Uncle Cal

Uncle Cal was well known for being a kid at heart, eating his dessert first, and the hilarious one liners he could still throw out up until the end.  The part of “Callie” as we first knew him, and which we later learned he hated, that has been bouncing around in my head, is what a fine and fierce protector he was.  Two incidents come to mind, the first when I was about four years old and was knocked down by a jealous Laddie, the Farm’s resident collie.  This dog was terrifyingly scratching or biting my face, but Uncle Cal was right there and got the dog off me quickly.  He even offered to shoot it (which did not happen), if I remember correctly.  In fact, I’m not sure I actually remember any of this, it could be just the retelling I remember, but I still have a trauma reaction when a dog comes at me barking.

The second was when Betsy fell off a horse and broke her arm at about age 10.  This I do remember. As soon as she was thrown, I can see Uncle Cal running down the country road in his requisite coveralls, and into the ditch to retrieve her.  I can still feel his anger at any person or animal that would hurt one of his family.  Since he didn't have any children of his own, and my mom was his only niece, we were his adopted grandchildren.

Uncle Cal taking a swing at ping pong, 2009, age 84.

Two years later, 2011.

Summer

May 29th and summer seemed to stretch out forever. It's already been a week, and it's slipping away. I always have this idea that if I write, it slows down time. If reading other people's journal is boring, you can just stop now.  So my break is May 29-August 11.  I have a few plans, it won't be all wasted.  But it will go too fast.  I know this.

Here are a few things I have up my sleeve:

1.  Taking a graduate class on AD/HD via distance learning, should take about 40-45 hours.

2.  Participating in School Crisis Assistance Team training in person (about 40 hours including the commute).

3.  Driving my mom to North Dakota for Uncle Cal's Memorial Service: June 13- 18.

4.  Entertaining brother, sister and their families June 28-July 6.

5.  Watching Cal play Legion baseball.

6.  Preparing some lessons for junior high boys with behavior disorders group.

7.  Traveling to Buffalo to join Pat's 9 siblings to celebrate Ellen's 80th birthday, July 25-30.

8. Spending time with Little Sister; we will celebrate our 2 year anniversary in July.

9.  Reading, read some more, make picture boards for Cal's service, clean up around the house.

10. Volunteering at Loaves and Fishes monthly.

11.  Taking yoga class and 'walking for wellness', riding bike, walking for the heck of it (I have two weekly walking dates), lifting my wimpy weights, cardio, etc.

I just have to remember not to complain.  What's there to complain about,  you say?  Well, there's summer guilt, kind of like survivors guilt where I feel like I should be working like everyone else, and I let it crawl into my head. I only feel worthy on weekends, when it's okay to not be working.  Sometimes I feel a little lonely when the house is empty because everyone is at work. And, yes, sometimes I get irritable about things like cooking, shopping, cleaning up, and the thought that 'summers off' means house servancy.

Oh, it will be glorious. I really do love my new schedule. I worked hard for it, so why not enjoy it?

Classic new use for a Turkey Baster

Today I discovered my mom's mini frig got unplugged and was all stinky and beginning to mold up.  I offered to clean it, but on one condition, I do it my way.  I knew she would have a procedure I was not prepared to follow, but I had no idea how strange this one would be.

So she says to me, she says, "Okay, but what I do is take a turkey baster and suck out the water from the collection tray below the freezer and shoot that into a bottle and use it for my ironing because it is perfectly distilled water."  So I says to her I says, "Are you kidding me??!!  I'll buy you a bottle of distilled water."  All I can imagine is some stinky, stagnant water that's been sitting there a week and then it being sprayed on clean clothes.  I start singing "My Way" by Frank Sinatra and nobody wants hear that. In a testament to her growing flexibility or intolerance of my horrible singing, she says, "Okay, I may hold you to that, but go ahead and do it your way."  She really didn't want to clean out the frig...  So I'm imagining soaking up the water with a sponge or cloth, but of course, there are no sponges in the house, only a stack of rags.  When I open the door and check the tray, darn if it isn't up to the brim. Too full to accommodate a t-shirt rag.

I yell up the stairs, "Mom, where's the turkey baster?"  and I suck the water out with the turkey baster.  It's actually pretty clean and not smelly.  I would have transferred it to the bottle if I wasn't too lazy to follow the instructions for finding the "distilled water from unplugged refrigerator trays" bottle.

Hurtling Toward Summer

That's what I call this time of year, the last three weeks or so of school.  It certainly is different being on a school schedule. You think you can barely wait for that long break. Makes me wonder how I ever worked year round, the way about this time of year I think maybe I could retire sometime soon. Ha.

So many of  my students are the same way and have dropped out, got kicked out, got locked up or just plain quit. We even had two student deaths in our district this year; one a 7 year old boy killed by a pitbull, and a 17 year old driving 100 mph in town. I know there is something I should do/should have done.  Research says --blahblahblah-- but guess what, research doesn't know every kid and the myriad of circumstances that lead them to their heart breaking decisions.

Saw my first "summer blockbuster" movie last night, Star Trek: Into Darkness.  I hope and think it is getting a new audience that has never seen the TV series or the first generation of movies.  I love watching how the young actors play the iconic roles.  My favorite has always been Bones.  The 'bad guy' was pretty good, not overdone. I would like to see more of him and sure we will.  Other than that, without shouting spoiler alert, it was okay. I could always do with less chasing, fighting and shooting, but that's what chick flicks are for.

Television

I am actually getting obsessed over television.  I hope this doesn't make me some kind of psycho but here goes. First there was The Following with Kevin Bacon chasing a college professor serial killer who has an increasingly large cult following.  We tend to yell at the bumbling police, FBI, ATF, etc. because they are absolutely inept, but yet we keep coming back, and only four episodes left.

Next is Norma and Norman Bates in Bates Motel.  Wow, we love this one, too.  Vera Farmiga is my new idol.  Pat calls me Farmiga now (which is the highest form of compliment I can think of), and I call him Norman.  This show is going to singled handedly bring back the Swiffer. I left Pat a note today, if you can't read it:  "Get with it, Norman."

We have DVR'd the first episode of Hannibal, which we are hoping is as humorous and engrossing as Bates Hotel, both being prequels to the original movies.  And I heard one of the cable channels is bringing back The Killing.  Oh dear, I think this could be a problem.

50 is...

1. Letting go and moving on.  Pathetic as it is, some 49 year old women still have school girl fantasies. Time to give that up.  Everything from "I'm gonna wear those jeans again" to having the perfect house to going on "The Amazing Race" with Betsy is included here.
2. Letting go's first cousin: Getting over yourself. That is to say, forget the face lift, tummy tuck, lipo dreams. The parts are dropping and gravity wins.  Acceptance is the key.  As someone once said, I earned every one of these wrinkles. They represent a memory, a laugh, a piece of wisdom.
3. Maybe if I'm really lucky, menopause.
4. 50 is the new 50.  I read that in a magazine and thought it was so cool.

It's kind of like a new freedom.  I can just care a little bit less.

Books, etc

I'm having some withdrawals today since finishing Louise Erdrich's "The Round House" last night.  Good book. I had assumed it was an older novel taking place in 1988 on a North Dakota Indian Reservation.  Both my parents roots being in North Dakota and visiting there every single summer and some winters of my childhood, I have related well to Ms. Erdrich's writing ("Master Butcher's Singing Club" though I can't really remember the plot, I know I was sad to have it end).  I wouldn't exactly say I was sad for this book to end, because it deals with some pretty awful situations that I wanted to see resolved, and ended quickly and for a happy ending to enfold.  There was no happy ending, but clues throughout the book that the boy had a good life in spite of the troubling dilemmas he faced.  I always wonder, especially when middle aged women are writing from the perspective of a teenage boy (13), how accurate the thoughts, feelings, and actions are...

Relate well to her writing may not exactly be accurate. I respect her writing and find it wholly engaging.  While reading this book I was suddenly overcome with a new, strange thought. That is, I felt guilty (?), responsible (?) that my ancestors (and ones that I am old enough to remember) took land from the Indians in  North Dakota.  I had never felt personally connected to the tragedy of the Native Americans (sorry Dad).  Whether it was legal, or moral, or  justifiable by saying, "well some other white folks would've took it," the fact is, we European Americans stole this land and screwed these people over big time.

So, after finishing the story and combing the afterword, jacket covers, title page, I find it was just published in 2012.  Surprising.

Proud of you Boys

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIA7mxXjXcw


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7cBVJo0P0A


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jBO6yHrXDA





One plays music all day every day and one plays ball all day long.

Illinois Blizzard

I have not seen much weather since moving to Illinois from Buffalo in 1996, but last week, I had a little scare.   On Wednesday night (December 19) we were hearing tell of a 2-4" snow fall coming in Thursday afternoon. Thursday was the last student day at my school, and the last day of finals.  They rearranged the schedule so that all finals were taken first and second block of the day, and a 1:45 early dismissal was announced.  No problem, I thought, I lived in Buffalo 7 years and survived a few weather incidents.

I drove to work Thursday morning in a light rain, pretty tame. The day was really busy and I wasn't looking outside to see when it started but sometime in midmorning an announcement was made we would now be dismissing students at 12:45 and staff could leave 10 minutes after that.  Maybe about noon I looked out and it was snowing, still no big deal... At 12:45 Pat called me from Macomb to ask how things were in Galesburg because they were pretty bad in Macomb. Honestly, that shook me up when Pat said I should get out of town.  I split and got just ahead of the school busses.  Even then it must have taken 10 minutes to get up to the corner of Henderson St. (3 blocks).  On Henderson, the traffic was really slow and roads snow packed already, and slick. I finally got to the entrance ramp to highway 34 and I was moving at about 40 miles per hour, though there were white outs and it was scaring me somewhat. Also, my windows were full of slushy snow and it was overall very hard to see. I kept the radio on as it was better company than my own thoughts. I was about 2-3 miles down the road, and without warning there's a truck jackknifed about 1000 feet (?)ahead of me and blocking the road. I could see another truck and cars past that spun out and off the road. Luckily I was just at the last exit back into Galesburg (Main St.) so all traffic was exiting.

Time for a quick decision: re-enter the freeway, or pull into town and spend the night.  Into my decision went the following:
I might make it to the next town, where I had a feeling I would be stuck in a motel, however, the visibility was terrible, I am not fond of white outs, and my windows were not clear.
I have a friend in Galesburg who has offered me respite anytime I need it, but she would be coming from her job the way I was going.
I had less than a quarter tank of gas, not enough to keep me warm all night which I considered a distinct possibility.
I had work the next day.
I called Pat with all these things running through my head, and he agreed with my assessment to just stay put.
I pulled off the freeway and back around to the first motel I saw.  At that point, the driving was just getting worse.  I called my friend from the parking lot (in case I had to secure a room) and she was on the road and said it was horrible, but I could stay there whether she made it or not> After buying some pajamas at Target, I proceeded across town and pulled into McDonalds near her house. I had now been mucking around for about an hour.  The snow was piling up and people were taking shelter, there was slipping and sliding everywhere.  Very dangerous even in town.

Val got home around 2:00 and I brought her and her son some food, and we had a whole afternoon and evening ahead.  It seemed really weird. Normally, if I stay there it's 5:00 or so when I get there.  She asked if I like to sew and I said "not really" but she showed me a pajama pants project she was working on for Christmas presents. I sewed on the cute puppy dog buttons while she ran the machine. We watched a really sappy made for TV movie, which I kept making sarcastic remarks about, but I think she really thought it was good, and it did keep my interest. After dinner and newspaper reading, I went to bed.

Got to work a little late, in my same clothes. I was told at noon that the road home was still closed, but I didn't believe it and left shortly after lunch.  I counted 7 cars still off the road on highway 34 and 35 cars off the road on 67.  Apparently, on that second stretch there was a pile up that caused people to indeed spend the night in their cars or makeshift shelters, who were not lucky enough to get rescued by the state police.

So, I have to say my judgment was good, and thank goodness for my generous friend who put me up for the night. It was quite an adventure!

And Dad, you do have exclusive permission to edit and print this in the Family News, as you see fit.

The F Word

Here is my rant for the evening, and I'm only picking on rappers because I'm listening to a song a friend was listening to on Spotify. I've found a lot of good music this way, I would not have otherwise run into. Can't Dr. Dre, every movie I've seen in the last 10 years and the kids on the basketball court and the hallways at school be a little more creative?  My dad has confirmed that the F word has been around since at least the Korean War.  So, it's not really that impressive to say it all the time. Apparently, it is just another word used liberally in the youth vernacular. For myself, besides embarrassing my children and getting fired, my main reason for refraining most of the time from saying it myself is not that I'm particularly offended by it, but that overuse reduces the impact of saying it.

Since we are often told not to complain without offering a solution (or three for my new boss), I would recommend people who like to swear make up a new word.  Here's what I'm thinking of saying to students whom I overhear using it, as we are supposed to somehow stop it, "hey this is an educational facility, and we've all been educated on this word a long time ago, can you think of something else to say?"  My third solution is well, I don't have one.  Maybe I could write to Matt Damon and ask him to help start a campaign in Hollywood to eliminate the F word.

Don't get me started on the N word and the G word either...but i am open to suggestions for response to "that's so gay."  Usually i say something like, "You think it's happy?"  I'm glad you think it's happy.

New Year's Eve

I'll just make this quick, since I mentioned Miss M.  I invited her over for New Year's Eve (she's been asking to visit in the evenings when I am usually too exhausted to be much company).  After poking around on the Internet for ideas I came up with this plan. The only drawback is, she will keep asking to do this again and again and frankly, it's a little more effort than I am usually willing to exert.  I know this because when I did the first treasure hunt around the house and yard she kept asking to do it again. I did not oblige until our last visit before Christmas when I incorporated her gifts into the hunt.

So, here's the plan:  We will have envelopes labeled with every half hour from 7:00 - ??  Kind of like a countdown thing with fun stuff to do in each envelope.  This is what I have so far:

7:00 Scavenger hunt
7:30 Uno game with automatic card shuffler borrowed from my mom (she loves that thing)
8:00 Bake cookie stuffed cupcakes
8:30 Manicure and hand massage
9:00 Time  Capsule

9:30 Help Susan put away Christmas decorations (this will be about the time she'll ask to go home, hopefully)

Miss M and me on 12/16 the day we made ornaments and cookies.  She gave me my gifts, gourmet coffees, homemade cookies and a gift card!  Too much!  Oh yeah, we discovered we have matching shirts (in different colors) so we wore them on this day.
I am looking for "fun activities for New Year's Eve" to do with her. So far, I have Scavenger Hunt, maybe a time capsule, and making a food item.
I haven't posted a picture on this blog in forever, because I basically forgot how to do it.  I think I found a new way but it will probably only post at the beginning instead of inserting it wherever I want.

This is really just for me, so I can't recommend anyone reading further.  I have been reading a lot of YA (young adult) fiction lately, and even a fourth grade level book.  I've been researching selective mutism, a disorder one of my student has. It causes a lot of people frustration, because they know she can talk in some situations and not others. This makes them believe it is a conscious choice or even a game. I have even been guilty of some of these feelings. 

The first book I read was called "Cut" by Patricia McCormick.  A teenage girl is situated in a therapeutic inpatient treatment center because she had been cutting herself, and has gone mute. In this case, she is not talking to anyone and it gets a little awkward in group and individual therapy, but she is really having a difficult internal struggle.  Come to find out she has blamed herself for her brother getting sick and almost dying, when in fact her parents were rather negligent, one having gone to a bar. She slowly realizes this and begins talking and making progress, before abruptly running away from the facility. She calls her dad and they have a come-to-Jesus, and she goes back, determined to work harder on her recovery.  What I liked most about the book was the author's voice and candid humor about the treatment center and the characters there.  I also was interested in how therapy was handled.  Lucky for me, my student is able to talk to me.

I'm about half way through "Speak", the story of girl who enters high school after busting up an underage drinking party over the summer. She is now outcast from any social group, but it is a little more vague about her inability to speak. No one is confronting her about it, or making problems in school over it, it is more hinted at.  She does speak at home, and with a new girl she meets. Again, the descriptions and characters are humorous and spot on sketches on the life of a teenager. 

I often think of a boy Cal knew in daycare whose parents invited him over expressly because he was the only kid Mikey talked to. He wasn't speaking in daycare and not sure how much he spoke at home.  I wonder what became of him.

So, I'm concerned with my midde age paunch and recent weight gain, 10 pounds over my former limit.  On the plus side I do the following activity weekly:
Aqua Fit class, 45 minutes, 3x
Walk, 45-50 minutes, 2-3x
Lift weights, 30 minutes, 1-2x
Elliptical, 40 minutes, 1-2x
Yoga, 10-15 minutes, 3x

I eat a healthy breakfast everyday: Greek yogurt and a banana on weekdays, oatmeal with cranberries, splenda, and skim milk on weekends.  I bring my lunch most days (leftovers or sandwich) and cook at home nearly every night.

Problem areas:
Binging on sweets mainly in the evening
Snacking nearly all the time, anything from kettle corn to apples, oranges, granola bars. 

Whaaaat?

I just noticed that blogger is underlining certain words in my blog and turning them into ads, if you click on them, or even hover over them.  That might be cause to rebel, because god knows blogger needs my fan-dom to sell things (like flu shots). 

It was a funny, quiet day. I had nothing on my agenda.  Jojo had a jazz concert this evening, but I've been to Bloomington Normal just about enough this fall and another 4 hour drive was never really in the cards. Instead, Pat got some plastic on some west facing windows, cleaning them and the curtains which badly needed it. 

I've enjoyed catching up on some other blogs today, when taking a break from my Kindle book, "A Discovery of Witches."  A bit predictable, the witch and vampire will be getting together.

Columbus Day Weekend

Nice (for me) that public schools still (sometimes) get Columbus Day off.  I sure feel like I needed a 3 day weekend.  Either, my students are struggling more than usual, or in my third year, I am being sought out more, I don't know, but I feel I've been going hard at work for weeks now.  There is always that getting to know you period in the beginning of the year, where I question am I handling things right with the new students and sometimes the familiar ones? 

Friday night I got four books at the public library for the three day weekend.  I had just finished "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn- that was some crazy sh--.  I waited a couple of months for that one to be available.  These four books were by familiar authors, but I wasn't sure if I would like them, so I took out four at once.  Almost done with the first.  So when I went outside to walk to Walgreens in my hobo chic staying in outfit this afternoon, my eyes hurt and I realized I need to mix it up more, though I have cleaned and been to the Y, the salon, Hy-Vee, Walmart, Niemanns, Walgeen's, Sullivan Taylor, Kmart, The Crossing, Dairy Queen, and my dad's house since leaving work on Friday.

My mom and Pat coincidentally have been in Florida this weekend.  Pat to attend his nephew's wedding in Panama Beach, FL and my mom traveling with Betsy and Nephew 13 to Orlando for a week of amusements at Universal Studios.

Productive Weekend

Late in the day Friday I decided to make the trip to attend one of Boy19's jazz concerts after work. I had held off a decision and see how I felt.  I had had a busy week with a blood donation and flu shot the night before. Sometimes by Friday I just want to go home and chill and this little trip would make about an 18 hour day.  I had a challenging but invigorating day so I decided to go for it. 

I got to Normal about 4:45, plenty of time for dinner out with Boy19.  We invited his roommate but he had marching band practice.  Boy19 chose Outback Steakhouse, a place I unbelievably had never been. I wasn't in the mood for steak, but it's not about ME now is it?  When we pulled up I saw a quaint Indian restaurant and asked if he would like to try it, but he was afraid the spicy food would  dry up his mouth for playing trumpet??  So, in we went.  The loud music and noise from all the diners was reverberating through my bones, but I soldiered on.  Boy19 enjoyed his "Chicken on the Barbie" and we shared a yummy guacamole and crab appetizer, but I could only eat a few bites of my salad entre. 

We got back to campus just in time for his dress rehearsal while I took a nap in the parking garage.  The concert began at 8 pm and the program looked rather short, five pieces for Jazz II and six numbers for Jazz I, which it turned out I had miscounted; there were seven.  I had forgotten how long one improvisational jazz tune can last...Boy18 sat with me during the Jazz II set. I studiously took notes,which I always do so I can comment afterwards on specific details and impressions I have.

Boy19, oh what the hell, he's a grown man.  Jojo shared lead in the Jazz I band.  This apparently doesn't entitle you to solos where you walk up front to the microphone, or even solo from your place in the band much.  I was busy taping one song with the Ipad and almost didn't notice he did have a short solo.  They were pro.  I thought Jazz II sounded good until Jojo's group played. Wow.  Very proud mama.

The two hour drive back home was pretty monotonous but I listened to this buttery voice named "Delilah" who was sending out romantic songs for lovelorn middle aged lonely hearts (from what I could tell). 

Saturday night I was out late again chaperoning an unnamed high school homecoming dance. For the first hour I took money for those who had not purchased tickets in advance. The going rate is $15 in case you're interested.  I also marveled at the how the administrator checked ID's and commanded the young people to her will, and the teacher who found the forms for the guests who were not students.  We were absolutely slammed with students for 45 minutes straight, and there were ticket takers at other doors.  I had no idea.

Pretty much as expected, the new dirty dancing has the girl rubbing her behind against the boy's frontside for three hours straight.  I was waiting all night to hear the song "Gangum Style," the youtube sensation I recently discovered.  There was also a fun song where the kids do what looks like a line dance; Cal tells me it's called "Cupid Shuffle" which is about five years old so I guess I am not so down with the times. 

I feel I earned my $50 by breaking up two extended tongue entwined interactions, one ridiculous display of three year old horseplay, two boys whose hands were dangerously close to the fire alarm, and circling in and around the dance floor for two hours straight.  Afterwards, I helped tear down the pretty cool decorations before arriving home at 1:00 a.m.

That brings me to today.  However, I am really needing to get my clothes and self ready for another work week so here's the unembellished version of my productive day: visit parents, clean oven, wrk out, drop off snack for theater party, get gas, take nap, go to the library, make lasagna, eat lasagna, take walk, watch football, read blogs, write blog, say good night.

Good Night!

SIU Visit

When did my little Momma's boy who followed me from room to room and put his arms around my neck and wouldn't let go turn into the 5'11" and growing surly young man who is old enough to go on a college visit?
After driving five hours we arrived in Carbondale and the good people there gave us some sage advice: most of the motels in Carbondale are, how can I say this, temporary crack houses, or places you take your new ‘friend’ for a few hours. I asked a biker guy if he thought the Comfort Inn would have bed bugs and he replied, “Pretty much anywhere in town you’re gonna have a problem with critters.” Oh great. He directed us to where he thought we were going on the East side of town, and turns out the Comfort Inn is only 19 months old, not long enough to get bed bugs, right? I checked just in case, though it was really, really nice and clean.
After dinner at Panera and noticing the maroon polos and SIU license plates, we lucked onto campus by accident. We heard music and saw people flooding towards center of the university with coolers. We got out and walked along, noticing open alcohol all around, amidst the families, students and elder community people. The full moon was out, a band from Chicago was set to take the outdoor stage and we decided to head on over to the new football stadium.
Two guys were hosing off some dirt in front of the stadium and said we could go on in. Later I talked with the night shift worker and he was an honest to goodness good guy. How easy for him to make a good impression of the school and town of Carbondale, as being somewhere I would send my son. The turf stadium with box suites was really nice and we were directed over to the basketball arena across the parking lot. Both beat the pants off what WIU has for athletic facilities.

Blogger has changed and as I mentioned last post, I don't like change very well.  I've had a few thoughts rattling around in my brain recently. One has to do with getting old, the other about my children growing up.  The third, which is not worth focusing on, about needing to be happier, not liking my attitude lately. 

Taking some laundry out of the machine the other day, I was struck by how long Boy17's baseball pants have gotten. It seems like he was the same size of baseball pants for literally 10 years, and suddenly, he has these super long baseball pants.  Now the boys are 24, 19 and 17 (almost 18). Sometimes that makes me happy, when I think about how much I wouldn't want to be changing diapers or chasing toddlers around, or even going to another school event.  I have become far too selfish and self absorbed for that. 

So, getting old.  I noticed a few telltale signs.  One day I was lying on the couch having an allergy attack, and was too lazy to get up to throw away my kleenex, when I instinctively tucked it into my sleeve.  Gasp, that's why old people go around with kleenex up their sleeve, one disgusting activity I thought I would NEVER engage in.  Well, I have.  It was almost enough to motivate me to get it up and throw it away, but not quite.  Then I noticed I have a pile of clothes in my room which are only slightly worn.  Gasp, I am wearing dirty clothes!  I even pick them up off the floor sometimes and put them on.  To top if off, I don't always wash my hair everyday.  I feel like it's just "drying out" too much. Gasp, all of this leads to me occasionally get a whiff of myself smelling like a grandparent. 

Perhaps these persistent thoughts are what is causing me to feel unhappy, negative and worthless.  I am glad I discharged them to this blog, because I was so convinced they would just make fascinating blog material. Cognitive behavioral therapy says I can just change those cognitions and be happy. Metacognition: thinking about your thinking. So that is my little goal for today. 

End of April

It's almost terrifying to be posting here.  I think the format has changed again and I am such a creature of habit.  I am having trouble navigating around blogger. 
This is more of an Arm Meat post, but oh well. We had our last senior night last night (baseball).  It was anti-climatic.  Tonight was Mr. Bomber and boy17 was a contestant. He had some pretty good bits (causual wear, cheer, formal wear) and his talent was pretty funny. If I get fancy I'll try and post the video.  There are so many things to do before graduation and I am happy to say my kitchen is 100% remodeled.  A very amazing transformation (and seven weeks of chaos). Actually the chaos the rest of the house was thrown into is still existing. 
Boy19 is finishing up his freshman year of college, but at this moment I can hear him and his girlfriend giggling in the back room.  She emceed the Mr. Bomber show tonight along with Peppermint Patty. 

It's been slightly over one year since I blogged???? I ran into a problem that deterred me terribly. I would be typing along and get some really great material going, then go to publish and it wouldn't publish. It just stayed like a draft. I could copy and paste, and send it to "The Family News" but that was about it. I'm going to push the magic button before I get too invested in this and see what happens.

Where

April is slipping away

I can't believe how fast time is going. I was speaking with an old classmate yesterday whose theory was that time accelerates as we age because it is such a smaller portion of our total time lived. For exampe, one year to a 10 year is 1/10th of their life and so it seems very long. At almost 50, one year is only 1/50th of the time I have spent on earth, and so it goes very quickly. My thought was that our brain and soul becomes so full of memories and experiences, and that somehow makes time go more quickly. Or perhaps there is just so much activity and things to do the older we get that time seems to speed up exponentially.

Yesterday there was volunteering for a band event (two hours), meeting about a class reunion (one hour), birthday lunch with Uncle Cal (age 86) (I think time may slow down again once we are that old) (two hours), working out (1.5 hours), nap (1.5 hours), grocery shopping (1 hour), dinner making and eating (1.5 hours), schoolwork (one hour), checkbook balancing and bill paying (.5 hour), walk (.5 hour). Did I mention Facebook? 5 minutes here, 5 minutes there, honestly, there is nothing interesting going on there.

So today there is the parent visit, Boy18 brass recital, working out, cleaning dirty house, more schoolwork (my class is almost done!), etc. etc. And back to school tomorrow.

Just Saying

It's a glorious day!!! Nothing better to do than be outside on a day like today.

Facebook Break

Facebook is just too unsettling and much of a time waster. There's nothing there, yet I stare at it like some monumentous information is going to suddenly appear. So that's that.

Double header today. A full week of baseball. 7 games in 6 days. I missed the only two games Boy16 started in. He did well in the field and at the plate, just too many guys in the infield to fit in the line up.

Yesterday Pat and I took a short trip to Springfield to see Boy/Man22. My maternal instincts suddenly kicked in and I needed to put eyes on him. Seems to be doing okay. We had what we thought were inaccurate mapquest directions. Couldn't find the place. Drove around for while and finally saw a gas station. Pat started asking a state policeman who was getting gas where to find Burton Drive. He couldn't explain it, then didn't think the number was right. Said he would check his computer, then just radioed "the city" and got the directions. Tried to explain how to get there with the one ways, then just said, "I'll take ya." First thought, Great! Second thought, should I bring the state police to this place?? Well, we flew around some corners and streets and there we were. Turn out, mapquest was right. Pat read .08 miles as .8 miles so we missed a street. We were only a block away originally. The rental is a cracker box of a place with a dude parked on the living room floor on an air mattress under some covers looking at a laptop (Shashi, a self proclaimed grad student) at two in the afternoon.

It seems my cousin Bill in Manhattan KS, has slipped into a coma is not expected to recover due to terminal cancer. We had no idea things were this bad until this week. In fact, we were hopeful the cancer was in remission. But it would be like Bill not to share bad news. His sister died by suicide two and a half years ago, so it is rough on the family. My aunt and uncle are not in very good health either.

Almost the 28th of March

In my flannels and bathrobe before 8:00. March is going out like a lion, and I, for one, am getting damn sick of it. We had a nice birthday celebration for Mom tonight at what was supposed to be Shiloh's (fine dining) but turned about to be Chicks (casual dining). She says, "You're only 75 once" to which I replied, "You're only any age once." I am getting so cranky and irritable in my middle age. And if AARP sends me one more solicitation before I am 50, I am going to take serious legal action.

Pat is in the bathroom screaming and swearing at the toilet he's trying to fix. Boy18 gets bent on harping on certain household enigmas of which there are many in this home, and the toilet running downstairs is the latest of those that apparently finally got on Pat's nerves, too. Why he would start this at 8 p.m. on a Sunday, maybe BIL Chuck can answer. Boy18 has decided to invite his girlfriend over to run lines for the play in the middle of this project which adds yet another layer of complication to this state.

It is back to work tomorrow after a peaceful week of spring break. I did accomplish some of my to do list, including completing Module 2 (of 3) for my grad class, getting Boy16's baseball t-shirt quilt sewn together but not tied, daily exercise, and Bjarke's scrapbook all but ready to mail when Boy16 gives me his narrative account of the trip to include on the last page. Some of you may have see the pictures of the pages on Facebook. I managed to erase an entire disk of some 500 pictures and videos of Denmark without having saved them to my computer. Luckily this time Vibe has copies. Some may remember how devastated she was when Boy18 visited in 2008 and 400-500 of her pictures mysteriously disappeared when she went to have them printed. She was not fooled this time but the curse must have extended to me.

Wednesday Chatter

I asked Boy16 how the Viking Museum (Roskilde) and the cathedral where some royals are buried was and he replied:

They were pretty cool, I liked them because we didn't have a tour guide we could just walk around and look at stuff on our own. Today at school was very interesting, it's way different over here. Everyone in class has a laptop and you can be on facebook or playing games or listening to music during class. And they get out at 130 and have a recess and lunch which is nice. We talked to the 8 th graders and I got interviewed for the newspaper!I noticed in Russia the royals are "buried" in the cathedrals, too. I find that a little odd and don't remember the explanation for this. We went to the church in St. Petersburg where Czar Nicholas and his family is 'resting' all except Anastasia whose body was never found...sparking all the folklore that she survived.

They love their royals in Denmark, I do remember that. One of the princes is the golden boy, the other a cad, maybe even divorced.

So, no pictures out of Denmark yet. I wish! I hope he is taking some, lots of the people.

Well, it's off for my second time seeing Black Swan. I thought Pat would like it, so I'll force myself through it, nod nod wink wink.

I saw this ad on Freecycle, a service where people give and receive items with no monetary exchange. It's kind of sad when people put animals up on such a site. Often people will chime in and criticize the owners if there is any hint of abuse or neglect or even thoughtlessness:

I have a 1 1/2 year old lab/german shepherd mix that needs a good home. She is a good girl, but I don't have the time to give her. You may reply to this email or call 309-333-7289.

I am slowly working through my grad classs on Engaging Troubling Students. The word "troubling" bothered me at first because it sounds like we are troubled or bothered by the students. Judgemental, like they are getting in our way. In reality, I wouldn't have a job if not for these students troubling someone. I thought 'troubled students' was more accurate, but who am I say they are troubled? They may think they are perfectly fine. Somewhere along the way, my students have been labeled emotionally or behavior disordered. That means, they don't fit in well with the general students and teachers. Some are just quirky, weird, or odd. Others are volatile, defiant and bold. Many have learned this from having to protect themselves out in the world or in their own homes. The emotional disorders are more those with a mental health diagnosis that is front and center. Some are in the program because they are picked on or bullied. This class I am taking is an alternative to a strict behavioral approach (rules-rewards-punishment). Towards support, understanding and a participatory classroom structure.

And now from Denmark (Friday):

Dear Susan and co

Cal arrived after the scedule. Danish students with flags and the host families were all there. We took the train to Nivå, and Cal got his room. After an hour did Bjarke and he go for a walk in the cold but sunny weather. They actually went to the beach. At 7 am we are going to dine- and Cal is taking a nap right now.
He is tired but full of smiles- and the two"cap-boys" talk non stop. I´m sure its gonna be fun.
I thought you would like to know.
Yours Vibe
________________________________________

Two unrelated stories

I finally figured out why I like driving my big Buick so much. When I was 16-17 my family acquired an old (even at that time) Ford Galaxy which was a yucky color of green. For some reason, I loved driving that car. Today when I heard "After the Love Has Gone" by Earth, Wind and Fire, I remembered a moment at the old SuperAmerica gas station in that car with that song playing. Back then, all we had was radio, so when your favorite song came on, the world stopped. That car was a divine boat to drive, but had a habit of over heating. I did use that to my advantage from time to time when I wanted to play the damsel in distress. Well, the Buick LeSabre is the biggest car I've driven since then and I love the smooth ride.

When I visited St. Petersburg, Russia in 2001, it was very clear the impact of World War II was profound on the city and its people. The guides often spoke of the devastation, starvation,and near destruction of their city by the Neva by the Germans. They are proud to have prevailed to save their city.

"City of Thieves" by David Benioff is a character sketch set in St. Petersburg under seige during this time period. Lev, a naive and sexually inexperienced 17 year old Jew, and Kolya, a cocky, confident, ladies man of 22 who has been accused of deserting the army are an unlikely pairing who meet in jail. The story revolves around a desperate search for a dozen eggs but more aptly depicts the emotional maturation of a boy becoming a man with stunning and simple, humorous and brutal prose. I am near the middle of the book and already know it is one I wish would never end. I am parceling it out slowly so I can savor it fully.

Life

Better than the alternative, in the words of Dick Vick.

Sometimes life is better than I expected, like yesterday, when my house was filled with music, Boy17 and his friends jamming on guitar and trumpet. I always wanted a house filled with music.

Life is definitely better than my dreams, which have been tortured, miserable messes.

Feeling good after 2:15 workout and finishing that damned bicycle portion of the triathalon. Cup of coffee, life is good...yes, I am a triathelete. haha Loosened up the sore muscles of Thursday's killer yoga session. My friend Karen kicks it on the yoga mat. I thank her for inviting me to her class. We haven't been socializing since I dropped out of the church and goddess night fizzled out a few years ago. Nonetheless, she is one of my favorite people, genuinely a good soul. We met in yoga class, she reminded me. I remember seeing her and thinking I would like to be her friend and eventually it happened. Funny how that goes sometimes.

I called Boy22 this afternoon and guess what? He was on his way to Macomb. Got a ride here, and a truck meeting him tomorrow to haul his bed to Springfield. Seems the boy doesn't want to sleep on a couch the rest of his life. A weird next step. His hair is sheered (all three boys have fresh haircuts), and he seems more focused and happy than I've seen him a couple of years. He has secured two jobs, possibly three. I saw proof he enrolled in his final one credit of college, which I swear I didn't ask for. I'm letting go of control. The first job is at a Japanese steakhouse. The second is stocking displays in stores for greeting cards and Frito Lay. His friends all seem to have a little more money than he does, so maybe that will keep him motivated to work hard.

Super Bowl Menu

Turkey Rueben Sandwiches
Pork fried rice
Pre-made vegetable tray - too lazy even to unpackage my own veggies
Pigs in blanket
Flatbread and hummus
Tossed salad

I'm not even really planning to watch the game.


Me at work on Friday. No, I don't work in a prison, it's a school!! Need interior design helper.

Pines of Rome

I am learning about music by osmosis, that is, Boy17's musical experience. He has gone so far above and beyond my feeble high school band training. Obviously, I didn't have the talent or drive to excel in music. Yesterday afternoon was the Illinois All-State concert at the Peoria Civic Center. Boy17 chaired second trumpet in the Honors Orchestra, which is just about as good it gets in high school musicianship.

I don't know much about orchestral music, but his group was slated to play only one piece, Respighi's Pines of Rome. Respighi is such a cool name. The piece was written in 1924 and has four movements. I couldn't detect any flaws in the performance. It is an epic symphonic poem and was greeted with a standing ovation. It was easy to spot Boy17, since we didn't get the "Black Tie" memo. We were told suit and tie, so I got him a new suitcoat, brown. You can see the result. Well, I thought he was handsome, and I'm incredibly proud. How Pat and I find ourselves in this world of classical music is mind boggling, I guess we are just blessed!



The Honors Orchestra had the only out of state conductor, Jung-Ho Pak from Cape Cod and San Diego (who apparently has a lot of frequent flier miles). Eli enjoyed his enthusiam and expertise enormously. Just working with the musicians in the camps and programs he has been involved with is a huge benefit to his own growth. He was on Cloud 9 after the concert, as well as exhausted. "Maestro" literally conducts with his entire body. He obviously knew the piece well, and used no music, stand, or baton. He was almost dancer-like.



Jung-Ho

Golden Globes

Thank you Betsy for getting me addicted to movies again. Since I've been reading Entertainment Weekly weekly, I'm pretty tuned into this years awards nominees. I have seen most of the nominated films. The Golden Globes (GG) were thus a really interesting show for me, plus Matt Damon was seated right in front of the stage and got numerous camera views besides his presentation to Al Pacino or Robert DeNiro or one of them old guys. My first comment is that I'm happy to see Matt's non-celebrity wife is looking more and more comfortable at these events. It would be hard to walk in there and be compared to Angelina Jolie and the gang.

My first comment is, I love the way Annette Benning embraces her age. She is not trying to glam it up whatsoever. Maybe she just feels great next to her 80 year old husband Warren Beatty, so she doesn't have to put on any airs. But the hair, interchangable with Al Pacino? If you missed it, try Google images. It's awful.

Christian Bale is as nutty as his character Dicky Eklund in the "The Fighter." When he got up after winning his GG and started talking in a British accent I thought he was putting it on. So, after seeing "The Fighter" tonight I doubted myself after I told Pat he is British. He did Boston well. He is from England. He and Jeremy Renner from "The Town" and "Hurt Locker" are two excellent character actors who will probably keep reaping the awards.

I about threw up in my mouth when Natalie Portman gave her little speech. I thought "Black Swan" was really good for a horror genre film, but her little baby raspy voice is annoying. And when she announced she was pregnant and her 'boyfriend' loves to sleep with her which proves he's a good actor (and incidentally not a gay ballet dancer), ugh. I guess her awkward extended laugh afterwards has gone viral.

I was actually touched by Claire Danes' acceptance and tribute to Temple Grandin, the talented animal scientist with autism. Ditto for Chris Colfer, the gay teen on Glee.

Kudos to "The Social Network" which sounds really boring but wasn't, unless of course you are not addicted to Facebook.

Loved Ricky Gervais as host. Who is this guy? I thought it interesting that the celebrities were not laughing at what I thought were pretty funny jokes. I think they were afraid to be seen endorsing the ridiculing of their peers. Entertainment Weekly had an editorial calling him "Icky Ricky" because he was mean. Oh boo, the Academy Awards with Anne Hathaway don't stand a chance of cracking a smile. Ricky got on Hugh Hefner and many of the presentors like Tim Allen, Robert Downey, Jr., Sylvester Stallone, and Bruce Willis (Ashton Kutcher's dad). My favorite line of the night which I'm surprised even got broadcast was the closing, "And thank you to God...for making me an athiest."

Friday

It was a good, good week. I never had a moment of 'what do I do now?' At times I felt like I bit off more than I can chew, juggling too many balls, but then I found it exhilarating. I went to bed at 7:00 last night, read a tiny bit of "Hunger Games" then fell asleep until right before the alarm at 5:20 a.m. As a result I need about two hours at the gym tonight. I skipped the last two nights of doing anything but American Idol (awful, I thought), eating and sleeping. Boy16 has a game about 1:15 hours away and I already drove my two hour commute today, so I am skipping. I did talk to him and he is recovering from the flu, Dad is going to the game, and it's iffy if he will play or not. So hello, triathlon numbers!

Post Script:
I managed 2 and a half hours of activity (30 minutes circuit weights, 3 miles walking, 4 miles biking and 12 laps swimming), boy a couple days off really can ramp up the energy level, that and working off a little stress (and I haven't had coffee since 10:00 a.m.). This while thinking of Texas Sheet Cake almost continously, in between PTSD flashbacks of Virginia (the 75-80 year old lady who liked to lather up with the water off) having a straight up conversation while delivering a 45 second audible fart in the locker room. Speaking of locker rooms, young girls can be a snarky bunch after a long swim practice. I was about to intervene when I came out of the bathroom stall and one had a clipboard so I guess she was the adult in charge, but I swear she was the loudest, most inappropriate one of the group. I managed to mind my own business after asking one of the girls if that was the coach.

Coming tomorrow: My take on the Globes, Golden.

Time

I have this whole weekly mental thing going. Here it is. Monday is not a bad day because it's Monday and everyone else is having a Monday. Tuesday is the worst day of the week because you are actually expected to do something. Wednesday is cool because it's Thursday eve. Thursday is the best day of the week because you are anticipating Friday and the weekend. Friday is good in that you know you can handle anything because you just have to get through this day but the evening goes really quick and that kind of sucks. Saturday is the second best day of the week because you have all day to do whatever you want and still have Sunday to chill out. Sunday is kind of like the Tuesday of the weekend in that you have to try to accomplish something for the weekend like laundry or getting ready for work. I used to hate Sunday, all day, because it seemed so depressing but now I try to live in the moment with the exception of my aforementioned predisposition to judging each day.

I am going to take a graduate course online now for two reasons. One, work will pay for it, and Two, when I get 12 credits I can move up on the pay scale. Why not?

The Case of What is this World Coming To?

Yesterday I made 25 laps without stopping (not 25 miles like I told Pat) swimming. It makes me think about Michelle Obama's "Let's Move" campaign. Why does the First Lady (and who made up that dumb moniker?) have to tell us to feed our kids healthy and get them off the couch and moving? The first of these First Lady crusades I remember was Nancy Reagan's "Just Say No to Drugs" followed by Barbara Bush's reading stump. Excuse me, but aren't those the basics of being a parent?

It seems to me that parents quit being parents sometime in the 80's. I know in my generation you had to move, or you would get stuck cleaning the basement or some other despicable task. If you lived in a neighborhood with kids, usually a pack was running around outside summer or winter. Now I guess they are indoors playing video games and ordering pizzas. In my case, I would take a book and disappear into a quiet corner so at least I would have pleased Barbara Bush.

I know my parents were maybe a little too out there with the food thing (making yogurt, baking whole wheat bread and serving more vegetables than meat) and there were no fast food restaurants in our town until I got to high school. Even then when we went out for open lunch we went to somebody's house and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Eating in a restaurant was absolutely a special occasion.

At the same time as obesity is at all time high, there are more gyms, fitness clubs and public venues for active fitness than ever before. Even the rehabilitation centers that used to be for heart attack or injury victims are open for wellness memberships. I can think of at least 7 places to work out in my small town of 20,000people. The YMCA is teaming with people on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe an hour at a gym doesn't really replace the natural activities that were commonplace like walking or riding a bike to school or work, playing hopscotch, tag or Red Light/Green Light, and cleaning one's own house. Fitness isn't something you do at a certain time in a certain place, movement should be a part of every hour of the day. I don't think elevators, escalators, and drive through windows were solely installed for the disabled.

There is also a surge in grow your own and store bought organic foods, food co-ops and farmer's markets, an interest in veganism, a decrease in "supersizing", and yet there are more fancy cupcake shops, greasy burger joints and super high fat ice cream stores than ever.

It's hard to understand the conflicting messages and conflicting trends with so much knowledge and information at hand about what is healthy. With McDonalds now offering Oatmeal, maybe we are at the tipping point, and the scales will start to angle down again. I'm just afraid the oatmeal will quietly disappear and the McDonalds will say, "See we did our part and nobody wanted it" while others continue to sue and regulate the food industry, the schools and anyone else they can blame for their own poor choices. Meanwhile, I sound like a an old coot so I will get off my soapbox, but really it is an interesting paradox. And that's the point I was trying to make.


Me in front of a big juicy burger joint, you can see the fat has attached to my thighs.

Where?

I don't know where this winter break has gone. I know it is sickenly long for me (I have not been to work since Dec. 22 and do not return until Jan. 18), and I shouldn't whine, but last week just entirely disappeared. This week is making a strike to do the same. It seems everyone else has gone back to work/school and I am aimlessly wasting away in Margaritaville. Not really, far from it, however, I have done little to no prep work for school, which I had BIG plans to do. At this rate, I'll be lucky to be ready for the first week, let alone the entire semester. I did complete an application to teach an adjunct social work class for the University of Illinois, so I am pleased to get that out of the way. Fact is, they were not asking for applications, it was suggested to me that if a good resume lands on the desk of the associate dean, he will be pleased since he has no idea how to go about finding faculty to teach out here in the boonies.

I increased to 16 laps in the pool today, in four lap spurts, so that is progress. I think my breath was fine, it was my arms getting a little tired that caused me to take three short rest breaks. I also noticed some old habits coming back, such as my shower routine after swimming where I do the depression thing and turn the water off to get lathered. This older lady who swam in the mornings always did that next stall to me so I picked up the habit. She had some other rather bizarre habits I did not incorporate. The Y has really downgraded their water supply by the way. It is no more than a lukewarm drizzle, which must be saving them a lot of money, because I for one, no longer stay in there for an hour.

Well, this is just another way to avoid doing productive work, although in my mind, it is more productive than napping. I have one lunch date and one coffee date this week and was hoping for a movie date, but no good shows are playing in the area.


Here is my first table top photo. Didn't I clean it off nicely, a fresh slate? Only a buffet full of crap in the background is holding what the table normally holds.
Random picture of Boy16 at the Galesburg game Saturday night. Macomb's first loss in 14 games.

Rediscovery

January or a new year is time of discovery, or rediscovery in my case, is it not? Did you know the word "rediscovery" is not in the dictionary? This week I happened back into the swimming pool after a three year hiatus. The reason you ask? I am completing a triathalon. Before you get all impressed, I have 6 weeks to do it in a bit by bit fashion. And bit by bit it is. I started with 10 laps, breaking between each to catch my breath. Hard to believe I could once swim 56 continuous laps (although at the tortoise pace of 1.5 hours). I found being in the pool oddly sensational. I forgot the hypnotic rhythm of swimming and the peace of the water swishing around. Today I upped it to 12 laps while stringing a couple together at time. I recalled it doesn't take all that long to build up my endurance. The water was about 110 degrees today which was a surprise since I expected it to be turned down for the all day swim meet yesterday. Perhaps all that swimming heated it up (?). Anyway, it was almost uncomfortable and looked forward to those little cool pockets in the middle of the pool.

My second rediscovery was sewing. Mom is helping me with my t-shirt quilt for Boy16 to commemorate and make useful all those Little League t-shirts he has collected. We borrowed one of BIL Chuck's 3 sewing machines. Yes, my brother in law sews, but he is a very macho seamstress (seamster). Just read Betsy's Christmas letter about how he slayed his own tree. I had that feeling like they say, you don't forget how to ride a bicyle. I wound up a bobbin and threaded the machine like an old pro. Ha. I just kept reaching for the release bar (don't know if that is the proper terminology) behind the needle which is where mine always was, but this one was to right of the needle. Well, we persisted through a few minor disasters and the nearly unbearable directions and have completed the entire top. What is left is adding the batting, the binding, the backing, and either tying or quilting the entire thing. Sounds like we still have a mountain to climb, huh?




The boys are renovating their bedrooms which is a new one! First Boy17 cleaned and rearranged his furniture and today Boy16 did the same. He pushed two single beds together, which was creative, but unfortunately, they are different heights so it would be hard to sleep in the middle, though it does save space. One of the vacuums is on the blink so I will have to get that looked at tomorrow.





This is another project Mom and I took on, sorting old pictures that Uncle Cal had collected, scanning them and putting them into an electronic frame. I only helped with part one.


Finally, a photo I found in Dad's collection labeled "Thanksgiving" though this is not. It may have been that weekend. You can see Uncle Cal's frail hand in the lower part of the picture.


This final picture goes with the blog Strawberry Pictorial, strawberries are finger lickin' good. Boom goes the dynamite!

Welcome Betsy (Anonymous)

It looks like you beat me here this morning. I was going through my DVR last night about to delete yet another episode of "Undercover Boss" when I looked at the synopsis and it was for Norwegian Cruise Lines! My ship. Do you think Candy, our cruise director, is featured on it? Probably only if she has a hard luck backstory. Anyway, I'll let you know how it is and keep it for you if it is good.

Tiny Furniture

Tiny Furniture is a fabulous little indie film Betsy and I saw tonight. Paid all of $5 for the exclusive showing in Louisville Village 8 Theater where we saw Fair Game the other night.

I love this movie. I could relate on so many levels. The most obvious attraction was to the title and photographing of miniature doll furniture. Next was the writer/director/star Lena Dunham who is playing a recent college grad who moves back home to the Tribecca neighborhood of NY (her mom is pretty successful as an artist who photographs small things) and is an aspiring filmmaker, herself. She's pretty successful on youtube. As is the moocher Jed, who moves in but has no interest in sleeping with her.

There is a very familiar sister dynamic as well as a girl friend relationship. And finally the mother-daughter relationship is changing as the daughter is struggling to grow up and redefine her relationship with her mom (think Boy22). It was just so refreshing and anti-Hollywood and low budget. The actors looked like they had a blast making it.

Maybe it's because I haven't been to a small film like this for so long that it was just was so sweet and poignant and brought back memories of all the independent and foreign films I used to see in Denver.

Five Guys

I'm loving the 60+ degree weather here in Southern Indiana today. Way to ring out 2010. Betsy and I took about a 45 minute walk this morning and got 'too hot.' I wanted to go out for some more walk around 3:45 and took off on the "Heritage Trail," a paved bike/walking trail through Clarksville. C'ville is the kind of town where inflatable holiday decorations are ubiquitous, now deflated on the lawns, the per capita of dogs is high and/or dog owners who don't clean up after themselves and burned out stock cars rest in the yards of homeowners. This particular trail is quite ominous taking me down a tree strewn deserted path with J and J Pallet Company fences on either side, one side barbed wire, the other simple chain link. The smell of burning pallets was pungent in the air but no workers were to be seen (perhaps oompa loompas operate here). 3 young men walked ahead of me and luckily turned off and 20-something men with no teeth on kiddie bikes passed leisurely by. Somehow my cell phone was not making me feel very secure. I finally arrived at the hallowed 'soccer fields' Betsy recommended I walk to. I came back along Brown's Station Way and preferred the threat of death by a 60 mph speeding car to being dragged into the woods and raped and eventually killed. Anyway, as you can tell, I lived and am here to write about it.

In between these delightful walks, Betsy and I went to lunch and shopping in New Albany. What is all the hubbaloo about Five Guys Hamburgers anyway? First of all there weren't hardly any customers in there, and I'll tell you why. All they have is hamburgers, fries, and a hot dog, literally. No sweet potato fries, no cheese fries, no malts, shakes or ice cream, and no patience for two sisters arguing over whether to put onions on the hamburger they were about to share. The burgers are big, and greasy but much like I would make at home. The fries were good, natural cut, oh and they do have free peanuts while you wait. Well, I wanted to try it because it's Obama's favorite. I just don't know why.

Shopping. I have gone completely mad about shopping. I now have a printer/scanner, bath and body stockpile, scrapbooks, crafting supplies, a new duvet to go with my down comforter and sheets, and a dress and heels for a reunion I don't even know if I am going to. It's insane. I feel like a complete shopaholic, reality show, game show junkie. Good thing I drove my parents van so I can load up good.

I am simply stuffed from Simply Thai where we had our New Year's Eve dinner. Edamame appetizer, Spring Rolls (cold, ick), Pad Thai (of course), Loaded Fried Rice, and Red Curry. We ordered spice level 3 out of 5, which was plenty for me to keep the water and tea flowing to drown it out. We stopped at Pie Kitchen on the way home, there seems to be one on every corner now, and picked several decadent desserts for later.

We played two board games, Imaginiff and Pictureeka (Nephew11 and I each won one game), devoured gluttonous portion of 7 layer dessert, watched more Kendra, Chelsea Lately and The Soup to make it to midnight, which I am happy to say HAPPY NEW YEAR and goodnight.

Strawberry Pictorial

This was reportedly the 47th year of the Vicks making Strawberries. My first Christmas my mom was mentored in the fine art of strawberry making in Columbia, Missouri, and we have been doing it together ever since, bringing in the next generation, despite the fact that some of us have thrown up (coincidental) after eating too many. My dad always takes pictures of the endeavor, we have hoardes of them by now, so here goes 2010-


This process starts on the right where I am pictured rolling the balls. Betsy is stressfully shaping the balls while simultaneously rotating them in the red then green sugar. Nephew11 is inserting the green dyed almond sliver that is the stem. (This is sounding a little weird)


Now I have taken over the stem job. Rolling the balls only last so long because your hands gets covered in gook and you then get to lick them off. Boy17 has taken over stage 1, Nephew11 is the shaper, Boy16 is a bystander, still in coat.




Here I am holding up a shaped strawberry for a stem, flexing my muscle for the picture and asking, "How does my arm look?"



This is Betsy Laughing her ass off at my Arm Vanity. Stay tuned, I somehow missed a couple of other pics I needed to add here. So the story is not quite finished.

What is this Wonkiness?

I am trying hard not use words like "crazy," "retarded," and "gay" where those are not literally intended and trying to think of clever ways to get my students and people around me not to use them. The only synonym I can think of for crazy seems to be wonky, and/or that something is driving me up a wall. For the latter two, I have substituted "ri-donk-ulous" not that I am one to use those anyway. Be that as it may, here are some goofy pictures from Christmas, the last being poor Uncle Cal photographed up the nose. The others are me trying to get a good picture of myself, hahaha and our game of "Last Words" after dinner.

Day 2 or 26, Depending on how you look at it

What is up with this new schedule? Today is day 2 of my 27 day winter break. I know, it's sick. But why am I waking at 4-4:30 a.m. when I usually get up at 5:30 for work? This creates a dire need for a nap before noon which doesn't always work out. I have so much to do! But I'm not complaining, no no no.

My Left Foot

Things I hate about aging:

When the bank teller asks how old you are not to assess if you are too young for ?? but to see if you qualify for a senior discount. At least I haven't been mistaken for being a grandmother...well, one of my students was wondering why I wasn't a grandma since I have 22 year old off-spring.

My left foot hurts, a new ache between the toes and ball of my foot leading me to believe I will be having foot surgery before I retire. If that ain't old...

When I'm tempted to put on a plastic rain bonnet to go outside. JUST KIDDING!!!!

Lack of memory and having to write all over my hands, and when there is no pen available repeat over and over the same thing so I remember it, and make up little devices to remember things like, I have to get 3 things at the store, they all start with S. And all of this seems so urgent and life or death.

Talking to myself is getting way out of control. Out loud. I am doing it now in public places like stores and privately in the shower and anytime I am frustrated or annoyed. I don't even care anymore. Maybe my years in mental health are impacting me here, too, where talking to oneself is considered a mild symptom.

Menopause. Need I say more? Yes, I have to tell one story. Last summer when Mom, Betsy and I were on our way back to Seattle after our excursion to Vancouver in a rental car after the Alaskan cruise, I was lamenting the fact that my doctor didn't agree that I needed a hysterectomy. And Betsy says, "My doctor said I could have a hysterectomy because of my five rights."
Me: "What five rights? What healthcare bill of rights do they have in Indiana saying you're entitled to one free hysterectomy?"
Betsy: "Five rights? I didn't say five rights, I said fibroids."
That exchange was then enough to wake Mom from her roaring slumber in the back seat to our hysterical, sisterly laughing and was good for two to three days of pants wetting delight. We were all getting a little punchy by then anyway. We then debated how long we could get off work for various surgeries and if a tonsillectomy was also one of our five rights, even if you don't need one and just want some time off.

A Little Night Theater

Wow. Now I have seen my son smoke, drink and wear a dress on stage. Last night was the student directed One Act Plays at the high school. Boy17 was slated to direct a melodrama called "The Wild Flowering of Chastity." Friday we learned he was also acting in two of the plays including his own since they were short on actors. Pat and I picked up my parents for a "double date" since it is nice to get in a warm car and have door to door service when you are in your 70's. On the way in another parent said, "He looks nice in a dress" and we looked bewildered since we are always the last to know about our children. She quickly apologized for ruining the surprise.

Before the show my dad and I both agreed to nudge my mom if she fell asleep, make that, started snoring. You do not want that to start since her snoring is akin to a train rolling through town. Midway into the second play, I looked to my left and Pat was sitting with his hand over his face, eyes closed and his usual pained expression on his face (let's just call it his theater mask). To my right I could hear the heavy breathing of my mother which is the precursor to the big snore. On her right was my dad with his head tilted and since his dead eye is on the left it appeared he, too, was dozing. I suddenly started laughing to myself at the absurdity of it, which also helped pass the time. I let my mom go until a faint snore started and then elbowed her gently.

The last act before intermission was called "Two Jerks Buying a Christmas Tree" starring Boy17's best friend Danny and a girl we call Peppermint Patty. They walked onto stage dressed Housewives of New Jersey style talking to each other on cell phones in their best NY accent and mannerisms. Patricia had on a huge fur hat, tight jeans, chewing gum. Danny's standard line was "Whattaya want babe?" They proceeded to annoy the Christmas tree seller on the street with goofy requests such as a 50 foot tree. It was so funny I was busting out laughing with tears streaming down my face. This was originally a Saturday Night Live skit. Both Danny and Patricia are regular actors in the numerous home movies that Boy17 and his friends make. Patricia is one of the two girls, make that three after last weekend, to have set foot in my house. She is from a musical, theatrical family and rides a bicycle straight out of Wizard of Oz. She is unique.

After intermission there was "12 Angry Pigs" with twelve pig jurors sitting at a long table debating the fate of the Big Bad Wolf. Boy17 played Little Boy Blue skipping across the stage offering the jurors a pail of slop, a pizza, then after they jump up to get it, "Nah, it's empty." After finding the wolf not guilty, Boy17 walks onstage in a red riding hood cape dress and yells, "Officer, arrest that wolf," in a high voice.

Finally, the melodrama with Boy17 playing the sheriff with a large fake mustache held on with visible cellophane tape. Boy17 also directed with the aforementioned Danny and it was a fun little farce. Needless to say we were all able to stay awake through the last part in which our son/grandson was involved.

Old and Young

I probably shouldn't even be telling these stories, but here goes. Last night Pat (Husband2 ?) and I went over to my parents house spur of the moment, kind of, to socialize. Boy16 had mentioned that "someone is coming over tonight" and when I asked who and he said it was a girl we decided to clear out for awhile to give him some space. No girl has ever been here before except in a group with Boy17 who pals around with a couple of girls.

When we got to my parents, Mom was playing the piano and Dad was in basement. We called him to come upstairs and when he got there he collapsed in a chair completely gassed. I asked what was wrong as I had never seen him like this. This is the man who a year or two ago was riding his bicycle 4 miles up and down hills that I can't manage. His reply was something like, "Honey, I have heart failure, they don't call it Congestive anymore." For some reason, that struck me all at once like a death sentence and his mortality flashed before my eyes. I said, "No, no. That's fatal." Back at me came, "Life is fatal." Oh boy, this was just a conversation I was not ready for.

Now for the youth. While we were visiting at Cedar Drive, Boy16 called first to ask how to work the DVD so they could watch the movie, "Flight Plan." A bit later he called to say "something happened" and the plans fell through. If I ever thought in a million years any monkey business would be going on, I would never have left the house. He didn't ask us to, we thought we were just being nice. Later we come to find out, Boy16 and his friend picked up two sophomore girls at the movies who had to lie to their parents to spend time with the boys. Somehow, Boy16's date's parents must've got tipped off, and arrived at the door of our house to retrieve their daughter and give her and my son a beat down. He and his friends were laughing about it by the time we got home at 8:45 because the dad was a short bald guy who came in the house to deliver his tirade. Both our question was, "Is she Mormon?" Lesson learned for him and us. If that's the worst thing he does, we should be okay.

Don't read this if you think I might send you a Christmas Card

Greetings Family and Friends, December 2010
Forgive the self-indulgent Christmas letter; I will try not to brag too much while updating the Denecke-Tuttle status for those of you I have not socially networked with this year.
Adam is graduating from the University of Illinois at Springfield this December with a Bachelor’s in Psychology. He has been interning this semester at the National Alliance on Mental Illness office in Springfield. He seems to have found his niche in writing and has also assisted with the statewide conference in Peoria. His post graduation plans are a bit mysterious, but I think he is available for nationwide job opportunities. Graduate school is likely to be in his future.


Eli has applied to Illinois State University and University of Illinois for next fall and is awaiting acceptance and financial aid packages. He tinkers with any musical instrument he finds around the house and elsewhere (accordion, keyboards, concertina, drums, sax, harmonica, etc.). He recently made All-State honors in Orchestra. His garage band, Kasa del Phunk, plays locally and has recorded a 5 song EP. This will be good preparation for the career in music education he wishes to pursue. He was honored for four years in soccer when he actually only played two, but the coach teaches French, not math. Eli played the part of the drunken pharmacist in “It’s a Wonderful Life” whom George saves from making a fatal mistake.


Cal started varsity soccer at mid-field and played fall league baseball. He is now on to varsity basketball where he leads the team out for warm-ups and occasionally gets off the bench. This fall he hosted a Danish student and will be traveling to Copenhagen in March to spend spring break with Bjarke and his family (Eli previously hosted and visited his brother, Toke). Then he will move into baseball, his true love.


The three boys are in a height war (must be a guy thing) and fall in the 5’8” – 5’9” range, with Cal looking to take the lead and maybe improve his basketball playing time.
Pat continues in his 8th year with Spoon River College, advising students in classes and life. His office is a shrine to the Bills, which sparks some interesting conversations. He is approaching the big 5-0 and may go into hiding to avoid any attention that may bring.
I started a new job as a school social worker at a “micro urban” high school about an hour away. I work with kids labeled emotionally or behaviorally disordered. I do individual and group counseling, classroom observations, behavior goals and crisis intervention. In my spare time, I study cultural phenomena such as Facebook, the rise of Bristol Palin as teen activist and dance star, and the Michael Vick redemption.


Pearl will be 11 in March and trains for the title of Fattest Tail-less Cat in Macomb.



I am about out of space, so I will close with wishing you and yours a most blessed year in 2011 and do keep in touch.
Love, Susan, Pat, Adam, Eli and Cal