A house is not a home

Nice weekend around here. Didn't do much - just hung out by the pool. Went to dinner last night at Cafe Red Onion. Thought about going to the drive-in, but it was late so we didn't make it. Which was actually OK with me - I'd seen one of the movies and didn't really want to see the other - I know WALL-E is getting great reviews, but I'm thinking now that my girls are older, I can get a pass on animated films.

(I'm really holding out for the next big summer movie: Mamma Mia. Opens July 18, and the girls and I are totally jazzed. We'll be knee-deep in boxes, and while it doesn't have to be the 18th on the dot, I am going to make time to see this. I'll have to see which friends I can scrape up to go with us. Helen? JoAnn? Christine? Could be a party. I've got ABBA on in the background, getting me in the mood.)

We are enjoying the last few days in our Houston house. And I do mean enjoying, because we like this house. Then again, we have liked all our houses. We loved our very first house back in Peoria, and we love this one.



It looks remarkably like every other house in the neighborhood, which is a slight drawback - when we first moved in, I was shocked that the girls didn't get lost walking the dog or coming home on the bus - the neighborhood tends to have a bit of a Stepford-esque quality.



The family room is great - it's where we spend all our time. When we're not in the pool.




The kitchen is moderately high-end. No restaurant-grade range, but we've got the stainless/granite look going on. Though the orange kitchen walls were not a hit with all who looked here. I love them; I'm not a big fan of the bland neutral walls.



Dining room, which is much too small. As is our living room (not pictured). But our bedroom is giant - go figure.



I do love the master bathroom. The closet is huge, too. Can you believe someone commented that they did not like this tile? How is that possible? We think it is fabulous.



The afore-mentioned gigantic master bedroom. What do they think we need all this space for - what do they expect us to do in here?



My favorite hang-out spot - the backyard pool. Makes the summer (and Houston in general) bearable.

I like all of this. But I'm not too sad to leave - we will get all of these features in the next house - nice kitchen (as soon as I get the contractor started - !), master bathroom (same deal), pool, master bedroom with fireplace, much nicer (bigger) gameroom for the kids, with more privacy (ours is too open to the main floor, so the noise tends to carry over).

It's just a house, and after owning five of them, we know that there is always another house. Always. It's having my family there that makes it home.

It Ain't All Bad

When we moved to Houston, there were some aspects of life in the big city that intrigued me. I really am an urban kind of gal - I love life in the city. Amng my favorites are New York (where I've only vacationed, never lived), London (lived there for a semester in college and know it well), Paris, San Francisco, and Washington DC (visits only). With these cities, when I've been there, I've been in the heart of the city - enjoying mass transit, walking, the sights and sounds. Here in Houston, we've been relegated to the northwest suburbs, so the big-city feeling eludes me, by a good 30 miles.

Houston is actually quite the cosmopolitan place. And there are some of those benefits that I'll miss. Such as:

• Baseball: I'm not a huge baseball fan, but I enjoy an occasional game. And I do like to check out MLB parks. We've seen several games here, and I like Minute Maid Park. Like most new ball parks, it is designed to look like an old park, but with all the amenities of a new one (more food stands, more restrooms, most seats are decent for seeing the game). On Friday nights, they have fireworks after the game. Only two slight oddities: the giant Halliburton display when you walk in and the dome - when it's closed, you are watching baseball indoors and in air conditioning. Which is weird. But it is hot here, so I can let that one slide.

• Entertainment: Houston has fantastic theatre - from local groups, like the Alley and the Texas Rep, to big touring companies. You can see anything here that you want - this year we had, to name a few: Jersey Boys (loved it), Putnam County Spelling Bee, Drowsy Chaperone, and Spring Awakening (saw it on Broadway - loved it). I didn't even mention the plays. The opera is amazing, and the symphony is wonderful. We get all sorts of big-name concerts. I could gush with superlatives. But it is all top-notch - this is what you get in a city with 4 million people. You get the best. I am spoiled.

• Houston has a great museum district - from the Museum of Fine Arts and the Contemporary Arts Museum to the Children's Museum and the Museum of Natural Sciences, the museum district has it all. There's the Holocaust Museum, the Menil Collection, the Health Museum, John C. Freeman Weather Museum, the Czech Center Museum, and the National Museum of Funeral History. We've got it covered.

• Restaurants: Sure a lot of them are chains, but many of the chains are good (Pappadeaux, La Madeleine, Cafe Red Onion). And we have lots of options. We have eaten at some excellent non-chain places, including Shade in the Heights. Problem? The good ones are sooo far away. Sigh.

• Montrose and the Heights. Cool parts of Houston with lots of quirky shops, cool houses, fun people. The gay areas. Love them.

• More than one UU Church: I've never before lived in a city with more than one - it's an interesting phenomenon - UUs that you don't know. It's been great for Alison - she is very involved in YRUU. For us, a drag - we live so far away from all of them; on Sunday morning it's one thing, but on a weeknight, it would be more than 30 minutes. Can't do it. I'm back to cursing the suburbs.

• The beach: I love the smell of the beach, lying on the sand, how warm the water is. Love it. I remember Galveston, from my childhood, as being sort of icky. Not so - we've had some nice days there. I love the ocean - I'll miss the proximity.

• Summer: I do miss winter - I do. But I love summer just as much. And if we had actual winter, then I think I would be OK with six months of summer. I love wearing sandals and shorts; I love swimming and the beach. This is the opposite of Kiel, where we had what felt like 11 months of dreary February. I need a balance. But I do love the summer days when they're here.

• Schools: True, the schools are big and impersonal. And I don't always like the attitudes. But I have to say, with my kids, there has been very little anxiety here. My girls are good students who do not misbehave. For them, school has been a breeze. In Lafayette, there was always one issue or another. Oh well - life shouldn't be too easy, right?

• Famous Texans: It's been fun living in the home state of Ann Richards, LBJ, Molly Ivins. They're all gone, but their words live on.

• 9/80: We have major traffic here. So Houston Mayor Bill White encourages the 9/80 initiative: employees of participating companies work 80 hours over 9 days thus getting every other Friday off, easing the traffic on Fridays. Gary's company started participating this year, and it has been great - he still works from home those days, but no commute, and he is free for lunch. I'll miss it. But we'll get that time back every day, so no loss here.

• River Oaks: When a movie opens, you can find it in Houston on opening day. Usually, the movies I want to see are at River Oaks. It's a little art deco film house in River Oaks, where the streets are lined with trees and mansions. They tore down part of the shopping center last year, much to the dismay of historic preservationists. But part of it remains, with this jewel of a theater. It's been divided into three screens, but they show the best of the best, all the indy films, so we frequently make the trek. A 25-minute drive, but so worth it. Don't know how I'll recover from this loss.

• Shopping: Houston has EVERYTHING - and some of it is at my local mall. People here complain about the quality of Willowbrook Mall, but compared to the Tippecanoe Mall, it is great - full of stores I will have to drive to Indy to access. They just got a Mac store - ! I love the Container Store, The Woodlands Mall is great (Pottery Barn), and the new outlet mall has an Ann Taylor outlet, which has lured many precious dollars away from me. IKEA. The Galleria is the mall of all malls, surrounded by very high-end shopping centers - they have every designer my humble means could dream of, and then some. (Let's face it, I'm not really going to buy Mahnolos or Carolina Herrera.) The problem, of course, is that most of this is a drive for me - I just cannot drive 30 minutes to pop into the Container Store and pick up a few items. Figure in traffic, and it makes the drive to Indy seem almost doable.

• Friends: I doubt many of them even read this (I generally share this blog with friends from out of town), but there are some very special people I will miss. And they cannot be replaced.

10 Things I Hate About You

Upon our return to Houston, the newspaper headlines greeted us with news of two children murdered and the bodies burned by their father. Then I read about a teenage girl killed in a drive-by shooting while she slept in her bedroom; her sister was injured. This follows a year in which a college student was murdered by her ex while home on spring bring, in which a couple beat their toddler daughter to death and stored her corpse in the garage, then set the container afloat in Galveston, in which a man beat to death his stepdaughter because the 3-year-old was having potty-training accidents, in which a 10-year-old unidentified corpse of a 4-year-old was finally identified. And let's not forget the skinheads who beat and sodomized a Latino kid for looking at a neighbor girl wrong, nor the 13-year-old girl who stabbed a kid to death to impress a gang.

Yeesh. Big city life - except that we live in the suburbs, and a lot of this occurred not in the city, but in the burbs. It's just all part of a big picture. Bottom line: Living in Houston, in the suburbs, is not where we want to be. Lucky for us we're moving. So I thought I'd share my Top 10 List of things I won't miss about Harris County and the greater Houston metropolitan area.

Keep in mind that this is a general list - just a recap of random things I hate about living here. Not that there aren't some good things, but for today, let's concentrate on being contrary, shall we?

10. Traffic: Houston has the worst traffic I have ever seen in the United States. I won't say that I've ever seen because we rented a car in Greece, and my god, that was terrifying. Italy wasn't a lot of fun either, but we left the driving there to the cabbie. And in New York, Chicago, and Washington DC, there's reliable public transportation. Here, it's just about volume. Gary's commute time is god-awful. And he car pools, so they can use the HOV lane. It's best to avoid the roads between 6-9 a.m. and 4-7 p.m.; makes getting around tricky. Thank goodness the radio gives frequent traffic updates so you know what's in store. I've just never seen the cars move so slowly. And, when you're in the HOV lane, it's shocking to see how many people are not using it - they are driving themselves. But that's another gripe - see #3.

9. Driving time: Not to be confused with traffic. Houston is the sixth (down from fourth) largest metropolitan area in the country, and it is 600 square miles - in other words, it is huge. So it takes forever to get from one place to another. We are 30 minutes minimum from everywhere: church, shopping, baseball, theater. And that is without traffic - see No. 10 above. Driving is grueling; I avoid it all costs. Makes my days a little dull. Thank goodness for Netflix.

8. Weather: I thought I would be OK with abandoning winter; I thought I would love the six months of summer and six months of shoulder season. But I was wrong. I truly miss those chilly winter days, when you bake cookies, make homemade soup, wear sweaters and cuddle in front of the fireplace. Nope, here we are wearing capris in December. And it's weird. I know, I know - my first 10-degree day will jolt me back into reality. But I think I'm a four-seasons kind of gal. I like my winter wardrobe. And I'm not ashamed to admit it.

7. Humidity: Once again, a separate issue than the weather. The summer here is not only hot, but muggy. The air hits you in the face like a blanket when you walk outdoors. Houstonians deal with it with energy usage: Pools, air conditioning, running the parked car for 30 minutes while waiting for your kid. I shudder to think of my carbon footprint here. But really, I am concerned about my bad hair - you try controlling the frizzies ten months a year. Again, something I can live without. Sayonara!

6. Chain stores and strip malls: They surround us. I haven't seen a free-standing, independently owned business in weeks (unless you count my time on vacation. Or McDonald's). Every strip mall looks the same, feels the same. Diversity, where are you?

5. Giant schools: What can you do when you have 100,000 kids in your school district? Deal with it. But wow, the schools are gigantic. My children's teachers barely know me; the principal has no idea who I am. I miss our little neighborhood school where the principal knew every child by name; I am overwhelmed by a grade school with nine of every grade level, a high school with 4,000 kids. Read the reports about violence in high schools and they all point to large schools as being contributing factors. Now you're terrified, too.

4. Y'all: I know. Still makes me cringe every time I hear it.

3. Texas arrogance: It's a giant state, with egos to match. A friend from Indiana who went to college here laughed and said Texans act as if everything north of here is like Nebraska. (And I'm from Nebraska.) You can even buy mugs that say: "I'm not from Texas, but I got here as fast as I could." Please. Lots of people don't worry about recycling because Texas has plenty of potential landfill space. Energy usage appears to be someone else's problem; Texans want everything BIG. I'm sure this attitude stems from the fact that Texas was once, in fact, its own country. But a separate Texas Pledge of Allegiance? Come on, people, there are 49 other states. And they all have something to offer. (Well, perhaps not Kansas. Or Idaho. But really, all the others have redeeming value.) Texas isn't even the biggest. Get over it.

2. HOAs: As in, Home Owners Associations. I know, they exist in other cities. I've just never lived in a subdivision that has such a militant one before. My dad recommended a book about HOAs and the issues people have with them - I will definitely be reading it. The HOA is our only defense against the lack of ANY zoning here - seriously, it's true. But they go to the extreme. They patrol the streets, looking for infractions. Even neighbors around me that seem to love it here complain about the pickiness of the HOA; people have gotten letters for: parking a truck in their driveway, loading their camper for vacation in their driveway, having planters with no flowers, putting their trash out too early, not edging their sidewalks, having visible trash cans. One neighbor applied to put up a swingset in the backyard; their request was denied because they did not include a scale drawing of what the swingset would look like in the yard. Their response? They put it up anyway. My realtor moved into her place and put a potted plant in a flower bed to see how it would thrive before transplanting it; she got a cease and desist letter - Welcome to the neighborhood, huh? Oh, yeah, and our HOA consistently refuses to institute curbside recycling, even though 65 percent of neighbors want it and are happy to pay for it. Grrr. Another "won't miss." (The new house? No HOA. No way, now how.)

1. Suburbia: As in, conservative attitudes • lack of diversity • gas-hogging SUV-drivers • houses that all look the same • energy wasting • conspicuous consumption • cliques more nauseating than high school • self-importance • paranoia over unwanted subdivision interlopers (ie, "undesirables" - the poor, the ethnic, anything outside the box, like Democrats) • too new • too sanitized • too phony • too artificial • too much money • too far from the city • too far from real life. A bad fit for us.

Give me a day - I'm sure there is something I'll miss about Houston. When I think of it, I'll let you know what it is ...

Home again, home again ...

The girls and I got home last night. Visiting Colorado was tons of fun, but it is always good to come home.

Colorado was:

My brother - tons of fun, very cool
His girlfriend, Barbara/Barb/Barbie - also very fun
Royal Gorge/Boulder/Rockies game/Garden of the Gods
Beautiful weather, no humidity
Fort Collins
The new kitty: Zorrita de Bobadilla aka Dona Catalina Zarzarossa, the lusty feline of Andalusia (we just called her Zorrita)
She is about 10 weeks old and ... ADORABLE
Bowling, swimming, Yahtzee, Arrested Development
Eating out
"Good clean fun"

And now we're home. We arrived to good news: We sold our house. Yay! Got a decent price - less than we were asking, but quite a bit more than we paid for it. Happy, happy, happy.

Today I have been doing laundry, catching up. I have a million things on my mind, so I'll have to go for now.

I'm exhausted, but it's nice to see my husband and missing daughter (Alison was at camp last week). And no more keeping the house clean ...

Live from Denver

Here we sit, Sylvia, Maddie, and I, with my brother John, at Coor's Field, watching the Rockies play the Cleveland Indians (the Rockies are behind, 2-1). We've been to Royal Gorge and Boulder; tomorrow we head to Fort Collins to see John's girlfriend, Barbara.

This is the life.

Catching My Breath

We're home - for two days - so I am scrambling to do laundry and keep things together, pay bills, relax, breathe. Sigh.

Missouri was actually not completely unenjoyable - ! Usually, I find it painful. My in-laws mean well. But they are ... different. They live their lives very differently than we do, and it can be trying to be around them for a long time.

They are completely unaware of this. They have no idea. Yet, at the same time, they have many words to say about living so close to Gary's grandmother. We love her, but wow, she would drive anyone crazy. But my in-laws see no similarity in the situation. She can be unbearable, but they are just as accommodating as can be.

Before I go further, I should say that they are good people. They mean well; they have good intentions. But they live at a very different level than we do. Conversations are about how well the garden is growing, discussing how the cousins/aunts/uncles are doing, what's happening at church, and how good dinner was or will be. The election was broached - briefly - and my MIL put the kibosh on that conversation - too controversial. No opposing viewpoints allowed.

The big anniversary soirée was Saturday night. The room was nicer than I expected. Props to my SIL - she did not have a lot of venues from which to choose, and this room was quite nice. It was a warm 72 degrees in there the entire evening (not so good for the three men in suits) but really, quite nice. A few highlights should give you an idea of how it went:

• Venue calls on Thursday - providing champagne for toast tricky and expensive. Can we bring it ourselves? (Yes, but why you didn't tell us this in, say, December when the room was booked is curious.)
• We worked out a rough timeline for the evening: Cocktails/gathering 5-6, dinner at 6, presentation, toast, dessert. My SIL says, I told them we'd eat at 5.30. ?? 5.30? You must be joking - that is outrageously early to eat, and 30 minutes is not enough time for socializing. She called to change it, and they'd already scheduled dinner for 6. Naturally. My SIL has no event-planning savvy.
• Power point was flawless - great animations, thanks to my girls, great photos, all organized with commentary and quiz questions. Perfect. My SIL shows up with the projector ... which will not hook up to our Mac laptop. We have only USB inputs. (Gary swears we have that adapter at home, but I still don't see it.) We transferred the power point to his work laptop, which was unable to read all the photos we had dropped from a disk into iPhoto, but we were able to salvage them from his parents' computer. But the animations did not transfer (version difference in power point), so we had to settle for lame second-best quiz animation. Small problem, all told.
• SIL finds decorations, including little confetti 50s, in Kansas City. Arrives on Friday without them. So we drive to Hallmark in Festus, park the car, look up, and we are parked in front of party store - how fortuitous is that?? Found just the confetti we wanted. Perfect! Arrive to decorate and are told, No problem, just no confetti. Sad ....
• Invitations say 5 p.m. People arrive at 4.35. I just don't understand. Bar refused to serve til 5 - fair enough, we said 5. Can't people read? Gary's parents didn't even get there til after 5.
• I won't even get into the fashion nightmare. But I will say this: I know it was a summer event. I know it's Festus, Missouri. No tie was required.But I think you can do better than jeans, tennis shoes, and a t-shirt. Really.
• Power point was a hit - my girls are very clever and creative. They did a nice job. Gary did a great job as MC.

My girls looks beautiful - when we get photos, I'll post one - they were so cute. My husband looked pretty good. And I had a great dress and shoes - must have been great, because my feet were killing me.

All in all, the event went well. And they deserved it - not everyone gets to celebrate 50 years of marriage. We'll be doing something along these lines in 2011 for my parents, though I imagine it will be somewhat different.

Congratulations, Joyce and David Mueller, on 50 years of marriage. Here's to you!

It's 11.26 p.m.

I spent much of the day uploading CDs to my iTunes. My husband, ever helpful, said to be sure and use his Mac account. That way we can all share all the music. So if I bought anything, be sure to buy it on his account.

Well. He was wrong. WRONG. I cannot, from my Mac account, access his music. Grrr fricking grr. I cannot tell you how ticked off I am. (I am trying very, very hard to type this without all the obscenities I used today when encountering this problem.) I can go to his account and sync my iPhone from there, but then I can't access any of the old music on my account. And our music accounts are not identical.

So, I am re-loading a bunch of CDs that I spent hours - hours - uploading once already. If anyone knows how to fix this problem, PLEASE let me know.

Why the iTunes/iPhone pandemonium? Because tomorrow we fly to Missouri to visit my in-laws. We are attending their 50th wedding anniversary party. Attending, planning, and financing. And I have done most of the planning. Why me? Good question. Because I knew my husband would not have time. And I thought it should be nice. My husband has only one sister, and she planned a party for their 40th anniversary - we were getting ready to move to Europe at the time. It was a picnic in their backyard - meaning pork steaks on the grill and a crowd of people in their too-small house. Which my MIL had to clean to get ready for a party given for her. I was afraid that, left up to my sister-in-law, this event would be at a Knights of Columbus or AmVets hall - you know the type, with exposed insulation in the ceiling, icky bathrooms, and food served in disposable aluminum trays.

I was hoping for something a little nicer - actual tablecloths and napkins, food served on plates with real silverware. My SIL found a decent place. I took care of the invitations. And was informed that 1) the event would start at 5 p.m. (OK - don't want to be out too late, I guess ....); 2) the menu is fried chicken and roast beef (guess, just guess, the side dishes); and 3) his parents want to collect canned items for the food pantry at the door (nice gesture, but sort of odd).

I guess I envision a party a little differently. I was hoping for a different vibe to the evening. My husband - who has been busy, but is more than willing to tell me what I'm doing wrong - says, you know, they're not that sophisticated. No one will care. But I want it to be nice. Don't they deserve that much?

We did insist on the full bar (SIL thought just beer would be sufficient ... we said No Way); I am working on table decorations, the slide show (the girls were a huge help), and the music. When I sent my SIL a list of suggestions/questions, she was impressed by my party planning skills - perhaps I missed my calling.

I do love a nice wedding.

Maybe I should have just stayed out of it. I don't know .... I'm just concentrating now on getting my iPhone in order for the flight. I am tired ... and I'll only be more tired before this is over.

Sigh.

Not the Year of the Woman. Yet.

There will be no woman in the White House this year.

In some ways, I am sad. I supported Hillary Clinton, and I was prepared to support her all the way. I gave money, and I gave time. Sure, I had some minor reservations - no candidate is perfect, and the candidates that I really, really like usually have no chance of being elected. But I could embrace her and work for her.



In part, I was willing to work for her simply because of the symbolic nature of her campaign. Here it is, 2008, and the United States has never had a woman president. We've had two Secretaries of State, and we only just got a Speaker of the House. Yet other countries had women leaders decades ago: Israel, Great Britain, Germany, even Pakistan.

When my grandmothers were born, women could not even vote - less than 100 years ago. When I was a girl, it was almost unheard of that a woman would run for this office. And as late as 1992, the United States Senate had only two women members - Nancy Kassebaum from Kansas and Barbara Mikulski of Maryland. Currently there are 16 women in the Senate, though that constitutes a mere 16 percent, while women make up roughly half the population.

It's high time that women everywhere feel as if they have an equal voice in government. Which is why I was able to whole-heartedly support Clinton in her race for the White House. I wanted my daughters to see a strong woman play the same game as a man - I wanted them to see that she is just as smart as men, knows her policy, and is just as prepared for the job as a man.

I did not, however, want them to witness the blatant sexism with which she was treated - the comments about her hair and clothes, the horribly sexist rhetoric (that I won't repeat here) that greeted her, rhetoric that had little to do with where she stood on issues and everything to do with the fact that she was female. I did not want my daughter to hear her lambasted for staying with her husband and simultaneously criticized for not leaving him; I did not want her castigated for being too involved in her husband's administration and then have it said that merely being in the White House with him "didn't count." She was too hard if she acted like a man and too soft if she showed any emotion. She couldn't - and didn't - win no matter what she did.

She did it all with grace, and I am proud that my daughters were able to witness the first woman to be taken seriously as a candidate. I have felt all along that, as a Democrat, I would win with either candidate - Barack Obama's run is equally historic, and it will be with great pride that I will cast my vote for the very first African-American presidential candidate. But I can't help feeling a little sad that, once again, women have been put in their place. People cannot say that sexism didn't play a part in this race - every time someone laughed at the comments or drew a political cartoon that depicted Clinton with huge thighs, the message came through loud and clear. And it's not something I, or other feminists, will forget.

I will support Obama; no question for me, he is the candidate for whom I will vote. But I want my daughters to know I am settling for second best. This will, once again, not be the year of the woman. I just hope my daughters don't have to wait a lot longer to see what my grandmothers never did.

Wife Swap

Got an e-mail from a mom on my daughter's soccer team. She is going to be on Wife Swap, so they are re-creating a soccer practice to film for the show. Did all the girls want to be part of it?

I decided to pass. I don't my child to be part of what I consider to be an icky reality show. Survivor I see as harmless; I like American Idol. There are others that, while I don't watch them, seem fine, if that's what you're into: Amazing Race, the Bachelor.

But Wife Swap seems yucky. A wife is much more than the one who pays bills, takes care of the kids, does the cooking and cleaning. How can you trade wives? Are they doing one another's husbands, too? Ugh. And how do the kids feel about "trading" their mothers?

This woman can do what she wants (I really don't know her) - that's her business. But I decided not to let them use my child. I am not that enamored with the idea of being on television.

What would you do?

Houston = Hot

It is hotter than blazes here. Over 90 degrees (that would be hotter than 33 C) every day.

Which is why one needs a swimming pool in these parts. It's not a mere luxury - it is a necessity. Otherwise, we would never, ever want to go outside - our backyard would be rendered useless for three months. As it is, we spend a ton of time out there. Which is how I can justify my purchase of so many brightly colored plastic eating implements.

(They are so worth it, by the way. We have cups with stripes and cups with polka dots - pink, orange, green, and sky blue - which coordinate with the four colors of plates. We have serving dishes, salad bowls, and ice cream bowls. We have a relish tray and a platter for burgers or brats. We have huge water cups with charming little creatures on them. We have plastic animals to tag your drink. And to tie it all together, we have a tray, and we have baskets for silverware and napkins.

I did not yet splurge on the wine and martini glasses ... but I will ... )

Alison and I spent our afternoon in the pool. The other two had plans, but the two of us did our version of swimming, which means we floated around, talked, and listened to the great music coming from the outdoor speakers. Then we hightailed it inside to tidy up and vamoose in order for perspective buyers to check out the property.

I know, I know - you're wondering how I can stand to leave this fantastic backyard. Easy - our next house will have a pool - ! - and we will be remodeling enough inside that I will have everything there that I have here.

And even better - my best friend will live just doors away! And other friends will be nearby. We will live in an urban area (if you can call a city of 85,000 people "urban"). We will be able to walk places, to enjoy the city (as it were). No more HOA breathing down residents' necks, citing them for every infraction. We'll be returning to life the way we like it.

I've gotten off track - hours and hours of cleaning will do that to you. It's just been a good day. Even though I had to spend money replacing our pool pump - our two-year-old pool pump - and even though I lost out on a potential fun vacation (I'm still mourning the idea) and had to vacate the premises for two hours. It's all good - cause I know life is just going to get better and better.

Sigh of contentment. Life is good.

Let the Good Times Roll

The girls' swim coach looks like Hayley Mills.

Not the attractive adult Hayley Mills. Not the cute little kid Hayley Mills. But an adult with all the unattractive features: the bug eyes, reddish hair, freckles, and buck teeth.

I don't really know this woman, so the comment on her appearance is not judgmental - I"m just stating what I see, as I might if she closely resembled Isaballa Rosselini. Nor is it a condemnation of her character - she may be a very nice woman. I'm merely commenting on what I see. A grown-up version of Hayley Mills.

And it has nothing whatsoever to do with this post. Which is about how fun summer is. I have felt GREAT the last few days. And I realize it is because the girls are home with me.

Living out here in the subdivision from hell, I have felt isolated and under-busy. I am under-employed and do not have nearly enough to do. In short, my days are long. So now that the girls are home, I have energy and plenty to do. Everything is more fun when the girls are around. We swim every day, we hang out, we talk, and for the last three days - three whole days! - it has been great fun.

It has also been expensive. Yesterday we went to the mall ... $$$$$ ... (but the girsl look fabulous) and today we went to Target. I had four things on my list; I'll let you guess what the cart held by the time we were done. But it was fun. Just not something I can repeat every day. Or every week, for that matter.

We have fantastic new dishes to use outside - since our entire summer revolves around life in the pool - and we have new swimsuits. It is early June, which means swimsuits are 50 percent off in Houston. Mine is fabulous, and reminds me of why women flock to the pricier brands. I got a very beautiful Ralph Lauren suit at half price, and I must say, it is the most flattering suit ever - it would have been worth it at full price, which, mercifully, I did not have to pay.

So, with new swimsuits, a clean house, and very trendy plastic flamingo and dragonfly-covered cups, we are ready to hit the pool. Just need to update my reading collection and all will be perfect. Life is seeming awfully good right now.

Sex and the City

Checked it out last night. Tried on Friday night, but we had not purchased tickets ahead of time and were not up for the later showing ... no dice. Last night we made it to the 8.30 show. I'd say the reviews are pretty accurate. Which means that it plays more as a two-hour-plus season finale and less like a film.

I liked it - but I liked the television show. I liked it because I am interested enough in the characters to find it entertaining. But as a film, it doesn't have a lot to offer. The story is OK - ultra-predictable, as we called every plot development (the few there were) in advance. And the film was light on what the series was built on: Witty dialogue amongst four smart single Manhattan-based women who live their lives as strong women - i.e., not being defined only by men.

Nonetheless, I liked it. And as for a couple of the major storyline endings (which I will not spoil for you here), they were right on. All in all, enjoyable for me (and for the annoying Carrie/Samantha/Charlotte/Miranda-wannabes seated around me, cackling, yakking, and dressed to kill). But probably not if you didn't watch the television show.

****

We popped into our local Cajun place to have a credit card problem fixed. They were so nice about it that we ate for free - not what I was after (really just wanted the card credited the proper amount), but much appreciated.

****

Showed the house today. It is frighteningly clean and tidy. Photos tomorrow; no one is allowed to touch ANYTHING. Should be a fun night at our house ;)

School's Out!

I've not been here for an entire week - how can that be? Too much going on, not enough energy to mess with blogging. Some days, I prefer to live my life rather than document it.

Other activities are taking up my energy. Today, on top of everything, I've had wicked headache. I folded some laundry, but not much else. And now we have a house full of teenage girls, so I won't get much done tonight.

Highlights of my week include, but are not limited to:

• Yet another swim meet. One in which my youngest improved her time in every event, and the oldest improved in two and swam in two relays. We are not the most competitive family in the world, but we were very proud.

(And I should clarify: Athletically we are not terribly motivated. But don't mess with us when it comes to board games. Yahtzee or trivia challengers, beware!)

• I turned another year older: I am 42. I don't mind telling my age - I still look fairly young, and I feel great (other than the occasional headache). Sure, I'm carrying around a few more pounds than I would like. But to be fair, I was at a deficit in my younger years, so I still look OK.

• My parents were here over the weekend to help me celebrate. We visited the Forbidden Gardens - a reproduction of the Terra Cotta army and the Forbidden City, right here in Houston - ate fajitas, and drank margaritas. Caught the end of Indy, too - too bad Danica Patrick couldn't pull it off, but there's always next year.

• And on Monday (my birthday often requires a three-day weekend) we - get ready for this - visited the National Museum of Funeral History. I found it kind of fun - quirky and weird, yes, but fun, too. If you're into caskets of all kinds, hearses, and odd bits of funeral trivia, this place is for you. I quite enjoyed the display on presidential funerals and the look at mourning clothes and implements from the late 19th century. If they hadn't been out of t-shirts, I'm pretty sure we'd all have them. After all, who wears a National Museum of Funeral History t-shirt?

• And I got presents - my girls are so sweet! They never forget to properly fête me - which included making my favorite cupcakes: Chocolate with cream cheese/chocolate chip filling.

• Then on Tuesday, being the dedicated parent I am, I stayed up til midnight correcting a project for one of my children. She did it, but it didn't turn out quite right. So, to help her out, I fixed it. I paid for it the next day, though.

• Oh - and our house is for sale. Which means I spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning/tidying/straightening every last thing. No spare papers, no unfolded laundry, nothing on countertops or tables. Ever. (You try this with three children and a dog.) In other words, our house looks nothing like it does on a regular basis.

This is something I felt bad about. But the realtor took me to look at the competition. We toured one house on the market, and talk about clutter - my house doesn't look like that on a normal day, much less when it's for sale. So I suddenly didn't feel so bad.

And lest I forget, school is out - yay!! The 50th anniversary bash that I am helping plan is two weeks away. And much, much more ... but my headache rages on. I think I'll go supervise kids in the pool.

The Last of the School-Day Events

In stark contrast to the event at the middle school, I attended Sylvia's third-grade garden party Thursday morning. The third-graders run the Imagination Garden at the elementary school. It's a cute little garden, vegetables and flowers, and the kids work in it as part of their science curriculum.

So, Thursday morning the parents were invited to have a look, share some snacks, enjoy the garden with our children. The teacher in charge had put together a little Power Point presentation ... and it was delightful. She had beautiful photos of the garden - close-ups of the flowers, the vegetables, the insects - and lots of photos of the kids. All the kids. (I remember sitting through my school's Memories Assembly and feeling as if the photos were only of three people, and this did not feel that way at all.)

(And there were three of four nice ones of my daughter - but she hardly dominated. As there were several group photos, every kid was included. Plus the soundtrack was Raffi, and considering how much we looooved Raffi, once upon a time, it was just a feel-good moment.)

So Sylvia and I had a nice time. Then I went to the seventh-grade awards night at the middle school.

I remember Honor Day from my school. To be honest, I have a lot of issues with the stupid way my high school did things (no campaigning for student body elections, arbitrary rule enforcement, to name two). But Honor Day was done well. It was a dress-up day, a fairly formal occasion. All kids were treated equally - applause was held until every kid from that grade had walked across the stage; it was a very nice event, always run the same way, but always done nicely.

At our middle school, it's a bit looser. The kids do not have to dress up - and I'm just wondering, would it kill them to, on occasion, wear something other than jeans and flip-flops? My child refused to dress up. She looked nice, but she was not putting on a dress. The principal made jokes that I felt were inappropriate.

But the worst grievance? (Come on, you knew I'd have one!) The counselor, who read the awards, said: Please hold your applause until every student has been recognized. Fair enough - this event could drag out forever with personal cheering sections.

Except that, on occasion, the counselor encouraged individual applause. She would say, "Wow, what a long list," or "Now that deserves some applause." Nice way to diminish the accomplishments of other students. Or make it clear that some kids' awards are more important than others.

You know, just because a kid has an especially long list does not mean anything. For some kids, making all A's is not that challenging. And for others, just making the honor roll, or being recognizes in a single class, or doing well in a sport, for some kids that is a major accomplishment. By singling out just a few kids for "special" applause, it sends a clear message: Some kids are more valued than others.

This isn't about my child. She had a respectable list of awards - not the longest, by any means, but honors she, and we, are proud of. And she knows this. I am just bothered by the school's inability to see that playing favorites isn't right. They would encourage applause arbitrarily - other kids with lists that seemed just as long would not get the recognition.

But we're done - no use getting all worked up over it. I vented my frustration with a very nicely worded e-mail to the principal and counselor ... and got a snippy response from the principal. Which is fine. But at least she'll think about it for next year. (And I did not even mention the inappropriate jokes - wonder how she would have responded to that?)

*****

Took my daughter lunch from Chick-Fil-A today. It took me more than half an hour to make the trip. Traffic is awful here. Doesn't matter what time of day, what street, which day of the week. It is hellish.

Seven weeks. Not that I'm counting.

*****

We got our second market analysis for our house sale. And the numbers were amazing - we are totally jazzed. The price he quoted us was higher than we could have imagined, and it's what houses are actually selling for. We should be in good shape.

And we got some loan rates and ran numbers on what our remodeling budget will be for the new place. We should be able to do just what we want.

Bring on the old house restoration - I am ready!

The MIddle School Band Concert: The Ultimate Critique

The week of school activities is coming to a close.

Thank goodness.

I mean, I am all about supporting my kids. (And please indulge me while I do something I rarely do here, which is brag on my girls just a bit - if I don't, then who will?) I think my girls are FANTASTIC. They are incredibly bright (trust me - I could bring out the report cards and test scores if you really want evidence, but I doubt anyone wants to go that far. Suffice it to say, they got the combined intelligence of their parents - they got my English and writing skills and their father's math, science, and reasoning skills - and that's not a bad combination. Unfortunately, they also got my short temper and athletic prowess, but that's a discussion for another day ...).

They are clever and witty, and they think for themselves. They are warm and genuine, loyal and sincere. They are truly, truly delightful girls. Alison is smart as a whip - that girl has been thinking and forming logical arguments since early grade school, tackling issues that some people don't think about until they are adults. Maddie is thoughtful and sincere, the most giving child I have ever known. On the rare occasions that she hurts someone's feelings (and it does happen - she is not a saint), she does everything she can to make amends. Sylvia is just a sweetheart - she is still little enough that the world revolves around her parents, and every day of my life she is a ray of sunshine - she wakes up happy and is a delight to be around. She has tons of friends and is clearly loved by all of them - with our volume of phone calls, I know this to be the case.

But don't most little girls have lots of friends? And I know, I am their mother, thus not the most objective observer. And my girls are not without faults - who is? They have their moments, and they have enough - let's call it "personality," shall we? - to make me want to tear my hair out on occasion.

But I digress.

This week is about end-of-the-year functions, those activities in which the schools show off what has been accomplished. Alison is out of the loop - her high school is so big, they have dispensed with the giant assemblies. Alison is sent home with a certificate that reads "Departmental Honors: English." No ceremony, no recognition in front of her peers.

But the middle school is all about the recognition. The performances. The awards ceremonies. I am nearly worn out. One more to go, tonight, and then we're done.

Last night was the band concert. It came in at just over an hour, for three bands, which isn't bad.

Except that it could have - should have - been shorter.

For starters, one band director likes to talk. For fun, I whipped out my phone, which is equipped with a stop watch (my phone has all sorts of quirky gadgets that get me through moments like this). I timed her, and she talked for nearly 10 minutes (cumulatively, that is). She talked about the kids and how great they are. She talked about the song selections. She talked about the handouts at the back of the room (and essentially read them to us, eliminating the need to actually pick up one of the aforementioned handouts). She yakked on and on about everything - about opportunities for the summer, what the eighth-graders can expect next year, about how she wondered that she wouldn't have anything to say. She needn't have worried.

And about the song choices: When I was in piano recitals, my teacher made us choose one major piece (by a real composer) and we were allowed one - only one - pop piece. It's a rule I wish band directors here would follow. I've been going to kids' band concerts for a few years now. The first time you hear your kid's band play "Smoke on the Water," "Born to Be Wild," or "Hawaii Five-0" it's kinda kitschy. With Mr. Parthun at Tecumseh, you sort of felt like you were helping him re-live his stoner days

But it's wearing thin. Last night, the program included "Born to Be Wild," "Mission: Impossible," "Smoke on the Water," "Pink Panther," "Secret Agent Man," three movie themes and two (yes, two) medleys of '60s and '70s TV themes. Good god - enough is enough. These kids are in band to learn some music, and I'm sorry, but a montage that includes the themes from "The Brady Bunch," "Bewitched," and "The Addams Family" - without decent transitions even, just all thrown together - well, it doesn't feel as if my kid is getting a musical education, but rather a stroll down tacky television memory lane. Are we all so numbed that this is what passes for culture? Have them play some real composers - I would prefer to listen to the 590th performance of "Mulberry March" (another Jeff Parthun favorite) or "Mariachi Serenade" than The Flintstones and Peter Gunn - a little goes a long way.

My point? (And I do have one.) I already know my kids are great - I would imagine every parent in that ice-cold cafetorium (boy, that reminds me of my own high school, the illogical melding of those two uses - nothing like hearing a concert in a room that smells like sour milk) feels the same about their own children. It's great to give them a chance to perform, but keep it short and sweet. You don't need to sell us on the value of our kids and their inherent abilties. On a weeknight, we don't want to spend hours listening to performing kids. A couple of well-chosen songs would have been perfect - just enough. We love and appreciate our children for what they are, and we don't need 60 or 90 minutes of what feels like you, the teachers, patting yourselves on the back for a job done well. Yes, we appreciate your hard work, but keep it short. One less TV theme song won't discredit your dedication to teaching.

I'm about quality, not quantity. And I'm beginning to resent the invasion on my time. (Unless you're talking about Jeff High School music shows - now those I love. And I'm looking forward to returning to them.)

I think I sound like the parent from hell. Maybe I am - but that's OK. Someone needs to keep these people on their toes. Unchecked, I shudder to think of what band directors might foist on unsuspecting future band parents ...

Offer accepted!

It's signed, sealed, delivered. I didn't dare write about it lest we jinx the deal.

But it's official: We bought a house.

Remember this house?



Well, we didn't buy it. We thought about it. And thought some more. It's a great house - built in 1899, it has 4,800 sf, four fireplaces, and lots of space. It also has a bad roof and significant gutter damage (which has resulted in damage to interior walls and ceilings). It needs a new furnace, and the garage needs some attention. The bathrooms and kitchen need updating. The carpet on the third floor is awful - dated, ugly, and worn. All the wallpaper is out of date and worn.

We were thinking Money Pit. Which might have been OK, if the sellers had been willing to negotiate on price. We made a low offer - accompanying the offer with a letter detailing the $100,000-plus that this house will require in repairs/restoration. The sellers countered back at barely less than their asking price.

It was time to say No, thanks - not in this market. The house has been on the market for a year - the owners are deluded. So we switched gears, and we bought this house:



We liked it all along - built in 1880, the house has 3,800 sf, four bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, three fireplaces, lots of nice built-ins, a lovely third-floor game room, and a lovely backyard, with a pool.

The photos do not do it justice - it is much more attractive in person. I saw the photos and wasn't all that excited, but at least three people told me it was lovely and I needed to see it. And they were so right - the photos just do not capture how lovely it really is. It isn't white - it is a taupe color with the blue trim. And inside, the angles of the photos just don't capture the character of the rooms.



Downstairs has a living room (small - you know, the kind where you keep the piano and put up the Christmas tree ... and little else). There is also a much larger family room, dining room, and room that will likely become our office. Too much carpet, but that is an easy fix.



The master bedroom is a three-room suite, with a little dressing room, study/sitting room with fireplace, and bedroom. No ensuite bathroom ... but never fear, as that can be changed.



The backyard is lovely. The pool is in the side yard. But behind the house is a redwood deck and a paver patio - very nice. We'll have a place for the swingset, and the garage is in the back, off the alley - parking for at least two extra cars, plus a basketball area. Perfect!

The kitchen needs work - it isn't dirty or unusable, but it is very outdated (think old, painted cabinets and outdated appliances). I knew all along we could do a kitchen remodel, but making it bigger is an issue. We thought maybe we'd break into the room that could be the office. Until Gary said (wise man that he is): We'll just add on. And with that, all my doubts vanished. An addition solves all our problems - maybe it will be a two-story addition. And we'll end up with the ensuite master bath.

I am very pleased. It won't be in our old neighborhood, but it's just across the street, with my very dear friend just doors away ... it will be perfect.

So now we are really getting geared up to move!

Rock and Roll

I used to love going to hear live music. Still do, but whenever I see a show, it takes me back to college.

In Columbia, Missouri, there is a club called the Blue Note. When I was there, in the mid-80s, it was located in an old warehouse on the business loop (it has moved now, and the new place does not have the same ... ambience, if you will). It was dark and depressing inside; half of the chairs didn't have seats, the stage was a mess of old shag carpet and leftover duct tape from various bands.

But none of that mattered - it wasn't about aesthetics, but about the music. (And besides, the aesthetics were dark and edgy - they were alternative and cool.) We saw great regional bands - Steve, Bob, & Rich from Kansas City, the Elvis Brothers from Champaign, Illinois. We saw names that were big (Replacements) names that had been big (Marshall Crenshaw, Nick Lowe, Alex Chilton) and names that would be big (They Might Be Giants). We saw Aztec Camera, Beat Farmers, and Game Theory. Wynton Marsalis played the Blue Note. I paid top dollar of $7.50 to see Nick Lowe - with Paul Carrack - and these people played for two to three hours. I never left disappointed.

I saw my share of big shows, too. I didn't do a lot of the big stadium shows, though; they weren't really what I was into at the time. When I went to orientation at Mizzou, a friend from Springfield was in my group. She went on and on about having seen Michael Jackson at Arrowhead Stadium ... and there was no envy on my part. Just wasn't my thing. But I did make it to St. Louis to see REM, Squeeze, Tears for Fears, and the Violent Femmes in smaller venues.

(Later, I saw Squeeze in San Francisco at the Fillmore, which counts as one of my all-time favorites - the Fillmore is a historic location and was THE place to see The Grateful Dead, The Who, Cream, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Jefferson Airplane, Pink Floyd, The Doors, and Big Brother and the Holding Company.)

Post-college shows include Bob Dylan, Paul Simon on his Rhythm of the Saints tour (now that was amazing) and Elvis Costello whenever I can fit him in. Just this year we saw John Fogerty at the Houston rodeo, which was also good.

Which brings me to last night. We paid big bucks for tickets to see Elvis Costello and the Police. I would not have shelled out the cash for just the Police, but with EC opening, we figured, why not?

This was definitely a concert for old people. Let's face it - most of the fans are over 40. The tickets said 7.30. We took our seats at about 7.25 ... and by golly, at 7.31, out walked Elvis. But if the fans are old, you gotta figure the performers are older still. And they've lived hard lives - they're likely not up for the 11 p.m. start time of yesteryear.

It was fun, but not amazing. Elvis was great (of course), but he only got about 50 minutes. He did some of his new stuff, but he threw in some classics - Pump It Up, Watching the Detectives, a cool reggae version of Everyday I Write the Book, Alison (a duet with Sting), (I Don't Want to) Go to Chelsea, and a very cool version of Peace, Love & Understanding. He looked as if he must be dying in his black shirt and jacket - it was about 90 degrees out there - but he was great. Loved him. Always love him.

But now, a word for Sting and the Boys:

• I did not come to see "Sting ...... and, by the way, the Police." Save the solo stuff, Sting - don't care. Never did.
• When you have to throw in your "Oh way oh" gimmick on, oh, every other song, it's a bit over-used. Stop.
• It's fun to have the audience sing back to you once, or twice, in one song. But again, over-used.
• In a live show, people like to see you mix it up, do things a little differently. But you need to be careful which songs you do that to. Take a clue from High Fidelity - when it comes to a song like Roxanne, the crowd wants to hear you do a very tight version. We don't like the long, meandering parts that mean nothing.
• If your band doesn't sing back up, then get some back-up singers. Some songs (Don't Stand So Close to Me) really don't work well without them.
• Why am I just now noticing the misogynistic lyrics to your songs from Synchronicity. "I will turn your face to alabaster/Then you'll find your servant is your master/And you'll be wrapped around my finger." And the stalker-ish "Every Breath You Take" - "Every breath you take/Every move you make/Every bond you break/Every step you take/I'll be watching you."

Ewww.

But these are just suggestions.

On the bright side, they did some cool stuff - they did a bunch of stuff from Outlandos d'Amour (my fave of their albums) - Next to You, Hole in My Life, Roxanne, So Lonely, and Can't Stand Losing You. They did Walking on the Moon (from Regatta de Blanc) and Driven to Tears from Zenyatta Mondatta; they even did Demolition Man from Ghost in the Machine.

And with these song choices - my favorites - it was clear that the crowd was really only into the Top 40 stuff; they barely reacted and did not know anything but the big hits. Which is OK - but they must have been disappointed by the absence of some stuff. We, on the other hand, give them props for not having to hear too much from Synchroncity (though I do kinda like "Synchronicity I" and "Murder by Numbers").

It was good, but not great. Mostly it was about 25 years too late. We were surrounded by people in their 40s - and 50s - people who, like us, liked the band in its heyday. The kind of people who can shell out those ticket prices (don't ask). I passed on the Synchronicity concert shirt - no need to advertise myself as a desperado. (Plus, Gary pointed out that he had one the first time.)

All in all, it was OK - Elvis is always great, and the Police were fun enough. But this reaffirms my decision not to seek out other bands from the past. Sometimes, the memories are enough.

Busy. Busy. Sigh. And Busy Still

Swim meet this weekend. Kids had to check in by 7.30, which means leave the house before 7. But - lucky us - the neighbors offered to take the girls. Gary and I slept in, showed up by 9. Good thing, too, as I could not sleep Friday night, so at 1 a.m. I was still lying awake. Which means Gary wasn't sleeping well, either.

But the extra 90 minutes in the morning certainly helped. And it was a good meet for us, the Crocs - low 70s, cloudy. Might have been a bit chilly for the swimmers, but I didn't hear any complaints. And I certainly wasn't minding it a bit. Except about my feet - next time I have to work (I had to work the ready bench), I will wear tennis shoes. Both girls shaved seconds off their times, and Sylvia even won one of her heats.

The other team is über competitive. The sharks. They always beat us, and they quibble over every little thing. They made posters - one was kinda cute, with an actual green croc (the shoe) with googly eyes being chased by a stuffed shark. But my favorite? A picture with the quippy: "Sharks go to college to get more knowledge/Crocs go to Jupiter to get more stupider." I'm guessing the irony was lost on the sharks.

*****

It's a busy week. Yesterday was open house, tonight is a picnic, tomorrow a concert, Thursday is awards night. I will be beat by Friday. Sylvia and I went to open house - Gary was at the ball game with clients. He might have rearranged his schedule, but we didn't even know about open house til Monday morning - this super-organized school we attend did not send out notes, didn't even mention it in last week's newsletter. But I can always attend these things, so Sylvia and I had a nice, albeit brief, visit to her classroom.

*****

And I won't be attending the picnic tonight - we have tickets to see Elvis Costello. Fun, fun. Usually the big concerts that come through don't interest me enough to shell out the big bucks - Rolling Stones, Steve Miller, Tom Petty (though I would have considered him). It's got to really be worth it to shell out the $$$ to see aging rockers. But Elvis is different - he has improved with age (though I still love the early stuff, from when he was a very angry new wave artist). And he's with the Police, so it should be fun.

Last time we saw Elvis Costello was in Chicago, at a Louis Sullivan-designed auditorium at Roosevelt University. We had fantastic seats, and the show was great. Plus we were not even close to being the oldest ones there - lots of grey heads. But if you were young in 1978 when he hit it big ... you do the math.

Tonight should be fun. I'm listening to the new CD, getting ready. I've never seen the Police, so that should be good, too. I get to feel like a college student for a few hours - what is better than that?

Let's just hope the phone doesn't ring with friction at home.

*****

I am enjoying sitting around the house, just staring. The house is in nearly perfect order. Nearly perfect, because we do live here, and as it is not officially on the market, we have a little wiggle room. We've had Realtors coming through, doing the market analysis, getting us ready to list it. I'm thinking by the end of the week. So for the next few weeks, I'll be in a cleaning frenzy.

What this teaches me is that I can keep the house in perfect order. But it takes all my energy, and it's just not worth the trade-off. I'll take my free time, my laid-back life of books and movies and writing and enjoying my kids. Yes, every little scrap of paper is neatly filed away. But my energy is zapped.

Please, house, sell quickly. Please ...

Misogyny I Won't Miss

From the Washington Post:

By Marie Cocco
Thursday, May 15, 2008; Page A15

As the Democratic nomination contest slouches toward a close, it's time to take stock of what I will not miss.

I will not miss seeing advertisements for T-shirts that bear the slogan "Bros before Hos." The shirts depict Barack Obama (the Bro) and Hillary Clinton (the Ho) and are widely sold on the Internet.

I will not miss walking past airport concessions selling the Hillary Nutcracker, a device in which a pantsuit-clad Clinton doll opens her legs to reveal stainless-steel thighs that, well, bust nuts. I won't miss television and newspaper stories that make light of the novelty item.

I won't miss episodes like the one in which liberal radio personality Randi Rhodes called Clinton a "big [expletive] whore" and said the same about former vice presidential nominee Geraldine Ferraro. Rhodes was appearing at an event sponsored by a San Francisco radio station, before an audience of appreciative Obama supporters -- one of whom had promoted the evening on the presumptive Democratic nominee's official campaign Web site.

I won't miss Citizens United Not Timid (no acronym, please), an anti-Clinton group founded by Republican guru Roger Stone.

Political discourse will at last be free of jokes like this one, told last week by magician Penn Jillette on MSNBC: "Obama did great in February, and that's because that was Black History Month. And now Hillary's doing much better 'cause it's White Bitch Month, right?" Co-hosts Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski rebuked Jillette.

I won't miss political commentators (including National Public Radio political editor Ken Rudin and Andrew Sullivan, the columnist and blogger) who compare Clinton to the Glenn Close character in the movie "Fatal Attraction." In the iconic 1987 film, Close played an independent New York woman who has an affair with a married man played by Michael Douglas. When the liaison ends, the jilted woman becomes a deranged, knife-wielding stalker who terrorizes the man's blissful suburban family. Message: Psychopathic home-wrecker, begone.

The airwaves will at last be free of comments that liken Clinton to a "she-devil" (Chris Matthews on MSNBC, who helpfully supplied an on-screen mock-up of Clinton sprouting horns). Or those who offer that she's "looking like everyone's first wife standing outside a probate court" (Mike Barnicle, also on MSNBC).

But perhaps it is not wives who are so very problematic. Maybe it's mothers. Because, after all, Clinton is more like "a scolding mother, talking down to a child" (Jack Cafferty on CNN).

When all other images fail, there is one other I will not miss. That is, the down-to-the-basics, simplest one: "White women are a problem, that's -- you know, we all live with that" (William Kristol of Fox News).

I won't miss reading another treatise by a man or woman, of the left or right, who says that sexism has had not even a teeny-weeny bit of influence on the course of the Democratic campaign. To hint that sexism might possibly have had a minimal role is to play that risible "gender card."

Most of all, I will not miss the silence.

I will not miss the deafening, depressing silence of Democratic National Committee Chairman Howard Dean or other leading Democrats, who to my knowledge (with the exception of Sen. Barbara Mikulski of Maryland) haven't publicly uttered a word of outrage at the unrelenting, sex-based hate that has been hurled at a former first lady and two-term senator from New York. Among those holding their tongues are hundreds of Democrats for whom Clinton has campaigned and raised millions of dollars. Don Imus endured more public ire from the political class when he insulted the Rutgers University women's basketball team.

Would the silence prevail if Obama's likeness were put on a tap-dancing doll that was sold at airports? Would the media figures who dole out precious face time to these politicians be such pals if they'd compared Obama with a character in a blaxploitation film? And how would crude references to Obama's sex organs play?

There are many reasons Clinton is losing the nomination contest, some having to do with her strategic mistakes, others with the groundswell for "change." But for all Clinton's political blemishes, the darker stain that has been exposed is the hatred of women that is accepted as a part of our culture.

Marie Cocco is syndicated by the Washington Post Writers Group. Her e-mail address is mariecocco@washpost.com.

Suburban Stupidity: The Swim Team Edition

Ah, yes - time for another rant on life amongst the shallow. I'm in a mood today, so nothing like venting a little about the inane behavior I see around me every day.

Swim team practice has begun. Every day, we hop on our bicycles and pedal the distance to the practice pool - less than a mile, I'm guessing. Many of my neighbors prefer to drive their children. In their gas-guzzling SUVs. Wouldn't want the little darlings to get overworked on their way to exercise.

To be fair, there are a lot of bicycles over there - lots of kids ride bikes. (But without helmets, another pet peeve of mine - I have even sacrificed my hair for safety, lest I be called a hypocrite.) The pool is located across from the elementary school, right in the very center of the subdivision. So it's tough to argue that it's an unreasonable distance to travel by bike. Or by foot, for that matter. Keep in mind that these are people who love their exercise. I guess they want it on their own terms.

On occasion I see a child riding his or her bicycle ... tailed by a mother in a car (SUV) driving about 5 mph. I guess they don't want their kid riding alone (understandable), but they don't deign to hop on a bicycle themselves. Or maybe they have smaller children in the car. But when my kids were little, they loved to ride in the bike seat or trailer (probably safer). My German friends would be horrified.

*****

There's a good reason to ride bikes: There is very little parking at the pool itself. There is parking across the street, at the school, but that would require people to actually walk across the street (I know, I know - the graphic images that spring to mind are shocking) in order to get to their cars. For days, people parked on both sides of the driveway, making it difficult to get in - or out - by car or bike. E-mails were sent to the parents - no luck. Signs were finally posted; after about a week of reminders people finally got the hint.

It's been painful to watch parents walk the nearly 30 yards from the school to the pool, but we are troupers. The price we pay for others' safety.

*****

One friend of mine - whom I like very much, by the way - mentioned one day that her daughter probably wouldn't make it through the entire practice, as the water was sooo chilly. Daughter did, in fact, stay in the whole time, and when Daughter grabbed her towel, Mom said, How did you stand it? Wasn't the water freezing? Daughter just looked at her, and finally said, No, it was fine. But Mom had to persist - Wasn't it ice cold? Were you OK? I was sure you'd get out early! Daughter continues to stare blankly: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Hint to Mom: Drop it! Is it any wonder your child is as whiny as she is on occasion? Could it be because of the expectations you set up for her?

*****

And then there was the overheard conversation on swim team attire. One mom sitting next to me at practice was yakking to a friend about the team suits, etc. Her son had tried on a swim cap, but Mom said, No way. No son of mine is being seen in a swim cap. The other mom said, you know, lots of boys wear them. Noooo way, first mom said. Not my son.

For. Crying. Out. Loud. Doesn't take a genius to see where she's headed here: Wearing a swim cap might turn her son - horrors - gay. I'm sure there's a causal relationship: Wearing certain head gear can change a child's sexual orientation.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Lots of boys wear them - boys who don't want to cut their hair ultra-short but want to be able to see; older boys who are very competitive wear them. Trust me - they do. Boys wear Speedos, too - I'm sure some of them are even straight. Turn on the Olympics this summer and you'll see (remember Mark Spitz?) - it's just gear for the sport.

*****

Nothing like open-minded people to set me off. This woman will be enlightened eventually. But in a subdivision of 2400-plus homes, there are bound to be a few.

Throw in the parents who rant at their kids about their time, parents who ride their kids about winning, parents who leave trash lying around after meets for someone to clean up (our tent was full of water bottle and food refuse that we did not bring) and it makes for quite a day.

The swim team board of directors deserves a lot of credit - they try hard to alleviate these problems, but when you're dealing with people, it ain't easy. Example: Parents write a check for volunteering. If you work the required number of shifts, the check is shredded. If you don't, the check is cashed. The check is written for $250. They thought about making it $100 but figured that enough parents would just let them cash it that they had to make it high enough to hurt.

This is the level of crazy amidst which I live. Good thing I am as sane and tolerant as I am, huh?

Farewell, Barbie

I'm getting a grip on the clutter that has taken over our house. Slowly, surely, I am ridding us of every last bit of paper, every useless magazine, every under-used, unnecessary item in this house.

Not because I'm super-organized. But only because I am super-motivated. Must get the house on the market; must get top dollar. Think Design to Sell; I'm not having the crew over to help me, but I am going to get the place in order.

Today was spent sorting out the massive Bratz/Barbies collection. It's been in the works since 1995, and most of those dolls look a little haggard. It should be noted that I am not a big Barbie fan (what proper feminist is?), but when your 4-year-old looks up at you and wants only Barbie Butterfly Princess from Santa, what can you do? Since that initial foray into the world of Barbie, we have accumulated roughly 75 of those little darlings, along with countless outfits and accessories, including a Beach House and two convertibles.

Then add in the Bratz, Barbie's sleazier counterpart in toyland, and it all equals quite a stash. The girls and sorted and dressed all the dolls; now all we have to do is find a home for them.

There's a certain wistfulness I feel as I sort through these cast-off toys. If you're a parent, you know just what I mean: Every toy that gets tossed - not matter how ready you are to reclaim the sanity and tidiness of your life - is a not-so-subtle reminder that your children are growing up. Gone are the little girls who used to spend hours on end dressing and re-dressing dolls; taking their place are young women who crave iTunes gift cards and hair straighteners from Santa Claus. You know this day is coming, and while I'm secretly glad to not pick up Barbie shoes from the floor, the feeling is bittersweet.

(Besides, the mess in the playroom has been traded for the mess in the bathroom, along with the tangle of clothes on the bedroom floor. Clean, dirty - who can tell?)

The time spent was fun in its way, as many of the Barbies recalled long-forgotten moments - the day Maddie got a black eye at Legoland (the first aid workers gave her two little dolls, which we ran across today); Alison's love of Mulan; the name on the bottom of one Prince Eric doll (Alison got angry when Maddie was playing with it and marked it for posterity); uncovering Sylvia's favorite Barbie, which the dog found and used as a chew toy ... which explains why we have two of that particular doll.

Chapters end every day; the girls change and grow, as do I. My changes are slower, less obvious, but theirs are right there, staring me in the face, as they don't bat an eyelash over items that were once so precious making their way out the door. My consolation? That over time, I'll rewrite these events in my mind. Gone will be the unpleasant parts, replaced with only the highlights of childhood gone by. Those I will forever treasure, especially as I share them with my daughters. A lifetime of memories - many of them wrestled from the back of our minds as we sorted old dolls. Barbie served her purpose - now she can go, knowing her time here has passed.

Happy Mother's Day

I've always liked Mother's Day. Perhaps because it feels like an exclusive club - though in reality it's not that exclusive. Or maybe it's because it gives me a day to focus on why I chose this path, and why I dedicate so much of my life to rearing my daughters. Whatever the reason, it's a day I always treasure.

Most of the joy comes from how I spend the day with my three girls. In years past I've been given various home-made and school-created gifts, which I've always enjoyed; sitting on the windowsill in my office are no less than five small flower pots decorated with pastel-colored paintings, foam shapes, and jewels, filled with tissue-paper flowers. I've received homemade cards, various craft projects, and coupon books. This year I received none of these items, but I did get a bouquet of flowers, a lovely card, and two CDs that I am thrilled to have - Daughtry and the newest Elvis Costello. (I have probably ruined Daughtry for the girls since I like it, but that's what you get for having a mother that's still hip, huh?)

And I was treated to an afternoon of bowling (135 - not bad, not bad - especially since my last bowling was on the Wii) and lunch at Joe's Crab Shack, where we sat outside on the patio in the 75-degree day - perfect.

My husband has always made sure Mother's Day was an event. When Alison was a few months old, he had her make a handprint painting for me (which I still have); each year he has made sure the girls have not forgotten. One year they made me an Oklahoma! themed dinner, with all menu items named after songs from the musical; another year he and the girls re-created Sardi's for me, finding the menu on the Internet and making select items for me (they actually printed up the entire menu, but strongly urged me to order only the items the chef was recommending that evening).

It's no small task, this job of being a parent. Every day of my life, I feel as if there is something I could have done better, might have done differently; I have made mistakes I'm not proud of. But I am proud of my three girls and how they've turned out despite my shortcomings - they are bright, eager, and full of life. They have (so far) made good choices, and I am proud of how they think for themselves. I am delighted to see them turn into responsible adults. I can only take credit for part of this miracle - there is such a combination of factors that have played into who they are, from genetics to the influence of their father and other family members, wonderful teachers they've had, friends and noteworthy public figures.

But I will take some of the credit for the amazing girls my husband and I have given the world. It has been, and continues to be, a privilege to watch them take their place in the world. Their greatest gift is the gift they give me every day, the gift of who they are. And for that, I am eternally grateful and humble.

More kvetching about life in the 'burbs

I live among people who are either lazy or entitled.

This springs to mind today as I am sewing patches on the Brownie vest. It's not one of my favorite tasks (which is why I put it off til the last minute), but it's not that unseemly. I certainly don't do it by hand - my fingers are not that tough - but I pull out the machine. It doesn't look perfect, but my guess is no one is looking that close. It's just a Brownie vest, after all.

But I have seen people in my neighborhood advertise for someone to do this job for them. I guess I've just never heard of hiring out such menial tasks.

It shouldn't surprise me; people around here hire out everything. They do the usual stuff, like house cleaning, yard work, and child care. And I am not above hiring out that stuff, either - I paid for my share of daycare. They also hire out any sort of major work around the house - and I've done that, too. But they hire out every little job - from mending to hanging blinds to power washing the swing set. They hire out cleaning the pool - a job that, with a Polaris, takes about 15 minutes a week, maybe a few hours a couple times a summer.

Perhaps it's my Midwestern work ethic, but I enjoy seeing the boys up the street outside every Saturday morning helping their dad with the yard work. It's how I grew up - you took care of your own house. I didn't grow up among the wealthy and privileged - there were jobs you did yourself, because you took pride in your home. And it's just what you did.

Once upon a time, Gary and I bought a 100-year-old house. We restored it from top to bottom, and and we did nearly everything ourselves - everything short of plumbing, which we did hire out. We laid tile, hung drywall, installed light fixtures, and sanded and refinished floors. (And we're not talking the executive "we" either - I was in there, staining floors when I was eight months pregnant.)

These days, we have more money than time. So yes, a certain amount of routine maintenance does get hired out. But what do you teach your children when you hire out everything - when you hire someone to sew the patches on the scout uniform?

I have a friend whose husband can well afford to farm out the yard work. But he does the mowing himself, in part because he wants his children to understand that most people cannot afford to do that.

My husband works hard; he works very long days and has a lengthy commute. And when he comes home, he is exhausted. But there is a certain amount of work that still needs to get done. We do a great deal of it ourselves; we've done some of the interior painting, we wash our own cars. We will re-stain our own front door.

There is nothing wrong with teaching kids to do a little hard work, be it cleaning toilets or minor carpentry around the house. It's not demeaning to do this - yet therein lies the problem. People around here seem so wrapped up in proving their wealth that they shy away from doing anything that might make them appear less than affluent.

After all, what type of person sews on their own scout patches? The shame.

Just one more reason I'm a suburban misfit. I'm counting the days ...

Today I am:

• Thinking bullets. Much easier for my brain to handle.
• Not reading my book. Grrr. Wish I had time. But there's other stuff to do.
• Obsessing over relocation details. We are awaiting corporate paperwork before we can make a house offer.
• Hurry up! corporate office. I need at least one thing decided this week.
• Making lists of all the stuff we need to do to get this house on the market. As homework, we check out "Design to Sell" at least twice a week. Helps me focus.
• Furiously grading essays. I got one class done - even graded the final exams (go me); the other section is in progress.
• Lamenting that I cannot wear the outfits I want to wear this week. I can't wear the white pants if it's raining - they'll get trashed. But I really want to.
• Awaiting American Idol. And DWTS results. Marissa will go. I voted for her, but I think she'll be the one to exit.
• Awaiting primary results from Indiana and North Carolina. But I am tiring of it a bit. Hey friends in Indiana: Be sure to vote!!!
* Thinking how very full my life is. What with American Idol and DWTS and primary results. Whee!
• Procrastinating. Isn't it obvious?

Rainy Days and Mondays

Here in the greater Houston metropolitan area, we are getting a double dose. We have the Monday; we have the rainy day.

As usual, it's not just rain - it's a torrential downpour. And in Houston, that means flooding. When your city has no zoning ordinances (it's true) and appears to about one-third concrete with very poor drainage, flooding is the consequent result. If you drive the freeways, the underpasses are danger zones, with water reaching two-three feet after just a few minutes of rain.

So I left the house in the rain, came home three hours later in the rain. I chose my shoes wisely, but my pant legs were wet clear up to my knees - it was a day when an umbrella or even a rain jacket could only do so much. Plus I had to wade through three to four inches of water on low-lying sidewalks.

It was only sprinkling when the girls came home from school, so I figured they could handle the walk from the corner (we actually live on the corner where the bus lets them out). But my neighbor actually drove to pick up her kids; they live three houses from the bus stop. She drove her car about 250 feet to pick up her children.

Insanity.

The rest of the week should be nice and sunny - 90 by the weekend. Which means swimming weather. Bring it on!

The Corporate Life

(But I have that Sheila E. song running through my head, The Glamorous Life ... and they are so not the same thing ...)

It was a glamorous affair, the annual family day for the husband's office. It's designed to kick off a week of participation in OTC - the Offshore Technology Conference, for the uninitiated - which is, in essence, a big trade show. It's a big deal if you're in the industry (which for Houston means the oil or petroleum business).

My husband's company is a big player. So it is a big deal - folks are here from all over the world. And the best way to kick off this big business opportunity would be a day of golfing. Followed by an afternoon of revelry - which includes, but is not limited to, jump-ups for the kids, a petting zoo, gift bags, music, and an open bar.

If they hadn't had the bar, I might have been tempted to stay home.

Two of our daughters have deigned themselves too old for such events (would that I were so lucky). So Sylvia and I did our duty and joined in. Sylvia had great enthusiasm - she was jazzed about the goody bags, which, I must admit, were not too shabby. OK, sure, everything was emblazoned with the corporate logo. But it was fun stuff - deck of cards, pedometer, football, small toys, a very cute teddy bear (Sylvia is in love), stickers, and a bunch of other brick-a-brack. She loved the petting zoo - they had a kangaroo! No kidding - and she loved the jump-ups. She especially loved when the ice cream truck showed up.

The only downside for her? That the clown who did balloon animals last year did not make an appearance. Apparently we traded him for a kangaroo.

Gary played golf. His group didn't win (it was a best ball/scramble type of affair), but they did place fourth. Last year his group won, and they've upped the ante - he got the same prizes for fourth that he got for first last year. The winners got putters, and second place got golf bags.

I'm secretly wondering what the budget is for this little soirée.

Food was good - catered by a local Mexican restaurant that is excellent - and the bar was open. It was OK. But I don't especially enjoy these events. It all feels very corporate - I didn't want to stand around and yak about golf (didn't play yesterday - not much of an opening for me) and I don't have much to add on OTC. So after the "Hi" and "How are you?" there's not a lot left to say to people I see three times a year, people with whom we don't really socialize.

But I go. It's sort of akin to being a political spouse - you provide support and show up when needed. You dress right - not too dressy, not too casual - you smile, you make small talk with your spouse's boss. You have one or two drinks and follow the kids around while your spouse talks shop. You smile some more, have another drink, and make sure you grab an illicit extra goody bag for your kids who didn't come. You greet others warmly, chat about life in all the foreign offices, pretending you're thrilled to see them.

Then you breathe a huge sigh of relief when it's time to leave, go home, and be glad it's over. Til next time.

Top 10 Things You Didn't Know About John McCain

Some of these are old news; some are eye-opening. Not that I was looking for any more reasons not to vote for him ...

1. John McCain voted against establishing a national holiday in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Now he says his position has "evolved," yet he's continued to oppose key civil rights laws.

2. According to Bloomberg News, McCain is more hawkish than Bush on Iraq, Russia and China. Conservative columnist Pat Buchanan says McCain "will make Cheney look like Gandhi."

Now that is scary!

3. His reputation is built on his opposition to torture, but McCain voted against a bill to ban waterboarding, and then applauded President Bush for vetoing that ban.

4. McCain opposes a woman's right to choose. He said, "I do not support Roe versus Wade. It should be overturned."

No surprise here.

5. The Children's Defense Fund rated McCain as the worst senator in Congress for children. He voted against the children's health care bill last year, then defended Bush's veto of the bill.

6. He's one of the richest people in a Senate filled with millionaires. The Associated Press reports he and his wife own at least eight homes! Yet McCain says the solution to the housing crisis is for people facing foreclosure to get a "second job" and skip their vacations.

Not that I begrudge anyone their wealth, but it would be nice if those in power had some empathy for those who are not worth seven, or even six, figures.
Life's a lot different on the other side.

7. Many of McCain's fellow Republican senators say he's too reckless to be commander in chief. One Republican senator said: "The thought of his being president sends a cold chill down my spine. He's erratic. He's hotheaded. He loses his temper and he worries me."

I hear this all the time, along with references to his mental state post-captivity. Not to say he hasn't been effective in the Senate, but you have to wonder, as he gets older, how he'll handle the pressure.

8. McCain talks a lot about taking on special interests, but his campaign manager and top advisers are actually lobbyists. The government watchdog group Public Citizen says McCain has 59 lobbyists raising money for his campaign, more than any of the other presidential candidates.

9. McCain has sought closer ties to the extreme religious right in recent years. The pastor McCain calls his "spiritual guide," Rod Parsley, believes America's founding mission is to destroy Islam, which he calls a "false religion." McCain sought the political support of right-wing preacher John Hagee, who believes Hurricane Katrina was God's punishment for gay rights and called the Catholic Church "the Antichrist" and a "false cult."

So why are we all over Obama's ties to Jeremiah Wright? Shouldn't we be using the same standards for all candidates?

10. He positions himself as pro-environment, but he scored a 0—yes, zero—from the League of Conservation Voters last year.

One of my big concerns; I'd like subsequent generations to enjoy the earth, too.

The curse of the bridesmaid's dress

I just read another story about the ugly bridesmaids dress. Where did this stereotype come from, the unsightly dress that the bride inflicts upon her dearest friends?

I have been a bridesmaid, and I've had bridesmaids. The dresses I chose, and the dress I wore (still, inexplicably hanging in my closet, by the way) are no longer in style. And while I would argue that neither one was a work of art, neither was that bad.

I chose dresses in pink that went beautifully with the flowers we were having. They looked very pretty ... at the time. Yes, they were made of bridal satin; yes, the pumps were dyed to match. Give me a break - it was the 80s.

The wedding I was in (mercifully, I was only a bridesmaid once, and it was enough) had long green dresses, sort of suit-like. They were OK - not my first choice, but I wouldn't call them hideous or even unflattering - they were fine. The color was OK, and they style was ... well, it was OK. It wasn't embarrassing or mortifying or anything I felt even the slightest bit awkward about. It was a dress that I wore for a few hours, and I haven't exactly suffered because of it.

(Nor did I cut it off to wear to another event - I figured it was a cost of being in my friend's wedding. Which I did without complaint.)

Every movie these days shows bridesmaids wearing some god-awful concoction that had to have been chosen by a bride who was either delirious with happiness or temporarily insane. And no one's dresses are ever quite that bad.

Give the bride a break already - let the stereotype go. As if brides don't have enough stress without being accused of trying to stick it to her friends.

Just one more reason to elope, huh?

Idol Gossip

There are a million important things going on in my life, in the world. I have a list of stuff I could write about, on which I could pontificate, wax poetic.

But the most pressing issue tonight: What the hell is wrong with Paula Abdul?

I am a latecomer to American Idol - and the credit goes to Peter, who suckered me into watching last season. I have watched every minute since January. And I've noticed how out of it Paula seems - I swear, she is either high or just an idiot.

But the other night was the best. The Idolists (Maddie's word - must give credit where credit is due) sang one song without feedback, then the judges were asked to give a quick run-down on what they had seen. Randy gives his usual, "Dog, I don't know dog ..." blahblahblah. Then Paula starts with Jason Castro: "I liked hearing your lower range on that first song, but blahblah it was OK. The second song, I felt like your usual charm wasn't -- it was missing for me. It kind of left me a little empty."

Excuse me? We immediately hit rewind to hear her again - and we had heard correctly. All the idolists looked confused, and finally Randy said, Um, they've only sang one song.

"What?" the confused Paula incoherently tries to spit out. "I thought you sang twice!" She then tries to say she was reading ahead to her comments on David Cook. When Simon, who was hoping to salvage something, asked her who her favorite was, she said, "David Cook." But wait a minute - didn't you just say you had read ahead to your comments on him? Comments that said his "usual charm" was missing?

Later, she referred to Syesha as Brooke, but by then, who was even listening to her?

A flurry of controversy has erupted over American Idol. It appears that - shock of shocks - the judges attend the dress rehearsal and their comments are based on what they hear in rehearsal. Imagine - it's not all live!

For me, that issue is neither here nor there. So they make some notes based on a rehearsal - so do Olympic judges. But in this case, the judges don't actually do the voting; the public does. So the judges' comments don't really matter - only our interpretation of them. And often, the singer whom the judges thought was the best does not, in fact, get voted off.

The bigger issue is Paula Abdul's relevance. I've never really been a fan - her type of music was not my style when she was big in the mid-80s; I was in college and definitely into an edgier sound than saccharine-sweet pop songs sung by a voice that sounded like a mouse on helium.

But I had no idea she was such a wreck. She is a disaster - slurring words, giving criticism that makes no sense, babbling incoherently. She is a mess. She generally repeats exactly what Randy says, only in a less intelligible manner. They could never alternate and let her go first - she would be tongue-tied. As for suggestions that the judges' comments are scripted, I think there is absolutely no evidence that is true. Well, either that, or they have incredibly bad writers.

I will continue to watch - the girls and I find the show very entertaining. Plus, we're totally vested for this season - go David Cook!

But someone at the top might want to re-think that panel; it's time to vote someone off.