Archives 2001

January 1, 2001 - HAPPY NEW YEAR!  (Insert fireworks here ...)  Last night was a lovely New Year's Eve!   We set off fireworks left over from the fourth of July.  The sparklers were all duds.  Apparently there is a shelf life on those things!  The bottle rockets and the others did quite well in the cold, leaving a low hanging sulfur smelling cloud that I am sure thrilled the neighbors. There was even a falling star in the clear night sky to add to the event, showing us that only Mother Nature can produce the ultimate fireworks. It inspired me to send out an email to friends telling them about the falling star and wishing that all of them and YOU live life like a falling star - burn bright and long and go out with a bang on re-entry. My daughter and son made it to see the ball drop, and then some. We enjoyed sparkling fruit juice and toasted the New Year. 

Duh!  Something just dawned on me ... last night my cousin David asked me "have you seen any monoliths?"  I did not 'get it' last night!  Hahahaha.  (David, I'm sorry to tell you that your genetic material possesses the evil "blonde" gene as I have proven day after day after ....)  Stanley K. is gonna bitch slap me if HAL doesn't' get me first! 

Up until today there have been no birdies at my bird feeder. Suddenly today there are tons of them. So far there have been starlings, blue jays, and crows. I made my daughter throw out popcorn in the driveway to bait the larger birds away from the main feeder. At the main feeder just outside the window there have been a veritable barrage of cardinals, various finches, chickadees, titmouses, sparrows, juncos, and mourning doves. Also on the trees further out there are woodpeckers and one brown squirrel and one black squirrel.  I am going to have to stop and get more feed tomorrow!  Last year they would go through 25 lbs. of bird food a week. I was getting off easy this year, I just didn't realize it.  

We are now watching the Rose Bowl Parade and my daughter is in awe of the fact the percussion sections of the marching bands are all in sync. "That is how it is supposed to be" she practically screams at no one in particular,  "unlike our class, who can't seem to understand that concept!" I can't help but laugh at her. By the sound of their last concert, that is a factual statement. I am sure their love for music will eventually work out all the minor glitches in their band. It makes me happy she is so excited over the marching bands, though. Music is a wonderful thing and we should all enjoy it when ever we can (even if your percussion sucks!) 

January 6, 2001 - ''Tis the wee hours of the morning, and I am up for the time being.  I don't know if I have mentioned it before but I do have a tendency to get up to pee in the wee hours o-the-night/morning, and will then fall asleep against the wall next to the toilet and doze there until my rear falls asleep. It can be very relaxing there due to the fact that the bathroom is on an outside wall and the vent for the sewer system picks up sounds of rain and wind if it happens to be raining or winding outside. Over the years I have even heard (via the vent) people talking as they walk down the road out front and train whistles from town. This morning as I was numbing my hind quarters, I heard an odd sound. At first I thought it was my stomach. After all, it was 4:30 a.m. and no doubt my stomach was in dire need of nourishment such as something containing mass amounts of fat!  I woke up enough to stretch and finish up on the toilet duties. I heard the sound again. (Here is my attempt to write the sound in letter form - Werrrgeeeeeeeeeeowlllllllcickthrweeerrrrwaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllllerrrrrrrrr.) I went to the front door to look out and saw nothing outside. I went to the back door and found my sound makers ... it was my cat Muffy and an intruder cat. They were both just sitting there all puffed up making odd cat noises at each other at a very loud volume. The strange cat was twice the size of Muffy. The moon was quite bright, by the way, so it was easy to see the cat stand off.  I was still very drowsy  so I proceeded to walk out in my bare feet and yell at the cat who was in Muffy's turf. "Get the hell outta here and shut up!" I said with force, as I yawned. They both looked at me and went back to making threatening cat noises. I bent over and picked up a snow blob with dog poop in it and lobbed it at the 'bad' cat. He jumped in the air and Muffy took this opportunity to jump on the cat. They rolled around for a while like a ball. They rolled to the front of the house.  I came back in and went out the front door.  Bad Kitty!  Bad Bad Kitty! Go Home!" I yelled. The strange cat started running down the driveway. Muffy was in hot pursuit.  "Aw, Muffy, come 'ere!  Leave him alone!" I begged. Muffy stopped half way down the driveway and took up a "I'll kick yer ass if you come back" puffed and prepped position. The tough tabby stayed at the end of the driveway until a passing car made him run down the road. I was very awake by then.  I went out and retrieved Muffy from the drive way and hauled him in the house.  He perched over my shoulder and kept the cat noises going all the way back to the house. He is now sleeping like a rock in one of the living room easy chairs on his back and all spread out. He had a hard night of defending the house. He deserves to rest.

Yesterday was my son's birthday. He was a hyper child all week, still 'high' from the Christmas thrill and anticipating his birthday. I am very glad he's eight now and we can all move on with our lives. We had cake and ice cream last night after his requested birthday dinner. (He requested frozen pizza and french fries WITH NO ICKY VEGETABLES  I forced him to eat a Pokemon vitamin in lieu of anything green, yellow, or red.)  His big brother was here for dinner and 'Mr. I'm Eight Now' was in his glory. I marked his height on the bathroom door frame where the kid's height have been recorded since 1985. He was very polite all night, which shocked me. "Thank you for the present" he said to his brother. "Thank you for the presents" he told me. "Thank you for the card" he told his sister. He didn't whine at all about not enough presents or if he didn't really like a present. Quite a leap into maturity for my son. My daughter explained to him that soon he will be stinking like a real human and have to use deodorant and start shaving now that he's getting so old. "Well, I'm not usin' your girly deodorant, that's for sure!" he told her "but I'll use your razor!!" We all laughed. Before he went to bed last night, he came up and hugged me around the neck and said "thank you" again, then gave me a big kiss.  When he jumped off my lap to go upstairs to bed, he bent way over with his buttocks protruding. "You forgot to SPANK me!" he giggled as he wagged his butt back and forth. I grabbed him and did just that...   

Today we plan on seeing "The Emperor's New Groove" to celebrate the end of Christmas Break. Back to school for the kids next Monday.  My daughter is more than ready to have another 'human' to talk to besides her brother.   (Apparently I do not count as 'human'!)  I am ready for them to go back, too.  They are getting to the "Mom, he/she keeps touching me!" stage. It is time they go enrich their minds again at school and touch somebody else.

January 8, 2001 - We did go see the "Emperor's New Groove" on Saturday. It was ok. I have seen better Disney movies, but it was ok.  After we saw the movie, we went to Toys R Us which was right next to the movie theater.  We shopped around;  took our time looking at all the toys. I told the kids they could each pick out one thing each within reason.  My son chose a "Digi-Vice" - a little hand held electronic game bordering on the likes of a giga-pet, but this one does more stuff and you can shake it to make the Digimon walk. (At least my son will get some exercise in his right arm.)  My daughter is a bit too old to get toys so she settled for a Play Station racing game that she could play with her brother. Quite diplomatic of her, I think. We then proceeded to drive around looking at things and then eating at The Olive Garden. My daughter thought it was very ritzy. "I feel special here, Mom!" she said.  I did not realize I had sheltered my children so much!  After thinking about it a while it did dawn on me that we had not gone to any type of restaurant that was totally sit down and order style. There has been Ponderosa, but that is a buffet style. There is Ryans, but that too is buffet style.  Country Buffet ... well, you get the general idea ... any type of dinning out either has involved a McMeal of some type or a trough-style buffet. Sigh. My poor kids did not have a clue that napkins could be MADE OUT OF CLOTH!!!  My daughter had to ask "what is this?" referring to the cloth napkin wrapped around her silverware.  My son unwrapped his silverware and practically yells at the top of his lungs, "Cripes, they messed up and gave me two forks!!!" I have failed miserably as a mother...

Today they went back to school and both of them came home with massive headaches. Two weeks off from school is a bad thing. My daughter said her eyes ached. "My retinas are detaching or something" she whined.  I have her laying down now with a cold wash rag on her eyes. My son claims "wearing my glasses today made my head hurt!" I told him that it was because he didn't wear his glasses the two weeks he was off for Christmas break! He's in a Lazyboy cuddled up in his blanket after taking some aspirin. Sigh. Real life is hard on a kid!

January 10, 2001 - On the way into work yesterday I got to see the sunrise and it made me cry. True, looking directly into the sun will cause your eyes to water profusely but I mean 'cry' as in 'full of amazement at the beauty of it' cry. It was a huge ball of florescent orange peeking over the trees with one wide orange ray shooting straight up into the sky.  All the frost on all the trees toward the horizon was illuminated with the color, and it was such a majestic sight. It lasted only minutes, of course, but what minutes those were. I was practically paralyzed by that view.  The statement "the best things in life are free" is true.  (Well, not if you haven't eaten in a week and you are broke of course, or if your tooth impaled itself on a popcorn kernel and you don't have dental insurance ... )  Well, maybe there are some really wonderful things that DO cost money, but the little freebies make life worth living.

Today on the way to work I passed a half-semi going north as I was going south, and it made me laugh out loud.  The driver gave me an odd look for laughing. The front view of the truck reminded me of dairy products, for some reason, and I am thinking that the grill made me think of cheese. Then when I saw the writing on the side I knew I was right about the dairy truck part. The letters were big and done up in black and white "cow print" and the name of the business was "The Udder Guys." Too funny.

The milk truck reminded me of my youth, back before I started school.  We bought our milk from the local dairy and it was delivered by the milkman several times a week.  Our milkman was named Mr. Jones.  He would bring our milk all the way up the quarter mile driveway to the door.  Mr. Jones was an older man and very kind.  He would chit chat with my Mom every time he came by.  He would also give me old egg cartons. I had the whole basement done up in an egg carton castle utopia. It was pretty cool.  Once I remember he even let me ride with him to the end of the driveway in that gigantic truck, sitting on a milk crate next to him!  (For a four year old, that quarter mile drive down in an 'official milk truck' with an 'official milkman' and the walk back to the house was a true adventure!!) You know, we wouldn't let our kids do that today even if we had a milkman!!  Would you let your child ride to the end of the driveway with the UPS man? Not these days!!!   If I remember right, we stopped buying our milk from the dairy and went to the store bought version due to pricing issues.   

I got gas this morning and caught myself sniffing the fumes with pleasure!  (Don't get smart!  It was at a gas station!)  I remember back during the leaded fuel days, the smell of gas was a good smell.  I also remember when the country went with unleaded that the "smell" was just not the same, so I stopped my pleasure sniffing.  (Apparently the batch I was pumping this morning was just a premo batch!)  It dawned on me as I was inhaling and enjoying the smell of this batch of gas that I used to sniff a lot of gas fumes in my teens when mowing or whatever, which probably explains a lot about my mental state through the years. Sniffing liquid lead ... it explains a lot.

You know,  I was also thinking in bed the other night about "memories" we have from our past.  What is the earliest age you can remember back to?  I do believe one of the earliest memories I have was when Kennedy was shot and how people reacted. I also remember my sister having a spaz fit when the Beatles performed on Ed Sullivan. She buried her head in a pillow and screamed. I can remember riding my tricycle in the house, around and around the hallway leading out of the kitchen,banking a hard turn to the left through the hallway to the living room and back to the kitchen. I would ride around in circles for hours!  I also remember having several slight fender benders with the door casings which eventually brought an end to my tricycle days in the house. We always rented when I lived with my parents so it was not acceptable to go smashing into things my Dad would have to replace when we moved.  Then there was the time I was playing in the rain outside with my boots on one summer day, and no doubt was in some fictional "Sandy as Gidget goes to Rome" adventure in my head when I got my rubber boot stuck in a mud puddle. Actually, not a mud puddle - more of a deadly child sucking sink hole. I fought with the boot which of course only wedged me in deeper and deeper. Here is was raining cats and dogs by then, and I was hopelessly stuck in that mud hole and I would wave like a crazed lunatic to my Mom when she would 'check on me' through the kitchen window.  he was on the phone with my Aunt Jean at the time and she would just wave back to me and go on talking and walking around. She no doubt had faith in me, that I was smart enough to NOT end up getting sucked into the mud hole from hell while I was playing in the rain. Boy, was she wrong!!  It took several window checks before she realized I was in dire need of assistance, and she hung up and came and saved me and my boot. These memories were all before I started kindergarten.

I can also remember getting a new pair of saddle shoes just for school and Sunday School. I took those new pair of shoes out for a walk down the quarter mile drive way after church one Sunday instead of taking them off and putting on my play shoes. Seeing what I thought was a rain puddle gleaming in the road ahead of me I proceeded to jump with child like abandon into said rain puddle.  It was not a rain puddle.  It was a big old blotch of liquid tar!  (Must have been summer time for the tar not to have set up, I would think!)  Sigh. I didn't get stuck but I was an inch taller from the tar stuck to the bottom of my shoes and all the pebbles that got embedded into the tar as I walked back up the driveway. My Mom was very upset.  She cried as she attempted to scrape the tar off my shoes with a butter knife and my Dad gave me the "you think we are made of money or somthin' that you can just ruin a new pair of shoes like money just grows on trees" speech. 

I also remember the time that our power was going to get turned off by the electric company because my parents did not (could not?) pay the bill.  Back in 'the old days' they came to the house and announced this intention in person. A nice young man came to the door saying what he would have to do if Mom didn't pay.  (Now mind you, during the first five years or so of my life, my Mom was full fledged overdrive into her menopause cycle. This was all attempted without drugs on her part to ease the craziness of it all if they even existed back then. You didn't spill milk around my Mom for she would fall into a heap on the floor, crying. It was pretty scary in my house for a long time.)  Now here was this nice young man just doing his job, being very polite as I remember. I was hiding behind my Mom's skirt as she began to scream at this man. His poor face dropped to the steps as she screeched "oh, I can write you a check but it will bounce higher than a rubber ball,  it will ... " That's really all I remember about the actual twenty minutes she was screaming and reaming this poor guy a new hole although I do believe I wondered why Mom was holding out on rubber balls, since I would enjoy playing with one. She did give the man a check eventually and we kept our power on, but CRIPES!  It has suddenly dawned on me there might be reasons we block out memories from our youth after all ... 

January 13, 2001 - I watched "Terms of Endearment" tonight and couldn't stop crying.  It dawned on me, as I was sobbing for nothing after the movie was over, that I have not allowed myself any "real" emotional outbursts lately.  I have not allowed my thoughts to delve into emotional highs or lows. I have been at a fairly even keel (for me.)  The outburst of tears (which I didn't attempt to stop) came as a shock to me and my poor eye balls. They are now swollen and extremely red. Nobody looks good after a hard cry.  There is no way a female nor male can look calm, cool and collected after a severe bought of sobbing. You usually end up looking like you are having an allergic reaction to anything and everything all at once,plus you get that W.C. Fields nose look going.  It isn't pretty. Unidentifiable fluids start coming out all every hole in your head at a high rate of speed and you are forced to stop them with your shirt before you can get to the Kleenex box.  I believe it is good that we have crying binges. We all should from time to time. Due to the intensity of the emotional release, I think it has to be good for you, as well as the mainstay for the tissue industry. Since it took so long for me to recover from this fit of tears over a movie I've seen six times already, I think I shall have to try to allow myself a bit more emotion from time to time from now on.    Don't want to be caught off guard by an old episode of Lassie and collapse from a nervous breakdown.

January 17, 2001 - I was figuring up my bank statement the other night when my son came up and stared for a while with a look of awe on his face before he said, "Man, how can you type in the numbers so fast?  How do you know which numbers you are hitting?"  "I just know, I guess ..." I said.  It did make me think, though, of all the things we take for granted that we have learned.  Now it's stored up in a cell or two in our brains and we just "do it" without even thinking. If you think about it sometime, you can be using the calculator at the at the same time you make a phone call. The number pad on the the calculator is opposite of the phone pad, but do you have trouble dialing or calculating? (Sure, maybe after a sleepless night or a hard night-o-drinking, perhaps!)  We do so many things without thinking about it  You have thousand and thousand of song lyrics stored in your head somewhere.   You couldn't just spew them out, but if you hear the song again, they flow out like water. You can drive home in a semi-coma and make it home alive most nights after work due to the memories and sub-conscience acts behind the scenes in your brain. We take our brain and it's power for granted I do believe. I am amazed at myself sometimes when I do "the right thing" or make a proper choice. I am amazed, but in reality my brain probably did all the pro/con calculations on it's own and handed my frontal lobe a slip of paper saying, "don't run with those scissors!  Poor Choice!  POOR CHOICE!!"  I would take a few moments today, if I were you, (maybe on the toilet or just somewhere quiet) and thank your brain for all it does.  Take your brain out for a treat and go to the library and check out a book.  Ponder something it enjoys pondering.  Let your brain know how cool you think it is Then say a bit of a prayer to the higher power of your choice to thank that higher power for your brain, and in the future, when you come across someone who has problems processing all the things your brain takes for granted, why don't you just lend a hand (or cell?)

Since I am in a reflective mood from all my brain thanking, I will list some of the things that I realized I take for granted on an every day basis:

January 22, 2001 - -  Since I am in such a panicked tizzy, I will calm myself down by taking a few minutes type about my adventures today at the dentist.  I bit the assistants finger for one. The poor woman!  Sigh. Ever since that stupid root canal several years ago I cannot stay calm in the dentist chair. After all my advances in conquering "spaz" fits over the years this remains my one major problem (besides the compulsive eating disorder and my addiction to nicotine and my tendency to be bipolar, but I digress ... )  I have a wonderful dentist and the whole crew there are angels. I know I am alright when I'm in the chair ... why can't I convince my MIND that I'm ok?  Geez.  I will not try to hide this 'fear' from anyone. As a matter of fact I will tell anyone who will tolerate me acting the whole scenario out. I believe confessing to your fears is the first step toward  ... um ... not biting innocent bystanders and having Novocaine induced spaz fits.

I think my former therapist is right about each individual cell in each individual muscle having it's own individual memory when it comes to experiences in your life. Every cell in the general vicinity of my neck and mouth remembers "the root canal from hell." Each cell in my mouth and neck decides that when the Novocaine kicks in, that they must all start bitching and complaining to their neighbor cells about the sudden loss of feeling, the economy, and life in general -  hence causing a whole herd of cells to be in an uproar over nothing, really.  This imaginary 'fear message'  is then sent by nerve synapses express courier to the muscles in my face and throat, which get pissed off as well, and everything goes down hill from there. My mouth wants to shut when it can't, and I have a sudden dire need to swallow  Sigh.  I am pretty sure that any major dental work in the future will require an elephant tranquilizer gun with high doses of Valium shot directly into my neck. I will be blacklisted at all dentist offices across the greater tri-state area. How does one stop this madness? 

January 29, 2001 -  It was an icy morning for driving in Michigan.  School was delayed two hours and  I could see why as I slid/drove my son to Kids Klub at his school!  Yee Haw!  The side roads were a treat, for sure.  It was one of those mornings where you start slowing down for all corners before you leave your driveway.  After dropping my son at school and on my way to work via the back roads, I had to come to a complete stop for deer as they crossed the road. The car had slid to face the swamp a bit when I came to the stop. I watched the momma deer and young deer scamper across the road. I was just thinking how wonderful it was that I was blessed to witness this "natural moment" in time as I turned my head toward the swamp and there out in the middle in plain sight of God and me and anyone driving around that corner were two deer "doing it."  (What would be the proper term here?   Two deer mating?  Two deer doing the nasty?  Two deer going at it like dogs?  Two deer making venison?)   I didn't stare and gawk but continued on my trek to work, however I did note that they must have been pretty well almost done, or at least he was, because the deer on top (and assuming it was a he) was just sort of hanging there looking content. All in all, it made my day. At work in the afternoon, though, Jean topped it by telling her story of taking her children to the zoo last summer and the huge sea turtles they keep there were "doing it" right there out front in their cage. Apparently the male was moaning to beat the band.  I didn't know turtles moaned!  Pretty cool.  Now here are all these parents sort of giggling and trying to keep a straight face when all the little kids are either crying because the one turtle is hurting the other or asking "Mommy, what are they doing?  MOMMY!"  Jean said all the parents put up a united front and explained that the turtles were wrestling and hurried the kids on to the next exhibit. You know those commercials they have out lately that have some hot young guy saying "Parents, if you don't tell your daughter about sex, I will ..."  Heck, they could have saved those actors salaries and substituted wild life for free!  The wrestling ruse only works for so long.  Smile

My daughter was very full of the need to talk tonight.  She talked all through dinner - as she chewed, as she swallowed, and as she drank.  She talked all through washing dishes - she would come out and go on and on about something between each piece of dishware. She talked as we worked on her homework.  It was only after she was a half hour into explaining every tiny minute detail of her Zelda video game that I cried, "STOP!"  (My son was covering his ears by now and was curled into a fetal position on a chair saying over and over again "make her shut up ... make her shut up!)  I tried to explain to her that since I did not play Zelda I did not need to hear every little detail, but rather the over all Reader's Digest version of the game would be fine. I made an example by telling her about the first hour at work for this morning.  (I left out the deer story!)  I told her in excruciating detail every little thing I do and think in the first hour I am at work, making sure I went off on tangents to explain about every possible software package I might have even considered ever using and the difference between an AS400 as opposed to, let's say, a Hewlett Packard server. I went on and on and on until I almost fell out of my chair from lack of oxygen to my brain.   After the spots cleared from my eyes and I was able to focus again, she said, "OK, I get your point" but she was near tears. "Did you want to hear about all of that?" I asked her. "Well, no, not all of it" she said and sniffed a tear. "I love to hear about your day, honey" I explained "and I love the details about school and your friends, because I have met your friends and I went to school where you go to school, but when it comes to Zelda, let's say, you can just give me the over all gist of it, ok?  I don't play Zelda, and I don't think I will be on a game show anytime soon where the winning question will involve me needing to know about Zelda in detail.  Does that makes sense?  I don't want you to think I hate to listen to you, but after several hours of it, love - well, the Zelda thing was just too much!" We sort of laughed together and she seemed to understand and was ok with my explanation for in no time at all she proceeded to launch into a half hour overview of gym class today, as my son fashioned a noose out of the tie from his house coat and I slipped into a coma. 

February 5, 2001 - The weekend was exciting.  I felt bad on Saturday morning, but did manage to get my son's hairs cut and eat breakfast at a local restaurant.  On the way home I knew I was coming down with something for sure.  Saturday afternoon was spent in bed and having bouts of fever.  I got up and soaked in the bathtub more than once to ease the pain in my joints.  Whenever I feel bad and achy like that, soaking in a boiling hot bath tub makes me feel comforted.  So does hot tea.  On Saturday I was thinking that it was the flu because of that "achy all over" feeling.   My cousin David had to rub in the fact I did not have a flu shot.  (Once you past the age of 40, it is required you say "I told you so" at least once a year.)  Sunday I was able to get a load or two done of laundry before feeling like a truck had run me over.  I knew last night it wasn't just the flu when I woke up with a fever and hardly able to walk to the bathroom.  It felt like strep throat to me by then.  Strep throat and I do not get along, and never have.  I know when it is hitting me and I don't like it.  I used to get a bout of it every year as a teen and up until my thirties, actually.  One year when I was in high school, I had strep throat when my family was moving.  I was so sick with it that they just moved me and the couch all in one fell swoop.  I rode to our new house in the back of a pickup on a couch in the middle of summer.  No such luck today.  I just went to the doctor in a car and the doctor said "you have strep throat."  I told her I thought so, but wanted to be sure and get medicine before it had me delirious.  "I knew it wasn't the flu" I told her.  "Oh, your are much too sick for it to be the flu" she told me.  (There, take that, Dave!  Smile)  I barely had the strength to wait for the pharmacy to fill my script.  I felt terrible.  I can only hope that dying doesn't come anywhere close to how I feel when I get strep.   Sigh.  I came home, took a pill, and let my boss know I was dying before I passed out in bed.   When I woke up tonight, my daughter said, "Mom, you don't look so horrible as you did!"  Considering my lips are cracked from fever and peeling and my hair is sticking straight up, I took that as a wonderful compliment.

My Mom's real Mom died from strep throat.  That was back in 1928.  My Mom was six years old when her Mom died.  My Grandmother was 26 years old. She had three little kids when she passed away. Obviously she was very ill with strep throat which led to other complications.  No antibiotics either for her.  We are truly blessed in our age and time to have things like antibiotics, insurance, and indoor plumbing.  

February 10, 2001 -  Ah, the weekend.  Thank goodness.  My daughter went to an all night birthday party last night. My son had a friend over for a while today to play. I got some cleaning done and am baking a hot fudge cake as we type.  Today was very relaxing.  I took out all of my old Magic Eye 3-D books and sat for an hour looking at the hidden pictures. I am still astounded how crisp and clear those pictures are once your eyes adapt to seeing them.  Too cool. I believe I've fully recovered from my brush with strep except for the occasional random act of snot. 

I cleaned out my son's bookshelf in the living room and came across the book "Tikki Tikki Tembo" which a hoot to read.  I love that book. I will read it to him tonight. I know I used to amaze my oldest son when he was a child with it as well as my daughter.  I can't remember ever dazzling my youngest with it yet.  It is fun to see how fast you can say the first son's name from the book,  which is "Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo" without spitting on everything in a four foot radius.  I was looking for the book called "Follow Me" about a bunch of lost fowl because that book, too, is fun to read but I am just as happy with "Tikki Tikki Tembo."

My son and I made out our Valentine cards last night.  I do not know why I like Valentine's Day so much, but I do.  Maybe it's all the cool colors of reds this time of year?  The chocolate?  Who knows.  I just think it's fun to pass out Valentine's like we did in school.  Have you seen that new commercial for Visa Check Cards?  I have been singing the song "Love Is In The Air" all day, and I'm pretty sure it's from that commercial. The multiplying rabbits was a very funny idea. Do you ever kick yourself when you see something  incredibly cool, and say to yourself, "Damn, I wish I had come up with that!!"

My son is sitting in the Lazy Boy chair making it flop rapidly as he cheers the Battle Bots on T.V.  Must be something genetic in males that they get so excited over seeing machinery demolish more machinery.  

My Mom would have been 79 years old today. I still have bad dreams about her being mean/cruel in a crazy way, but they don't haunt me the next day like they were there for a while.  I know when I was so sick on Monday, I wanted to tell her I was sick in the worst way.  Telling your "mommy" you hurt all over sometimes makes you feel better.  I was overcome with that feeling in the car after the doctor visit.  Sigh.  Happy Birthday, Mom.

February 16, 2001 -   My son was singing that ditty from the Taco Bell commercial where the men are eating as they whomp their elbows on the table to the beat of   "We Will Rock You."  I made my daughter and son sit down and listen as I played Queen's version of "We Will Rock You."  They liked it a lot.  My daughter, who is heavy into music of the orchestrated kind was thrilled when I played a few other of Queen's songs.  "They rock, don't they - in a symphonic sort of way ..."  I asked.  My son has requested the Queen C.D. several times since. My daughter has started to take one of my C.D.s up to her room a night to listen to.  "You have good music!"  she said the other morning.  "I know I do" I replied,  but was thinking she hasn't gotten to the Barry Manilow ones yet ... so we'll see what she says then.  (Ah, memories ... I was going to run away from home when I was 13 to see Barry Manilow in concert with my friend, Lisa, because my Mom and Dad wouldn't let me take a bus down to see Lisa legally. Ah, those were the days!)

Tomorrow I get my first mammogram and am looking forward to it with much anticipation after all the recent jokes and pictures concerning mammograms. As painful/uncomfortable as it might be, it is still good we have that technology.  (I am saying that now, so tomorrow when I come home and my boobs have been deflated and look like peach fruit roll-ups I will not have missed pointing out that important fact.)  Since my breasts are good sized to begin with I have had them caught and smashed in things before, so that feeling will be nothing new.  The kids, when small, used my breasts as a hoist to pull themselves up to my shoulder when they wanted a hug.  My breasts also served as trampolines for the kids, as a portable T.V. tray, and a carrying case for all sorts of things. Hopefully tomorrow will not be too traumatic for me. 

When you think about it at length, the human body is truly a wonder!  I've had three eight pound kids fall out of my uterus, hemorrhoids the size of New Jersey fall out of my ass, kidney stones the size of BB's fall out of my bladder, and when you factor in the normal snot, ear wax, tears, flaky dry skin, and blood to all of that - one can only surmise that the female human body is nothing short of a walking factory of gross byproducts.  Sigh.

February 17, 2001 -  It dawned on me today at work that I could sit at my desk and work non stop for three weeks before I got caught up. This is good, in a way.I won't get bored anytime soon.  Yet it leaves that pressure feeling around the edges if one lets it bother one's self. Oh well.  If I don't do it, someone else will eventually.  So for tonight, I let it go ... if it loves me, I'll be back to work on Monday morning. 

My mammogram went fast. It didn't hurt and the squishing wasn't any worse than the "car door" incident of '86. I think I have an advantage by having larger breasts because no doubt that spreads out the nerve endings more, so it wouldn't hurt as much for me. The radiologist who was tossing around my boobs said that some people freak out and some people handle mammograms just fine. She compared it to going to the dentist.   Some people freak out (hmmmm...like me!) and other people can recite the Constitution without Novocaine and juggle, too, while having a root canal. 

February 18, 2001 -   It is six thirty in the morning, and I have been sitting here just getting my wits about me - rubbing the goop out of my eyes and stretching and trying to remember what day it really is.  I also have been staring at my one spider plant that is right here in the living room.  It's been hanging in the same spot since 1988 or so when my Mom gave it to me as a Mother's Day present. It was my first spider plant. That plant has pooped out many babies over the years, and I have given away tons of starts to spider plants.  It has dawned on me as I sit here that I have never changed the plant's soil nor repotted her, and I believe such a majestic matriarch deserves to have a re-rooting and new dirt. So do her offspring in the other room as well as the surviving plants that I received from my youngest child's birth.  Today, I am going to make a mess!  When it comes to plants, I am not known to be Ms. Green Thumb.  I can kill plants in short order.  I am especially hard on African Violets.  The only plants I can keep alive are those who don't need much attention such as philodendrons and spider plants.  When I was nine years old and had my tonsils out, I received a planter with a philodendron in it from the church.  The planter was of a southern style women in lime green lacy hoop dress and the dress part was the planter (so to visualize, she had a four foot growth coming out of her butt.)  As I grew up, it kept growing and growing.  By the time I was a senior in high school it was wrapped around the roof of my room several times and it still protruded proudly out of the no longer lime green but more of a pasty off-green hoop skirt of the southern lady with now broken nose and fingers.  I have received plants over the years from loved ones and friends for the birth of my kids or holidays and the like.  If they were not a near relative of a philodendron, spider plant, or plastic they only had a short life span in my hands. I do, however, still have two plants from 1993 when my youngest was born.  How they have lived is a mystery.  Well, maybe not so much a mystery as accidental chance. They sit out on the breakfront in my laundry room with two of the offspring from my first spider plant.  They have both been knocked over more times than I can count by cats.  I find them periodically strewn about the laundry room floor clinging to life by a clump of soil, their leaves chewed and rearranged by the felines who found it necessary to make the plants walk the plank.  The plant is then reloaded into it's original pot, now missing some soil and leaves, and placed back up on the breakfront. These hardy plants have survived for eight years like this.  I will re-pot them today, too.  They are veterans of war in a way, and deserve it as much as the root bound spider plant that hangs in my living room.   

My son was invited to a birthday party yesterday.  He wanted to go, but it was at a skating rink and he doesn't skate.  I told him he didn't have to go, but he said there would be another friend there that didn't skate, so he wanted to go anyway and they would play Legos while the other kids skated.  Last time he went to a skating party, his sister stayed with him and helped him out.  I don't skate, and it had never occurred to me over the years to take the kids.  (I am a bad Mom when it comes to skating training.)  My son went to the party.  I helped him lace his skates and I left him as he was playing scoot-crab in the little rink, making the other kids laugh as they joined him scooting around on their butts like crabs.  A half hour later, the phone call came.  He wanted to come home.  He was curled up on the bench away from everyone when I got there.  You could tell he was sadder than sad - bluer than blue.  (Hey, wasn't that a song?)  He left the rink with his head practically sucked into his coat.   I tried to get him to talk.  "I can't skate" was all he said on the way home.  Apparently his friend that told him he couldn't skate could in fact skate pretty well. So there was my son, all alone and not skating. He also whopped his head by falling down as he was inching around the little rink. That was when he decided to throw in the towel and curl up into a fetal position on the bench.  Later last night, he announced to me that even though he was a lousy skater, it was my fault. I agreed that I didn't ever take him skating, but he couldn't blame the whole thing on me.  here were "helpers' at the party that he could have asked for help.  "I didn't get cake, you know" he lamented, almost in tears.   It was then it dawned on me he didn't feel good in general.  He has had a virus and coughing and the like, and I could see the 'sick' in his eyes. I hugged him and said "You know, sometimes, honey - we fall down and bonk our heads.  Not much we can do about that except get up and try again ..."  "... and take Tylenol" he chimed in.  "Yes, and take Tylenol" I laughed.

It's a sad day when a parent realizes that they cannot fix all things for their child.  The parent laments this more than the child I do believe.  If you remember back to your childhood, there were some things in life that went wrong that you didn't want your parents fixing, even if they could.   The growing up process involves many things that a parent cannot prevent, although we'd gladly do it if we could.  A child is going to bonk their head, get their ego bruised, and not be the best at everything they try.  All you can do is stand down and watch it happen.  Every time you see your child going through a new lesson in life, you feel as if you are being kicked in the uterus.  We want to 'take the bullet' for our kids if we could all the time ... but we can't.  Huge Sigh.  This doesn't stop when they are five or ten or eighteen, now does it?   Were we not all told by our parents "... you just wait until you have kids ..." as if it were a curse upon us?  I think now that it was more of a warning, not a curse.  One more way that our parents were trying to take the sting out of another inevitable boo-boo we would eventually receive. 

After reading the front page in the paper yesterday, where Bush is quoted as saying that the strike against Baghdad on Friday was "a routine strike" I have finally put it together why our mailboxes get smashed out in the country like they do - simply routine strikes.  Got to keep those mailboxes in their place!  It's all too clear to me now.

February 22, 2001- I re potted my plants on Sunday, and now have four more pots of spider plants.  My poor plants were so root bound that there was no dirt in with the roots,  so the only thing keeping my plants alive must have been the sheer will to grow opposable thumbs so they could choke me to death.  I had two - twenty pounds bags of potting soil, and I ended up using them both.  Those poor things.  Each plant's roots were just packed into the pot and when I pulled them out of their pots, the only things that were "loose' were the small rocks in the bottom to help with drainage.  I had to literally hack the roots with scissors to separate the individual plants. I ended up with a full grocery bag of excess roots. Sigh. What kind of woman am I? ... My children had no idea what a salad fork was and my plants had no idea what soil was!  I need two weeks of Martha Stewart's Boot Camp in a dire way. 

I went to an Automotive Users group meeting for the software we use.  It was in Detroit on Tuesday.  After driving for two hours I was ready to use the bathroom when I got to the building.  I ran into the building and flew to the nearest universal symbol indicating "potty" but the door was protected by a punch keypad style lock. I pondered this high security device in crossed legged desperation for a bit. Then it dawned on me that three numbers on the key pad were nearly worn off. My bladder was thrilled at this discovery, and urged me to press those three numbers. Ta-Dah!  It worked. I peed. I am hoping for the sake of that company that the people they are trying to keep out of the bathrooms are extremely stupid or have very good bladder control where they wouldn't be staring at the security keypad in a sheer attempt to just "will it open" with their minds long enough to notice the worn off numbers.

February 27, 2001 - Tomorrow I get to go back to work!  Woo Hoo.  My son has been home sick with fever in excess of 100 for two days.  The doctor said today it's just viral, and will not treat him with any antibiotics.  Sigh.  When he was sick and coughing back when I had strep throat they said the same thing.  This is one long drawn out virus.  I am ready to take him to my doctor.  He has not been so overdosed with antibiotics in his lifetime that he would become immune to their effects with a dose of them now!  Sigh.  But what does a Mom know?  He will stay home again tomorrow with his father, unless his fever breaks.  You know your kid is sick when they willingly take naps.  He did both Monday and today.  "Mom, ready for a nap?" he said as he crawled into my bed.  Now that is SICK!  I watched him sleep.  I will miss him when he's grown up and off and not needing me anymore.  He is such an angel when he's sick and sleeping. Such a small freckled face.  stared at him for an hour trying to suck up the memory of how he looks now.  I did this with the other two as well when they were little and sick, trying to take a mental picture of them.   

My daughter has a cold as well. Her ears and throat hurt and she is snotting all over the place.  At least she uses a hanky, where as my son just projects goo all over when he's this sick.  I had her soak in a hot tub tonight with bubble bath stuff.  She said she fell asleep twice, so she got out and went to bed.  I told her a hot bath always makes me feel better when I'm not feeling well - at least I got that right!   She is still full of life even when full of snot, that's for sure. She is into teen overdrive.  Were we all like this?  I don't think so, at least not at home.  My sister mentioned something the other night that is very true ... most of us grew up with parents that wouldn't discuss sex or life in general. The generations were very clearly separated by mind set between us and our parents.  Not only by thought process but by our music and clothes and everything.  Our parent's parents forced set patterns of thought down our parents throats as it were.  They rarely if ever explored other options concerning religion or race or independent mental concepts in general.  We on the other hand are (mostly) more open minded when it comes to life.   We tend to be more open with our kids and share more.  Maybe that is why my daughter feels so compelled to share her day with me.  So I'll quit complaining now and count my blessings as I hose the house down with Lysol. 

February 28, 2001 - My son is on the couch contorting into odd configurations and screaming "I'm burning up!   I'm burning up!"  It's not because he has a fever (even though he does) - it's because I put Vicks VapoRub on his chest. "That stuff is eeeevvviiiiilllllll..." he says.  He is no better than yesterday.  He's still running a fever and coughing.  He still has a headache and barely an appetite. My daughter is hacking and coughing more today as well and feeling ill all over in general.  She still went to school today, and plans on it tomorrow.  Such a trooper.  She used up my supply of Kleenex so now we are now into using spare pillow cases as snot preventative.  My niece Tori is sick too, puking and hacking and coughing.  Sigh.  'Tis the season.  My friend Diane was/is sick with an all night coughing and general all over illness that has lasted for weeks.  I guess this crap is going around but it could have just bypassed this general geographic area all together if it would have asked my opinion in the first place.  My daughter is next in line for a VapoRub down and she's cowering in the corner as I type.  I love that stuff!  I don't know why they fuss so much about it!  I made both kids soak in a nice hot bath with that Johnson's Bedtime Bath - the lavender and chamomile stuff.  At least the house smells nice and lavendery now with just a hint of eucalyptus and camphor. 

I got my "med-o-gram" in the mail about my "mamm-o-gram" the other day and it "says-I-am" normal.  I have normal breasts (and all this time I thought they were so special.  Smile.) At least that is out of the way and I count myself as fortunate. 

It is time for me to go medicate the masses and send them off to bed in a vain attempt to help them get better.  At this point I feel it's a losing battle.  (How in the world did the Walton's ever do it?)  I will also hose down the things they have touched today with mixtures of Pine Sol and boiling oil and burn their used hankies.

(Author's note:  Spell check wanted me to change "Walton's" to "Walloon's."  Hahahaha.  Too cute!)

March 4, 2001 - The attempt to cure all by hosing everything down with Lysol was unsuccessful, although my son did wake up Friday morning without a fever for the first time in five days, so that was good.  Apparently the fever had broken and all of the nomadic cooties infesting his body migrated to and settled in his nose/head.  I took him into the doctor anyway Friday morning to make sure it had not gone to bronchitis or some other evil thing.  He left the doctor's office with a sticker of a duck and a free sample of Flonase nose spray and a hanky full of goo. My daughter is in the same boat still - all snotted up and no place to blow.  It seems the fever/flu symptoms only effect the younger ones and us older ones just get an immediate head cold.   I went to bed with the feeling I was next on the snot hit parade and indeed, I woke up this morning all clogged up and head-heavy.  I, of course, blame it all on the makers of Lysol.  Makes me feel better at least. 

I attempted to get most of my son's homework done with him over the weekend.  He was not in any mood to tolerate work sheets nor reading.  I forced him to some of it.  "I gots too much snot in my head!   I can't see the words!" was his explanation. We took turn reading every other page. While one person was reading, the other was honking like a goose in heat as we blew our noses. 

Saturday morning was the mass visit to the veterinarians for the dogs. That was a hoot and a half.  Frank walked in and walked right onto the scale and they got his weight, then he proceeded to poop all over then pee.  We made a grand entrance. The vet talked to me about aging pets, since Frank is "aging" at warp speed. The doctor sutured off "little brother" (Frank's odd growth on his stomach) to see if he could get it to die and fall off by cutting off it's blood supply.  He didn't want to do actual surgery since Frank is old and the pulse in "little brother" was quite strong.  It immediately turned purple.  Ick.  The kids were thoroughly grossed out. This morning there was some bleeding, and it looked as if the sutures might not hold.  He is wearing old T-shirts to keep "it" up and off the ground.  I washed Frank up and changed his shirt.  Poor old dude.   He also got some eye medicine for his eye infection.  Just last week he got "lost" outside when he went out to potty and ended up barking into the dryer vent. As sad as it was, it made me laugh as I tried to lead him back to the door.  He smelled good - just like Downy.  I hope the eye medicine helps him.  Why do we get so emotionally attached to our pets?  They love us unconditionally.  They are always happy to see us.  I personally would not live without a pet in the house.   There are some nights I cannot sleep until I call a cat up to pet.  It is relaxing to have pets.  I have always wondered how much we are their "pets" as we think they are ours?  

March 6, 2001 - We had a winter blast yesterday/last night.  Lake effect snow and lots of blowing.   I knew the weekend of sun was too good to be true.  Always sunniest before the storm.  It was so "spring" like on Saturday that I got a winter's worth of frozen dog poop cleaned up in the yard.  (I live life on the edge, don't I?)  I wish there was some practical use for dog crap - I'd be rich.

Ah, a two hour delay for school.  My daughter is thrilled.  She has told anyone who will listen at home and at school that her "skull" hurts.  I try to tell her it's the pressure from her sinus cavity. "I hate snot!" she said.  I just sent her in for a nice hot shower to loosen the monster within her head.  My son seems to be feeling much better although he too has the snot thing going on.  He announced last night that the nose spray the doctor has him on smells like "frog" and I am not sure how he came up with that.  Hahaha.  Frog?  I guess only a little boy would know that.

Another school shooting.  Sigh.   Where did we go wrong as a society that we've taught our children that taking another human life is even an option?  (Not only children, but people in general!)   I do believe that's the greatest gift of all - being alive, and it's never an option to remove that gift.  Maybe we've just slipped back down the evolutionary ladder when it come to how we view human life.  Very sad. 

March 8, 2001 - The kids and I looked up astronomy facts tonight.  The moon is very bright tonight and they both had questions about the moon and the sky and space in general.  One question led to another so I had to get out a book on the subject to aid me in fielding the questions before I started making up names for things.  (Ok, now that is the SnotHead Nebula and that star is called 'Lou Bega' ....)  My son was shocked that they had these types of facts in books.  Hahaha.  

My daughter had a "skull" ache again, plus her eyes hurt.  I knew just what to do thanks to my cousin, Dr. Dave.  I made her sprawl out in the lazy boy and put a hot pack on her sinus area over her eyes.  After it cooled down, I did it one more time. "Wow!  My eyes don't hurt!" she proclaimed after the second time around.  "That's 'cause Mom burned yer eyes out" her brother laughed.  I have very dry skin so I decided to boil some water on the stove tonight instead of firing up the humidifier. My daughter said "my choir teacher said to breathe in steam and I'd be all fixed up."  DUH!  Now why didn't I think of that?  I got her all set up with a personal head sauna device.  (Ok, so it was just a bowl of steaming water and a towel over her head.)   My son was convinced I was going for the whole face this time, not just the eyes.  After the sauna was over she blew her nose for approximately 1/2 hour non stop.  I do believe we made some progress. No wonder her skull hurt!  She had a small third world country up there in snot alone!

I am working on a project at work that is driving me crazy.  All my brain cells go on strike by 4:30 from thinking too hard. I am SO CLOSE to figuring it out but I CAN'T and it's driving me crazy.  Sigh.  I know a year from now I'll look back on it all and laugh, flip my hair back and say "oh, that little thing?" but right now I see no humor in it whatsoever.  Another big sigh.  Work lately has felt like a giant Rubik's Cube and I'm color blind. 

March 12, 2001 - So much for Sandy's Medical Cave of Wonder.  My daughter came home from school on Friday burning up with fever.  Obviously the steaming just pissed off the germs inside her and they rebelled.  Sigh.  She spent the weekend puking and snotting and sleeping.  My son came home with an ear ache on Thursday night and was sick AGAIN with that on Friday morning.  It took him into the doctor AGAIN.  Guess what?  He was sick!  He needed medication!  Amazing!  They used to over medicate, now they are afraid to give out a prescription unless puss is oozing from some orifice, and then they must consider the color of the puss and speed of the ooze before they give out medicine.  There has to be a happy medium.  Everyone is feeling much better tonight, however.  Thank the Lord.

Just a warning - if you come to my house and have to look something up in the Encyclopedia volume containing the word you are in search of, there are certain rules.  If you use a volume to find out something interesting or for school related projects or just need it to boost a toddler's height at the dinner table, it is up to you to dust all the dirt off of that volume before returning it to it's numeric position on the official Encyclopedia Shelf.  Sorry, but those are the rules. Those would not be the rules, however, if I was more prone to dusting.

I was plucking chin hairs.  I am very sick of chin hairs.  I curse my hairy heritage or level of testosterone in my body for giving me chin hairs.  I would gladly trade my chin hairs for Pamela Anderson's body.  I wonder if Pamela has chin hairs?  Most women have facial hair.  It is a fact of life that cannot be avoided unless you are rich and can afford de-hair-ing.  It is a fact of life that I am going to have hair in places I would just as soon NOT have hair, and I should just accept it and get over it and deal with.  But I am SICK of chin hairs.  They bug me.  They are real whiskers, so they are stiff and hard and they bug the living SHIT out of me. Tonight I was doing my nightly plucking and chanced upon what I thought was just a normal ingrown baby hair, but when I attempted a 'pluck' it literally exploded.  A two inch hair flew out of my chin.  It actually scared me.  It sprang out of it's facial prison at the speed of hair and I screamed!  Sigh.  I beg my children and close friends to "pluck" me in the nursing home when I am no longer able to do it myself.  One of my biggest fears is going down in a plane crash in the mountains and surviving but being without tweezers. If I was there too long, someone might capture me thinking I was a Sasquatch.

It has been very brown around here lately.  Most of the snow has melted except for the huge brown mounds that exists along the edges of the road and at the edge of parking lots, left from all the plowing this winter.  Those amuse me because they catch me off guard on a daily basis - I will see a brown mound out of the corner of my eye as I'm driving and think to myself, "Oh my, a poor dead deer!" but it turns out to be just dirty snow.  (As opposed to my thoughts all during the white winter, when I was passing a poor dead deer every day thinking "Oh my, a big pile of dirty snow!")  The mound of dirty snow directly across the street at work looks like a mastodon taking a nap.  The grass is brown, the trees are brown.  It is brown as far as the eye can see.  Perhaps by now you might have gotten the impression that it's very brown around where I live.  You are correct.  It has also been very windy as of late.  Michigan's version of the Chinook wind, I assume.  Brown and windy.  Windy and brown.  There is one thing, though that brightens the view and makes me laugh every time - have you noticed how every big field contains it's own personal blue plastic wading pool?  Seems the wind has taken those little blue wading pools from their winter storage areas and blown them into fields across the state.  You can be driving for miles thinking, "it sure is brown and icky" when suddenly, you pass a field and in the center of the field is a blue plastic wading pool.  It reminds me there is hope for summer.

March 21, 2001 -   I have just eaten enough stale green jelly beans to give Willy Wonka a sugar coma.   Ick.  The first ten or so went down pretty good, but now they are hitting bottom.  Belch.

I ran out of my Paxil prescription on Monday.  One doesn't normally attempt to go "cold turkey" when it comes to Paxil or any other medicine that deals with brain chemical production.  I did not notice my prescription date had come and gone at the time I called in for a refill.   I went to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription last night, but they didn't have it and proceeded to tell me a story of the expired prescription and calling the doctor but never hearing back from the doctor.  Sigh.  Nobody bothered to let me know.   What ever happened to courtesy calls?  It was too late to call the doctor, so I went one night without my Paxil.  No big deal. 

This morning, I called the doctor's office to clear up this problem.  The girl who took the call put me back to the nurses phone message area.  I never have EVER gotten any call backs or results from that avenue, so I went back to her.  "Really, all you have to do it mention my name, and Dr. K will just write out a prescription or call it in.  It's no big whoop!"  I tried to explain.  "You will have to come in," the nice lady said.   "Oh," I sighed, "I do?"  "Yes," the nice lady said.  "Then I need to make an appointment today."   "There are no appointments available today," the nice lady said.  "I need a drug that prevents my brain from converting oxygen and various other vital gases and bodily fluids into their raw elements that could result in a person going postal, and you have no appointments TODAY?" I said, my voice getting a bit pre-postal.  "Ummm, please hold," the nice lady said.  I listened to the 'Piña Colada' song. The nice lady came back and said, "Ma'am, we can work you in at one this afternoon.  But it's a work in.  Work ins get seen if there is time."  "So, maybe by five p.m., then?  That will be fine, thank you!" I managed to say. 

So, I went to the doctor.  My blood pressure was textbook.  A first in over a year.  How my blood pressure was so calm, cool and collected, I do not know.  I was in no mood to be calm nor feel cool and collected for that matter.  A freak of nature, no doubt.  I made the nurse take it twice.  I didn't believe it the first time.  Of course, one of the reasons I did not feel calm, cool and collected was because of the doctor's office to begin with.  I told the nurse my story.  "Maybe you are the type who loves chaos and that's why your blood pressure is normal!" the nurse said.  When Dr. K came in the room, I said, "all I want is my spaz medicine!!"  "We faxed it in yesterday," she said, checking my file.  "If you did, it never got there, and no one told me that is was faxed ... " I whined in a pathetic voice.   I told her the story of trying to just get it phoned in.  Dr. K apologized and explained the problems her office had been having with new people and lack of nurses and mentioned that the visit was 'free' since there was all the confusion.  As she was walking out I mentioned a cyst on my head, or as my Mom used to call them, a 'wen,' and asked her if she could take that off when I came in for my annual poke 'n prod visit in May.   (I get those things a lot and when they get real big, they bother me to no end.  Dr. K can cut 'em, drain 'em, and stitch them up so you would never even know there was a lump on my head to begin with.)  "I can take it off now!" she announced.  Too cool, but then I wondered why I had to be a "work in" when she had time to hack off my head bumps and so much for a free visit.  I just had to laugh to myself.  We talked as she drained the cyst and as she pulled out the cyst sack.  It's all too cool.  I got blue stitches.  I left the doctor's in a happy mood and proceeded to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription. 

"We don't have a prescription for you," the nice pharmacist said.  "They faxed it to you yesterday!" I exclaimed.  "No, we never received it yesterday," the nice pharmacist said.   "Oh."  When I got back to work I called the doctor's office.  I explained that I was just there for a prescription and since they had faxed it (though no one let me know and I had to come in for a visit) could they just re-fax it so I could get it on my way home from work.  "No," the nice lady said.  "Why?   I was just there!!  Walk back and ask the doctor!  She will say "oh goodness - how silly" and tell you to fax it in again!!!" I practically screamed.  "Ummm, please hold," the nice lady said.  I listened to something by Air Supply while I waited.  "Ma'am ... " another lady came on and said, "we can't promise we'll fax it today since you were just in and your file is in the dictation pile and we would have to retrieve it."  "Oh,"   I said, "Just forget it. I am bringing in my daughter tomorrow and I'll ask the doctor in person.  Screw it.  How postal can one person get in two days?" and I hung up.  Sigh again.   

If that wasn't enough Catch 22'ing for one person, work has been the same way.  I am having a terrible time with software that is faulty but the software vendor doesn't think it is.  Around and around I have gone.  I am trying to implement a new module of the software, and apparently only three other people in the whole world besides me are trying to make it work.  This particular module of the software was one of the 'key' selling points for us back in 1994 when we all went shopping for packaged software for our company.  The module never did work up until the most current version of our software.  Well, I say that loosely.  It works, but you have to sacrifice small animals to make it work.   Tomorrow morning I am going to document all the facts and program errors and challenge the software vendor to a site visit.  If they can make this particular module work with the software as it is - or "vanilla" as we say in the geek department, I will be happy to pay the bill.  If not, they fix it and they eat the cost.  There should be nothing as difficult as my last few weeks have been except, of course, for childbirth and passing kidney stones. 

Does anybody remember when Skylab fell back to Earth?  I do.  I wrote a poem about it way back when.  I found it a rather humorous and interesting subject then - this 'space garbage' idea.  Now we are anticipating MIRS re-entry this Friday.  And by gosh, Taco Bell is floating a "target" in the ocean for MIRS to aim at.  I find that too funny.   What a brilliant idea!  A five dollar plastic target that will get millions of dollars worth of advertising attention.  If it hits the target they are prepared to give each person in the United States a free taco. That's a lot of meat.  We can only hope they are not getting it from Argentina or Britain or the local animal shelters.  Smile.

March 25, 2001 - It dawned on me Friday that I was waiting for MIR with anticipation only because I assumed it would hit something or do something spectacular on the way down.  It pains me to admit that I had "The Enquirer" mentality about the whole thing.   Things related to space travel excite me.  Falling 'stars' and atmospheric fireworks excite me.  The Aurora Borealis excites me.  The universe in general and all it's majesty excite me.  But after watching the MIR results on CNN on Friday morning, I felt very "empty" and disappointed, as I did after staying up and watching Geraldo unearth Al Capone's secret bunker or whatever that was and only finding a glass jar.  What was I expecting from MIR?  A sequel to Independence Day or something?  Sigh.  In reality I am thankful now that MIR didn't explode all over Japan or take out several fishing trollers.  But no doubt in the future in my sick pathetic human nature way, I will once again be anticipating some other potential pending global disaster that is over exposed by the media or helplessly mesmerized by "Real Cops - Real Bloody Video" and I'll be ashamed of myself the whole time I'm watching it.

I woke up at five a.m. and have been up ever since.  I've gotten three loads of laundry done plus the dishes and scooped the cat crap in the litter box.  Now it's nine a.m. and I have done all my 'fun' stuff for the day.  What am I supposed to do now??  I sat on the toilet long enough to leave a ring around my rear, reading 'Time' magazine.  A good article in it about Alzheimer's disease in it, as well as other good articles apparently - good enough to keep me reading and seal my butt to the toilet seat. 

March 26, 2001 - I would love a blue print or user's manual of the brain.  I crave to know how to set the dip switches on emotions, learning, understanding, and indifference - just the schematics of the brain in general.  Elders talk to youth and the youth don't listen.   The youth in turn become the elders talking to youth who don't listen.  I would love to skip that step, especially when it comes to my own kids.  When I was 18, I thought I had the world by the lower extremes.  At 18, I actually said to an older member of the softball team I was playing on at the time "I pretty much all I'll ever need to know right now about life!"  She just shook her head as she reached for a pop fly and said, "Girl, you don't know shit yet!"  It wasn't until I was in my early 30's that it dawned on me that life as I knew it was constantly changing and evolving.  I didn't "know it all."   I could never stop learning even if I lived to be a million years old.  My understanding of circumstances surrounding situations grows every day.  So when I talk to my own children or nieces or friends of my children, I would adore to give them my insight on things.  Help them 'skip the step' of various learning curves.  Save them the angst of trying to figure things out.   They listen to me try to explain things, I am sure.  Do they apply it?  No.  Did I apply the lessons hinted at by elders when I was young?  No.  Sigh.  What a crappy loop of life, isn't it?   Seems that we waste a lot of time grappling to get a hold of a fairly stable ledge within ourselves where we feel comfortable, when all along it would have been a lot nicer if we had just taken the elevator instead.

I mentioned to my youngest son that I wanted to be a waitress at Red Lobster.  I love seafood.  I love going to Red Lobster.   It's like a trip to Disney Land to me.  "They get to wear those cool fish shirts!" I told him.  "Mom, you can't be a waitress at Red Lobster!!" he laughed at me in a matter of fact way.  "Why?" I asked him.   "You are too fat to be a waitress," was his reply.  He didn't mean it in a cruel way at all.  He was just stating facts as they appeared in his little head.  Either he has never seen a larger waitress in his short life or his brain is so advanced he has noticed my girth vs. the distance between tables at Red Lobster.   

April 13, 2001 -My friend Diane mentioned I had not written in my diary in quite a while.  I think that is a good sign - Nothing to lament on "paper" as it were.  I will, however, jot a few things this morning.  Happy April.  Happy Friday the 13th!!  BOO! 

I woke up at 5:45 this morning, and decided to catch up on laundry and balance my checkbook.  I have been on vacation all week.   I put up my hummingbird feeder last weekend in hopes of luring some of the early arrivals.  I have not seen any yet.  It was so warm last weekend, I was inspired to do that for some odd reason.  If I remember correctly from my hummingbird studies, the males come back first searching for territory and nesting areas and after finding a spot that suits them away from all modern conveniences and with several cars in the front yard on blocks and sit and wait for the women to come and do all the work.   (Hahahaaaa.  Sorry.  Had to get a male bashing jibe in there.)   It has rained in abundance and the grass greened up nicely.  The daffodils are blooming.  The crocus are croaking.  The trees are budding.   It officially smells like worms and wet puppies so it must be spring.  I took several road trips around lower and mid Michigan.  Michigan is beautiful, especially in the first throws of spring.   I love the hills you come across on "blind" drives.  Mini-roller coasters!  Ah, the glaciers did such good work here.  And lakes ... CRIPES!!  Anywhere you turn here, there is a lake.   Pine, Maple, Morse, Gun, Long, Indian, Silver, Lincoln, Sunset .... I could go on.   And speaking of lakes ...

My daughter had to spend yesterday in a boater's safety class.  "Why do I need to know how to drive a boat, and safely at that?" she complained Wednesday night.   "Maybe in case you ever have to run from the law and the only thing available is a boat?"  I suggested.   "Plus, any where you turn in Michigan there is a lake and what if you are speeding along in your Volkswagen when you can drive, assuming of course you pass driver's training, and reach down to pick up a Starburst you dropped because, OF COURSE you wouldn't be drinking and driving due to your D.A.R.E. training, and when you look up there is this lake coming at you at warp speed!?  What will you do then?  You will remain calm as you plunge into the water due to your boater's safety training, that's what!!"  She rolled her eyes at me and stormed off in her teen-PMS-rage, mumbling under her breath.  (It sounded logical to me, Geez!)

My son started soccer. This is his first time playing.  He has a way to go before he becomes aggressive enough to go after the ball.  He has a way to go before he is not so afraid of the ball that he ducks and covers when it comes at him.  The first practice he had his hands in his sweat pants pockets the whole time, performing a sort of impromptu "River Soccer Dance" as he followed other kids around the field.   Several Moms have told me that they play in a 'herd' or as Diane said, "it's Bumble Bee soccer" where the kids are all in a bunch up and down the soccer field in a group around the ball like bees at a hive.  Hahaha.  How true.   After a practice is over, my son is just worn out.  "Man, I am a sweatin' bad" he will say as he collapses in the back seat sucking on his water bottle.  The coach went through all the positions with the kids at the last practice.  They all had a turn at forward and defense and mid field and goalie.  After that work out, the coach had them sit down and tell her what position they would like to play.  My son screamed "goalie!"  (The position he didn't have to run all the time in.)  I laughed out loud.   

April 18, 2001 -   Tonight was interesting.   It turns out my daughter was not having just PMS rage, she was sick!  Sunday she was puking and had fever and ear aches and gut aches and snot was oozing out of each hole she has in her body.  It scares me to see her that sick, because she is never that sick.  I got her to the doctor on Monday.   Sinus infection - ear infection - possible strep.  She spent Monday on the couch snotting and sleeping.  She spent Tuesday on the couch snotting and sleeping. She felt better enough to go to school today.  I would like to take this time to mention that if a medicine says DO NOT TAKE WITH MILK .... it says it for a reason.  She had eaten breakfast this morning - cereal with milk - and I told her to go ahead and take her pills.  Two minutes before the bus came, we found out why one doesn't mix this medicine with calcium products.  She flew to the bathroom.  The poor kid. "Thanks Mom!!"  she yelled from the toilet.  I ended up taking her to school once her potty time was over.  Tonight's medicinal dose was sans lactose. 

The homework tonight was driving her insane. "There's a test tomorrow in science, and I don't understand this stuff at all!" she cried.  Tears of frustration were evident.  "I cannot think they would force you to take a test since you have been sick, honey!" I tried to calm her fears.  "I can't get behind, I just can't.  And I just don't get this ..."  She had called friends earlier to ask, but it was clear that she did not understand HOW to get the answers.  I tried to help her out between dinner and dishes and laundry and getting her brother's homework done.  "You are just confusing me!" she practically sobbed.  I was ready to throw her book at her and give up.  The frustration levels were so high that it would have been easy to say "forget it, do it yourself" or "wait until a teacher can help you" but I counted to ten, as it were.  I was thinking to myself how it would have been so nice to get mad and give up and walk away, or shame her into thinking she was driving me crazy, or lay a guilt trip on her.  Our parents did that to us a lot, I think.   Too much.  Maybe because they knew no better?  Sigh.  I also thought to myself how many times people DO do that to each other.  Just saying "screw you" and walking away fixes nothing now, does it?

I let her have a good cry.  I gently explained to her that she was still sick.  She had been very sick.  She was tired and trying to learn two days worth of school in several hours.  That can be very confusing.  We started over again.  It went much better after that.  We just slowed down and I showed various ways until her "light bulb" came on on how it worked.  It all ended well with a nice discussion on planets in general with both kids and from there we talked about how planets were a lot like our like cats.  (Don't even ask me how we came to that conclusion.  All I know is we ended up laughing about it, and now they are both in bed!)  Stress for kids in school can be as real as stress for an adult over work or life in general.  Nothing is worth a breakdown, especially when it comes to planet's orbital rotation in kilometers per second.  Sigh.  "One kilometer at a time, Sweet Jesus, is all I'm asking from You ..." 

I could not sleep last night at all.  I tossed and turned.   I am getting my daughter's illness.  My throat hurts.  Snot is beginning to spew forth.  I tried to relax in bed but it didn't work.  I guess I should hit the hay and say a prayer and pet a planet ... I mean CAT.

April 28, 2001 - I was listening to "Comedy is Not Pretty" by Steve Martin.  I had downloaded it from Napster before the controversy began.  (I have the album of it, purchased back in 1980 or '79 I think, but no place to play it, even if it wasn't shaped like a Ruffle now. )  Some of the bits still make me laugh out loud.   I doubt if some of the things on it would humor my kids, such as the bit where he is talking about banjos -  "I always thought a banjo could have saved Nixon ..."  or when he's talking about getting a new stereo (but it sounded like "shit") then a quadraphonic (but it sounded like "shit") then a doe-decca-phonic (but it sounded like "shit") and then he realized after buying all that equipment that all along "it must have been the needle."  My kids have never seen a turntable to know what he was referring to.  And I was worried a while back that there was no real "generation" gap!  I feel better now knowing there is. 

On the way to work yesterday, I was driving past one of the local cemeteries and was nodding to the headstones in respect, when there right in the front of this lovely fresh cut green grass full of old headstones view was a shocking florescent orange sign stuck in the ground reading "Moving Sale!!!"  At first I was aghast!  How rude of those people to put that sign there!!   Then I had to chuckle.  Moving Sale?  In an odd way, it was funny.  Proof you cannot take it with you.

My son woke me up this morning by insisting I feel "his muscles!"  "Mom, feel this!  Feel my muscles!!   Feel them!  FEEL THEM NOW!"  He was already dressed for his soccer game today and apparently was posing in front of the bathroom mirror when he discovered he had muscles in his arms.  After I felt them and said, "Oooooooo, hard and big!" he bounded off my bed and ran to his sister.  "Feel my muscles!   FEEL THEM NOW!"  If the dogs had opposable thumbs, they too would have been forced to partake in his discovery.

My niece stopped for a visit last weekend and brought her son. My son and her son went off to play and had a grand time while 'us girls' visited.  Eventually they wanted to have us push them on the swing set so we went outside to do so.  As my niece pushed them, her son said, "I want Grandpa to push us" referring to me.  Hahaha.  "Grandpa?" I asked my niece, laughing.  "That's his generic term for anyone older!" she explained, although I think she was a little embarrassed.  I hope she was not, for I found it very adorable.  He calls my sister "Grandpa" too.  I felt accepted!  She wrote me a letter later that week about his antics at the doctor's office.  He needs his tonsils out so my niece was listening to the nurse explain the routine and the word "suppository" came up.  Apparently my nephew thought that was by far the coolest word he had ever heard and proceeded to do a dance in honor of it, shouting "suppository" over and over again.  I wonder how he will feel when she explains to him what a suppository is?  Smile.

May 2, 2001 - May already?  That means four months have zipped past us as an unusually high rate of speed.  Sigh.  "Stop the world, I want to get off" makes all the sense in the world now that I'm older. 

Tonight at soccer practice, the parents played the kids.  Jokingly, I took a survey on how many people knew CPR,  and thank goodness many did.  Now mind you, I haven't moved farther that six feet in one sitting in years and then not with any sense of speed at that.  Playing forward for five minutes almost put me on a stretcher.  My lungs were battling for every breath.  I had to actually think about not breathing so hard.  I had to remember how to breathe normal!  How out of shape is that?  Good Lord!  "Any one .... ah huff ah huff .... want to ... ah huff ah huff ... change .... wheeze .... places .... ah huff ah huff .... for ... ah huff .....  a while .... ah huff?" I asked, hoping that I was looking all nonchalant about it.   I switched with Trish, who was playing defense back by the goalie.  After switching, it still took me five minutes to recover!   Linda asked, "are you alright?" because my chest cavity must have been heaving like bellows.  "Oh ... ah huff ahhh hufff ..... sure ..... wheeze cough .... just fine!"  Actually, it was really fun all in all.  I had never played soccer before, and frankly, I have new respect for those kids!  How they can go out on the field and kick that ball without falling down every time - I don't know.   There were a few times that when I went to kick the ball, I'd half miss and get my foot stuck on the top.  It's amazing I didn't fall on my rear.  I think the kids had fun and I know I did after nearly dying.  (And I'm not totally ruling out the fact that I may have loosened a wad of fat that may still eventually find it's way to my brain later tonight.)  In the car, my son didn't comment on how I almost embarrassed him to death by collapsing on the field in front of his team mates.  All he said was, "you can sure kick far, Mom!"   He has big plans on "getting me in shape."  He told me, "First I'll walk ya, then the next night I'll jog ya, then then next night we'll run.  Oh, you will run, Mom ... you will run!   But I'll take it easy for a day or two!" 

He wanted to stop at the store 'for a treat' after soccer practice tonight, but I told him I'd make him a peanut butter shake when we got home.  "You don't know how to make a peanut butter shake!" he proclaimed.  "Yes I do!" I told him, wondering why he would doubt my abilities of turning on a blender.  "Where did you learn how to do that?" he asked doubtfully.  "Well, I did work at Tastee Freeze as a teenager, you know!" I responded firmly.  He was amazed - Truly amazed that I had worked at Tastee Freeze.  I proceeded to tell him about all the different things I did growing up.  "I was a waitress and a dishwasher.  I worked in the corn fields. I worked in a metal factory.  I ran a press for eight years in a plastics plant, then I was in shipping and receiving for years. I drove fork lifts and loaded and unloaded semi trucks." "Holy Cow, Mom!  You did all that stuff?" he said in awe.  I almost threw in some 'fake' stuff about being an astronaut for a while and finding cures for some major diseases, but I thought I had better quit while I was ahead.  If he was impressed by me driving a fork lift, I already had it made and didn't need to embellish.  "As a matter of fact," I told him, "it was YOUR fault that I had to stop driving a fork lift!  When I was pregnant for you, I got so huge in front that I couldn't fit behind the wheel anymore!!"   My son was very impressed that he was involved with heavy equipment at such a young age.  Hahaha.  He came home and proceeded to tell his sister about all the things that "Mom had done in her life."  His sister was not as impressed as he was, but she drank a peanut butter shake nonetheless. 

This morning I took my son to my doctor's.  I am switching him over to her from a pediatric doctor so he had to have a 'well child' checkup.  He was worried all week about having to get a shot. "Oh, honey!  No!  You don't have to get a shot!  Silly. You will, however, have to pee in a cup."  I told him.  He seemed relieved at the 'no shot' part, and was happily anticipating the 'pee in a cup' part.  "Why do I gotta do that?" he asked.  "They have to make sure everything is coming out ok," I explained.  Last night I heard him singing an impromptu song, blues style, about "going to a new docs...gotta pee in a cup....ain't gettin' a shot...I hope they give out suckers not stickers...." 

Well, my muscles are systematically shutting down now in post-soccer shock, so I will end this entry before the kids find me frozen here at the computer when they wake up tomorrow morning.  (I bet my son didn't know I can do an awesome 'un-oiled Tin Man' impression too!)  Viva Ben Gay!!

May 7, 2001 - Is today National P.M.S. Day?  I am quite sure it is in my own little world.  I was a bit upset about work, since the 'fix' I received to 'fix' a problem in my software didn't 'fix' it.  Then not less than a half hour ago I had to lock myself in the bathroom to keep from screaming and/or hurling large objects across the room.  To avoid this violent action I locked myself in the bathroom and put my head out the window to listen to the rain, the birds, and smell the fresh smell of spring and try with all my might not to think about hurling things at my kids or coworkers.

My son was tired and pooped out after school tonight.  Mondays can be hell when you are in second grade, I agree.  All through dinner he complained  - "This sketti sauce taste weird, what kind did you buy?  You musta bought somethin' different, 'cause this taste crappy... " - and he complained about the length of the spaghetti and the texture of it.  He complained about the banana I made him eat in lieu of lima beans.  "This 'nana is all stringy and it's old.  I hate old bananas!"  Then during homework he fought with me over how to measure things.  "Not things, Mother!  OBJECTS!   We have to measure OBJECTS!!"  He had blue measuring strips and yellow measuring strips.  The yellow strips were half the size of the blue.  We measured my foot.  My foot was one and a half blue strips long.  "So that's two and a half yellow strips!" he proclaimed and he wrote this finding down. "No, measure my foot with the yellow strips. You will find that my foot is three yellow strips long ..." I told him.  "NO!  My teacher measured stuff today to show us how to, and she said that one and a half was the same as two and a half!"  and he began to cry from being confused.  I drew pictures and showed him.  We measured several things to "prove" my theory of strip length.  He did not believe me and didn't understand, but he wrote down his new findings anyway.  Sigh.  I miss the days of inches and feet!  Right about now I'd settle for metrics! 

After all was well with my son and the terror of Mom helping him with his homework was long forgotten, my daughter walked into the room.  She had been working on homework all night, breaking only for dinner and doing the dishes. She has a science presentation due tomorrow.  She had all weekend to work on it, mind you. She did not.  She did ask for advice on how to demonstrate the greenhouse effect on our planet this weekend.  I suggested something.  She managed to put that together, but that was it - no research and no questions and no comprehension.  It seems she is partnered with some people for this project who are not bent on school work in the manner she is.  They did not help much, if at all.  Now she is faced with their group giving a session on the greenhouse effect and nothing in place to present.  She wrote a presentation up as a script for all four of them.  She asked me to read it to point out any spelling errors or errors in general.  Seeing as she asked me to read it and correct it, I assumed she meant "read it and correct it" but I was horribly mistaken.   What she obviously meant was "I don't want to do this project and all of my group mates are lazy and now I'm left to save the day as always so I want to be a martyr and feel sorry for myself and I really don't care if this little skit is correct in any way scientific, I just want you to say 'ok' so I can type it up and print four copies so I can be done and get on line to chat."  One must never assume!  I pointed out some errors and she began to cry and wept "so WHAT is wrong with it?  I don't understand WHY you say it's wrong?!!  What is wrong?  You ARE the ONE who told me to do what I did!!!..."   It was at this point that I grabbed the dictionary for "G" and looked up 'Greenhouse effect,' handed her the book and proceeded to  "lose it" quietly, walked to the bathroom and locked myself in to prevent bodily harm to my young ones and myself. 

The kids are now in bed and all is quiet, except for the rain outside.  A calming sound.  Thank goodness.  The animals have sensed my mood and are at the furthest regions of the house away from me curled up and silent.  Tomorrow is another day, so I have heard.  I'm taking a couple of Pamprin as preventative medicine and going to bed.

May 18, 2001 - Tonight something fun happened.  We were coming home from picking my daughter up from the Junior High Dance and noticed a turtle trying to cross the road near our drive way.  A rather good sized one at that.  We parked the car and decided to save the poor old guy.  My kids and I and the neighbor boy meandered across the road and looked at it.  He had sucked into his shell by then.  He was a into the road by a foot.  I had taken a stick in case it was a snapper turtle, but it wasn't.  We poked at it with the stick anyway, because you can never tell when it comes to turtles if they are killer turtles or not.  My first thought was to pick him up and haul him down to the creek about 1/8 of a mile down the road.  It would have been a nice little walk and we would have been helping out nature.  I picked him up.  I was checking out his shell and rotating him around to show the kids when he cut loose urinating.  Never in my life have I seen a turtle pee like that.  One would almost guess he had just come from a reptile kegger and had not peed for hours after heavy drinking.  He was peeing with such force that he scared me!  I dropped him upside down onto the road on his shell and peed my own pants from the shock.  The kids were doubled over laughing like heathens.  After he stopped spinning from the drop, I rolled him over with the stick.  The kids could barely breathe from laughing.  Now one would assume that after peeing so hard for so long and with such force that there was no more inside to come out, especially since the volume that came out of that turtle would equal more than his whole body mass.  I took the chance to pick him up to move him off the road (forget the trip to the creek!) when he kicked into pee-pee overdrive again!  Once again the kids started to laugh hysterically.  I didn't drop him this time, I just put him off the road itself into the field a bit.  My son announced that it was perhaps the coolest thing he had ever seen.  I just looked at the kids and snarled, then came back to the house to clean up my shoes.  My daughter grabbed the nature book to look up what type of turtle it actually was and decided it was a form of a Pond Turtle.  There was no listing for a turtle that uses pee as a defense mechanism.  I told her look under the Latin name "clemmys peelotsonmea." 

I think when my web domain name comes up for renewal I am closing the page down.  This diary has served me well.  It helped me feel so not alone on many lonely nights.  I never got too deep on here although at times I wanted to.  One never airs ALL their dirty laundry, now does one?  By writing about the 'little things' such as those small day to day humorous things that happened in my life, it kept me from dwelling on those  bigger things that normally would have bugged me too much or depressed me.  In reality the bigger things shouldn't bugs us as much as they do, and I have decided that "sleeping on it" really does work.  Sometimes you have to sleep a whole weekend, but it does work.  

Most of the 'crisis' in our lives eventually goes away.  Most of the pain doesn't hurt as bad the next day (or at least after the swelling goes down.)  We as humans dwell on petty little things to the point of working ourselves up into a frenzy about it.  We lose valuable living time worrying about stuff we cannot control.  We hate things and instead of walking away from them to make ourselves happy, we stay and feel terrible because we fear change or we create a false feeling of guilt inside ourselves and blame it on others.  We obsess over things to the point of creating a festering pot of constant irritation in our brain that begins to spread through our mind like wild fire creating doubt and judgment of people and things that we have no right to judge.  I am not saying we should be as indifferent as a cat and just lay around all day swishing our tails and demanding attention just when we need it and the rest of the time doing what we please.  I guess I'm saying that we as humans tend to think that people/things MAKE us feel certain ways, but in reality we are allowing those people/things to bother us.  We have the power within us to rise above a lot of the stuff we let shroud us in anguish but we don't.  Being a thinking human isn't easy.  Thinking and the power of free thought can really be a pain in the ass.  Sigh.  I pity us as a race. 

I feel bad for all the years I spent being an asshole and hurting people by being petty - thinking I had the right to say things or do things just because I deemed it correct and just.  

I feel like an asshole for all the years I spent feeling superior to any other human in any way.  I am ashamed of the fact that I even dared assume that I was right and someone else was wrong concerning life subjects.  How can anyone judge another until they have walked a mile in their shoes, as it were?  

I guess what is all boils down to is - why lament the fact that 'they' didn't come up with scoop-able kitty litter until recently?  Just be thankful you have it now.  Carry on my wayward sons.

May 27, 2001 - It has been raining and raining and raining here in Michigan where I am at.  (If it were not for the whole God's Rainbow Promise, I'd begin to panic.)  The hummingbirds have been at the feeder eating in the rain looking all wet and soggy.  Poor birdies.  I think there are so many hummingbirds because it has been very chilly for this time of year as well, and they need to eat more to stay warm.  (No wonder I'm always so hot.)  

I am grilling out today even if it does continue to rain.  It's required by law to grill out on three day weekends.  I will take the kids to the parade tomorrow and explain to them the significance of remembering those who served and died for our country.  Even if you are 'anti-everything' one must still take a moment of silence to remember those who served our country - most did it due to draft or it was 'their duty' and they did the best they could.  Most were not gung-ho about dying.  Most did not want to kill or be killed.  They took living in the United States as something worth fighting for.  Loyalty to a cause is not to be taken for granted.  

May 29, 2001 - Well, today was very interesting.  All days are interesting, really.  If you wake up breathing - well, there you go!  Something wonderful right off the bat!  I'm still a bit emotional from the Memorial Day ceremonies we attended on Monday, so the right song today would push me to tears.  Not tears of bad or sad - just tears of "happy to be alive" type feelings.  

I just picked up my daughter from her seventh grade field trip. I was waiting in my car in the parking lot along with all the other parents. When the buses pulled in filled with our bouncing over stimulated pre-teens, it made me tear up again as I wondered "do these kids on the buses realize that these are some of the best days of their lives?  Days like these will forever be in their memories ..."  My emotional reflection on life abruptly came to a stop when the truck that was to my left pulled out and decided to take the front of my car with it.  All I could do was raise my eyebrows and cock my head and watch her continue on for a moment even after it was very clear from the noises and resistance, I'm sure, that she had hit something.  (That something being me.)  When she did stop, I got out of my car and surveyed the damage.  She got out.  She was a bit upset.  Since I was the person being run over, I thought I should maybe get upset, too, but just couldn't fake it.  She had a nice white scrape from the door down to her wheel well on her passenger side.  Her truck is white, so it didn't look too horrible.  My car is purple.  The front bumper is apparently made to flex when put under stress, for it was still in it's original shape, but all the paint was gone and replaced with white.  I mentioned to her that if there was a significant other that might be upset over this, perhaps she should call them now. She said "my truck is my truck and his truck is his truck" so I took that to mean there was not a whole lot he would or could say about it. She missed my front lights.  She missed my side turn lights.  So, all in all, I would give her kudos for not ripping anything completely off.  We exchanged names and phone numbers. I didn't feel it necessary to call the police.  I will call my insurance company in the morning and see what all has to be done or should have been done.  That was my first official accident and I didn't even have the car running!  (And do I realize that these are the best days of my life, and that this will be forever in my memory?  Sniff ....)  

In the meantime, while all the damage was being assessed by both parties and the name exchange was taking place, my daughter bounded out to the car and started to tell me all about her field trip, arms flailing as she talked.  She was quite hyper from all the fun and didn't notice that the two vehicles were in a locked position.  The whole exchange of information took place while I tried to listen to her go on about her event without actually coming out and telling her to "shut up."  It did eventually dawn on her what was happening so she "shut up" on her own.  As we drove away, she said "Dude!  I wondered why all those people were driving by looking at us!!"  Nothing escapes her.

June 12, 2001 -  Today was a good day.  My friend Reva sent me a "Little Book of Hugs for Friends."  That was a wonderful treat!  Reva always seems to know when I need a pick me up.  Reva (or "Thelma" as she will be know as soon as we hit the road together) lives in Texas, so she must have special future-telepathic type powers which can anticipate my need for a mental hug in advance which can also take into account the mailing time between us.  I got four loads of wash done tonight which was great, although I used Swiffer dusting sheets instead of Bounce sheets on two of the dryer loads before I caught my mistake.  I also drove for a total of five hours to and from a Automotive User Group meeting in Detroit.  And to the several truck drivers that tooted at me and waved, THANK YOU!  You made my day!  That small burst of "blush and giggle" made me feel cocky and special for a few minutes.  What a neat present!  At first I thought I was cutting them off or not signaling correctly, but it turns out they are just tooting and waving for cheap thrills.  Never underestimate the powers of a cheap thrill, girls!  Embrace to your bosom like a bunch of flowers!  Or maybe it was because earlier on, I saw a semi with it's left turn signal on.  It had been on since him merged, actually.  No one wanted to pass him, since they thought maybe he was going to come into the left lane and most small cars have an inbred fear of larger vehicles.  I scooted in front of him and drove on the left side for a bit with my left turn signal on, hoping he'd get the hint.  He did.  I then went on my merry way.  Maybe he radioed ahead - "Hey, good buddies ... if you see a little purple car make sure you toot your horn and make her blush and giggle ..."

Before school was out last week we had a bad family PMS day.  I was irritated with both kids.  I know they had the 'end of school heebie jeebies' and all, but GOOD LORD!  They were both talking at once, jumping around and driving me further into the dark abyss of dementia. I finally couldn't stand all the noise in the house so I shut off the TV and made them both sit and be quiet.  The sudden void created by the quiet immediately knocked me unconscious.  (OK, maybe I just dozed off.)  Either way, I woke up to my son - who was shirtless - admiring his reflection in the television monitor as he performed various poses and chanted, "Oh yeah, who's the Chest Man?"  I had to laugh out loud.  I sent him in to take a shower and get ready for bed, and from the bathroom I could hear a faint, "Oh yeah, who's the Muscle Man?"  Hahahaaaaaaaaa.  Even bad days can end up being o.k. in the long run.

June 19, 2001 -  When I get up early enough to watch the sun hit the trees just right, I can see faces in the leaves. So far I've found an Indian as in Native American in full chief feathers and an Indian as in a man from India with a turban, a poodle with a bad hair cut, many cartoon characters, a witch, several smiley faces, and many other things.  This happens when I'm sitting on the toilet in the morning just staring out the window enjoying the quiet.  The pictures in the leaves just pop out after staring at the trees long enough as they do in those 3D Magic Eye pictures.  It took me FOREVER to finally see one of those magic eye pictures.  I think it was 1993 when I finally did.  I was in a Hallmark store looking at all the cool things they have.  They had a rack of cards that were Magic Eye pictures within a frame of various positive sayings.  I stared and stared at one card for maybe a half an hour when the picture suddenly was clear to me.  I screamed out loud!  I had been trying and trying to 'see' those things without luck for a long time.  I almost got thrown out of the Hallmark Store to boot.  I had to explain my scream of joy.  They looked at me like I was slightly off kilter.  Since then I have amassed a collection of those 3D Magic Eye books because they tickled me so much.  

On the toilet in the morning though, I always remember my Dad.  Not because I am on the toilet mind you, but because of the fact I can see faces in the leaves when the sun hits them.  My Dad used to spend hours sketching out the faces he saw in the pattern of napkins.  That is how he spent most of his evenings to my recollection - At the dining room table in his "spot" near his CB radios and either sketching faces he saw appear on random napkins or doing hidden word puzzle books.  Some of the faces he saw in the patterns of the napkins were quite elaborate.  I am sure if my Dad had tried, he would have had a knack at art.  So this time of year I think of my Dad a lot.  He would have been 88 this year.  

So far the children have not killed each other or drawn blood since school has been out.  I believe they will be ok until I go on vacation July 1st.  I am off for two weeks so I'll be able to keep them entertained or doing slave labor things for me.  By the time I am done with them, they will be blessing the Lord above that I go back to work and leave them alone again.  I do plan on getting them up to the Mackinaw Bridge at least during vacation.  A small adventure, but cool things to see along the way.  I have sorted out all my Canadian coins from my piggy bank herd, and will have to take them over the border to spend them and return them to their native land.  I was just going to mail them to a random Canadian picked from the phone book, but since we'll be right near there anyway ....  For some dumb reason I have a need to set them free.  Smile.

We have been in the pool every night for a while now.  It feels so good.  It has to get a bit warmer out before I start taking my midnight skinny dipping runs.  It's more fun when the mosquitoes are not too bad and the fire flies are out in full mating frenzy.  Very peaceful.

There is the coolest house for sale down the road.  It's been for sale by several different real estate firms over the last year.  Yesterday we got a flyer in the mail from the current firm trying to sell it.  Now I know why it's still for sale.  They want 325,000 for it!!  CRIPES.  Reality check, people.  It's just a house.  Pretty and fancy, yes!  But JUST A PLACE TO KEEP DRY.  (Although, if I had 325000 laying around, I might consider it just for fun ...)  I would perhaps have enough furniture to furnish the foyer if I were to move in today. 

June 22, 2001 - The news just had a trivia question.  "If you can hear thunder in the distance can you still be struck by lightening?"  The answer, "Yes!  You idiots!!"  (OK, so they didn't use the word 'idiots' and I just added that because there are times I feel cocky and think I know everything when in fact I know very little, but lightening, folks?  Come On! )  Lightening can hit you up to ten miles away from it's source in a storm.  (Thank goodness my hearing is shot!  Gives me more time to enjoy the outdoors before I start to wonder if I will be struck down by lightening!)

I have three bird feeders in my yard because it pleases me to spend most of my paycheck on bird food every two weeks.  Plus I enjoy the little birdies coming and going even though they eat more than a school teen full of boys.  I even have a bird bath for them to refresh themselves in before eating.  Lately, however, with all the rain, the birds have taken to using it more as a toilet.  I am sitting here watching the flight pattern to the feeder near the window, and many birdies stop and CRAP into the bird bath before proceeding to the feeder.  

Speaking of toilets, I was half asleep on mine this morning which is the norm first thing.  I had just seen myself in the mirror before sitting down and folks, it wasn't pretty.  I had crusty stuff in my hair from drooling and of course my eyes were puffy and I looked like I had soaked in a barrel of brine all night.  As I sat on the toilet dozing, I was thinking to myself,  "Boy, I bet Brittany Spears wakes up looking like this, too!  I bet she drools in her sleep and farts and stuff ...."  Then I perked right up and thought to myself, "WHY do I have to insult someone in my mind to make myself feel better about MYSELF?  This is insane!!"   I felt really bad about myself.  I keep thinking I'm growing as a human and evolving past that petty stuff, but here I was -  sitting there trying to make it 'OK' in my own head that I had crusty hair and puffy eyes by ripping apart another human!  Brittany Spears has EVERY RIGHT to be pretty and non-crusty in the morning.  Physically, she is beautiful and kudos to her!!  Just because I fall into the percentile that looks bad when crusty doesn't mean I have the right to mentally deface another living creature.  Bad Sandy, BAD!!

June 24, 2001 - As I watched the Blue Jays fighting over the bird feeder this morning, I noticed they were acting like there would be no more food provided at the feeder EVER.  Perhaps this justifies why they act so ... so .... barbaric. It dawned on me that we should go back to swapping work for product.  Such as with bird food - I could work at the bird food factory for a week at night, in the warehouse or something.  Then for pay, they give me a couple of 50 lb. bags of bird food.  My birdie food needs gets met, the bird food factory gets work done, and those free loading lazy Blue Jays get a free meal.  

Oh, I complain about my birds but I love them.  I have a need to feed them and have them around for some odd reason.  It comforts me almost like a religion.  Maybe it's because my Mom was religious about feeding birds as I was growing up.  She never fed them in the summer.  "They can find plenty of food on their own in the summer!" she would lecture me on one of our nature hikes in the woods.  (I know now that those were escape walks from her life or Dad or the house.  Mom never learned to drive and her hikes in the woods were her only way to "run away."  The occasions I tagged along I imagine I was a sad intrusion on her mental retreat, although I did learn a lot for from her for if you walked in the woods with Mom, you had to learn about plants and wildlife.  You also had to hear about the occasional turtle they would find in the field when she was a girl and that Grandma would fix for dinner in soup form.  "After all, it WAS the Depression, you know, and meat was meat!  We were not above eating squirrel, either!")

I feed my birds all year long.  I like the fact that cardinals and all the 'song' birds come in the summer as well as the winter to chow down on seeds.  I don't like the fact that the starling and crows consume 80 percent of the food I put out, but oh well.  They have to eat too.  Today, however, we did figure out why the food goes so fast!  While playing in the pool, we got to watch our resident tail-less black squirrel crawl up the tree nearest one of the feeders and leap across to the feeder.  He swung from it, knocking out a ton of seeds.  He stayed half in and out of the feeder as he ate his fill, then dropped to the ground and ran off.  As this was taking place, a huge crowd of morning doves and crows and starlings a nd sparrows gathered under the feeder appreciating the abundance of new seeds.  Now next time I whine, "I just filled that thing yesterday!!  Where did all the seeds go?" I will already know the answer.  Hmmmm ... I will have to go through Mom's old recipes.  Maybe I'll find something tasty under the 'S's.

 July 1, 2001 - Can you believe it's July already?  I cannot!  Sigh.  I am officially on vacation.  It's balloon show week.  Of course I am on vacation.  Of course the weather will probably be horrible.  Murphy's Law of Balloon Show week.  Duh!  Today was beautiful though - and I took advantage of the cooler weather to mow the lawn and wash and vacuum out the car.  I also gave Frank and Sparky a bath.  If my septic systems survives that fur fest, then all will be well.

It dawned on me tonight that a parent doesn't want to know what is in the head of their adult children.  We wonder and are curious, of course.  But to really know what your adult child thinks - well - it can be left unsaid and nobody gets hurt.  Step Away from the independent thought process ...  back away slowly .... you already did all the damage you can do, now it's time for the therapy to take over.  My oldest son seems to have a problem with what he terms "stupid people."  Now my first reaction would be to blurt out, "Well, now - ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black!"  or " Having kids can make a person stupid."  Sigh.  I won't blurt those things out, however.  I will allow my adult male offspring to have his opinions.  Everyone in the world gets the 'cocky' knocked out of them eventually, one way or another, and his day will come.  After they leave the nest, the only thing I am obligated to do is offer the occasional home cooked meal and buy them underwear and socks at Christmas.

July 3, 2001 - Day Two of Sandy's vacation:  Well, the balloons did not launch due to excessive winds on this, the first day of the Balloon Show, but the winds died down enough for the balloon illume to happen.  It was beautiful.  50+ balloons on the field all lighting up.  Sigh.  Brought tears to my eyes.  I realize now that just seeing them inflate will bring a tear to my eye.  My youngest was also impressed to no end, giggling like a school girl when they lit the torches up.   We also played some games at the amusement place before the illume, and my son "won" a huge M&M looking type inflatable doll.  (Not officially M&M for who wants to pay royalties, but enough of a similarity for him to be thrilled.   And I use the term "won" loosely, for you usually have to mortgage your house to pay for those games in the first place.)  My son did not care, however - for he had his new 'Smile Buddy who looks a lot like an M&M' to bounce on and smack people with as he tore through the crowds.  Smile Buddy had to ride home in the back of the car with the kids due to the fact he was so huge.  He didn't fit in the trunk!   All the way home my son made Smile Buddy talk to his sister in a sinister evil voice.  It was kind of funny.  All my daughter said to me as she rolled her eyes and leaned forward was,  "Can you say Over Stimulated?" as she pointed to her brother.  Smile.   

I went to the doctors this morning to get stitches out of my head.  (I had a cyst removed last week.)  I also made her look at my throat and ears, because I've not been feeling good at all.  By night time the last two weeks I've felt so tired in a "flu" kind of way.  I forgot to have her check last week, so I made sure she did this week.  "No wonder you feel down, you have a raging ear infection!" she announced.  I know this sounds stupid, but I was relieved.  I had been feeling bad for a reason.   For some reason that always makes me feel better.  I also like the fact that if you 'listen' to your body, you pretty much know if something is up or not.  OK, so the voice that screams, "Lady, You Are Too Damned Fat!" I choose to ignore, but the rest of the little voices I listen to.  Call me Sybil. 

I wanted to take this moment to thank the people out in the world that you come in contact with every day that have the knack for making you feel accepted.  Accepted as YOURSELF, that is.  Not the 'fake' people who talk pretty due to the fact they are trying to sell you something, but the sales people and people in general who accept people/things for what they are.   You know those types when you come across them.  These people who have had the same problem or been in the same situations and understand.  And even if they don't understand, they don't condemn you for it or shy away from you like a leper.  So THANK YOU to the open minded and understanding people in the world.  Big Group Hug to you all.

July 4, 2001 - 'Tis the wee hours of the morning on the Fourth of July.   Happy 225th Birthday, America.  As upset as I get over the state of things here in these United States (such as the whole stealing the land from the Indians and the   'drop of the hat' lawsuits/lawyers and medical costs and the whole concept of being politically correct) I do appreciate the fact I live here.  You will always find me shedding tears when they play our National Anthem or play "America" or when I say the Pledge of Allegiance.  And to my Great Great Grandparents who decided to come on over from wherever - THANK YOU.  Thanks for surviving the trip and surviving the youth of America.   Oh, yeah - thanks for having sex and creating offspring. 

I am watching the local news and there is no balloon launch this morning, nor does it look like there will be one tonight. Sigh. (Spastic thunderstorms this morning and winds tonight.)  One can never predict the weather.  One can only hope for the best.  The air show hopefully will go on as planned, and then the fire works, at least.  To me, there is comfort in BIG JETS and MORE POWER! 

I forgot to mention last night the COOLEST thing about the evening.  Driving home from the festivities in Battle Creek there were tons of fire flies in the air, which made going down the road at 11 p.m. at night at 50 miles an hour similar to reaching hyper space, visually.  The fire flies would appear to 'whip' by the windows in a streak of fading glow.  It was too cool.   Mother Nature might take away my mass balloon launch, but she gives me simulated launches into hyper space instead.  Pretty fair, wouldn't you say?

July 7, 2001 - My daughter was inspired to contemplate a career in the military after High School.  She wants to be a pilot.  She decided this after seeing the Thunderbirds fly.  As we discussed the idea of a military career, all the while my son was vying for attention by claiming he, too, was going to be a pilot. I also told her she could learn to fly then go on to be a doctor or the like - there were many options.  I also mentioned the military includes defending her country with her life. She didn't seemed phased by that possibility.  At 13, she was looking at the nice young pilot's bottoms in uniform rather than thinking of the ultimate sacrifice.  By now, my son was jumping up and down screaming that he was going to be a doctor, too!  (It's hard to get a dedicated conversation in with my daughter when my youngest son is around.)

The thought of being a doctor didn't last long, however.  My son was watching Monster Truck Finals in Las Vegas on TV this morning, and shouted to me in the kitchen, "Forget the doctor thing - I'm doing THIS!!"  So many choices in life for a boy of 8.

We did get to see some balloons yesterday.  The specialty balloons flew out of the airport and the competitors flew in.  Then we listened to the band 'Hip Pocket' that was performing.  It was a nice evening.  We were going to stay and watch the second Balloon Illume, but that was cut short by threats of bad weather.  On the drive home we got to watch fireworks over the tree line that were going off somewhere near.   All in all, a good night. 

During this vacation I've spent a lot of time dedicated to playing with Legos with my son.  We have built two houses so far.  I even purchased more Legos so I could get a few more windows and doors.   It is my job to design and build the house and my son's job to build the cars and garage.  It's been very therapeutic actually, for me.  Screaming at my son, "Don't pull those things apart with your teeth!!" is darn good therapy. 

July 9, 2001 - Tonight, there are thousands of fire flies out and the soybean filed behind my house looks like a fiber optic lamp glowing and twinkling - the lights going in waves across the field.  What a amazing lovely sight to see!  I was just mesmerized by that.  Sigh.  I could stand out there and watch that all night.  (But then one realizes what all those fire flies are doing and one tends to feel like they are enjoying 'bug porn' way too much ...  But then again if my rear end lit up when I was horny I would be proud enough to let the world watch, too!)  

Vacation has been good so far.   Today was spent mainly in the pool since it was quite hot.  I did get out to water my tomato plants and check for worms and the like.  I have three baby tomatoes so far.  I'm a Grandma.  A cannibalistic Grandma, 'cause when those suckers are ripe I'm eating them!  I planted peppers and tomatoes, hoping to have enough to make a huge batch of salsa.  We all know salsa is the cure for all things. 

As I lay waiting for sleep to come the last few nights, I have been pondering things.  Am I a failure - and who is to judge what a failure is anyway?  What good have I done in my life?  What is the purpose of life, anyway?  What if the company that is buying the company I work at lets me go?  Wouldn't it be much easier to curl up in a fetal position and just stop trying?  Why do we keep going anyway?  Why don't I try to lose weight?   Why are there always two sides to every story?  How long can a woman go without sex before she has to have carpal tunnel surgery? How come nobody flushes the toilet besides me?  How can people have so much hate in their minds to commit such awful crimes? What makes any religion think they are the ONE religion?   Did I let the dog in? 

I have also had many dreams lately about my Dad and Mom.  They are never in the same dream.  Mom is always demented in my dreams - a bag lady of sorts.  She is either scaring me or my kids.   Damn those last few months before her death when her mind was no longer her own!   Will that impression of her stay with me forever?  The dreams about my Dad are even weirder.  He's either in uniform, as if he just came back from active duty (in real life, he never did serve in any military corps) or he's all understanding about life and apologizing to me about things.  Odd what our minds dream.  I went through a spell about six months ago or more where all of my dreams were post-apocalyptic.   When I would wake up in the morning, I could swear I could smell the nerves in my brain burning up after those dreams.  Evil things they were.  Sigh. 

July 12, 2001 - Viva Vacation, although it's almost over.  We piled in the car on Tuesday morning and headed up to Michigans Adventure.  After getting lost and touring Northern Muskegon for a while, I finally figured out the map I had printed off from the internet and got us there!  Duh - did I feel stupid!  I mean, it wasn't rocket science to get there, and I managed to make it so.

My son's first ride (well, Official Ride) was the Ferris Wheel.  He has never ridden anything except a Merry-Go-Round.  He gripped the pole in the center with all his might.  At the top, he said, "Mom, did I mention I was afraid of heights?"  We went around and around several times.  Each time we passed the people on the ground controlling the Ferris Wheel, he would scream, "THIS IS WAY ENOUGH, SO THANKS!  STOP NOW!!"  Of course they didn't and around we went again.  Hahahahaa.   It was a lovely view from the top.  After he recovered from that, my daughter took him on a small roller coaster.  She had never been on one either but took on the roll of youth director with bravado.  It was a 30 second ride, but my son was quite shaken.  Even my daughter was shocked.  "I didn't know they did that!"   (Meaning lifting you out of your seat and making you feel a bit weightless for a second.)  My son stuck to the 'kiddy' rides after that.  We were waiting to see the circus.  The heat and the sun was taking it's toll on all of us.  We are albino wimps when it gets right down to it.  I decided to be brave and take them on "Logger's Run" - the water ride with a nice cool splash at the end of a nice drop.  The drop - yikes.  What a rush!  Then they rode the Mad Mouse ride and Corkscrew.  My son was literally shaking from the shock of it all, so we played games in the arcade until the circus started.  We've never seen a circus, mind you.   My son asked if there would be elephants.  I told him I thought not, since it looked rather small for all the stuff at an 'official' circus.  There was a magic act and acrobats and trapeze artists and horses like a real circus.  My son was grooving' to the acrobats - a troupe of three from the Philippines - with the youngest member, a girl about his age, who was being thrown around like wet noodles between the two men.   He was thrilled by that act.

Then at the end, the music got louder and the ring master shouted, "Now for the moment you've all been waiting for...."  Out came three thundering elephants with a lovely young lady riding on the largest lead elephant.  The whole day was worth it for that look on my son's face -  I have never seen him make a face like that!  His eyes went so wide I thought they'd snap out of his eye sockets.  His mouth dropped to the ground.  Hahaha.   How funny!  They elephants did their show and all their tricks and did quite well.  They even were trained to back up to buckets on the side of the ring and poop!   Now that was almost as fascinating as the tricks they did. 

Remember, life takes on a whole new perspective after a circus.  You feel damned small after looking up at the ass of an elephant.  My daughter kept saying on the way to the car, "Thank You Lord for no clowns...no evil scary clowns..."  Smile.

We headed up the west side of Michigan after that until we got to Traverse City.  We spent the night there.   How beautiful the bay was!  Sigh. The greens and blues!  Good Lord how wonderful.  It happened to be the 75th Annual Cherry Festival there, so we were lucky to find a room.  My son spent two solid hours bouncing on from bed to bed like they were trampolines.  He had more fun in the hotel room than he did at the Amusement park!  Geez. 

In the morning we headed up to see the Mackinaw Bridge.  We went over to St. Ignace for lunch.  We ate a restaurant that looked out over the Straights.  It was beautiful.  Sigh.   We came back over the bridge and toured Fort Michilimackinac.   We started back home in the afternoon and was amazed how pretty Michigan actually is.  The kids liked the "mountains" and all the ups and downs on the highway.  I didn't even bother them with lectures about how this was all made by the glaciers - we just enjoyed the views.

If you ever get a chance to come to Michigan and visit the tip of the Mitten, I suggest you do.  You won't be disappointed. 

July 15, 2001 - Vacation is over.  Tomorrow it's back to work.  I have no urge to go back to work because we get interviewed by our new Finnish Overlords - I mean new Finnish owners.  Sigh.  I found this out on Friday when I dialed in to work to do some work and read my mail.  There was a 'review' sheet that we were to have turned in by Friday (the day I read it) on how we spend our day and what we do.   I worked for about four hours before I settled down to fill it out.  It made me think of a county fair.  I had to make myself look good so someone would take me home.  Where is Charlotte when you need her?.  "One Spectacular Employee" written in a spider web above my desk might help, huh?

Buy outs happen to everyone sooner or later.  I just never thought this company would be going through it. Ever since the company went public on the stock exchange, odd things have been a brewin'.  I've been there my entire adult life.  I feel like we are being inspected by our 'masters' and getting prepared for auction.  "Please, Masta Fin, don't you be hurtin' me none.  I is a good worker!"  (That was my impression - stereotypical as it is - of a poor slave back in the days of slavery which I in no means endorse and sometimes feel guilty for because I am white but still feel I must clarify myself because someone is going to read this and take that attempt at humor as incorrect politically which is sad because nowadays you feel like you have to clarify everything you say and it's not fair.  People are too damned anal.)

I don't want to work anywhere else, really.  I have worked hard over the years to be where I am and that is not to say I'm anywhere, really!  And I'm basically happy except when I'm not.  Sigh.   I love the people.  I like what I do.  I know I could be happy anywhere, except I get a lot of freedom where I'm at due to my long term stay there.  It will be hard to move on to somewhere else where I am not above some of the rules and can spew forth my opinions and not worry too much.  Oh well.  Life.  Whadya gonna do?  I also worry about starting out again at the bottom and taking a pay cut and trying to live on less money.  Listen to me whine!  Geez.  I am far better off than a lot of people and should be thanking the Lord above for that - as long as it lasts.

I must be realistic here.  Let's face it - I've been to therapy over that place due to my anger toward it and all the crap that had built up in me for 20 years over that place, so if I get the boot now and go to another place of employment, I shouldn't have to invest in more therapy 'til nigh on retirement time!  All in all, I should come out ahead.

Since writing about the bad dreams about my parents, they have gone away.  That is good.  They were beginning to haunt me by daytime, too.  Also getting away up North for a bit must have done me some good no doubt.  If you don't already do it, I suggest you all keep a journal of sorts.   I have chosen to put mine up for public review on the World Wide Web for some unknown reason and I choose to type it as oppose to hand writing it because of the CARPAL DAMAGE IN MY RIGHT WRITING HAND FROM ALL THE YEARS OF HARD MANUAL LABOR AT THE NOW FINNISH CORPORATION I WORK, but you can simply keep a diary/notebook of your thoughts.   I seems to help a lot in exploring how you feel inside YOURSELF.  Re-reading what you wrote at a (much) later date can also be therapeutic and funny as well.   Normally I say to myself, "What was I thinking?"  Other times I say to myself, such as tonight after re-reading this paragraph, "Man, I have some issues to work out, huh?"

July 22, 2001 - The interview with our new boss went OK, I guess.  No one was fired and nothing happened yet.  But what can happen in one hour.  He was on a whirlwind tour of all of our facilities - From Michigan to Texas then back to New York.  I don't think he planned on flying down to Brazil.  Time will tell how things change.  Either we will roll with those changes or roll out  the door.  How many of you out there have gone through this?  I know many who have. 

My son has developed a habit of playing with his chest.  Not something I want him doing in public, mind you.   Heck, I like to play with my own chest when I think about it!  (Not in public, mind you!)  I keep telling him to stop playing with his nipples when I catch him strumming them like a guitar.  "It feels cool!" he proclaims.  No doubt it does.  Sigh.  I guess I should be grateful he isn't spending an hour in the shower yet, big sigh!   ... and speaking of men without shirts ....

I want to go shirtless!  On these muggy humid days, I think how wonderful it would be to go down the street topless, like our male counterparts do.   I saw a man buzzing down the road on a motorized scooter of sorts and he was just wearing shorts and shoes.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just wear shorts and shoes and carry on our business at the local market and bank without causing a stir?  Oh well.  Such is life.

The kids and I went to the doctors on Thursday.  I still had a bad ear infection, and the kids each had mild ones.  We all got a round of medicine.  Today is the first day that I have actually felt better and not achy all over and all 'heavy' with the feeling of being sick.  Viva Biaxin.   I am prone to ear infections.  What?  What did you say? 

I have been running the air conditioner non-stop since the wave of humid weather has been around.  There must be a 25 degree difference between the house and outside.  I'm having my own personal thunder storms over the front and back doors from the clash of temperatures.  The pets seem content to hang around inside the house.  We had quite the downpour/storm yesterday.  The pool was ready to over flow!  But we needed it so much.  You could almost hear it getting sucked up by the grass.  We played in the pool this afternoon.  The water was like bath water yet still refreshing. 

It has been SO neat!!  The family of Sand Hill cranes that live in this general area has been hanging around our yards.   We all have long acre lots around here, and they have been travelling around the yards every day for over a week.  It's a thrill for me.  They are loud!   There is the Dad, Mom, and their newest child.  Another male keeps hanging around.  I think it's their son from last year.  The Dad makes it very clear he is to stay so many feet away from the family.  They wake us up in the morning yelling at each other.  I love it.  They walk like Groucho Marx.  Wait, pretty much all birds walk like Groucho Marx.  It's all so clear to me now ... first the crows, now the cranes!   

Later Today - I forced myself to read the paper tonight.  I usually tend to stay away from reality as much as possible.   I can pretend all is well in my little world if I don't ever hear of any injustice or terrible happenings around the world.  I am hiding from it, I know. 

After reading the paper I am filled with pride for living here in this great country.  Then I am filled with guilt for living in this country when others are so poor in other countries.  I feel glad I am a female in These United States as opposed to Cambodia where women are treated so poorly and if you are poor you mean nothing.  I am sad that forms of caste systems still exists anywhere in the world.  When will we ever grow past that?  I feel sad when I read about a mother and her son being gunned down in my own country by a stalking, raged father.  People here have freedom of speech - yet they don't - You can't make a comment freely anymore without worrying about being sued by someone else.  Life on this planet is one big Catch 22.  We are damned if we do, when we do, and if we don't.  I never did make it to the comic section, although I could have used a laugh.   When I am pondering the world like this, I realize that all my whining and sadness about my life means nothing, really.  Who cares if I'm lonely or sad or how I feel in general?  Only me.  For a world with billions of people in it, I can see how it is easy to feel quite alone.

July 31, 2001 - The end of July already?  Cripes.  Time does 'fly' as you get older.  So far the kids have gotten through the summer with little or no physical damage.  There is always therapy later in life for the mental damage.  School starts in a few short weeks.  I have not done a bit of school clothes shopping.  I like to make sure all growth spurts are out of the way before I spend my money on clothes for the kids.   Normally they are out of most clothes by Christmas as it is.  I must quit feeding the little boogers.

Where do they find all these pretty people for these videos you see on the music channels?  There must be a 'cute' hatchery out west or the like where you can get bulk pretty people.  Amazing. 

My brother found our Aunt Sue, who we have not seen since 1979.  She was married to my Uncle Cloyce.  After Cloyce died in '82 or so, the family lost touch with her.  Just because you lose touch with a person doesn't mean you stop thinking of them.  It was good to hear her voice on the phone!   Aunt Sue and Uncle Cloyce were married on the day I was born.  Aunt Sue's birthday is also the same month as mine.  Aunt Sue took my brother and I to Cedar Point when I was in my early teens.  First time I rode a roller coaster - The Blue Streak - and the picnic we had there at the park was the first time I found out people actually drink sugar in their iced tea!  Hahaha.  They told me there was iced tea, so I got a glass.  "This isn't ice tea!" I proclaimed!   (Mind you -  I lived a sheltered life.)  Finding out some people drink their tea with stuff in it amazed me.  I also spent a week here and there with them at their home.  Uncle Cloyce let me mow the lawn with the riding lawn mower!   Woo Hoo.  Aunt Sue took me to see the movie "Anne of a Thousand Days" at the movie theater.  We get to see Aunt Sue in August.  I am looking forward to it with a happy heart!!

As I remember these things from my past I realize that my home life was way sheltered!  We didn't go anywhere except church and the grocery store.  Parents can be strict.  That is there job as I know from experience but I believe a parent can go a bit overboard.  In my case at my home it was because my Dad was the type not to want to go anywhere or do anything as opposed to my Mom.  My Mom didn't drive a car so she was at the mercy of my Dad's mood when it came to travel.  Dad didn't go to shows at the school.  Dad didn't go to do things just for fun.  We did go on Sunday rides and on occasion stopped for ice cream, which was something.  I remember people coming to our house more than we would go to their house, although Dad would go over to visit with Aunt Jean and Uncle Lorin so we got to play with our cousin's Dan and Dave.  We had more fun over there playing with our cousins!  I used to cry when we had to leave...but I digress.  Had it not been for Aunt Sue and Uncle Cloyce, Aunt Vera and Uncle Harold, Aunt Jean and Uncle Lorin, Donna and Clair Moyer, and my sister Joyce (who was older and out of the house) my view of life would have been quite one sided.  There were neighbors, too, who dragged me along to be a part of 4-H clubs and took me to my first High School Follies, musicals, and plays. 

I can see now why I went all the time when I was able to drive!  Going somewhere to do something was a treat.  It was a glorious thing.  But now I laugh at the irony of it all - for now that I'm a Mom and working, staying home is NICE.  Not running around all the time is a blessing.   But I try to remember how I felt as a kid and take my kids places and do things with them a bit more than my parents did with me.  There is a happy medium somewhere and I hope someday I find it.  I want my kids to feel amazed like I was the first time I found out some people like sugar in their ice tea ...

August 8, 2001 - Outside today at work I caught an airborne milkweed seed.  When I was a kid, I thought that if you wished on one of those fluffy milkweed seeds and let it go, that your wish would come true.  I pondered the milkweed seed in my grasp for a while and made a wish and let it go.  My wish?   "I wish I wasn't so stupid!"  I wished that because work the last week or two years or so has been such a struggle.  I was hoping my wish would bring all the knowledge of the world streaming into my already crowded brain post haste.  I walked into work and went to get myself a cup of coffee.  I wanted French vanilla creamer in it but there were no open containers of it.  I got one down from the shelf and was using a handle of a knife to try and punch through the inside via the opening on top. It took me approximately one full minute of wailing on the thing to realize I was smashing in the side on top without the perforated punch hole area.  Sigh.   So much for my wish ...

August 9, 2001 -   In the April 20th 2000 diary entry, I mentioned "Mr. 5050."   He is a local spotted and tan hunting type dog that on occasion runs a muck in the neighborhood.  When he does get loose, he simply runs all over with no actual destination in mind, I assume, since he lops around like an idiot.  His ears flapping in the wind and galloping all over with doggy abandon ... and once in a while you will see it's owner in hot pursuit.  Either in their van or car or on foot.  The dog NEVER turns around to listen to who is hollering at him.  He continues to rocket across the back lots at full speed.  This has gone on several times a month since the first "Happy-To-See-You Foreign Dog Poop Attack" back in 2000.  I have decided this dog must have some form of doggie brain damage. 

Tonight on the way home from work I saw Mr. 5050 bounding toward the creek in the backyard of the house near the corner down the road. (Geez, try saying that sentence real fast three times!)  On closer observation I noticed there was something different about him this time - Around his neck there was a large cow bell!  Hahaha.  I laughed out loud.  Now the infamous 'streaker' can make noise to boot.  I wonder if it's more to warn people he's inbound or the lack of the noise alerts the owners to his absence?  Hahaha ... what a hoot.

August 17, 2001 -   I have been home all week with a bad case of bronchitis and double ear infection.  This is the worst case I've ever had.  Not that I'm proud of it, mind you.  It was Thursday before I wasn't waking up deciding what I wanted at my funeral.  Sigh.  I go back for a re-check at the docs on Monday afternoon.  Thank God it's not so unbearably hot this week.  I was blessed for sure.  Being sick and not being able to breathe is bad enough, but with that heat?   I just re-read my diary and do you realize I've have had ear infections since the first of July?  Not that I'm proud of that, mind you.  But Geez Cripes!!  I am doomed, no doubt, for ear tubes or something.  My son finds much delight in my decreased capacity for hearing because he can fart and blame it on his sister, and I'm none the wiser.  Why have I had constant ear infections for so long?  I am asking my doctor if it's because I snore at night and drool into my ears.  That can't be good.

I got the kids out of the house for a bit today and we ate at McDonalds for lunch.  My daughter, on a lark, decided to get a Kid's Meal and one of the Barbie Toys.  She got 'Nutcracker Barbie.'  The car sounded like it was full of Beavis and Buttheads - she would drawl out, "I got Nutcracker Barbie..." and we'd burst out into giggles.  That went on until we got home.  

Prior to McDonalds, we went to newer Meijer store. We needed milk and bread and eggs and basics.  The kids got some much needed school clothes too.  This was the first time in a week I was able to walk around without blacking out so I was going to take advantage of it.  After leaving the store we wandered around the parking lot for approximately five minutes in search of the car.  The kids leave that high tech stuff up to me, like buying food and remember where we parked.  Silly children!!  The only thing we were sure of was that we parked near a Cart Corral.  There are roughly 20 Cart Corrals in that parking lot.  We counted.  My daughter was quite embarrassed about the whole ordeal.  "There we were, wandering aimlessly through the parking lot with no car in sight, you wheezing and near death..." she lamented on the way to lunch after we found the car.  "I had the cell phone!" I retorted, "I could have called 911 if all else failed!"  She was still a bit flustered.  Parents are not 'error free.'  We make mistakes and forget where we parked.  It just happens.  I warned her this was just a tiny peek of what was to come as I grew older. "I'm getting a leash for you!  Cripes!" she proclaimed.  I suggested just implanting a Global Position System chip in my head.  By then they will be real cheap. 

The Company for which I work (when I'm there) was officially 'merged' on Wednesday.  Sigh.  Thirty years just blow away with a few signatures. No more 'us' now - just whatever we will be.  If we will be.  There is always that possibility that they will eliminate most of us and take our women for mating purposes before rocketing back to their home planet.  We shall have to wait and see.  So many rumors at this point.  Either way, things feel gloomy Corporation wise.  I miss the old days when we were just a good little plastics company in a corn field.  I miss that level of pride and the sheer joy of the effort that flowed from the people.  Now we are just another number in a universe packed full of infinite numbers.  I worry about finding a new job, but then again, I know I shouldn't worry too much.  When I am able to breathe, I am pretty much open to doing most anything.  I know all will be well.  No use driving off that bridge until we skid off of it, right?

August 23, 2001 - We've had some big storms the last few days.  My son is not a fan of thunder.  He claims he doesn't mind lightening but, as he says, "the thunder gives me a headache and scares me."   The other morning at approximately 4 a.m. I was jolted awake by my son flailing his arm against my shoulder.  He had his fists burrowed into and blocking his ears and he was flapping his arms at me like a wild duck.  "Mom?  Mom!  WAKE UP!!" he was yelling at me.  "What?  WHAT?" I cried as I bolted up off the pillow.  He yelled at me - "My arms and ears HURT!"     I raised an eyebrow and laughed a little before telling him to take his hands out of his ears, then neither would hurt.  No telling how long the little booger had his ears covered against the sounds of thunder.  Poor kid.  Smile.   He slept with me after that. 

I had a burst of anger from nowhere the other day.  I haven't had one of those for a very long time.  I was talking to my kids trying to explain to them that I had a few more things to get done and they should leave me alone for a minute yet they kept acting like I had said nothing and touching my stuff and asking questions.  ut of the blue I just blurted out "NO!" and told them to leave the room. It scared me.  Not the fact I had a spaz of anger that I controlled within seconds, but the fact that anger as strong as that can come out of a person with such force and with no previous warning.  How stable is that?  No doubt the reason for the postal shootings and road rage incidents.  It's sad and scary.  Anger is a natural emotion, mind you, I realize that.  But the 'sneaky' kind of anger just alarms me.  If you ponder on it too much it tends to make one not want to leave the house.  It would be nice if we all came equipped with a form of a built in 'mood ring' of sorts so we would know when a spaz of anger was going to happen and take steps to avoid it before anyone gets hurt.  I used to have many of those bursts of anger and unsettling feelings in earlier years.  I imagine my first born went through many of my little rage fits.  I bet it scared him too.  (Or would that be scarred him?)   Sigh.  I think learning to cope with anger is something we should learn at a young age.  It should be a required course to graduate from High School.   Stopping when I have an 'anger spaz' and thinking about why I'm angry often reveals a lot.  What caused the anger?  Stress ... jealousy ... uncertainty ... fear ... ??  Usually there is a simple root cause that would be easy to let roll into something worse.  I get mad at myself when I think of years gone by where I let anger cloud my judgement of things and then I let those things carry on for too long as a valid issues when in fact they were really nothing at all.  How many hours of our lives do we waste by being assholes?  Sometimes we need to just realize we have blinders on, get over it, and move on.

September 2, 2001 - I'm sitting here watching "Headliners and Legends" on MSNBC.  They are doing a special on Carroll O'Connor.  As I watch this, I remember way back when that "All in the Family" was one T.V. show that my father would make a 'date' to watch.  My Dad was never too into television.  Actually, to be honest, I don't remember him watching much on T.V.  Maybe he did and I just wasn't aware of it.   I do remember him shifting his normal kitchen table base to the living room on the nights that "All in the Family" was on.  And he would laugh.  My Dad was not a person to laugh.  But Dad would laugh at Archie Bunker.  It just now dawns on me that all the while, Dad was taking this opportunity to laugh at himself.

Comedy Central is re-running the cartoon "Duckman" which I adored when it was on USA.  It isn't for young kids, for sure, but it is a genius of a cartoon nonetheless.  I was sad when they stopped showing it.  Bless Comedy Central for bringing this one back.  I cannot believe myself sometimes ... since they show the reruns of "Duckman" at seven a.m. on Saturday and Sunday, that I wake up with a mental Duckman alarm!  I could sleep all day otherwise without the electronic alarm any other day of the week, but since they started showing "Duckman" I am up bright and early on Saturday and Sunday mornings like clockwork.  Now you tell me I don't have a life!  Ah Ha!

September is an eventful month in my life.  My oldest son turns 21.  My daughter turns 14.  School has resumed.  Soccer practice is back in full swing for my youngest plus he already has a head cold.   I have hummingbirds at my hummingbird feeder still, the fish are jumping, and the garden is high.  Speaking of my garden ....

I made homemade flour tortillas last week, homemade bread, homemade cinnamon rolls and brownies. I also made two batches of salsa. The last tomato massacre was enough to make a five quart ice cream bucket full of salsa.   (The one warm day seemed to send my tomatoes into hyper over-ripen drive.)   Fresh salsa has a therapeutic medicinal quality everyone should experience. 

September 10, 2001 - My friend Leisa from work was kind enough to bring me a bag full of jalapeño peppers and banana peppers today.  Bless her!  Rabbits - Mexican Rabbits, no doubt - ate all my pepper plants up.  How could a rabbit eat a jalapeño?  Cripes!  I can't even eat a raw jalapeño!!  Those rabbits must have good intestinal fortitude! 

I kept a few of each pepper out for daily use then began the de-seeding and chopping process so I could freeze the rest. You cannot smell the jalapeños while chopping, but you can sense them.  The air begins to fill with a sensation of sorts. The paper cuts on your hands begin to feel as if you were dipping your hands in acid. Eventually, the incessant sneezing begins. My daughter came downstairs to let a dog outside and began gasping and pretending to choke. "What are you doing down here?  I can't ... choke ... breathe!"   She stumbled off to the safety of her room.  And no matter how careful you are, you will wipe your hand on your face in the process. You will.  You try not to. You thought ahead of time that you would not. But you do. You may even tough other body parts as well, but the face is a given. With my face burning with the red hot intensity of a thousand suns, I finished preparing the peppers.  They are now safely in my freezer to perk up winter stews and for a batch of winter salsa.  I on the other hand am still sizzling a bit.  Ouch.  Leisa did suggest that I use baking soda to wash the burning off after doing the peppers. I think I will try that.

One of my old co-workers and friend, Vern, went to work at a spice factory.  He said that when the workers there process dried red pepper that they must be in full body suits, similar to if they were handling radioactive waste!  I don't doubt it a bit anymore!! 

School is going well so far.  My son has a hard time getting motivated for doing homework, and it's a challenge to approach him in the right way to get him to do it without having him through himself onto the floor in a heap, whining.   Sigh.  I am finally into the 'groove' of it now after several years, though.   It's not as bad as it was last year.  Well, not yet.  There will be moments.  Tomorrow night is his Open House at his elementary school.  My daughter's Open House was last week and that was fun. She has the same science teacher I had in eighth grade, (which was "last century" as she likes to point out to me) and I was flattered beyond belief that he knew me right off the bat!  On the way home I was telling her how I was quite flattered he remembered me.  "I must have made an impression!" I laughed.  "Either that or you were a really crappy student!" she threw back.  Geez, take the wind out my sails!   Hahaha.

Other than doing homework with the kids and running to school events and working and living in general, not much is going on.  I no longer crave excitement in my life, I merely crave a decent fabric softener at a decent price.  Sigh.  What has happened to me?  Where is the spark?  The has all the 'giddy' gone?

September 20, 2001 - I have received several letters asking why I had not yet commented here in my diary on the terrible attack on America last week.  What I might have to say seemed so insignificant last week.  This week I have just been studying the news and trying to make sense of it all.  Sigh.  Guess what?  There IS no sense to be made of it all.

Normally, I do NOT watch the news, but I have not been able to stop watching the news since the crashes.  While I'm watching the news I'm searching the Internet, reading old and new articles about everything related to the subject of terrorism and Afghanistan as well as the stories covering the lives of those lost in the tragedy.  I find the need to listen to the AP Radio network all day at work.  I come home at lunch and turn on MSNBC, and I will be firmly planted in front of the television tonight when President Bush talks to the country.

I have a dire need to know what happened on the planes before the crashes.   I play in my head over and over the terror that those people must have felt.   I hear the calls on the news made by the people in the towers that knew they were going to die, telling helpless family members they loved them and "goodbye."  

I try to understand how anyone could be so caught up in a religion or movement that they could justify to themselves all of that deaths as they steered the planes into the buildings, let alone the loss of their own life.  I try to understand the term "holy war" because I do not understand how anything related to war can be holy.  I try to understand how Bin Laden and people who believes as he does can think they have a right to kill in the name of their beliefs.  I try to understand how we, the United States, could possibly think we could control or stop a thought process so skewed as this.

I feel ashamed that I didn't try to learn about the acts of terrorism and terrorist prior to this event.  Since it wasn't in our land it must not be my concern?  I never cried for people lost to acts of terrorism in England and France and Ireland and the Middle East and Africa and every where else in the world that terrorism has left it's evil mark.  I wonder how I can expect any other country to try to feel compassion for the United States now. 

I was gripped immediately with fear at the possibility that my soon-to-be 21 year old son could be drafted and perhaps be asked to pay the ultimate price for his country.  I feel the pain of my friend's son who felt moved to enlist after the event.  Love and loyalty for country becomes entwined yet confusing when pitted up against love for your child.

I have talked to my 14 year old daughter with as much honesty as I dare.   We have both cried over this many times. She has cried, "I think about how those people must have be feeling on those planes..." or "I picture in my head that you might have been travelling at the time, and what if it were you on the plane, Mom?"   I see her anger when she watched video of people dancing in the street on the news immediately afterwards.  "Push the damn button ...." I hear her mumble under her breath. 

I tell my 8 year old son bits and pieces and answer any questions he has about all of this.  I try to be more general and hopeful.  I remember how easy it is to be scared at that age over things unknown.  This is by far the most 'unknown' thing in his lifetime, as well as mine. 

I am shocked at the reaction of STUPID people who threaten or attack or KILL innocent Americans just because of their Muslim religion or their skin color likeness to the suspected killers. 

I shudder to think of all the stupid acts of this country from the internment camps for the Japanese during WW2 to the "witch hunt" for supposed communist during the Cold War era - McCarthy hearings.  I feel guilty for us as a people that we fall victim to such mental thought patterns and I feel sad to admit we are no better than any other group of people on this Earth. 

I was sick to my stomach to hear of the comments made on 'The 700 Club' by Falwell and Robertson.  If what they said was really true, "... liberal civil liberties groups, feminists, homosexuals and abortion rights supporters bear partial responsibility for Tuesday's terrorist attacks because their actions have turned God's anger against America... ," then why didn't God just sneeze and explode the Earth a long time ago and start again?  Why would He try to get our attention to our godless ways when He knows better than we do that our reactions, as humans, is to find revenge to the violence with violence?  I cannot believe any God, from Allah to Zeus, would do something such as this.

I am vastly ashamed of my lack of patriotism up until now.  What made me think during the first 40 year of my life that defending freedom and my homeland was any less important than it seems now?  How can a liberal thought process ever work in any situation?  Sometimes things are just black and white.  Sometimes you cannot sit on a fence and watch the outcome any longer without choosing a side to jump down in to.

In all of my hours awake since the disaster I have tried to make sense of things.  It has been too overwhelming.  I don't know how much more I can process through my brain without my brain just shutting down.  Most Americans feel this way right about now.  None of us have an answer.  We are confused and torn and hurting as a Nation. 

I only know one thing for sure - I really miss my Mom.

October 4, 2001 - I have been in a blue funk for weeks.  Hasn't all of America, though?  I cannot think I am the only one who is depressed.  I am not even really depressed.  Just sad.  Flat out sad.

I know some of it is due to trying to figure out this whole ordeal that happened on the 11th of September and understand all sides of the story.  I have read reams and reams of information about Afghanistan and the Middle East and terrorism in general.  I have watched so many news shows my eyes have fallen out.  I have listened to the stories of people opposed to the USA and for the USA.  There is no answer to all of this.  Sigh.

I am sad because my 21 year old son lost his job.  He was over for his 21st Birthday Dinner last Sunday.  It was nice to have all my chicks back in the nest as it were.  He told me about the job loss on Monday, the day after the dinner.   Apparently he went to work on Monday and they told him then.  Sigh.  I wish I were rich so I could help him out.  I wish I could just make his life easy and right.  No matter their age, your kids are always your kids.  I couldn't pay for his college and now I can't help him dollar wise either.  I feel inadequate.

I am sad because Frank, my old Basset Hound, was in such pain.  He cried all night every night for several days. He was blind.  He would get lost outside.  He was also senile.  He would perk up on occasion and run away excitedly in no particular direction to nothing specific.   You could sense his confusion.  He was in bad shape.  Whatever disease his former owners found out that he had and couldn't deal with which caused them to drop him off at my sister's house in 1998 finally took it's toll on him.  I couldn't stand him crying all night anymore.  I took him in to my veterinarians Monday for the "big sleep."  He could barely walk in to their office.  Sigh. Bye Frankie.

Those are a couple of reasons I'm sad.  But it feels like there is more reasons why I'm sad.  Oh well. Sometimes we just are sad.  No reasons.   Just down and out.  I will be fine in no time, I'm sure.  But for now, I will just go to bed early and hug my pillows and sleep.

There was one cool thing so far this week.  When dropping my son off at school on Monday, I walked by the school's office.  Normally I try to look in to wave at Diane and Peggy as I pass by.  Monday, however, I was struck with the vision of a pumpkin.  Not just any pumpkin.  It was a Siamese pumpkin.  Two pumpkins that had grown together.  And not just any Siamese pumpkin.  It was perfectly shaped like someone's rear end.  Too Cool!  I opened the office door to comment, and Diane said, "Ohhh, no - don't say it!"  She told me how a third grader had seen the pumpkin and came in the office to announce that it was the coolest thing he had ever seen, that "butt pumpkin."  Too cute.

October 12, 2001 - Hahahaaaa!   Bert has turned up in posters that people are toting around overseas in protest against us and in support of Mr. Laden.  Right behind Mr. Laden's shoulder is Bert.    I guess I am a bit evil myself to find this incredibly funny.    I thought the original "Bert is Evil" website was a hoot a few years ago.   I think it's important to find humor in life, as well as realize that Mr. Laden is just a bit 'off' on his thought process.  Little did we know that Bert would be the first American to infiltrate the al Qaeda ranks.  Hahaha.  I also think it is neat that the original non-evil Sesame Street version of Bert and Ernie were named after the Bert and Ernie from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life."  That is my most favorite movie of all time.  I must have seen that a billion times.  But I digress ... Maybe we should drop Bert dolls with the relief supplies.  Embedded in each Bert would be a little camera. 

And what would America be without little Bert dolls?  Or Elmo dolls?  Good question, Sandy.  Do you realize what we as a people would be like without the freedom to watch and do what we wanted to watch and do?  I shudder to think.

My son came downstairs last night puking his guts up all over my living room.  Sigh.  My kids were raised to puke with dignity, let me tell you. They can puke, hold a conversation, assemble a Lego toy, all while giving directions to a lost stranger. When I was carrying all three of them (not at once, mind you) I mastered the art of vomiting.  I have passed this technique down to my children.  Hurling can be worked into the process of everyday life without actually stopping you from doing your normal day to day routine, except for the fact you have to move your day to day routine into the bathroom.

October 17, 2001 - I am quite upset at the fact that fellow Americans feel they have to participate in the cruel frauds going on all over the country.  The "fake" Anthrax scares to abortion clinics and the like ... that is just sad.   Isn't the country in enough of a panic without these people being idiots?  Sigh.  I hope they find and convict anyone (doing stupid stuff like that) to the fullest extent of the law. 

I think that all of the nuts come out of the woodwork when things are in a state of panic / chaos.  Just when we don't need them, they are there.  I wonder why that happens?  Is it just because we notice them more?   Or is it the stress of the situation that causes stupid people to seep out of the woodwork like so much sap? 

My eight year old son has taken to replying to any question asked of him with a shrug of the shoulders and a grunted, "Oye, who knows?" as he rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in question.  It is quite comical at times.   I think the events of late leave a lot of little kids feeling a bit like that - 'who knows' - because they don't.   Who does?

My daughter is madly in love with a boy in her class.  She talks about him non-stop.  Doing dishes reminds her of him.  Eating reminders her of him.  Breathing reminds her of him.  The official 'stalking' has not yet begun for this young man as it had for last year's "crush" in her life.   Maybe I should call and warn him now?  RUN, SAVE YOURSELF!

During my son's soccer practice tonight, my daughter and I sat in the car and I forced her to talk about sex.  I tried to make her understand that if she has questions, not just about sex or love, but about ANYTHING, she needs to talk to me about it.  I retold the story of my Mom's "birds 'n bees" talk with was 16 or so ....

My Mom - "Do you know where babies come from?"
Me - "Well, duh - Yes!"
My Mom "Good, let us never speak of this again..."

I explained to her how the lack on knowledge can be a bad thing when it comes to sex and the like.  She informed me they had learned all there was to know in Health Classes.  I agreed that today's kid got way more of an education in those things in school than I ever did.  But I also reinforced the fact that there are some things school can't teach you.  Sometimes asking your Mom or an adult is the best way to go.  I asked her if she knew the basic mechanics of sex, and she did.  She also told me proudly, "I'm not having sex until I'm married!"  I didn't burst out into laughter, because it is a gallant thought.  I did however mumble a bit to her that sometimes "shopping around before purchasing the package" isn't the "worst idea."  She proceeded to laugh her head off.  "Mom!  I can't believe you told me that!" she shrieked.  "Well, don't go telling all your friends that I said that!" I insisted.  "This is a personal daughter to Mom talk kind of thing!"  No doubt she will tell her close friends that her Mom got gross and I in turn have posted it on my page.  (Girls!  Can't keep their mouths shut!)

October 25, 2001 - I have to take time to feel sorry for myself tonight and lament my stupidity when it comes to being human.  I was stupid all week.  I excelled at stupid.  My oldest son has a web page dedicated entirely to 'stupid people' or what he perceives to be stupid people and he will no doubt want to include his own mother in the hall of fame.  

Sigh.  Why do humans have those moments or weeks where we revert back to an age we'd rather forget?  Not even an age, but actions we thought we had outgrown and evolved past?  Just when I think I've learned to overcome an action or thoughts, there they are again.  Splat.  And do I fight these feelings of stupidity?  No!  I give in to them!  I let them wash over me and through me until I am the Poster Child for all those who are lacking common sense!  I run rampant and inflict myself on those around me.  Those who know me and accept me for who I am have come to take these bouts with a grain of salt and Tylenol.  They know my fits pass and kindly remind me to take my medicine. 

It's the people who do not know me (and thanks to my bouts of stupidity will never ever care to know me in the future) that suffer.  Once in a great while a new person gets caught in the cross fire of my erratic brain synapses and gets hurt or scared or just plain disgusted.  I did it this week to a new contracted worker in the office.  I had my fits all over the poor person.  For some reason I assume everyone in the whole universe will accept what I have to give.  When they don't want what I have to give, I force feed them.  It's sad, really.  My dire need to be liked by someone who I think I have an immediate connection with should be against the law.  If Congress wasn't so busy with war and all, I would suggest it.

I'm not quite old enough to blame it on senility yet.  I know that it's happening.  I just don't stop it.  I can't!  I have tried.   I beg myself and reason with myself.  Yet it happens.  As much as I don't want it to, there I am - stupid eeking all over the place.   Sigh. 

I think it's almost out of my system now, though.  Once I do have my seizure all over someone new and destroy their faith in mankind, the fits tend to subside as my brain kicks back in and tries to save what dignity is left.  I would apologize, but the damage is done.  Once again I pick myself, dust myself, and scratch another "duh" in the side of my airplane and fly away ...

October 29, 2001 - Just when you thought you had life by the lower extremes, it hikes up it's shorts and cuts you off.   Sigh.  I thought being a teenager was hard when it came to love and lust and life and all.  It doesn't get any easier when you are 41.  (Can I hear an "amen" sisters?)

My poor youngest son ... he has never been trick or treating door to door like normal children.  He's always been paraded around the local mall.   He has perhaps uttered the statement "Trick or Treat" three times in his life.  He is used to mall workers dumping tootsie rolls in his bag with no effort on his part.  They cancelled the mall trick or treating this year.  He was crushed.   "You mean I have to go DOOR to DOOR to get candy?" he whined to me.    I tried to explain him that most children have to do it that way.  Going to the mall was not always an option.  I carried on about "when I was a kid ..." and it still didn't seem to comfort him.  "Hey, quit complaining!" I finally said.  "That is how the pioneers did it and that's how we are going to do it this year, and you are going to like it!"

My daughter had friends over on Sunday to practice a play that was due today in school.  My youngest son assumed he was invisible and squirreled away behind the couch to secretly watch this all take place.  I wonder if 8 year old boys think that there is a secret language older women speak or some odd rituals they perform when they are together in a herd?  He was bound to find out.  I left them alone in the house and went out (to attempt) to burn pieces of the willow tree I lost in the bad storm we had last week Wednesday.  Willow does not burn well, by the way, in case you were planning on running out and trying it on your own or were thinking that willow would be a good base in an arson attempt.  About a half hour later my son meandered out to the burn pile to announce to me that "them girls are really boring in there!"   Playing with sticks and chasing the dog turned out to be more of an adventure than listening it to the secret world of girls.

November 3, 2001 - November already?   Who is in charge of Time?  I would like to speak with him and/or her about the way it's being handled.  I feel something is terribly wrong and one of Time's Settings is way off kilter - it's flying by at a rate that is far faster than any time I remember.   This must stop, and soon, before I'm dead before I know it.  It is already almost Christmas and I have yet to pay off my summer vacation spending.   Sigh.

At work I tend to queue up music on my computer and leave it playing all day long.  Looping.  I have quite the collection, every thing from Beethoven to Butt Hole Surfers.  I pick the music to fit my mood at the time I choose it, but eventually as the work day progresses, it becomes white noise in the background and I actually don't notice it any more.  I notice it if it goes away, but I don't pay much attention to it after the first twelve plays through.  And being half deaf, I might have the volume a bit too loud.  I try to keep my door shut so as not to inflict my music habits on my co-workers.  Apparently I had a 70's moment the other day and one of the choices on the loop was "My Charona."  Wait, maybe that was the ONLY song on the loop at the time.  So after 653 times of it playing, I eventually wandered off to do something and completely forgot about it playing on my computer.  

Later that night when the intern that works in the office next to me left, he backed up, stopped at my doorway, and showed me his stack of CDs he carries with him at all times.  "You probably wonder why I carry so many music CDs with me?"  "Yeah, that IS a lot of CDs, Jason!" I replied.  "Well, it's because a human can only listen to 'MY CHARONA' ONLY SO MANY TIMES!!" he stressed in a loud voice as he meandered off down the hall.  Oops, I must have had my music too loud?  Smile.

November 18, 2001 - I love living in Michigan. I will always live in Michigan.  My remains, when I die, will be scattered in Michigan somewhere.  But this morning, I'm a little pissed off at Michigan!  Here it is the best Leonids meteor display in a while and it's too damned foggy out where I live to see anything.  I went outside this morning, hoping the fog was only local to my height and below, but NO!  The whole area seems to be covered in a dense blanket of cloud.  Sigh.  The cats and Sparky went out with me in the wee hours of the morning.  We stepped outside to be met with air thick with moisture.   I moved my arms about wildly, and you could feel the wetness of the air.   Sparky was busy adding to the moisture level after being in the house all night.   The cats just ran off to do covert cat things in the dark.  So I came inside and got on line to see updated counts on how many falling stars people could see.   The counts are unreal.   Mt. Lemon in Arizona is up to 2600 per hour!!??  And they don't predict it to be this good again until the year 2099.  By then I hope I at least have an aerial view of it.  Smile.

It has been a week to end all weeks for me. On Monday I finally got to "go live" on a project I've been working on for years. I have lost many hairs and sleep over this thing.  I have cried and felt like I was too stupid and just wanted to give up.  I have walked out of work over it, several times, in disgust.  But, after all the fretting and stewing, it's "live" and going pretty smooth for the first week.  I was touched on Friday when the people at the plant which is using it first didn't even call for help. They were using their manuals and learning and having confidence in the process enough not to holler for help. I would not be lying to say I would rather give birth to eight kids at once than to go through this project again, ever.  My boss told me I should be proud.  I am proud.  Very.  There were times I peed my pants due to the excitement of the whole thing working right.  Peeing indicates a high level of pride, as all of us women over 40 know.  It's called the "bladder ratio theory pertaining to life events" and you can find it on any medical website, I'm pretty sure. 

Other than that, life is quiet. The kids did very well at school conferences/report card time.  I am proud of the fruit of my loins.  My youngest has an ear infection, and is on medication for that.  I go in on Monday to the doctors to get my mid year oil change and lube.  My daughter is excited about the upcoming band concerts.  She is trying out for a solo part in Jazz Band.  My oldest has found a job and is surviving.  All is well in Sandy Land.  We are going to my sister's for Thanksgiving.  They predict snow for Thanksgiving Day, so that will be a perk.  As we all know, I do loves my snow.  They gave us money from work to buy a turkey this year.  They used to give out frozen turkeys.   That is a hassle, no doubt, to haul in all the crates of frozen birds and pass them out, so the certificate for a turkey is much better.  However, I do miss the fact that after we did get a frozen turkey I haul him around work with me like a foul intern, and then would strap him in my front passenger side seat and drive around with him for a while.  Sometimes he would even wear sunglasses.  It tickled me to no end.   That part I miss. 

November 25, 2001 - Today the kids and I raided the attic and dragged down all the Christmas stuff.  My house is very small, so to put up Christmas stuff we have to take down normal stuff.  I started this process at 10 this morning and finished up at about 4 this afternoon.  The tree is up and the Holiday stuff is strewn about in a happy fashion.  The lights are twinkling and the the living room looks quite festive.  My youngest son insisted on having the lamps off since it got dark outside so we can enjoy the Christmas lights.   Makes it hard to type right now, but he's thrilled to death.  We watched the Opus and Bill Christmas Video, "A Wish for Wings that Worked" after dinner.   We had turkey soup for dinner, to use up all leftovers.  Well, the leftovers from yesterday.  My sister had us over for Thanksgiving, and she did up a wonderful dinner, but I still had my turkey coupon from work, so I had a turkey dinner again on Saturday.  The only reason I did that was because of the wonderful looking recipe that I saw on "Good Morning America" on how to make leftover turkey soup, and you can't do that without leftovers.  It has been a good few days off and very filling.  Burp!

My daughter was never too interested in helping decorate the Christmas tree, but my youngest loves to do it.  I am happy he does.  Decorating the tree alone isn't fun when you know you have kids in the house who are perfectly able to decorate.  We open up the decorations every year with a bit of "awe" because it's like seeing them for the first time again.  We "ooh" and "ahs" as we hang up the pretty decorations.  He has "history" now that he's eight-almost-nine and can remember when he got me "that one" or made me "this one" as he hangs them on the tree.  Now that he is eight-almost-nine, he doesn't bunch all the ornaments up in the front on one branch anymore, either, making the tree front heavy.  He is into even distribution and presentation now, and I heard him behind the tree saying, "Aww, you poor branch. You are SO alone - here is something for you!"

The kids also made out their letters to Santa tonight, which was hard to do just by the light of Christmas lights, but they managed.  Their lists are short and precise this year, maybe just due to the inability to see better when writing them out, but nonetheless, thank goodness!!  Santa is on a budget this year and I am sure "he" will appreciate the fact they are not asking for much. 

December 15,  2001 - I have not had the time to write in my Diary for quite a while, but since the one dog got me up at 5:30 this morning I have some free time. 

The One Dog who woke me up, Sparky, has been giving us all grief.  Two weeks ago she started peeing in her sleep at night.  Sparky is only four years old.  I would understand a weak dog bladder if she was overweight or an older dog.  She just started "leaking" out of the blue. The first time she filled up my son's bean bag chair. I blew it off as maybe a bad dog nightmare that caused her to pee.  The next time it was at the top of the stairs.  I just made the kids clean it up and thought nothing of it.  The next time was on top of my daughter at two in the morning.  Sparky was sleeping with her, and my daughter woke up to a flood.  She scolded the dog the best she could at two in the morning in a sleep stupor, hauled her bedding downstairs, and fell back asleep on the couch.  The next night, it happened again, this time at five a.m., and my daughter was quite upset.   "I don't mind that she's having a problem, I mind making my stupid bed every day!" she lamented.

So I called the vet first thing they opened on the morning of that event.  "My dog's gone pee crazy out of the blue!" I told them, "and I would understand if she was fat, 41, and had had three kids, but this isn't right for a dog..."

"Get a urine sample and bring her in at four," they said.  I sat at my desk for quite a while trying to envision how one would get a urine sample from a dog.  Without opposable thumbs, they cannot grasp a cup to pee in, obviously.  I managed to get a urine sample by following her around the yard with a makeshift foil collection device.  It was actually quite easy, except for the fact that my little device leaked.  Still, it worked well enough to get a urine sample.   (Duct tape and foil - is there nothing they cannot do?)

At the vets, they poked and prodded her and check her urine for infection and sugar content.  She was deemed "fine" and the veterinarian suggested that dogs that have been spade still need hormones to help keep the ability to hold urine in check.  "Losing muscle tone is common as the dog ages," he said.  "You are preaching to the choir, there, Doc!" I laughed, crossing my legs as I coughed. 

We left the vet's office 80 dollars poorer and with hormone pills for the dog. Sigh.  When we returned home, the dog was so happy to be home she proceeded to urinate all over MY bed.  Since then, she's been banned from all furniture, so the "accidents" have been on the kitchen floor and carpet here and there. Cripes.  Sparky is my daughter's most favorite pet of all times.  I dare not kick her out of the house.  I guess I will start looking into Depends for Dogs or Poise Puppy Pads.  Anyone out there ever have this issue with their pet?   I would be grateful for any advice you might have!

I want to share my son's letter to Santa.  (I had it laminated because I am sure this is the last year he will "believe" in Santa and he's my baby and all, and it was so darned cute - spelling errors included.)

"Dear Santa I want, 1 jacknife RC truck, 1 drit (dirt) Bike Max Steel, 1 cd (just one CD, he didn't specify WHICH one!), wakee talkes (walkie talkies), playsayshon games (play station), and 1 poster of a simy (semi) jumping over 10 cars." 

That request for "one poster of a semi jumping over ten cars" just makes me laugh.  How exact is that?  Hahaha.   And the spelling in the letter leads me to believe that he also needs to ask Santa for a Phonics Game too.  Smile.

We finally got snow yesterday.  I cannot believe how "down" I had been emotionally until it snowed and left some on the ground and I was so HAPPY suddenly, realizing all this time I had been depressed over the lack of snow.   People around here have been content to have no snow, mild temperatures, and spring like weather, but I HAVE NOT!!  It started out with rain yesterday morning, then huge flakes splatting to the ground with the rain.  The flakes were so huge, that when you looked straight up, you could see the different layers of flakes at different levels moving in different directions.  By the time I got done dancing and dragging people out of work to witness this miracle, I was soaked.  It was beautiful.

I am off to de-rust my coffee pot.  The rust level in the water around these parts is very high.  Nothing in my house has been nor ever will remain white if it started out that way. 

December 18,  2001 - I am getting a bit discouraged by the lack of snow here.  The snow on Friday lasted until Saturday morning before melting, and now the only thing white in the yard is all the old dog poop from summer.  Sigh.  I do like my snow.  No two ways about it.   I hate the thought of not having any NOW at this time of year.

My youngest son was poking his sister in the butt repeatedly and for every poke she would scream, "Quit touching my butt!!"  That is an entertaining game and normally the game takes place while they do dishes.  I look forward to it.  I sometimes choose to join the game by yelling, "Yeah, quit touching her butt!" or "Poke her harder!" because I'm a firm believer in participating in your children's lives.  The other night my daughter was quite sick of the butt poking game and came unglued.  She stormed upstairs in a huff. I looked at my son and said, "My, isn't she touchy tonight?" He shook is head knowingly and said, "Yeah, that's because she a girl. Girls get really grumpy."  That statement caught me off guard. I laughed out loud at first, then was sad at the thought that at eight years old, he's already decided that females are, by nature, bitchy. 

I have been having so many bouts with self pity, I am hating myself.  I know self pity is a waste of energy, time, and valuable brain cells, but it seems to keep happening nonetheless.  I am so mad at myself.  Many factors play a part in my bouts, I know for a fact.  Jeff, my buddy at work left for another job.  I hate that.  I feel sorry for myself because he's gone.  I miss him.   I want him back.  I should be happy he's found another job he enjoys and will hopefully have the opportunity to grow and learn at.  Instead I feel sorry for myself because I miss him, and everything has changed.  He was the Ying to my Yang;   the Mutt to my Jeff;  the Laurel to my Hardy... well, you get the idea. 

I feel sorry for myself over a million other things too.  My hair trigger bladder, no snow on the ground, injustice at work, lack of happiness in my heart, Neil Diamond singing Christmas Songs, and on and on.  You name it, I am feeling down about it lately.  Soon these emotions will go away.  I will recover and live to see another wasted struggle with depression over nothing another day. 

Hmmm .... Maybe my son was right after all?

December 30,  2001 - I am making home made pizza tonight and waiting for everything to finish rising/cooking so I can assemble it all.  It is a nice cold night here.   I got my snow.  I feel much better.  Lake Effect is the best thing in the world.  (Don't say that to people in Buffalo, New York unless you want a black eye.)    It was snowing like crazy the other night, but you could still see the red sunset over the trees in the woods across the road.  Way cool. 

I spent mucho dollars on my youngest son for Christmas this year, and for the last two days he has been playing with nothing but an old towel tied around his neck as a cape, proclaiming he's "Captain Wilbert - out to save the world from the evils!"  I should have wrapped up the old towel instead?  Like they say, doesn't matter what you give a kid, they would rather play with the box it came in.   I also got the cats some catnip toys for Christmas which they looked at with mild amusement as if to say, "Me?  Play with that inferior human product?"  Instead they have been entertaining us all by going insane inside of paper bags filled with nothing but air.  After seeing how much fun a paper bag can be, "Captain Wilbert" has incorporated the use of paper bags into his "conquering evil doers" routine.

My daughter was thrilled with her Christmas presents.  She got posters and wall stick-ups of Lance Bass, one of the boys from 'N-Stink, and had to clean her room thoroughly before putting him up on the walls.  She also got "Dance Dance Revolution," a Play Station game with a dance pad controller that lays on the floor and you copy the moves on the game.  We laughed on Christmas day when reading what was printed on the box of the dance pad.  It was from Japan, no doubt, and there were warnings, "Be aware of a foot or leg phenomenon and if phenomenon happens stop dancing!"  She played with that game most of the day of Christmas, and the next morning when she came downstairs she mentioned on her way to the bathroom that her ankles were experiencing "phenomenon" and hurt like the dickens. "I felt pretty good when I woke up, but then when I stood up I couldn't feel my feet!"  "I highly suggest you stop dancing then. The box has spoken!" I proclaimed.  Apparently that was a passing 'phenomenon' since I have heard sounds similar to that of a clog dancing event ever since coming from her room.

I actually left my Christmas stuff up for a whole three days after Christmas this year.  I was proud of myself.  Normally it comes down on the 26th since this house is so small.   I was going to try to make it until after New Years, but just couldn't.  Everything is safely tucked away in the attic again until next year.  It was an odd Christmas, emotionally.  I wasn't overly possessed by the magic of it, which I normally am.  It was just a "day" and I am sad to admit that.  Maybe the whole country feels that way this year?  Maybe I'm just 41 years old, and the thrill is gone?  Maybe I need my prescription meds strength upped?  We got snow on Christmas Eve like "magic" and when I picked my oldest son up from work, we all went up to Bronson Park in Kalamazoo to walk through the pretty lights.  We had to check up on Baby Jesus in the manger scene.  Many times poor Jesus has been stolen over the years.  He was laying there in swaddling clothes with Mary and Joseph and the animals and Wise Men just fine this year.  My friend Jim lost his Baby Jesus from his Nativity Scene at his house this year!  He was telling me there are people who have contests to see how many Baby Jesus' they can abscond with.  Imagining people dressed in covert operation black and sneaking around at night to make off with a plastic Baby Jesus is sort of humorous in it's own sick minded way.