The Biggest Little Surprise

What does it mean when your children are grown and living on their own but you still stock Blue G2, Smuckers PB&J’s, Hershey’s chocolate syrup and whole milk?  You randomly pick up girlie stickers, paint brushes and High School Musical games?  You might just be a Big Sister like me.

Raising my three boys, there were definite gaps in my teen girl IQ. My little sister is educating me. I know the words to every Taylor Swift song. I am knowledgeable about all things Monster High. I have someone to try out crafts and art projects with. I have my own sous-chef and baker’s assistant. I have an enthusiastic tennis and racquetball partner.

My little sister looks up to my boys and often asks where they are and how they are doing. When they are home for the weekend she wants to stay for dinner and quiz their girlfriends about relationships, in a way only she can. She wonders what my husband is doing when he’s not home. She even got over her fear of cats and jokes around with Miss Pearl.

In my family, we each have a drawer (called our “nook”) on the first floor where we can throw our junk, so my little sister has her own drawer at my house. It is full of pictures, games, art supplies, puzzles, scrapbooking materials, and any odds and ends (think pinecones and ribbon) I deem of possible interest to a creative young woman. There is a piece of blue tulle in there, and she regularly wraps it around her head or waist and becomes a DJ or Karaoke star. 

We are into our fourth years as BBBS matches. I know I am becoming more a part of her life because she wants me attend her choir concerts and calls me up to let me know she got First at her bowling tournament. Her big sister before me died at a young age (my age), and she speaks of her often. We spent one afternoon locating her marker at the cemetery, and have been back once more to visit. Sometimes people ask me how long I plan on being a Big Sister. My little sister is 13, so my math says in five more years she will be 18. I’m all in if she is.

Minneapolis

My parents and I had the privilege of seeing and listening to a man who was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2001. He has a PhD in Psychology and is one of the best speakers I have heard in a long time. His name is Richard Taylor, and he has dementia. Hard to believe. He could speak more fluently and eloquently than I could on my most lucid day. His message was as an advocate of people with dementia, to be treated with dignity and as if they are living, not dying. He says not to lie to people or walk into their delusions. He says we treat people with dementia as if they are getting more and more holes in them, when in reality, we are always whole, aren’t we? 

As long as I can remember my father has verbalized his biggest fear:  falling into the grips of dementia, hardening of the arteries, Alzheimer’s, senility, whatever the current phrase. At one point, my mother threw out all our aluminum pots and pans, when dementia was briefly linked to that.  Working as long possible, volunteering as much possible, performing on stage, and doing daily crossword puzzles were all part of my parent’s antidote to the possibility of developing dementia. My father’s fear was largely due to watching his mother and other family members slowly lose their cognitive functioning, that being something my father made his livelihood on (teaching at the university level). My grandmother lived with us, as her dementia took hold. She wandered, repeated, forgot things, became paranoid, accusatory and finally combative. For some reason, I became the object of her ire. I always knew she didn’t like me, but it became pretty hostile when I was in high school, which I admit I didn’t really understand. By college, I could deal much better and even came home sometimes to keep an eye on her while my parents got away for the opera or to visit friends. Luckily for Dad, my husband remarks frequently how sharp his father-in-law’s mind and wits are.

The question I most wanted to ask Dr. Taylor was if he thought it was okay that our family uses humor to deal with the prospect of dementia amongst ourselves? What we do is call out “Minneapolis” as soon as someone (anyone, any age) tells a story we have heard before, most likely, many times before.  The term comes from a memorable car trip with an aging relative in throes of dementia, who asked anyone and everyone approximately every five minutes, “Have you ever been to Minneapolis?” Minneapolis has spawned the term Dallas, which is when you know you are telling a Minneapolis story, but are doing it intentionally. The lastest wrinkle, is to call out Albuquerque when someone tells a story you’ve never heard before.

Dr. Taylor used a lot of humor in his talks, for example, he admitted to a phase of “wandering,” but said “I wasn’t wandering, I was going somewhere, I just don’t know where the hell I was going.”  He also compared the tubing on an old enema bag to what he imagined hardening of the arteries to look like. If I had to guess, I would say he would approve of our humor, and when we we lose that, we just might be in trouble. 

Confessions of an Empty-Nester

Not surprisingly, I have been asked more than once, how I am doing with the empty nest syndrome. It was not long after Eli and Cal were both lodged in their apartments near Illinois State University that I started noticing little differences around the house, most of them nice little benefits. I wasn't sure if there would be much change, since Eli was in New Jersey all summer and Cal was busy working and playing with his homies. However, here are few things that hit me these past three weeks:

• I can lock all the doors every night because we don't have to worry if "someone" remembered their house key
• I can walk from the bathroom to the bedroom (or wherever) in a towel or less without fear of scaring anyone to death
• The weekly grocery bill is under $100 and the cart looks positively empty (I can splurge on T-bone steak since we can get by on one)
• I might be able to get Pat to eat healthy now. I didn't have a chance when it was 4 or 3 against 1
• Leftovers can be safely put away immediately after dinner
• The house stays remarkably clean
• It is a huge joy to be able to help our kids financially and emotionally now rather than the physicality that was put into their early years
• Time with the boys (Adam included) becomes that much more special. Eli and Cal joined me in Louisville this past weekend and it was absolutely amazing to have that time together.  

I wouldn't tell them "don't let the door hit you going out" but I wouldn't say this phase of life doesn't have its own sweetness. You just have to open your nostrils to the new scents.

Half of Nothing is Everything

There's an essay circulating around Facebook called "16 Things Only Half-Siblings Understand."  I've tried not to use that term, which I despise, half brother, with my boys. To me they are brothers, even though they have different last names and different dads. I realize because of the almost five year age difference, some people don't know Adam is related to Eli and Cal, or that the younger boys even have an older brother, and vice versa.

The realization that Adam had a different dad and would go off with him periodically when they were little, I believe led Eli to invent "my dad with the monkeys" who was his imaginary dad who owned an ice cream store, and a castle and an amusement park. He must have found it quite mysterious and wondrous that Adam had another life outside of our family, so much that he created his own make-believe world away from us. This prompted Cal to chime in with what cool stuff he got to do with "my dad with the giraffes."  Later we were all able to spend time with Adam's paternal grandparents going to Nebraska football games and chilling at the lake.

One incident really gave me pause in how I portrayed our family.  A friend pointed out to me that my answering machine message said, "Please leave a message for Pat, Susan, Eli or Cal," excluding Adam completely. I don't know why I did this (he had his own cell phone?), and I was floored when it was pointed out to me. After that I became hypersensitive to making sure Adam was included in pictures, messages, letters, cards, etc.

I feel a lot of shame at what I just wrote. The truth is, Adam has been the longest term relationship of my adult life. He has been with me longer than my marriage, or any other friendships. I know we are bonded by that, however awkward different stages have been.  I can't tell you how pissed off I was when an ignorant clergy once suggested that I hadn't raised Adam, because somehow his faulty memory or the fact that he didn't want to attend his f---ing stupid services drew him to the conclusion I had abdicated my responsibility as a parent.  *probably need to let go of that resentment*

Adam actually helped me attract my current spouse, helped keep us together in ways he may not even know, and was even a chick magnet for his Uncle Chris. Yes, he was a pretty cute, awesome and precocious tyke. I've always called him my "best boy" and I want him to know he is 1/3 of my Everything.

I had to use Dictionary.com three times for this Post

I thought I was doing fine. I was excited for and proud of Cal for his financial intelligence, organizing skills, and ebullience over finally getting out of Macomb.  I wasn't even cranky with him the last few days. He took off today with a van not too full of stuff.  But on the way home from work it hit me.  I started bawling a couple blocks out of the parking lot.  I almost caused an accident crossing Washington Street in front of an oncoming car.  I remembered his first day of Kindergarten, and never having a problem with the older boys, balked at the idea of this being any kind of emotional milestone.  More like wrecking ball (thank you Miley Cyrus).  That day and today, the day he left for college.

Maybe it was the pressure I am putting on myself at work, which has caught the attention of my supervisor and a trusted colleague, just today, and is not assuaged by any amount of reassurance.  Maybe it's menopause. Maybe I feel bad that my former co-workers are picketing 24/7  for a fair teaching contract. Full moon, Mercury in Retrograde?

Whatever the confluence of events, the empty nest is a real emotional minefield, whether or not I expected it. Luckily Eli and I are driving over tomorrow and switching vehicles. I'm looking forward to getting out of town and making sure they both have what they need in their apartments, maybe even grab a cup of coffee in a cute shop in Uptown. But right now I just want to veg out with a book and a plate of No Bake Cookies. And a box of tissues.

Home

My friend Rob Porter said, "I had to get up early and run away, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to leave. Endless Mountains, East and West branch Susquehanna Valley, Genesee Valley. Those streams and mountains, shrouded in fog this morning with mist rising from the forests. They are my soul."

I imagine it looking something like this:

I thought that was really beautiful, but it's not my soul (home).  This is my soul:

Yeah, Eli took this picture last summer.  He told me on the way home from his summer in New Jersey, on the train between Chicago and Macomb, he felt that pull and that he was home and it was a great feeling. I don't think he'd ever been gone from the Central Illinois area long enough to appreciate that before.

I remember having that for the first time when I lived in Colorado and driving back, being overwhelmed by the cornfields and the small but rolling hills and knowing that I was home.  Yes, the mountains were beautiful and I still dream of them a lot, but the flatness, the endless fields, the silos and the pungent odor of pigs is my heart, my soul, my home.

I think Forrest Robinson said it beautifully (and I can't believe I just found this poem I have saved for many years):
                                              Western Illinois Country

This is the land of the dropping sky
where stars sparkle flat out east and west,
north and south, where you ride at night
on top of the world; and dawn sets fire
to waterbeads along roadsides, cornstalks
spider-webby and silver in the fields, running
forever. No one growing up in hills can know
the origin of thunderclouds, the slow demise
of days in blinding , pink haze or clear azure,
fielding that single star we realize is meant
for us-fresh hope rising in deluge, drought,
and snow to pierce the sky like a church spire,
watchful as a windmill waiting for wind.
This land, flat and haunted by wagonwheels,
washes into the soul like an inland sea,
its tide singing in the summer night air,
calling us forever on our passage home.

Published in Eureka Literary Magazine

The Art of Humility (and Frugality)

My parents always set a good example of humility. At a young age I was taught, however unconsciously, not to be prideful or boast. The message seemed to be that it is best to lower yourself in relation to another person, so as not to embarrass or make them feel bad; their feelings are more important than your own.  This took the form of deflecting and not being able to accept a sincere compliment, not talking about myself unless asked specific questions, always being careful not to flaunt material possessions or accomplishments, and to be sure to let everyone know how thrifty and parsimonious I am, eg. wearing the same clothes for 15 or 20 years, making do with rusty old appliances and utensils, using the public library, riding a bike or walking as transportation.  I remember growing up with the same thread bare bath towels (which are still knocking around my mother's rag bag), which were barely big enough to reach around me, stiff from drying on the line, and secretly longing for just one plush bath sheet that was warm and fluffy when pulled from the dryer.  I later learned these take forever to dry, and have the weird ability to actually repel water...a total waste.  There were certain things I rejected as an adult (reusing paper towels and baggies *although my husband would argue that point*, clothes lines, turning plastic bags into rugs *I kid you not* and thin, cheap towels ) and others I retained  (generally cooking and eating at home, doing without fancy cars or jewelry, saving and reusing paper, rubberbands, etc.) and even exceeded my parents on (thrift shop and yard sale clothes, trash picking, couponing, driving late model cars).  A few things I tried (coloring my own hair, making my own paper out of dryer lint) and decided it's just not worth it. 

More recently I have learned that humility doesn't have to be lowering myself or being ashamed of myself. It is the clear perspective of one's self, as neither above or below another person.  That has been one lesson that is harder to unlearn. I don't really like talking about myself, which is maybe why I prefer writing.  I can pretend no one is reading, and essentially this is true.   

With all that said, here are some things I am proud of (I have worked for them, but I can't say Divine intervention has not played a role, too):

• My three healthy, smart, talented, funny and unique sons.  They are all different, but I am equally proud of them.
• Being married for 22 years, though Pat has made it pretty easy.
• Having a 30 year career that allows me to connect with people, not so much things or ideas, and volunteering my time to help others.
• Maintaining 15 years of continuous sobriety.
• Earning my master's degree.
• Helping my children through college without taking on a debt load.
• I have been loved.

It's Started...

All my teacher and school personnel peeps have started complaining that they have to go to school (work). What a depressing cycle that is. No worries here. Already at work. And I had a really wonderful day today.

Why does my family complain that I'm addicted to Facebook, and not that I am addicted to my bicycle or walking, or even ice cream?

10:00 PM

I heard the cicadas singing, I saw the corn grow above my head with silk emerging from the small pods, I realized the LL baseball season is about to end, the back to school sales have started and that can only mean the end of summer is coming all too soon.  We have no vacations or even little trips planned to look forward to (we are buckling down to pay for college without loans), but the end of summer now only means to me, the boys going back to school. With Eli already gone for the summer, it shouldn't be too much of an adjustment. I know Cal is excited beyond words to get out on his own. He had a good omen today when his roommate texted him to say, "one more month, bro!!" at the same moment he was thinking the same thing.

We got to see Cal coach his 13 year old traveling team last Thursday on the turf at Jacksonville. Unfortunately, they lost all their games and Cal got an earful from some upset parents. Weird to see my little boy on the receiving end of adult angst. We encouraged him to take this volunteer position to get a taste of what teaching/coaching will be like in his future. I think he handled it pretty well. There were other parents who were very supportive, which I hope we always were to the persons who coached and taught our kids. I frequently sent thank you notes to those who had a positive impact on them. It was nice to see Cal drop off his key and a thank you note to his parent helper who gave him rides and fed him over the season.

I almost can't take looking at a computer screen any longer. Much of my day is spent doing that and my eyes are going crazy. I am slowly adjusting to the new job, but the sedentary nature and intensity of the job is draining me out by Thursday. I took a nice walk about tonight and the weather and peacefulness was relaxing.

Friday Frettings

This morning I got up with that blah feeling I have a hard time describing.  I had four days off in a row, yet I wasn't ecstatic like I should be. (Lucky I don't have all summer off to feel this way, right?)  It probably didn't help that I was up last night from about 2-5 a.m. doing everything I could think of non-pharmaceutically to get back to sleep (eating Froot Loops, writing down brainstorms, reading a book, eating oatmeal-yes oatmeal, paying bills- did you know US Cellular is closed from 11 p.m.-6 a.m.?).

After finally falling asleep, I got up at 8:00, drank some coffee (thanks Pat) and went to the Y to lift weights. I then dropped in on a Pilates class which was fantastic. Just my fitness level. I then got my hair done, ate lunch, went to Goodwill, grocery shopped and took a nap. Finally feeling myself again with some afternoon coffee and Pat home to keep me company.  Kind of turning into a thrift shop clothes hound, as I picked up 3 items today around town second hand.

Stopped at the library to see if by chance they had the new Matthew Quick novel, The Good Luck of Right Now.  Of course, they didn't so I will get it via inter-library loan, making due with Silver Linings Playbook by him (2008). Normally, I prefer to read the book first, see the movie later, but I devoured the first chapter sitting in front of Sullivan Taylor Coffee House, even though I know what's going to happen because SLP is one of my favorite movies of all time.  It's a good distraction from this weird book I've been slogging through called "Casebook" by Mona Simpson.  It's from the point of view of an adolescent boy who is running surveillance on his parents as they go through a divorce and establish new relationships. It's a little far fatched that any teenage boy would be interested in his parent's phone conversations and reading their emails.

A busy day so far, we shall see what the evening brings.

Family Time

The annual pilgrimage and Vick gathering at Macomb has concluded for Summer 2014.  A good time was had by all (I think). Some of the highlights are summarized below.

Game Nights: with Adam we played Beyond Balderdash. This is where you make up definitions for words, acronyms, dates, people or movies. You try to write an answer others think is the 'real' one.  The funny thing, the real one is often the most bizarre. Case in point, Francesco Lentini- Italian man born with 3 legs sounded way less likely than inventor of mustache wax, but guess what, he was! Google it. There's pictures.  Ethan got very creative and thus won the game. Adam was a close second.

Last night we played Charades with Cal just back from Michigan. We used a Windows app to generate the words, and they were flagrantly too easy or hard.  Ice cream or Top Marks vs. Parental Controls or Convalescence.

Physical Activity: Friday morning Betsy, Ethan and I circled most of Argyle Lake on foot while Chris rode a bike around the hilly venue.  Saturday morning we went back for more, and the walkers tried a looped hiking trail (there is only ONE in this park) while the peddler circled the lake again.  Ethan and Chris traversed Macomb on bikes that evening and Sunday morning Chris and I rode back and forth to mom and dad's on bikes.

Story Telling:  Much visiting was done around the tables, living rooms and vehicles.  While Minneapolis prevailed (code for telling the same story ad nauseum), there was some Dallas (knowingly retelling a story because you either a) want to or b) for the benefit of someone in the group who hasn't heard it), and even a few Albuquerque's (a story no one has ever heard before such as when, oh forget it, what's told in Macomb, stays in Macomb).  I wish I could record some of the conversations because we laughed till we cried at times. And I can't remember why.

Travelling within the travelling:  Betsy was on the road everyday except Thursday. Arriving Wednesday from Clarksville, she and Ethan picked up Chris at the airport in Indy and head to Springfield to pick up Adam.  Thursday she got a break. Friday, Betsy and I drove Adam back to Springfield after an early dinner. We watched the fireworks in all the little towns on our way back. Saturday we all drove to Galesburg and back for dinner. And Sunday, Ethan was due in Decatur for piano camp so I accompanied Betsy on this trek and stopped at Michael's for some decor for my office and Little Saigon to surprise Adam for dinner.  Today (Monday) Betsy reversed course and drove Chris back to Indy and then continued home to C'ville.

And let's not forget...

Food:  Mom and Dad cooked every meal that wasn't eaten in a restaurant,  Wednesday night was Taco Salad but those arriving from out of town had eaten Asian in Springfield at Mimosa's.  Thursday night was baked chicken on the grill although I missed this meal because I worked late. Friday night was Kabobs, they were amazing...

Grilling was a joint effort...

Some people just relaxed in the mighty jungle, I mean on the deck. It looks pretty lush out there, doesn't it?
I would download more pictures but it takes an eternity, I don't know why blogger uploads pictures so slowly.

Saturday evening we headed to Galesburg to try the new Iron Spike Brew Pub.  Most everyone enjoyed their meals, though some people fussed about the beer and the waitress.  My shrimp and grits was Loaded, and I mean loaded with salt, so I guess I fussed about the food.

My only regret about our time together is that we didn't take up Pat's offer of a fire on Thursday night. It was perfect weather, and he had everything set up.  Come to think of it, the weather cooperated quite nicely the whole weekend.

Everything's Better with a little Yoga

Just stretching out with a little yoga after (or was it before) my nap today and marveling at how much better I feel when I take the time to do my 12 minute routine. It literally got me through a difficult year of work. I probably missed less than five days out of 188 work days of doing yoga at 5:15 a.m. and it's not just the stretching, though my neck really thanked me for it. Two hours of driving and nine hours of solid intensity on a daily basis does not a soft neck make.  The other coping tool I used was aroma therapy shampoo and conditioner from Bath and Body. In the fall, I used the Stress Relief formula and the spring semester I went with the Energizing version. Well worth the $17 or whatever it cost over the price of 88 cent bottles of VO5.

My yoga routine has some floor stretches, seated poses, sun salutations, and balance poses followed by a corpse meditation I learned in one of my classes. A great way to start the day. It's not just the stretching, but the coordinated focused breathing that is required. Puts the mind and body in a relaxed and receptive state. Open to the experiences that will come my way, for better or worse. I know I can handle it, because I will always be back on the mat the next day.

Today I noticed it finally happened. I was doing the Plow, and my knees gently brushed my forehead. I was wondering all year when this might happen. The beauty of yoga is you don't push it or make it a competitive (even with yourself) exercise. You just do what feels right in that moment. One day it may be more or less than the next, and you practice acceptance. No wonder this ancient practice has remained and increased in popularity. What a wonderful way to counteract the insanity of our daily lives.

this is not me, by the way

Musings from my Bike Ride 6/20/14

I had these thoughts yesterday at 7:30 a.m. and today I am trying to block out the fact Eli is going to be gone until August 13 or so.  More on that later.  I might do that in my ArmMeat blog.

So, on my bike ride early in the morning the weather was a perfect 72 degrees about.  Humid, in a good way, the way that you can smell everything intensely, like the flowers and trees. I think we still have daffodils, and those are usually reserved for early spring.  Anyway, everything smelled so nice, just what Bath and Body puts in a bottle.

Do you realize those pretty flower and plant berms have to be weeded?  You never see anyone doing it, but it must take some maintenance.  I rode about 40 minutes and it was glorious.

On my way back into town, I saw two teens interacting by a car. How I loved being a teenager in the summer...

Summers Off, Schlummers Off

This may sound odd, but trading the school job with summer's off, for part time work year round is feeling like a really good thing for me.  Don't get me wrong, I strongly believe the teachers need the summer break. Some even start the old "count down" in March or so.  A teacher lives and breathes school for 180 days, going hard all the way. It really is an intense avocation.  And a special shout out to the Special Education teachers who are required to do way more paperwork, meetings, parent contacts and student issues than regular ed teachers, all for no more pay and usually much less glory.  I'm not saying traditional teachers don't work as hard, many do. It's just the special education laws and requirements are so absurdly out of control, you couldn't slide if you were so inclined.

Back to the point here.  I have informally surveyed teachers about their enjoyment or ability to get the full benefit of the summer off, and they resoundingly agree, they have no problem basking in it to the maximum. One guidance counselor, however, agreed with me that there is a lingering sense of guilt, depression or inability to feel productive during the long break.  Turns out, she previously worked most of her career outside the education system in year round employment.  I also felt a little restricted by the schedule in only being allowed two personal days to use when and as I choose.  Again, don't get me wrong, having holidays and a long winter break, not to mention snow days, were a gift, and well appreciated...I just like the idea of taking vacation when I want or need to. For example, to attend a wedding mid year or shoot off to Jamaica in February (like I would!).

One thing you have to be careful of when you have summers off is not to complain about it to your working friends. It seems obvious but it actually took me awhile to catch on that when they ask how your summer is going, they don't want to hear, "I'm bored" or "I'm tired of sleeping in."

Except for the financial aspect, working Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday sounds pretty good to me right now. In fact, when I had this schedule in the past (when the boys were young) it was the happiest of times. I could manage the stress of the job better, knowing it was limited to a minority of the days of the week. I had time to make appointments, phone calls and take care of the business of the family during my weekdays off, as well as to do healthy things for myself such as exercise, read, write and drink copious amounts of coffee. That was a funny. And, when and if you do go back to work full time, you feel like you just got a huge raise.

So, this is all to say that I feel I made a good decision for me in changing directions at this time.  I already feel like less of a deadbeat.

Journey

It's hard to believe I will be starting a new job tomorrow.  I want this to be the last new job I have to start.  I had quickly forgotten how hard the good-byes can be when one invests heart and soul in a vocation. After giving my resignation, a huge sense of dread and fear enveloped me as I had to plan how/who/when to tell the different constituents (I know that sounds like a weird word to use) I work with: teachers, students, administrators, co-workers, in five buildings and a central office.  I quickly devised a pretty good plan, but can't help feeling I offended someone who didn't get told in person, or at all.  I thought I had my bases covered, and then more and more people kept coming to mind that I needed to say goodbye to.  I had about 3 weeks to unravel myself from the education web, and I pretty much did it without tears (mine or theirs).

One of my teacher friends had a wonderful collage of photos of students past and present made for me with the caption

EVERY GOODBYE BRINGS A NEW HELLO!

OMG, I thought today, I'm going to be introduced to many new faces which I will have to learn their names and ranks quickly.  No worries, I consoled myself, it could never be as vast and intimidating as an ENTIRE school full of personnel, whose first (for casual conversation) and last (Mrs, Ms, Mr, Miss ---in front of the students) names must be memorized as rapidly as possible, let alone Four new schools at once.

Mini Book Reviews

I just read two books back to back and they couldn't have been more different.  Beneath a Marble Sky takes place in 17th century India where the Emperor is building the Taj Mahal to honor his recently deceased wife. He has married off his favorite daughter, Jahanara, to a cruel, disgusting businessman who brutally mistreats her. She secretly falls in love with the brilliant architect of the Taj Mahal, Isa, and they find a way to be together with the help of her dying father. This story is told by Jahanara talking to her granddaughters in the 'present' so we know the outcome will be favorable for her.  This is John Shors' first novel and I went from barely knowing what country the Taj Mahal stands in, to being fully immersed in the world of war, culture, relationships and architecture of Agra, India in 1632-48.

The Supremes at Earl's All-You-Can-Eat is set in southern Indiana a few years back and is reminiscent of "Steel Magnolias" which I saw on stage recently.  Three friends nicknamed "The Supremes" since high school meet regularly at a diner and the story weaves past and present seamlessly to reveal their rich, intertwined lives and the power of friendship. Amazingly, written by a man in the voice of a woman, Edward Kelsey Moore nails the female psyche. In a nod to 'seven degrees of separation' Moore is a concert cellist who is friends with my sister's old college pal, Claudia, who plays viola professionally in the Chicago area.

Both these novels were recommended to me by my parents, and both took about 1/3 of the way through to become engrossed, but by the end I was disappointed to reach the last page.

I am now at the beginning of The Whole World Over a 2006 novel by Julia Glass. If you have read Three Junes or anything by Glass, you will find her writing can only by described as dense.  The way she details every passing moment or thought is just incredible. Not in the way I find monotonous as when authors go on and on describing scenery. This density is internal, as if we are inside the mind of the characters and seeing and thinking as they experience life.

Delivery

I promised a post on my hope for the future generations, and now I must deliver. One thing I can honestly say, among even the very most compromised parents, I have never met a mother or father who I didn't truly believe loved their child. So, I do have faith that people I don't personally think should have children, will have children, and they will love their children, in whatever way they do.

On the bright side, I see young parents like my sister in law, Jennifer and my niece Dawn, whose children have every benefit emotionally, experientially (apparently I just made up that word), educationally, and materially. As I sat through a workshop on helping self-destructive adolescents Friday, I could not help but think of the relatively few problems my own children and I encountered as they graced through the teen years.

Here are some ways I think this generation (I think they are called the Millenials) are really smart, and hip, and cool.  They take much harder classes in high school; in my day there was no AP, Honors or Dual Credit classes. Many high school students now graduate with a semester or more of college credit and way higher level course work under their belt, thus preparing them to presumably advance further in their college years.

Let's talk about risks. Today's youth have much more education, awareness and common sense about the risks of drinking and driving, smoking and drugs. Many kids now have parent supervised parties, or at least "parent at home" parties, whereas, my generation was always looking for the empty house to have a party, if you know what I mean. I honestly believe kids today are much more likely to wear seat belts, designate a driver if there is going to be drinking, and keep in touch with their parents by text as to their plans and whereabouts.  This seems really smart to me.

Diversity is much more taken in stride today than 20 or 30 years ago.  Kids don't balk, act surprised or flinch when they are in the company of others who have disabilities, differences in sexual orientation, and certainly not racial and ethnic differences.  They have grown up not only tolerating diversity, but embracing it.  In my school, there were posters put up by the Gay Straight Alliance about marriage equality and bullying, and none of them were defaced or taken down. There are kids in wheelchairs, kids having behavioral meltdowns in the hallways, two girls or boys holding hands, and no one gives it a second look.  That's just cool if you ask me.

It goes without saying that kids today are way ahead of us in the technological and digital world.  They can figure out problems with electronics without ever thinking of looking for instructions or as we used to say, "reading the directions."  They can make movies and edit sound and play music and create art in ways that blow my generation out of the water. They are funny, too.  They make old words new again; they're constantly inventing new vocabulary. Scrape, swag, bromance and they be like you just got treated. 
They're so hip.

So, if anyone starts complaining about the next generation, you will now have some ammunition. They are just as smart, hip and cool as your generation and maybe more so. Until next time, YOLO!!!!!!!!

Generational Angst

Is it every generation's job/fate to worry about the next generation’s ability to successfully carry on the world's business?  Or is it that I work with the most dis-ordered children and families day after day? Or perhaps, am I just getting old and cranky?

Because I am seriously worried.

Parents in the 1940's worried that radio and television would be the downfall of society. Parents in the 50's worried about Rock and Roll.  Parents in the 60's worried about long hair, drugs and bra burning feminists.  My parent's generation worried about the Animal House parties and drug overdoses.  Parents in the 80’s worried about anorexia and HIV. 

I worry that today’s kids can’t two shoot baskets at the Y without looking at their phone. The young ones lie on the floor playing games on their devices for more time than they play actively. For Cripe’s Sake, they have to have radio commercials telling them to “Go Outside and Play” an hour a day.  The overweight are now the majority in the elementary schools.

Most interaction now occurs through texting and social media. Does this generation even know how to communicate face to face? And don’t get me started on their writing or ability to speak without saying “like” every other word. 

Conflict resolution?  Huh, what’s that?  They say unthinkable things on Facebook and resort to profane rants, fists and violence when confrontation does occur.  I’ve noticed an increase in sports related fights and a decrease in true sportsmanship being displayed at the high school up to the professional level.  Self abuse (cutting and suicide attempts) is the go-to way to lessen one’s personal pain. How does that make any sense?

What is going to happen to this generation of Baby Mama, Baby Daddy, good-bye nuclear family?  Even the middle class is moving away from marriage all together and those who do are divorcing at an extraordinary rate. 

Granted, my exposure to youth is heavily weighted to the most troubled and emotionally disturbed young people, who have been exposed to unbelievable trauma and dysfunctional environments.  Their lives revolve around DCFS, foster care, jail, prison, court, probation. Their coping skills are nil and their role models weak or non-existent. Many kids today don’t know who or where their biological parents are.  

And yes, I am getting old. Each day I am greeted with new gray hairs, puffier eyes than the day before, hands that could pass for a great grandmother, and a cranky attitude to match.  I hang up my clothes after wearing them for a day. I have put Kleenex up my sleeve when I’ve been too lazy to go to the trash basket. The age spots and cellulite do not go away no matter how much I pay for skin products or how much I work out.  I have gone 2-3 days (4 once even !) without washing my hair, because it “feels like it’s drying out.”  That’s when I catch that old people smell on myself.  So yes, I have definitely crossed over into the physical and mental make-up of an old person.

Whether I am in the wrong profession, moving into the wrong mindset with age, or simply carrying out my fate, I definitely have concerns.  I struggle with these issues on a daily basis.  Still, there are days when my faith is restored, and you can look forward to that in my next blog. I have not gone completely to the dark side. Maybe I just need a vacation.

Parenting the Young Adult

When I was a young adult, I could always count on my parents to be there when I had a question or problem: how do you hard boil an egg? how do you change a flat tire? what is an escrow account? how do you get wine out of the carpet? how much should I contribute to my 401k? what should I do, Adam ate a tube of lipstick? My dad was there when I bought my first car and my mom mentored me in preparing my first Thanksgiving turkey.

Now it's my turn to help my boys successfully transition to adulthood, now known as "launching."  It's a fine line to tread of being proactive, also known as lecturing and letting them learn from their mistakes.

Recently, Eli decided to cancel his overdraft protection at the bank because they were charging $60 a pop. His contention was that now the bank wouldn't  allow any purchases when he didn't have money in his account. I tried to explain that this wasn't going to prevent him from overdrawing his account, and someone could still come after him with fees, it just might be CVS or Outback.  The lecture went on for some time, on the importance of tracking all expenditures to ensure this doesn't happen.  Of course, with his generation they don't write checks, so the likelihood of overdraft is reduced but as I explained there are still some small businesses that don't process their debits immediately, which could put him in the position of overdrawing his account if he is not careful.

I have been providing Eli with recipes and cooking lessons in preparation for cooking in his apartment this year, only to hear that he cooks Hamburger Helper, ramen noodles and rice and vegetables exclusively.  I don't know why it drives me crazy that he and his roommates have a pet turtle, am I worried it might die over Winter break because they failed to get someone to look after it?  And it was all I could do when visiting not to bag up the overflowing garbage can and carry it to the dumpster.

Pat and I did win one war with Eli in December when he casually decided to leave Macomb to go back to Normal in a blizzard, or as close as we come to a blizzard in these parts. He had a commitment to play trumpet at graduation the next morning and it didn't help my fury that he came home the day before to see the midnight showing of "The Hobbitt" and that he waited all day when the weather was fine, to leave at dark just as the storm hit. I do remember a few harrowing drives back to Drake in white out conditions which probably gave me the resolve to put my foot down regardless of the consequences with his music professors. Actually, the truth is I had to get Pat to back me up and resolutely bar him from leaving. He moped around all night, but was over it in 24 hours.

Why is this focusing so much on Eli? Adam rarely asked a question or let his guard down enough to show vulnerability or a need to communicate.  Cal is still home and not spreading his wings too much yet. So, it falls to Eli to be the guinea pig of our loosening parental influence.  I think he will be all right, especially if I can learn to let go and allow him to learn from own his mistakes.

Minivans

My parents are test driving a 2012 Toyota Sienna van.  They were positively beaming when they pulled up to show us.  Thrilled with the trade in offer on their banged up DodgehatefulkeyedCaravan.  Dad just turned 82 and has been pretty home bound;  Macomb bound at least (unless dinner is involved).  I was commenting on the new car smell and how once you drive, you gotta buy.  He said, "I'm just so happy. I haven't been this happy in a long time."  So it's a pretty much done deal, and I'm happy for them.

I am off to finish the disappointing Swedish 'thriller' "The Andalucian Friend."  It is NO dragoon tattoo, let me tell you. Not sure how I even got to page 400.  Bit by bit, as there are way too many characters (undesirables), it's confusing, and just plain boring.  Entertainment Weekly really got this one Wrong.

Day

Yesterday was a really nice day. We had a little down time with the boys and Cal was so funny.  He was singing out random songs generally acting goofy. That's kind of what happens when a sports season ends. He played his last Legion baseball game Friday, and he will never play in Macomb again at the high school field.  He can't wait to get out of Macomb and on our little getaway to Western NY next week.

Then Marissa came over and it always takes awhile to get our groove on, but eventually we did after she was 'bored' with the board game I bought at a yard sale. She was a little lukewarm on the picture treasure hunt I made her, and didn't especially like the sunglasses I picked out for her. She liked yellow but I liked pink on her.  I filled up water balloons, as I did last time we were together and they were busting as soon as we carefully set them on the spikey, hard grass.  We played Sorry, had dinner and sang a few Karaoke songs.  She prefers crap, dare I say, from something called "Victorious," a Nickolodean show and Selena Gomez??  I prefer Taylor Swift and Lady Antebellum, even Lady Gaga to that.

That evening I spent with some girlfriends who always crack me up.  We played some Loaded Questions and I have the ability to fake people out.  Apparently, my inner self doesn't exactly match my outer self, and the game brings that up quite well.  I like a shock factor, too. I was out late (11:00) and slept great in clean sheets.  

Eli's

Note to Dad (Richard): the following is NOT for publication in the Family News.

I have to tell one on Eli now.  He asked to go grocery shopping with me this week, so he could "learn from the sensei." He's getting his own apartment next year and that means supplying the food for himself.  I guess I forgot how much I hate shopping with others, especially for groceries.  So, off we went Friday morning.  As soon as we got in the store, I was feeling very testy, for whatever reason.  A lady who was ordering too much pastrami was really pissing me off, and then she and her daughter were clogging up every aisle I went down with their bodies and shopping cart.  I tried to skip an aisle to get ahead of her, but she kept getting in my way.  Finally, the following exchange came:
Eli: How can you live like this?
Me: You mean all cranky and bitchy?
Eli: Yeah, and you let some random person ruin your shopping experience.

I guess all Eli learned from the sensei was never to go shopping with the Sensei.

Sons

I just wanted to say this: I haven't talked to Adam in a couple of weeks.  But it was so nice, I saw him four times in less than two months.  He came home for Mother's Day which was really sweet.  He didn't get to the mall (his lament) before he came, so when I went down to Springfield to see him over Memorial Day, he took me to the mall to get supplied with tea from Teavana, the elegant tea store.  Then he took me out to eat at the Chesapeake (very nice restaurant) and insisted on paying.  We were supposed to grill out, but the weather was pretty ugly.  June 11 he came home for his birthday, and he also made an appearance July 1-2 when Betsy and Chris were here.  Don't think we have had this much visits in- ever.  While none of my kids are particularly a-ttached, Adam is the most detached so it has made me happy to have this contact with him.

Okay, so Cal cracked me up yesterday.  He was hanging around and took an unposed picture of me.  See below.  He goes, "This isn't bad.  Look at your luscious hair!"

And Happy 82nd Birthday to my dear Dad.  

And the Mountains Echoed

I had kind of an epiphany while reading Khaled Hosseini's new book (title above).  Hosseini writes about Afghan relationships and culture, most famously in The Kite Runner.  This new novel is spread all over time and the world but all ties back to Afghanistan.

One son has grown up in Greece and left as soon and as far away as he could get.  As a doctor, he ended up helping in war torn Kabul in the present time.  The longer he is away from Greece and his mother, the harder it is to go back, and he avoids it for many years.  When he finally goes back, he is shocked to learn his mother is proud of him and what he has done in the world.

A daughter born in San Francisco to Afghan parents grows up and is unable to leave home. As an only child, she feels she must see her mother threw her death of cancer as she was about to leave for college. She is then tied to her lonely father, who has dementia.  He lost all his family in Afghanistan and came to the United States to start a restaurant and a new life.  By the time the girl finds her father's sister, who was separated from the family at age four, he know longer has his mind to know who she is.

This made me think about how we don't or shouldn't own our children.  Our best job is get them ready to go out into the world and be themselves.  While staying home and caring for family is usually seen as an admirable thing, this novel kind of turned that idea on its head.  I'm not sure that was Hosseini's intention but that is what I took from it.  We are all responsible for the direction of our lives and there shouldn't be any guilt about living it the way we choose.

5 Weeks

I noticed that the next 2.5 weeks are going to be my slowest time of the summer.  I have a lot to accomplish on my home study class on ADHD.  It seems much easier than the one I took from the same company on poverty. I poured my heart and soul into that class.  This one I am pretty much breezing through.

There are a few baseball games left. One more band concert. The garden is starting to produce a little fruit.  I am cooking a few good meals. I am trying to stay active.  Actually, I am waiting on a book to come in from the library (Alexander Soderberg).  I have already read several good ones this summer. We are thinking of watching a new show called "The Bridge." It is based on a Danish program, and since we like "The Killing" so much, and it is based on a Danish show, hoping it is as good, or nearly, because nothing could be as good as The Killing. I am working on mind control (my own), as in not letting myself get worked up about minor but annoying issues that come up.  It takes positive self talk, practice of  yoga or meditation, distraction, activity, and affirmations.  Makes me think maybe one day I will return to mental health counseling possibly starting a private practice for therapy and spiritual growth.

And 5 Weeks refers to how much time is left before I go back to work.

Summmer

We have been having a great week with my family. A LOT of laughs, hopefully no one's feelings got hurt.

One highlight was touring the Horn Field Campus with Eli where he and Cal work.  I have to say the high ropes were much higher than I remember climbing at a similar facility back when I was 28 or 29.  It was a huge challenge then, but I think it would be close to impossible now.  Thanks, family for dropping me on the Spider Web challenge ("low" as in 12 inches "rope"), bending my back awkwardly backwards and bruise/cutting my knee.  Great teamwork.  Later, we managed the "Whale Watch" challenge where five of use balanced on a teetering platform.  I think we were the worst group Eli has ever had...

Yesterday we attempted to rent boats on TWO nearby lakes. Now it's confirmed why the area is not known for it's recreational facilities. Both closed to boat rentals on Monday-Tuesday and Monday-Friday respectively.  And I thought it was summer vacation season! Ha.  We resorted to blowing grass through our thumbs for what seemed like hours, trying to get a bald eagle to swoop closer.  Later Chris broke Mom and Dad's TV trying to plug his phone into the USB port to play a video of this activity.

Everyone is sleeping now, at peace.  I went to bed early last night after several late nights in a row, playing games and talking.

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.