Disappointment

Shame on you, John Edwards.

I cannot even describe how profoundly disappointed I am in this man. He was a leading contender for president - heck, I would have voted for him. I admired his self-made man story; I loved the way he stood up for the working class. I like his wife, the way he has weathered hard times. I liked his health care plan.

And he to go and blow it.

To his credit - sort of - he (now) takes responsibility for his actions. He says that in the course of his campaign he became increasingly "self important" and "narcissistic," acting as if the world owed him something. So he took advantage, went after something just because he could.

I am disappointed, disillusioned. Once again, a politician has shown us just how careless he can be. How, when one is running for (or is) president, can someone be so stupid? How can he so easily stray?

But all of this is not what really gets me. I am tired of seeing Elizabeth Edwards referred to as "humiliated." Earlier today, I saw footage of several of these politicians' wives - Silda Spitzer, Hillary Clinton among them - and the story talked about they stood by their men. My husband commented on how hard it must be for them to be so humiliated.

But she has not reason to be. She did not do anything wrong - not Hillary, not Silda, and certainly not Elizabeth Edwards. She has nothing to be embarrassed about - she should feel no shame. Just because he misbehaved has nothing to do with her.

The only thing worse than his lapse in judgment is the way the story is covered by the media. We must get the "spurned spouse" angle, the first look at the other woman, look at the damage to his career.

What he did was stupid. But his spouse is not a pariah, the other woman is not a tramp, and he is not suddenly unqualified to ever work in the public sector again. It's all a gross exaggeration. Yes, I think he made a colossal error. But it's not the end of the world. If every man who had ever cheated on his wife were kicked out of office ... well, we'd have a world run by women, wouldn't we?

And I have a tremendous capacity for forgiveness - I'm a Democrat, after all.

Stage Fright

I spoke in church today. I did it because a) a friend asked me to, b) it was a topic that interested me, and c) I sort of kid myself into thinking I should learn to be a good speaker, so I should do this more often.

In fact, at one point this morning I was thinking maybe, maybe just maybe, I would even consider joining the worship committee (the committee that helps with services when the minister is not there).

I should back up. I love my church - really love it. The denomination stands for everything I believe in, and we UUs are a fun bunch. I really like the people there - my women friends from church are amazing. I am always amazed when I look at the older women who attend - when I see them, I do not see little old lady types, but a group of strong women who are smart and very together. No blue perms and frumpy house dresses - these are women who are on the ball, still making a difference in their community, in the world.

So today, I was ready. And, as I sat there waiting, the nerves hit. I got up there, and my delivery was OK, but I spoke way too fast. I knew it at the time, but I just couldn't manage to slow down. When I ended, it hit me: I was too fast.

I decided not to worry about it. But someone - very nicely - did point it out to me afterwards. I gave him the printout of my talk - he seemed interested. Then Gary warned me, Do not talk to M. He complained to Gary that I was too fast. And complained. And complained.

I avoided him. Not purposely, but I managed to not run into him.

Criticism. They were right, of course - I was too fast. But I take it waaay too personally. Now I'm rethinking the "let's join the worship committee" idea. I'll stick to listening and let others do the hard work. For now.

Busy. And a birthday to boot.

We are living in utter chaos. And I don't see things changing anytime soon.

Two rooms in our house have everything put away. And those two rooms are only temporary. Sylvia's room is tidy, as is the bigger bathroom upstairs. But Sylvia's room will face demolition when they add onto the back, and the bathroom will change when our bathroom is done (which will, thankfully, free up the clutter in the smaller bathroom). We can't put everything away in the kitchen - not enough space. The dining room has overflow from the kitchen, including all the furniture. Our bedroom has overflow from the girls' rooms. Maddie is living upstairs with Alison, which means we can't put away the game room stuff. Alison's room could be in order ... but isn't. The living room has overflow from the family room and a lot of extra furniture that needs to go. The office has overflow from the kitchen.

And on and on and on. Sigh.

I spent yesterday in the dining room, trying to sort out all the stuff from the china cabinet and the sideboard. Which, apparently, is stuffed with various and sundry items that are rarely used. Some of it is going. I love having lots of entertaining items, but realistically, much of that stuff is not getting used, and it can go find another home.

I get to look at all these items, many of which sit in the china cabinet, on the top shelf, and don't get noticed. So I've enjoyed taking a long look at some of the pieces. Many of them are little items my grandmothers gave to me - a tea cup, a tea set, a glass dish, a tiny thimble. I appreciated these pieces when they were given to me, but I really treasure them now, these little remembrances of my grandmothers. They are worth very little, I'm sure, but they have incredible value to me. I remember when she gave them to me, and the story she told. I look forward to passing these same items to my daughters.

In that sense, it's much more than a cabinet full of dishes. It's a holding place for memories, for pieces of my family. And it's worth more than anyone could know.

*****

I was so wrapped up in celebrating yesterday that I didn't even get to the computer to wish my middle daughter a happy - gulp - 14th birthday.

What can I say about Madeleine that has not been said before? She is smart, funny, and a delight to be around. She is willing and helpful; she has a keen sense of detail and her own sense of her self. And she is my partner in crime as we have become totally enamored of Mad Men. (I know - it's an adult drama, but she is loving it with me - she's a bright girl and can handle it.)

Madeleine is one-of-a-kind, beloved by all who know her. She is true bright spot in our lives.

Happy Birthday to my favorite middle daughter.

On renovation and remembering

The banging upstairs is music to my ears.

The noise in question is the sound of Gale, our contractor, and his crew as they demo a wall to make our new, ensuite master bathroom. Maddie has been sent up to the third floor to live with Alison while we take over her room in order to create our luxurious master retreat. Before this is all over, we will have a two-story addition, meaning she will have a nice, new, bigger bedroom. I see it as a win-win, with a few weeks of minor inconvenience.

We've still not managed to put everything in order. Now that the construction has commenced, I'm not highly motivated.

Our need for more bathroom space feels a little spoiled. I grew up in a house with two bathrooms and six people. One bath had a tub, the other a shower. We had two toilets and two sinks, and somehow, we managed just fine. One of my friends lived in a house with just one bathroom, no shower. Another friend, with even more kids than we had, had only one upstairs bath.

In our last house, we had four toilets, three showers, and six sinks. When we're done here, we will, again, have six sinks and four toilets. It feels a little like overkill - two bathrooms for three kids, and each girl will have her own sink. We have a downstairs powder room, but the new one will be much bigger.

I know - we are spoiled. But I know what makes our lives easiest. And this is it. Plus, it will make our house easier to sell someday. And that possibility always looms on the horizon.

We unpacked more over the weekend - I'm wondering when we will ever, ever be done. We just have way too much stuff. As we went through the game room stuff, we made a large pile of games, books, and toys that no one uses. How we missed this stuff when we were leaving Houston I'm not sure, but we did. So now it will head off to the well-timed church rummage sale. I weeded out a few more clothes, and I'm thinking a bit of limitation on storage space is a good thing, or I will just keep everything.

I spent part of the day unpacking boxes of old school work that we saved for the girls. I had it all sorted and organized in boxes; the packers felt the need to empty the containers into packing boxes. I guess I should have said something. Instead, I had re-sort everything. But it did provide a bit of enjoyment; the girls popped in to see what they had, recalling some of their artworks or projects. I uncovered the newspapers we had saved for them, from the days of their births, along with clippings that feature their pictures and various bits of memorabilia. It's all stored away again, ready to revisit next time we move.

Slowly, slowly, this place is coming together. I am ready for life to get back to normal. Whatever that is.

Joys and Sorrows

I sat and listened to the sharing of joys, sorrows, and concerns at church yesterday. In Peoria, we did it every week; in Houston, it was moved to a gathering before the actual service. Here in Lafayette, it wasn't done at all when we first moved here, but later it was added. Now it is done on the first Sunday of the month. It's much like other rituals - there are some people who stand up every week, others who never share.

I fall into the never share category. I briefly considered getting up yesterday, but opted not to. And someone else mentioned how glad they were we are back.

A few mentions of the shooting last week in Tennessee. The shooting happened at my church. Not my home church, but when it's part of your denomination - and when it seems the church was targeted for its beliefs - then it's not so hard to take it personally.

Mostly, though, as I sat there, I felt the magnitude of my life's joys. I felt how we have been welcomed back, not only by this congregation, but by neighbors and friends. In the three weeks we've been back, I've been approached by friends from every direction - nearly everywhere we go, we run into someone who is surprised or pleased to see us.

It's a good feeling. It's the community I longed for while we lived away, and I am so glad to have found it, intact, just where I left it. I'm glad to be "home."

Carpet, be gone!

Tearing out old carpet. Sounds like an easy enough job, right?

I figured that with three helpers, we'd take care of the family room and the living room all in one day.

I was so wrong.

The carpet is heavy; very heavy. Tearing it out, along with the pad, was hard enough - the carpet is filthy, the pad is dirty, and it took some maneuvering of furniture to wrangle it out of there. Even with helpers, it took some effort.

And that isn't half the battle. The real work started once the carpet was out. We had to pry up the tacking strips. But even that was easy compared to the roughly 8,546* staples used to hold the pad in place. We - and by we, I mean Alison and I - had to use a hammer, crowbar, and pliers to get them all up.

Maddie and Sylvia followed behind us. We vacuumed, then we scrubbed with Murphy's oil soap.

It wasn't a terrible two days. Yesterdays we made good use of our Netflix - we watched "Clue" and "Becoming Jane," which kept us occupied (and distracted some of us).

I even got some added help. How would you define a true friend? My definition includes those who call, ask what you are doing, and offer to come and help tear out old carpet - even bringing her own tools. This is my friend JoAnn, who spent three hours here with me, working on that floor. And for at least part of that time, we actually worked. Plus, she filled me in on some critical news that has been going on, updates I desperately needed to put recent events into context.


We worked all day yesterday and today, and we only got the family room done. Here is the end result:




Boxes in the corner? Record albums. As in, the vinyl kind. We rarely play them; I'm not even sure we had our turntable connected at the last house. Mostly, they take up space, and we pack them and unpack them when we move. Anything we really like, we have replaced on CD. Yet there they sit, waiting for their new storage place. Which we do not have. Yet.

The floors need to be refinished. But frankly, I'd rather look at worn floors than worn carpet - it was creeping me out.

My back is killing me. But I feel good; I love making this sort of progress. it is very satisfying. Much like refinishing furntiure - I love seeing immediate results.
I guess now I must get back to unpacking. But it was fun to get the process started. Wonder what Gary will say when he returns from his business trip ...

(*number is approximate)

A lovely surprise

I love older houses. That used to apply to homes built only before 1940, but I've expanded my definition of "older" to include houses built in the 1960s. (And for the right 1970s house, such as the one friend Tammy is eyeing, I could be convinced.)

I love the "character" that abounds in these pre-war homes, though I'm not quite sure how one defines "character." For me, it's the woodwork, hardwood floors, built-ins, and staircases; I love the feeling of warmth and life that exudes from the beautiful moldings and quirky spaces.

Im this house, I am loving the front staircase, the little room that is my office, and the three fireplaces, all with oak mantlepieces. I love the built-in bookcases on either side of the living room fireplace; I love the leaded glass windows above them. I love the oak pillars that separate the living room from the family room (what was probably originally the dining room). I love the hardwood floors, the laundry chute. And I really, really love my little dressing room off the master bedroom.

Unfortunately, someone carpeted over the two main rooms downstairs. The foyer, office, and dining room all have wood floors. But they are new - they've been replaced. We've been keeping our fingers crossed that the living and family rooms have beautiful floors hidden under the dingy taupe wall-to-wall carpet.

And tonight, we decided to find out. The girls and I pulled up the grates and started tearing. We were not disappointed: The floors are gorgeous. They lack quarter round trim, and the threshhold between the rooms will need to be repaired to adjust for the transition between the old and new floors.

But we will have our dream: And old house with stunning oak floors. That's on our agenda tomorrow: Demolition. We'll be pulling up all the downstairs carpet.

I can hardly wait to do it upstairs ...

More moving drama

We are still in unpacking mode. Still.

I'm wondering when - if - it will ever end.

I have total moving amnesia. Which, if I'm not mistaken, I've mentioned before. But it's so true. I have no memory of our move to Houston and how awful the moving-in part was. Though I do have a brief snippet of thinking I was never, ever doing it again.

Yet here we are. Just throw in the added stress of construction.

I know, I know - this is all becoming a bit tiresome. People move every day. People with even more crap than we have move all the time. Why I am such a drama queen I can't say.

But there is progress:

• Gary hacked off part of my desk, so it now fits in the spot where I want it. It's a great desk, and it is - was - huge. A giant work surface. I want it to fit in the little room off the kitchen, which is just perfect for a little office. (I am wondering what it was when the house was built - breakfast room? Morning room?) Sadly, the doorways are not lined up, so the L-shape of the desk was blocking a doorway. I looked at other desks, and nothing looked very substantial. So I had Gary whip out the saw, chop off the L, and it is a perfect fit. The room is tight, what with desk, futon, three bookcases, and two cabinets all in a 10'x11' space. But it's working. I have a fabulous view of the pool and the yard from my desk.

• Sylvia's room is put away. Finally. Her room is small, so it was tough to find a place for all her things. But the addition will mean a bigger room for the Sylvia, so she will be fine.

• Moved Maddie to her temporary digs on the third floor, in a corner of the game room. It's only temporary, while we break into her room for our bathroom, then add on to her room. She was initially a bit put off, but she's fine now. No pain, no gain - truer words were never spoken.

• My room is virtually box free. Of course, we have three rooms in our master lair: Bedroom, sitting room, and dressing room. The dressing room is my favorite part - and it's all mine. Mine. Gary has been relegated to one of the other closets - the charming little room with two closets and shelving is mine. Which is best - if he were to spend too much time in there, he might start counting shoe boxes. And no one benefits from that sort of activity.

• Still need to rearrange the books. We have bookcases in our room, the office, and the living room. So I have to decide which books go where. And haul them around. Gary is, naturally, out of town. How clever of him to arrange business trips in order to avoid helping unpack.

My friend is bringing over dinner, so I need to go make this place presentable. Or something that passes for presentable.

What's the statute of limitations on "We just moved in"?

Still Here

Until my house looks as if it is not the end result of a tornado whirling through, I will be unable to spare time for the computer. Or form coherent thoughts.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. Though not one single room looks even livable, much less presentable, the LR, family room, kitchen, office, and at least three bedrooms are 85-90 percent there. My goal is the end of the week. At that point I am hoping to have some real order around here.

And Wednesday is B-Day. As in, the master bathroom construction begins. You have no idea how exciting this is. Updates soon ...

Hell's Kitchen

I am making up for my lack of Internet access today, cramming a week's worth of Web surfing into one day.

But I had to take a break to eat. Which required me to then load the dishwasher. And to ruminate on just how substandard my current kitchen is:

• Too small. This is a critical factor. The room is 10'x12' or something - just too small for my lifestyle. (Remember? My small-carbon-footprint lifestyle? Right, that one. It requires a 20'x26' kitchen. Minimum.)

• Old cabinets. My parents had two kitchens from the 1970s. And their cabinets were not this bad. These are painted plywood, and I swear, the inside of one of them isn't even finished. These are the cabinets of no one's dreams. Though perhaps of someone's nightmares.

• Bad countertops. They show every drop, every crumb. The burn mark in one cannot be overlooked; the others stain easily. Do not allow drips of coffee to remain for more than ten minutes, or they are there forever.

- Ancient appliances. The refrigerator is new; the others, so old I cannot even fathom when they were new. The dishwasher is small, and the rackes slide out on their own when the door opens - not quite sure how that happened, but it appears to have been installed on a slope. Not to mention that it's LOUD. Alison will be 17 this fall; I'm guessing the stove and dishwasher predate her by a good many years. I didn't even know they made microwaves that long ago.

• Floor. Made of vinyl tiles that look like white bricks. Not a look I'd recommend.

• No pantry space. Where did these people keep their food? More importantly, how did they stand this? Every day for nine years? I shudder to think.

The lighting is OK (ceiling fan in the middle, lots of spots over the other areas), and I do have a garbage disposal. Though the sink is a problem - it's two-sided, but the disposal is in the little part of the sink (the part that's about three inches deep) and it does not work well for me. Plus, somehow water is always all over the counter.

I am missing my stainless undermount sink, my stainless appliances, my island, granite countertops, lovely cabinets, huge pantry, exposed brick around the cooktop, the wall oven. But all of these will be ours, soon enough.

I'm counting the days ...

Exhaustion

I am beat. Beat.

Our Internet access has been sketchy. It would go off, come back, then go away again, seemingly without explanation. I called tech support; you need a new modem, they said. Long story, but we have another modem. Called again to hook it up and was told no, it might be a connection in the house. Why do I get a different answer every time I talk to these people? The tech guy was here this afternoon - modem is fine. It was, in fact, a bad connection. But we're good now.

Internet at my fingertips whenever I want it - what a luxury.

Moving is soooo much work. I hesitate to bore you with details ... but I think I will anyway. We just have so much crap. Not quite sure why. I like to fancy myself as being anti-materialistic, living this green, low-carbon footprint lifestyle.

Apparently, our lifestyle is the antithesis of this image. We have all these sets of dishes, of beverage glasses, that we use on occasion. We do use them - I certainly like to have the proper glass when I drink my Bailey's - but they take up a lot of space.

And we have a lot of books. As in, tons. Hundreds. We had 70 boxes of just books - it's a little shocking. Most, though not all, have been read. So what is it with people and their tendency to hold onto books, as if they are trophies? Are they some testament of the people we want others to think we are? "Oooh, she has a set of Edith Wharton/F. Scott Fitzgerald/JD Salinger/Barbara Cartland - she must be really cool/a total idiot."

Whatever the reason, we store them on shelves, pack and unpack them each time we move. Mostly, they collect dust.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. As in, all the books are unpacked and on shelves - our room has two walls of floor to ceiling bookcases, plus the built-ins in the living room and shelves in the office and game room, so we have plenty of space. Sadly, they are, for the most part, no longer organized. I was lucky to get them unpacked, much less properly categorized. That will wait for another day.

*****

I have been walking mornings - a full hour, 7 to 8 a.m. I am motivated by my BFF showing up here at 7 - I don't dare wimp out. And she is likewise motivated knowing that I am waiting for her. I think I will begin to refer to her as a pain in the ass - the pain that I feel when I trudge up that very long hill from downtown.

But I mean it with the greatest affection - that pain is a good pain. I am lucky she has agreed to do this with me.

*****

The contractor starts our new bathroom next week. As in, Wednesday. I am so excited!

He has drawn up plans for a two-story addition. Out of it, we will get a new kitchen, complete with new powder room (relocated), little sunroom area, eat-in area with island/breakfast bar. Upstairs we are getting an ensuite master bathroom, separate tub/shower (of critical importance), and bumping Maddie's and Sylvia's bedrooms out.

The bathroom will take about a month. Don't know when the kitchen will start, but soon after that, though he has some other work to do. For my friend - I'll need to have a word with her about whose work is more important. I think I know her answer already ... but she's a good friend, so I can let it slide.

Exhausted - truly, I am. But in a good way.

Some good, some ... not so good

I love my "new" house. "New" is a relative term, as the house was built in 1880. But I love historic homes in historic neighborhoods. This one fits the bill.

Yet I am not loving the outdated kitchen. Yesterday as I tried to load the dishwasher, all I could think was, How did they live this way? It is temporary for us - we are doing a kitchen remodel. It is desperately needed. Cabinets are old, floors are yucky, appliances are dated. Kitchen is wa-a-a-a-y too small. Half bath is tiny.

It's OK - it's all changing. We can get by.

But I am loving the laundry chute - it is so convenient. We had one growing up, but as I did not actually do said laundry, I did not realize how very cool it was.

Now I know.

I also love my little dressing room off our bedroom. It is adorable. And I love all the closets - a coup for an old house.

But - on a totally unrelated note - I am missing the Houston Chronicle. Such a great paper. But that's why we have the Internet. (When it's working.)

Mostly, I am happy. All these things that bug me? They can all be changed. The things that can't are small. I am overcome with calm, with a serene feeling that all is right with the world. Tranquility. Contentment.

Zen. Peace, all.

Monday: Off to a good start

Started my day with an hour-long walk through the neighborhood. I have the added motivation of my BFF up the street. We agreed to meet at 7 a.m. to walk. Had we not had this plan, I would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. But no. She was there, and I was ready. We walked down the hill to downtown, crossed over to Sixth Street, walked back up the hill, through Highland Park, all the way back over to Ninth Street, and back home.

Took about an hour. We talked and talked and talked. And yet we are not done talking. This is one of the reasons we are friends - she and I can both talk for-ever. And she is so easy to talk to. The hour flew by - truly.

But the muscles in my rear end are very sore. I am less sore from falling, but still fairly sore. And walking definitely pulled something. But I'm glad we did it.

On today's agenda: More of the same. But not in a bad way. Though Gary left today, so we are on our own. Which means no one to do the heavy lifting.

We'll see how much we can get done this week, surprise him with our efficiency. And take time out to go the fair and see Mamma Mia.

It's an ambitious plan. Must get started.

Amnesia

(I have sporadic Internet access. The modem is working; the airport signal indicates that it, too should be working. Not quite sure what the problem is. However, I will use this excuse, conveniently, to stop unpacking for a few minutes and take advantage of my Internet access being up.)

I am suffering from moving amnesia. Well, correction: I was suffering from this affliction. I am now aware of my former malady. Painfully aware.

As in, moving is a lot of work. Hard work. We have a lot of stuff. A lot of crap.

However, after unpacking a good portion of the 480-plus items in our inventory (gulp), I recognize a couple of the bigger problems:

Number one: When every single item you own is sitting in the house in a box - not in a closet or cabinet or drawer - it looks like much more than it is.

Number two: Our movers are not always the most efficient packers. I have found more than one box - a book-sized box, roughly 12"x12"x18" - that has contained one item. Such as, a baseball cap. A couple of those can really add to the relative clutter.

Number three: I have a propensity to save a lot of stuff. Unnecessarily. My clothes closets are filled to overflowing. And this is not because I am a shopaholic (though that could be a contributing factor). No, the bigger problem is that I keep way too many items that I no longer wear. It doesn't matter that it went out of style five years ago, or that I would never in a million years wear it again in public. If I liked it once, I tend to hold onto to it.

And would you believe Gary is even worse?

But I'm getting better, and large number of items are destined for Goodwill.

I did make a decision, and all the old cassette tapes are in the garbage. We have piles of them, and I can't even remember the last time one was played - maybe 2001? In our old car? It was a bold move, I know, but I am not feeling any remorse. A few VHS tapes are in there as well - the ones we used to grab and pop into the VCR at the last minute to record a show we might otherwise miss. The DVR cured us of that necessity, so off they go.

Back to work. Who knows what little gems of surprise await me as I try to get our lives back in order.

Saturday morning

The boxes did not magically disappear overnight. Too bad - that would have been a nice treat.

Alas, I'll be back at it today. Unpacking. I don't mind it in some ways. It gives me a chance to go through all the junk we've accumulated in the last three years or so, weeding and culling. It seems as if it would makes more sense to do this before we move, but that has never been my system. To go through every item in our house, making a mental inventory and sifting through it, throwing stuff away, just seems like too much work. I do what I can, then let the movers pack the rest. Not the most efficient way to do things, but it works for me.

The contractor has been to have a look; we are just waiting on the estimate. Since he was here, I've had a brainstorm and now I know exactly what the addition should entail. First floor will be all kitchen/sun room; upstairs we will break into Maddie's room for our bathroom, then add on to both Maddie's and Sylvia's rooms. They could use the space, and the bathroom placement will be much easier. We really need the space in the kitchen - it is very small and outdated. Small was not uncommon in older houses - it was a room used only by servants, so size was not a critical factor. And you wouldn't have eaten there.

My breakfast bagel is nearly ready - we are heading out to the deck to eat. Happy, happy.

Overwhelmed ...

It's been one busy week, let me tell you. I've had Internet access for a day or so, but I've just been too, too busy trying to create some semblance of order around here that the computer has been the last thing on my mind.

The house is fantastic. Truly. And once we've made some changes, it will be even better. The neighborhood is great, and my BFF lives just a few doors away. Things are great!

We are wall-to-wall boxes. As usual, boxes were put in the wrong rooms. My computer desk is too big for the new office. We will be doing some extensive remodeling, so it's tough to make decisions about where things go, yet we have to get stuff unpacked.

And I'm injured. I slipped in the shower Sunday and fell down. Hard. Hit my a** on the side of the tub, and I'm sure I bruised my tailbone. So I can't carry boxes, can't lift anything. Going up and down stairs is tough. But it could be worse.

This is all I have energy for. Plus, I can hear the television on, and I could use a break.

Driving, driving ...

Everything we own - save five suitcases, three backpacks, two totebags, myriad DVDs, and one dog - everything is loaded on a semi and headed north. The swingset is strapped to the back of the truck - either we have enough crap to fill the truck or they loaded it very inefficiently. I'm hoping it's the latter.

We left the Houston area yesterday afternoon around 4.30. There were some tears, espeically for Sylvia and two of her friends. It is always hard to say good bye, even though my feelings are not ambivalent in the slightest: Our quality of life will greatly improve where we are going. But it's still tough to bid farewell to people I genuinely like.

We made it to Dallas last night. And would you believe: the Homewood Suites policy on pets is not universal. In other words, our hotel in Dallas did not allow dogs. However, it was 10 p.m. And we had no other place to stay. So we surreptitiously kept the dog with us. Including two hours this morning while we were out - can't leave the dog in the car. We very stealthily took her up and down the steps, and it appears no one was the wiser. But I did call ahead to Memphis. Just to make sure.

Since we were in Dallas, ths morning we took the time and went to the sixth floor of the Texas Book Depository. Well worth a visit, by the way. Walked around outside - took pictures of the grassy knoll, even got Alison in the middle of the road - X marks the spot. And Gary found two guys with a table set up that tells what really happened that fateful day. Gotta love America, where everybody can have his or her say. The girls enjoyed the visit - I love to fill them in on history.

And we drove. And drove. Today was only about seven hours, but it felt longer. Long car rides are d-u-l-l. I can't read in the car, so it doesn't leave for much else to do. Usually we just let the girls watch a movie, but I am armed with three seasons of Arrested Development, so we watched a bit today. Tomorrow will be a marathon.

But tomorrow night we'll be home. Home! Sounds great!

Progress

The house is packed. The truck is being loaded. I am at the library - I need a break.

It's really not been all that bad. I do not supervise, do not even watch as the boxes are packed; I find it less stressful to just let the packers do their job. They've done this a million times before, and in my past experience (six corporate moves) they are over-cautious and generally pack things very carefully. There have been a few exceptions, naturally, but we get compensated for anything that is damaged.

And it's all just stuff, so most of it is really unimportant in the long run. Sure, some items have sentimental value. But the really valuable items - the girls - will be with us, so the rest of it? Material possessions.

I am running some errands today, and I will have more to take care of tomorrow. They will be done early afternoon tomorrow (I'm not sure why we have so much crap - probably because our house is obnoxiously big and we have accumulated/collected more furniture and more possessions than any family really needs). Then we will head to Dallas for the night.

Must finish up some last-minute details, then we are meeting friends for dinner. I am just ready to move on.

One down, four to go ...

Day one is over.

We survived.

The packers are really nice, very easy to work with. Last time, I asked them please, couldn't they delay the kitchen a bit? And they told me, in no uncertain terms, No. Then, after carefully packing the kitchen, the proceeded to the basement, where they treated everything as if it were mere garbage, tossing it recklessly into boxes.

We were not very happy. This time, I thought, those packers will follow MY rules. They will do it MY way.

They are - and I have not even had to get snippy with them. They offered to wait on the kitchen and the girls' bedrooms, starting with the seldom-used dining room and living room. They have been just as nice and flexible as can be. And funny - joking with the girls, the dog, with me. If not for their penchant for bad 80s music on the radio, we could even be friends. (It is totally cracking me up to hear the packer who looks as if he should be a football player singing along to Duran Duran, Thompson Twins or Huey Lewis and the News. And what 80s station is so desperate for music that they play Major Tom not once, but twice in one day?)

It has made me a little less stressed. A little.

It's amazing how little there is to do when the house is torn apart. I am surrounded by boxes and cartons, piled as high as my head. Which naturally begs the question: Just what is all this shit? And why do we need it?

A fair question. I can account for exactly three boxes with just two letters: LPs. And why we still have them, storing them and carting them from place to place, is anyone's guess. But I'm sure we will continue to store them. And their friend the turntable. AS for the rest of it - your guess is as good as mine.

Yawn. I am exhausted. I was up late finishing laundry and up early today. So I should go start the dishwasher, fold the remaining clothes, and go to bed. That way I can wake up and count another day off the list - one day closer to moving on.

Chaos

It has begun. The week of chaos.

The packers are here. They are very friendly, very nice. As usual, they want to pack the kitchen first. They delayed it until this afternoon, so at least through lunchtime we can have a tiny bit of normalcy around here. And they won't touch the bedrooms til tomorrow.

Having my dining room disassembled is really not that disruptive.

But making my kids get up before 8 a.m. on a weekday - especially after they all three partied yesterday - was rough.

My kitchen tabled is laden with things I don't want packed; I am finishing up the laundry and still need to pack my suitcase, get a few other things together. The important papers, checkbook, bills to pay, those are all accounted for. The girls have a pile of DVDs and some books and games to keep them busy. We have some CDs in the car, and I can grab a few more from up here in the office (why we have two storage areas for CDs is a good question - we never know just where they are for sure, though I can usually guess).

(And did I mention that Gary is out of town on a business? Wouldn't you know ... )

The computer will stay up and running through Thursday, though I'm not sure how much energy I'll have for using it - I am really feeling the pressure. This is what I get for not feeling fazed by this AT ALL until yesterday. But I guess it's better that I was relaxed in the lead-up time - at least I could enjoy myself.

And I plan to enjoy the pool later this afternoon. Movers be damned - I will need some down time.

In just nine days we will be moving into the new house. Then a whole different type of stress begins.

Stress

Went to Austin for the fourth - had a nice time. Toured the LBJ Library, went to the Capital, to the ... well, a center on the UT campus whose name I cannot remember (Ransom Center, maybe?) that houses a lot of papers from prominent Americans - they have a Guttenberg Bible, the first photo ever (circa 1832 - exposed for eight hours to get the print - amazing). They had an exhibit on the Beat Poets that was cool. Missed the bats when dinner went too late, but saw the fireworks from the Congress Street Bridge, which were amazing.

Today Sylvia had her going away party. As I said good bye to the parents of her friends, I was suddenly hit with all sorts of emotions that I'd been avoiding or denying: We are moving. And there are people here I will truly miss.

So, since 6 p.m., I have been feeling panicky. I have a ton of stuff to do, to get together, and I've done very little. I've done a bunch of laundry, and I have a list of details to take care of. Which I'll be doing between before 8 a.m. tomorrow. Some of it can happen as the packers are here - I just have to direct them to start in places I don't need to be - the dining room, the game room, the garage.

It will all be fine. But this week is going to be a mess. Which is probably why I wasn't thinking about it - I knew this would happen.

I just have to make it through to Friday. Then I'll be through the worst of it.

Me and My Gal

Today it was just me and Sylvia. (I'm channeling Judy Garland/Gene Kelly or Dave Edmunds - take your pick. Either one works for me.)

The two of us headed out, ostensibly to purchase a battery for the laptop. Instead, popped into Justice to look for a new swim suit for the Sylvia. Justice "Just for Girls" is less expensive than Limited Too and definitely less skanky than some tween stores. The clothes are brightly colored and seem to feel fashionable enough for the 7-12-year-old set. It's Sylvia's favorite. And we'll have to drive to Indianapolis in the future, so I figured I owed her one last Hurrah.

Macy's still had swim suits on sale, so I took a peek; found two that I like. And a dress for Alison. Turns out it is not the dress we thought she liked last time we were there, but it fits me, so I have a new sundress.

Also found out that the Apple store does not stock the battery for my laptop, so I'll be ordering that online. But we looked at the new iPhone (very cool - do I need an upgrade?!?!?) and I bought some replacement headphones. And admonished myself not to lose this set.

Best part of the day was time spent with Sylvia, one on one. She's a great kid, and I'm lucky to have her around.

1776-1976

We were out late last night, watching the Astros get beaten by the LA Dodgers. Fun enough, though - I love going to baseball games. Plus they had fireworks last night. Good ones. I enjoyed the show, didn't mind some of the music, but felt torn when it turned into a little salute to the Armed Forces. I certainly respect the work that our veterans have done, but on the other hand, I'm not a big fan of war or the military in general. Especially this last war (and at this point, most Americans agree with me). So the paramilitary salute wasn't doing much for me.

This morning, I've been super-unproductive. I made a hair appointment, took care of some e-mail correspondence. Some was even important. Dinked around on Facebook.

And thought about this:



To be a kid in 1976 - it was such fun. I remember the first time we saw a Bicentennial quarter and how excited we were (I have a couple stashed away, along with my $2 bill). It was the ultimate in patriotism, 1976 was. We watched the Bicentennial Minutes on CBS; for Halloween in 1975, kids at my school all dressed at heroes/heroines from the Revolutionary War. (I dressed as Abigail Adams, then when someone else in my class was dressed the same, I introduced myself as Abigail Smith, the unmarried Abigail Adams =- hello, early feminism!)

My town had a Bicentennial Museum; we bought special ice cream - red and white stripes with crunch white stars in the blue. All the fire hydrants were painted to look like Minutemen.

My mom hosted an event in January 1976, and she decorated in a Bicentennial Theme - she bought several of the little dolls (Ben Franklin, George Washington, Patrick Henrt and the like), had dishes with patriotic images, the whole nine yards (red, white, and blue goes a long way). And I remember the big July Fourth parade that year - we watched on National up by the university. It was a year of wonder.

This is one of my favorite childhood memories, those events of 1976. I hope my kids get to see something similar. Even without the Starland Vocal Band or What's Happening, it will be something to remember.

I hate to complain. But.

I don't relish being seen as a complainer.

But I'm old enough now that I am not going to put up with certain things.

I turned in the McDonald's employee who did not wash her hands as she left the restroom.

I pointed out that my library books were only overdue because I tried to renew them using their Website and the site was down.

And I refused to use the assigned fitting room when it was clear there was blood on the wall. (Ewww!)

Today, I did not appreciate the supermarket check-out clerk who yakked with her friend the entire time she rang up my groceries. She had to be motioned back to her register by a manager, but this didn't interrupt her conversation. She asked me twice for my Randall's card - once after she had swiped it. She started to use the wrong bags - again, something we'd already "discussed." And when I gave her a suggestion on how to bag the items I had just purchased (based on past experience) she continued to do it her way. It didn't work. I rebagged them myself while she watched.

I talked to the manager. After telling her to pay attention to her work and less attention to her friend. Maybe they can schedule break time together.

My standards are no unrealistically high - just a cashier who pays attention as she rings up the groceries. I know this is not a highly technical field. But she is getting paid. And it's lesson that will serve her well should she ever get another job.

Sigh.

Don't let us down, Obama

Once again, Anna Quindlen gets it right.

Newsweek, June 23, 2008

Attention Must Be Paid

Senator? Senator! I have gray hair and crow's feet and a lifetime of being underestimated. I'm nobody's sweetie. And I vote.

Congrats, Senator Obama, from one of those middle-aged white women who voted for Hillary Clinton in the primaries. Everyone is suggesting you'd better pay close attention to us, especially since we're used to being chronically overlooked, and we're more than a little steamed about that fact. I agree completely, although not for the reasons you're hearing elsewhere.

You've run some race. The coalition of young voters and black Americans has been powerful and inspirational. The turnout among Democrats has put paid to the notion that no one cares about politics. And the estrogen alert that now says female Clinton supporters are going over en masse to John McCain out of pique, spite or rage is way overblown.

The idea that we will illustrate our disappointment by voting Republican is just another insulting suggestion that we're all emotional nut bars. Ever since the GOP sold out to the right wing, which sees women as a service industry for men, it has been no friend to us. This is the party that brought us Clarence Thomas even after Anita Hill testified; tried to neuter the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission; held up approval of over-the-counter emergency contraception, and even put a guy on a commission for reproductive health who believes prayer is the way to deal with PMS. (Please, God, deliver him from the reach of my strong right hook.) Senator McCain himself opposes legal abortion and acknowledging the role of women in combat; progressive women's groups have long tagged him as weak on workplace bias and equal-pay guarantees. His likely Supreme Court appointees would mirror all that.

It would be silly for us to blame you for the cable blah-blahgers who were so negative about Senator Clinton. If she'd invented fire, they would have accused her of pyromania. You, by contrast, have been gracious in acknowledging her contributions as she bowed out. But you did have your moments. Along with your giving up cigarettes, may I suggest that you never again refer to a grown female reporter as "sweetie"?

After all, you know what it's like to be stereotyped. When you were accused during this campaign of being elitist—because good old egalitarian America isn't nearly as happy as one might hope when a black man gets a chance to go Ivy League—you could have responded, "Funny, that's not what cabdrivers who won't pick me up at night seem to think." You didn't do that, just as Senator Clinton didn't make much of the pitfalls of gender assumptions. Both of you understood the power-structure rules for the formerly disenfranchised. Push, and you're pushy. Demand, and you're demanding. No complaining allowed.

But here's the great thing about your position now: since you're obviously not female, you can openly complain on our behalf. You can channel your grandmothers, who had no opportunities, and your mother, who had few, and your wife, who because of the newest wave of feminism suddenly had many. You could even acknowledge the anger and frustration that women of a certain age, who have sat in the assistant's seat watching younger men promoted over them, felt when they saw what seemed to be the same thing happening to Senator Clinton.

We are the ones who wind up dealing with health care for our children and elder care for our parents. We are the ones fighting for sexual-harassment safeguards and workplace standards. Those are not issues on which John McCain has been passionate, and gender equity is not something with which he's ever been associated. This is an opportunity for you, not just an obligation.

Don't get comfy because older women are moving your way in new polls. And don't think you can coast on the fact that the Republicans are going to show their true colors by attacking your wife, thereby driving into the Democratic camp every woman enraged by the hands-folded, mouth-shut standard of female behavior. You've insisted you're running not to govern a demographic but to inspire a nation of individuals. Prove it. The real reason you have to reach out to women like us is that it will signal that you really mean to stand for a different America, a nation in which a black man can take up the concerns of white women for the sake of the greatest good.

Sometimes being an older woman at this moment in time can be a bit like one of those dreams in which you're running hard and yet not moving. On the one hand, we've come so far. On the other, there's always that fear of being dragged back to the bad old ways, in which the crust on our casseroles and the size of our breasts were how we were measured.

Most candidates who want the women's vote try to get it without ever really talking honestly about what it's like to be female in America. Instead there are cutesy labels: soccer moms, security moms, minimizing names for political Polly Pockets. Talk instead about equal pay, universal child care, reproductive rights, the women warriors in Iraq, the empty purses of the working class. This is a moment when you and yours will be tempted to run a race just like any other, slicing and dicing the country and then cherry-picking parts. Don't give in to the omnipresent fear of engaging in complexities. A man who can speak eloquently about all the ways in which women carry this country in their arms and all the ways government can help them do so would represent real change. For many American women, Hillary was their surrogate. You have a chance to be their champion. Don't blow it.

Slowing Down, Moving On

Went to IKEA the other day. Took the girls, had lunch (salmon, mmmm) and looked around.



And bought: Nothing. Not one thing.

Which means we are getting ready to go. This house is over; time to focus on the new one.

But I'm not buying stuff in anticipation of the new place, which I could be doing. Because we'll be doing some work - significant work - we are waiting.

It will be different than this move, where we moved into a house that was completely done; all we had to do was unpack and we were good to go. This time, we'll be moving into a place that is not even ready (with the exception of the living room and third-floor game roome and pool) - nearly every other room will be undergoing some sort of transformation, some big, some small.

Sounds like stress. But I'll have friends around to help with that part. We are ready.

Internet Pick-Ups

I got an anonymous post the other day. And rather than be annoyed - even though the poster was clearly not part of my political sphere - I confess: I loved it.

I love getting drop-ins. In my other blog group. I get tons of comments - at five or six every post. But I blog in a blog community, and people are always dropping in, saying hi, and we forge relationships. On this blog, which I allow friends and family to read, I get very few comments and have no read idea of who is reading.

So it's kind of fun when someone drops in uninvited. But welcome.

I confess, I check out blogs that others link. And I just discovered a new one, a very well written and edgy one. Naturally, I pop in to check out the musings. It's like stalking someone, reading about their day-to-day life, a life very different than my own, which lately involves kids and pets and kvetching about suburban nihilism.

Rapid segue:

Tonight we have tickets to the see the Astros play the LA Dodgers. My kids momentarily believed that the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn. Well, not really, but it came up in conversation. We apparently like to live in the past at times, ruminating about all the fun that was, way back when.

There will be fireworks after the game tonight. And we'll get to eat ballpark food, which is not so good for the piles of stuff in my freezer, especially as we are going out of town for the Fourth. I may have to haul a cooler with us to unload some of this stuff.

Blah, blah, blah. That's all I've got today!

On hold ....

I am on hold .... I am calling to set up utilities in our new house - phone, cable, electricity, water, gas, you name. Thank goodness for the speaker phone.

People keep asking me if I'm packing. Don't be silly, I answer - I don't pack. I haven't packed to move since 1990. People who have never done this think that you must pack your most valuable items yourself. Or that the movers might enjoy looking at my unmentionables.

Well, let me tell you: The movers pack everything the same. One time, they were individually wrapping our plastic stadium cups. They can handle packing my china and crystal just fine - nothing has been broken yet. And they have better things to do than look at anything I might consider private - they generally don't unload all the dresser drawers, anyway.

We did have a Christmas item broken last time - it had been packed properly when we shipped it home from Germany, and I always re-packed it that way. For some reason, the packer (not the main guy, who was actually quite good, but his assistant - to be honest, I wouldn't guarantee he could read) took it upon himself to re-pack it. When we opened it the following Christmas, the Weihnachts Pyramide came out in pieces. But we got a check to pay us for damages. And it is made of wood, so we were abe to re-glue it. I'll just have to remember to remind the packers not to re-pack all our holiday items.

The stress level is actually pretty low around here. Why get all worked up now? We have done this nine times (can you believe it?). Survived every time.

And we are still married. I think that says something about us. Either we are very easy-going, very flexible ... or crazy.

You decide.

Quiet, Interrupted

I am fairly certain I heard screams and yelling coming from the neighbors today. This is notable not because we don't yell - quite the opposite - but because I didn't think my neighbors did. In fact, I didn't think it was allowed in uptight-superficial land.

Not all of my neighborhood is uptight and superficial. I know some people who are, in fact, very genuine. But the general vibe of the subdivision, with our well-manicured lawns, freakishly clean houses, and driveways free of unsightly pick-up trucks, is that we are all perfect, all the time.

Nauseating.

We've been reminded that No Fireworks are allowed, per our deed restrictions. But some of the residents are apparently ignoring this warning. Doesn't really bother me - it is the week of July 4, so it's to be expected. And to be honest, I quite like to watch the impromptu displays on the fourth and on New Years. But if letters are sent out for grievances as serious as visible trash cans, then I hope these people are cited for their infractions.

Maybe I'll call them in. A little parting gift from me to my misbehaving neighbors. Am I that mean? What do you think?!?

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.

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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.

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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 ;)