downstairs at around 10 after 6. I was awake but still lying in bed. You don't have to get up and cook for me, she said. No, no, I said, I really don't mind. So I made her bacon and scrambled eggs.

It was all sort of sweet. It's funny how doing such a small thing for my daughter makes me feel as I've moved a mountain. It was so important to her, and I could tell she really appreciated it. In turn, it made me feel good, that I could do this small thing for her.

I love it when the girls leave the house in the morning in a good mood, with everything they need for the day, on time. A sense of order, calmness, serenity. Life as it should be.

All for the cost of four pieces of bacon, one scrambled egg. Would that every day were so easy.

My kind of town

Chicago is. Not one of my top five (only NYC, Washington DC, and San Francisco in the U.S.A. make the cut), but it's still a fun place.

And this weekend was no exception. However, that had more to do with the company we kept than with the location. Alison and I met our best friends, my friend Helen and her daughter, Claire. We met when Gary and I moved in up the street from them in 1995; Alison and Claire are about nine months apart, and Maddie and Richie are only four months apart. When Helen called me from the hospital to let me know her youngest daughter was born, I told her I was pregnant with number three. The little girls are, naturally, good friends.

I've moved away from Helen twice. I'm not sure she's forgiven me for either move, but we have stayed in touch. She is one of those people that when I talk to her, it's as if we just talked yesterday. We have similar child-rearing philosophies, similar outlooks on life. We both can't stand the likes of Kathie Lee Gifford, Brooke Shields, Kirstie Alley (it's nice to have a friend with whom you can have a celebrity hate-fest!). We read a lot of the same books, like many of the same movies and TV.

Yet we are very different. She is a devout Lutheran; I, an equally devout Unitarian. I love The Office, she loves Grey's Anatomy, and neither of us watches the other show. She is a health care professional, I'm a writer. She likes Nicholas Sparks, I can't stand such schlock. And - here's a surprising fact - she is a REPUBLICAN. Big one. I am ... um ... not. But she knows this about me, and I know about her, yet we respect one another's opinions and remain best friends. She does not forward me e-mails that she knows I would find offensive; likewise with me. (But this doesn't mean either one of us is above the occasional jab or two ... and she has enough of a sense of humor that she doesn't take it personally or get upset - another reason I like to be around her.)

But she knows me and understands me. She has been a true friend and would do anything for me - when I had to take Maddie to the hospital and Gary was out of town, she was in my driveway to pick up the other two before we were off the phone. That is the kind of person she is. Fun, kind, generous - and, like me, flawed. This, I suppose, is why we get along so well.

Thus a weekend together, with our daughters, was wonderful. We stayed in a charming, funky little hotel (Hotel Blake on Dearborn), well within walking distance of Michigan Avenue, where we spent much of Saturday. The girls were on a quest to find Urban Outfitters; we dutifully followed. Dinner followed at Bistro 501 - fabulous food, complete with Cosmos.

Then, the piéce de resistance: Wicked! Alison and I have read the book, listened to the cast album in preparation - we know all the lyrics. Helen and Claire said no, no, they prefer to go in fresh, not having heard any of the music yet. The show was wonderful - better than I had even thought, and I have been enjoying the music for months. I am not usually big on prequels or fake sequels, but this one intrigued me. I like the idea that the Wicked Witch was misunderstood, that there's more to her story than originally thought. And I like that Glinda isn't really as good as she's made out to be. It's just fun - and the songs are smart and clever and catchy.

However, the performance was somewhat marred by the behavior of the women right behind us, who sang along with the songs. Unbelievable - sang right out loud! And, even worse, with every joke, they said the punch line OUT LOUD before the performers on stage could. I could not believe it - I'm not sure I can fully express my outrage. As I said, Helen and Claire had never heard any of it, and these women (adults - over 60, I think) were ruining it for them. And I did not pay $100 a seat to hear them sing! Can you even believe it? A few glaring stares in their direction seemed to solve the problem, but not until the second half. I was preparing to say something, but it seemed to be taken care by that point. People really have forgotten how to behave in public performances - you hear cell phones ringing in movies, people talking out loud. Perhaps a reminder is necessary to let people know what is and isn't acceptable. Though it should be obvious. Really.

After the show, we indulged in more Cosmos, along with some extravagant dessert. We might have lingered in the restaurant longer, had Helen not seen an unwelcome visitor of the rodent variety. I didn't see it, and she had already finished her Cosmo ... but we'll say she saw it. We left in a hurry (though not without informing the hostess, who seemed somewhat incredulous at the suggestion ... it is a major urban area, and I think these things do come with the territory).

All in all, a delightful weekend, filled with fun. A fantastic show, great food, nice shopping, a lovely city. Late night giggling. But all of that was because of whom we spent it with. I miss having these amazing women as part of my everyday life. Maybe we'll be neighbors again someday.

Thanks, Helen - it was fun!

So much to do, so little time ...

How does someone (me) who is at home all day, kids in school, find herself too busy to get everything done?

I know - it's a shocking state of affairs. And yet, it's true - I still do not have enough hours in the day to do everything I would like to do. You'd think that I would have long, leisurely days filled with hours and hours in which to shop, read, and generally have "me" time.

Yet anyone with children - well, anyone with a life, really - knows this isn't so. There is always some errand to be run, some worker to let in the house, an unexpected phone call, a surprise task. There are days when - horrors - I don't enough get around to updating my blog.

I didn't get around to posting yesterday. However, my back door is now fixed, I have arranged ground transport from the airport to the hotel in Chicago, my office desk is clean, I have a coffee table for the sunroom, and my gift wrapping closet is semi-organized. Plus I quickly re-read These Happy Golden Years in preparation for reading it to Sylvia.

(Side note: I am reading to her from the same set of books I read as a girl. I got them for my ninth birthday, end of third grade. The price tag on each book says 95 cents. The paper covers are completely dog-eared; some are in tatters. These Happy Golden Years is in possibly the worst shape - I think it was my favorite. I read those books over and over to myself, and I've read them through out loud three times. Did you read that they are updating the illustrations? Apparently girls of today no longer relate to Garth Williams' classic drawings - it's a sacrilege. My girls were outraged.)

So, in my absence yesterday, I was unable to comment on Don Imus. And now, he's gone. I didn't want him to be fired, just for the marketplace to work and for him to go that way. Did you read his comments about Gwen Ifel (from the Jim Lehrer Newshour - may have spelled that wrong)? Worse, almost, than what he said about the Rutgers women. I'm not sorry he's gone.

And I haven't had a chance to wax philosophic on reality TV. I predicted both of them correctly - I have no proof, as I didn't write about it here, but I did - truly! Though I only predicted the bottom two on AI, and it hardly took a genius - Haley was in the bottom two for the last couple of weeks, and her performance was weak. On DWTS, Leeza Gibbons was in the bottom two when the judges loved her. This week they hated her - you could see it coming a mile away. So yes, I predicted it, but it didn't take all that much foresight.

I've been feeling icky most of the afternoon; I've been forced to lie on the sofa reading. Rough day. But tomorrow Alison and I are off on a road trip - a mini-break with our friends Helen and Claire. Can't wait!

But for now, the TiVo'd Office awaits ...

Free speech. But.

I'm all for free speech. It's in the Bill of Rights. And I'm a journalist by profession. Thus I am all for freedom of the press. It's one of our tenets of democracy, one of the rights that sets us apart from other nations. Even in western Europe, not all countries and culture honor this right we take for granted.

I've been thinking for a while about free speech, since the Supreme Court heard arguments in that "bong hits for Jesus" case. My feelings there are a bit mixed - yes, I am fully supportive of the kid's right to say what he wants. And I confess, the naughty part of me thinks it's all sort of funny. But it was a school activity, and naturally, the school cannot condone illegal activity (regardless of your thoughts on legalizing pot, it is illegal ... which is a discussion for another day). I'm pretty sure had his sign had a racial slur, the answer from the school would have been the same. However, had it been denigrating toward women, I wonder if there would have been any reaction - I fear not. Or had it had an alcohol reference. And there it gets sticky for me. Alcohol is, after all, legal. Not to those under 21, but none the less, it's not contraband for adults.

Thus I haven't quite made up my mind on this one. But I am leaning toward allowing it - he wasn't actually smoking pot, he simply had a sign that suggested it. And it is legal to publish a book on how to grow pot, thus why not a sign that jokingly suggests that "bong hits for Jesus" might be a good idea? I'm not suggesting I want my kids to carry such a sign - I'm just supporting free speech.

Which brings me to today, and Don Imus. And I don't think he should be fired.

But that doesn't mean I support him. Or even that such speech should be protected.

You have to question his motivation. He is all tears and contrition today but come on - he knew exactly what he was saying. I won't stoop to repeating what I consider to be a totally tasteless comment - he meant it as a pejorative. He says he was just trying to be funny, but this isn't exactly his first offense. And frankly, I'm not going to support someone who apparently can't think before he speaks. He's a radio personality, for crying out loud - he should know better. The after-the-fact crocodile tears mean "oops! I got caught."

There should be consequences for his actions. Which means that everyone who can should boycott his show. Let the ratings slide, then he can lose his job for that reason. As I said, people should be allowed to say what they think. But there should be a price. And Imus should have to pay.

Houston: City of no beauty

We were supposed to go to the ball game.

It was the plan all week. We'd drive to Brenham and check out the wildflowers, then return home and go see the Cardinals play the Astros at 6.05 p.m. My parents were to meet us.

And then plans changed. None of this is a big deal - it's just funny to note the evolution of the day, from having company to going shopping.

Friday we spent hours and hours purchasing new speakers for the family room. We bought a new stereo receiver in order to maximize our surround sound, which also meant buying new speakers, a center channel, a sub-woofer. The service guy at the store was soooo old and slow - nice guy, but he was having some difficulty getting the audio demonstration to work.

We also got outdoor speakers so we can have the patio wired for sound. Exciting stuff ...

Sadly, they had no HD radio, which I am wanting. With HD radio, I can listen to NPR talk shows all day long - this I am dying to do. So, yesterday, after my parents announced they would not drive over in the rain (it was icky and sleeting - I think the entire Midwest and South are affected by this sudden unseasonable cold snap) we went out and got furniture for our sunroom. We did well, shopping at Pier One. I was hoping for something not too wickery, but still with a sunroom look about it, but not patio furniture. And Pier One was the only place that had what I wanted wthout spending a fortune (it's just a sunroom - not my living room). Thanks to big sales, we did very well.

And the dog is so pleased - the sunroom, just off the kitchen, is where her crate is kept, so she seems to think we redid the room just for her.

Gary finished getting the surround sound installed (it sounds amazing), then realized we needed to leave for the game, but there was no time to run by the electronics place that stocks HD radios. Got to Minute Maid, and they only had standing room only or $50 seats available. So we decided to take a pass and instead went to the electronics place.

Thus the title of this post.

Everything in Houston that lines the freeways (big chunk of the city) is ugly, absolutely lacking in character. When I used to visit my parents in Tucson, I commented on the look there - it has the feeling of a city that was developed in the late 50s then abandoned. Parts of Houston feel the same way, and the area on I-45 between 610 and Beltway 8 is devoid of any aesthetic quality whatsoever. The feeder roads (access or frontage roads to those of you not local) are lined with abandoned apartments, architecturally insubstantial strip malls, empty asphalt lots. Not a pretty sight. To be fair, there are areas along I-10 and 59 that look the same way - I would hate to discriminate in labeling the North Freeway as the only unpleasing area of the city.

Once again, I wonder how we ended up here. Inside the loop, there are lovely areas - depressing ones, too. And our neck of the suburbs is pretty enough, if not bland and surrounded by strip malls and chain stores.

But all in all, I do not feel surrounded by beauty. And it's tough. The beauty I do see feels very manufactured.

It's what I live with, every day. But it's manageable, for now. We did find our HD radio - gotta give Houston credit, as one can find everything one's heart desires somewhere in the city. From excellent sunroom furniture to stereo equipment, it's all here. And that is worth something, one must suppose.

Happy Easter, all. We hid 78 eggs for the girls (26 apiece), and all but two have been found. We're grilling salmon, and I'm making a lemon meringue pie. It's freezing. But The Sopranos return tonight.

Guilty pleasures

I'm monitoring my spam intake. My e-mail program has an excellent spam filter, and it catches everything. But generally I go in and clean it out as quickly as I can. Today, just for fun (?), I let it accumulate, just to see how much I get. So far, we're up 21 messages. They are on the usual topics - you know, ways I can, um, enjoy my life more. Suggestions on earning money. Or offers of great pharmaceuticals. Tempting, but no thanks.

Watched American Idol, and they are rid of that rocker chick. Not only did she have that funky red streak in her hair, but I hated her voice last night. I don't care for that fakey pop-singer vibrato - you know, the way precocious 12-year-olds who think they belong on Broadway sing? It's annoying. But we're rid of her. And Sanjaya was saved - you rock, buddy! Way to go!

Along with American Idol and Dancing with the Stars, my girls and I have another guilty pleasure: House Hunters on HGTV. We love it - the best episodes are the ones where they look at three houses then you have to guess which one they buy.

Just like the buyers, we are on the edge of our seat. Will they get the house? Will their offer be accepted? Oh pleasepleaseplease!

The home buyers they highlight are such idiots! I wish I had a dollar for every one who bitched about a wall's paint color (then re-paint!) or walked into a room and said, Wow, Iove the windows in here (duh - it's a room, of course it has windows). You cannot imagine the level of scintillating conversation. They are obviously instructed to make small-talk about what they see, so make inane comments like, Love the crown molding. Nice space in here. Oh look - a garage. It's 30 minutes of stating the obvious (Wow - the house has indoor plumbing!)

Sometimes the homebuyers are awfully picky. Everyone needs three bedrooms, even if it's someone who is single. They bitch that the rooms are too small, the bathrooms too small, the kitchen doesn't have granite and stainless steel. Good grief - it's your first house. Sometimes they show a lower-end family who is happy to be able to afford anything, then one week they showed this couple with money who bought a literal mansion for just the two of them - and turned down certain houses that just weren't quite big enough for them.

Equally tiresome are the jokes about how the kitchen won't get used because the wife doesn't cook (though they are demanding that everything be top-of-the-line) and the jokes from the guy who says, The master closet may just be big enough for all my wife's shoes. Hahahaha ... you're so original.

Among our favorite moments:

• The woman named Lilly who married someone named Brian LIlly, thus her name is Lilly Lilly. Yes, she did change her name.
• The wife who said, in a chirpy, upbeat voice, Oh, this is so nice, to every single house she saw, even the one that was a total dump - you could tell she had trouble saying it, but she just could not bring herself to say, this is awful!
• The woman who needed outdoor space for her gourd-carving hobby.
• The couple who made sure the master bathroom was big enough for the wife to shut herself inside in order to make private phone calls. Every house, this is what she looked at. In the final scene, we laughed because the youngest kid, a toddler, is running out of the not-fenced-in yard, just after the dad has poured the kid a sippy cup full of Dr. Pepper. Where is the mother? Locked in the bathroom on the phone, we can assume.
• The couple who had to have physical contact at every second - they were all over each other constantly. What are you, junior high? Get over it already.
• The realtor partners nicknamed Ladybird and Rambo (?)
• The guy who kept saying, I need lots of space to work on my projects, said in a tone of voice that made you think he must have to ride the short bus. (But what he did with the house he bought was amazing ...)

The show is incredibly corny. The dialogue is awkward and mundane, almost to the point of idiocy.

Yet we watch it all the time. Nice to know my kids only watch quality television!

Mah Jongg

I found a Mah Jongg group - I am elated! Or was ... I don't mind being the youngest (as I was in Lafayette - I think I am always the youngest of my friends). I don't mind meeting new people.

But they play Wright-Patterson, and I play National Mah Jongg. Can I adapt?

I am really wanting to play, and if I learned one way, then surely, surely I can pick up a new way. It can't be that complicated.

Can it?

Brand-new me

First, a confession: Yes, I did watch biography of The Partridge Family the other night - thus the title of this post.

But I couldn't help it. Come on, if you're part of my generation, David Cassidy was a hottie. My brother had one of their albums (the first one - I Think I Love You!). Not only did I watch that show first-run, but I reveled in those reruns for years. Brady Bunch, Star Trek, Gilligan's Island, Daktari, this is what we watched after school (along with Underdog, Tennessee Tuxedo, and Bullwinkle and Rocky). My kids come home to Oprah and Dr. Phil. Sigh.

We had a nice weekend. Gary came home and we had a nice weekend. Heavy rains Saturday canceled the soccer games, so while Sylvia went to the movies with a friend, I took the other two clothes shopping.

I am officially old: I do not understand teenage fashion. My girls want to shop at Abercrombie, Aeropostale, American Eagle, Hollister. Those places are so loud they make my head spin. But, being the tolerant mom, I am patient; I endure.

The girls want to dress exactly like everyone else. I'm sure I was the same way.

I think I'm coming out of my funk of the last several weeks, the mini-depression that set in after my job went up in flames. Now that I have some distance, and some perspective, I've decided that I can deal. I've been doing some freelance work, and I finally decided the other day not to pursue anything more. I'll work a bit, stay current, and spend time with the girls. I'll enjoy my house, swim, travel. I am just going to settle down. I have friends - most of them are just not here. So I am just going to relax ...

With my new philosophy, the pressure's off. I feel at last as if my fate is in my own hands. It feels good.