why there really is no crying in baseball.

so, in the movie a league of their own, tom hanks (as the baseball team's manager) spits out the classic line

"THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!"

indeed.

the lord of the ring and i have been know to utter this line a time or two...usually, to diffuse potentially precarious situations involving dramatic boybarians...generally non-baseball related...a bit of levity when needed...

in fact, the sentiment is so clear, so pure, so true, it really is an all purpose catch phrase...

kinda like, oh. my. god., are you kidding me?, or the all time favorite shitfuckfire!

anyway, as the duke's baseball season just ended, i feel it is only appropriate to further explore and explain exactly why there really *is* no crying in baseball...

beware all of you free to be you and me disciples...what lies ahead challenges the "it's all right to cry" mentality...FINALLY! I WILL OVERCOME MARLO THOMAS! as rosey grier is my witness I WILL!

where was i?...oh yeah...

when you join up for baseball it with the understanding that you will be playing on a team...team implying that it is a group made up of individuals, but a group nonetheless...

you know, "there's no i in team" and all that?

see, the duke's team this year did *okay*...their real problem was in that they didn't practice enough...as in hardly at all...had they had regular practices they could have been unstoppable...

unstoppable because they had a team made up of good players and could have had the chance to develop as a team if only they had practiced...they could have gotten a team trust thing going that only happens when you practice as a team and learn how to be a team...

it doesn't matter how good each individual player is, if you don't know how to work together, who you trust to be your backup when your go to guy isn't where he needs to be, etc. well then you get the picture...

nearly every kid on the duke's team had some good skills...some were all around good, some really good at pitching, some at running the bases, others good at hitting or fielding...but what one individual may lack in one certain area, he's got teammates that do have the skills in that area to pick up the slack...

no one person has to be good at everything...

BUT, if you don't regularly practice as a team, and are really only together in the pressure cooker of a game, well you can be 9 guys who are good players on the field, but not necessarily good as a team...

on the duke's team in particular there was a core group of about 4 guys who were each all around good...each one capable of doing most of the big things well...

and when things didn't go well, each one in turn was capable of being a diva, a complainer, an emotional mess, a drama queen, a jerk...

teary or angry messes who couldn't move past the issue and drug their team down...

if you're having a bad day, a bad game, a bad life when you are on the field there are still 8 other guys counting on you...when you let whatever it is consume you to the point of reducing you to bad attitude or uncontrolled emotional moodiness or jerkiness, or pissiness, to the point that you don't care enough to do your best then that is not good enough...ever...

if you commit to being part of something then it is incumbent upon you to do your part and keep up your end of the bargain...even at 10 years old...especially at 10 years old...because i don't think that this is too broad a concept for a 10 year old and there's no time like the present...

i understand that frustration and disappointment are inherent parts of organized sports...someone is going to win, which means someone will lose...someone is going to catch that throw to first, which means somebody will be tagged out...someone is going to pitch an excellent game, which means somebody is going to strike out...

furthermore, frustration and disappointment are valid...as are the subsequent tears and irritation...

but, it's when you let those tears blind you from your original purpose that they are not okay...and when the irritation turns to anger and outbursts (bat throwing, dirty looks, purposely not trying, yelling at teammates, giving up in favor of irritation) it is not okay either...

when you are on the field yet not present because you are too busy being sad or mad or dramatic it is not okay.

because it isn't just you...you joined a team and you are a part of something larger than yourself...and i watched too many games go belly up because one kid (or two or three or four some games) decided it was all about him and nothing else mattered...and regardless of there being 8 other guys, it does matter when 1 guy stops trying because when you've got a weak link it causes a chain reaction...and because everybody needs to do their job all. the. time.

now, i am as far away from a team joiner as you can get...i generally am not for conformity as the default for all the reasons one wouldn't be...i strive to be exactly who i am and not who everyone else is...

but, when it comes to being a committed part of a group, i think it's very important to be able to put away your individual needs and operate within the group...in some cases not only important, but necessary...

at the beginning of the season the duke was dismayed to learn that the uniform chosen for his team specifically required a belt-less baseball pant...the duke LOVED his baseball pants with the belt and couldn't understand why they wouldn't be allowed...

he thought it would be okay to wear them anyway...and i put my foot down...no, you will wear what they tell you to wear...

what is the whole definition of uniform anyway?

i explained he didn't have to be happy about it, could in fact send a letter of complaint in about it, but that he did have to comply...because that's what his team wanted...and he chose to be on a team in the first place...

it's delicate, this whole organized sports thing in our silly mortal family...because as parents the lord of the ring and i encourage asking questions, the art to and necessity of challenging authority (not *us* of course...hee hee)...we encourage free expression and diversity from the status quo...or a complete embracing of the status quo should that be what they want...but choice above all...

we draw the line at free will in our children, though.../shudder.

i keed. i keed.

as you can imagine, organized sports definitely challenges all of this...and can be quite hard to bear at times (for us anyway)...BUT, i don't think that makes it any less valuable and in fact i think it serves an important and invaluable purpose...

to learn how to be part of a group is among many other things an opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of our own selves in relation to the world at large...to understand the nature of others in times of play and pressure...to explore what it means to connect, and what it can mean when there isn't a connection...

what happens when someone just gives up and leaves everyone else to step up.

i have always encouraged my boys to cry if they are hurt or sad or just need to cry...always...

but, i think in some circumstances there is a time and a place...and i think if you've got people counting on you, and all you can do is focus on your own sadness with a teary breakdown, or a pissy outburst then yeah, there is no crying in baseball...

the duke got tagged out at second two days ago...he wouldn't have if he didn't listen to his first base coach tell him to steal when there wasn't an appropriate chance...but he was taught to listen to his coach and he did...and his coach apologized for the mistake and the duke accepted it...

and he told me

"mama, when i got tagged out at second i wanted to cry"

"you were sad, huh?"

"yeah...but i didn't, and i got over it...and, i listened to my coach even though it didn't work out"

"and as sucky as that is, it's good that you listened to him even though it didn't work out...because listening to your coach is always important"

shit. i don't even particularly care for this coach and think he really didn't have a clue a great deal of the time, so as the words came out of my mouth...sigh...

but my boybarians have to learn to listen to authority before they can begin to learn to question it...it's a process...

it's a damn good thing 10 is still too young for the military.

this parenting thing...oy.

x.

this is what i get for reading all those feminist books in the 90's.

so i had a pleasant morning with my truck yesterday...

i had to run to home depot to replenish painting supplies...i swear i've spent more money on blue painter's tape than i have on food this week.

so anyhow, i parked my truck and noticed a similar landcruiser was a couple of spaces away...make, model, year all the same, yet this truck looked like it had been rode hard and put away wet...

now, normally i'm not one to boast...okay, i am...and i will boast again and say the beast, comparatively, is a shining beauty...

and then when i went inside, i noticed a guy heading to the other landcruiser and he stopped and sniffed around mine...can i tell you how many times this happens?...the sniffers i don't mind, it's the chatters...they always get me when i'm NOT in the mood to stand around and talk trucks or when i'm in a hurry...

so i get my stuff and come out and he's still there! he's sitting in his truck and as i approach he's all chattin' me up...it's just like parents at a park...or dog owners at a dog park...or lonely people with limited social skills who attach unnaturally to inanimate objects that cost them buttloads of time and money and never return the level of adoration...

i must admit when he first saw me he seemed disappointed because i am a woman and therefore presumably won't be able to properly shoot the shit about what he suspects is under my hood...

but i go through my quick and dirty about my truck and after he laments about his rebuild (stopped just two cylinders shy of burly...poor chap) he's satisfied enough to drive away...

feeling all smug and filled up with pride of ownership (deep down i am so american it's scary) i head home.

then i head out later with the kids and while stopped first in the right hand turn lane in arguably the worst of congested intersections in my county the beast just dies.

pride of ownership indeed...we all know who's in charge here...

so after i flip on the hazards (well first i cussed and sighed dramatically), i call the lord of the ring and then AAA...i pop the hood and get out to open it and everyone behind me has started to shout and honk...

what the fuck!

oh, great my hazards don't work...so i'm still on the phone with AAA and some guy in a cable truck a few cars away shouts as if i'm the worlds biggest idiot when he's the one shouting at someone in distress with kids in the car

"TURN ON YOUR HAZARDS, LADY!!"

"DUH! THE TRUCK IS DEAD THEY DON'T WORK!"

"OH!"

then instead of seeing if he can help me he finds a way out of his blocked line, zips in front of another car in the moving line, drives by me, and honks and flips me off...

nice.

then the AAA lady says

"are you blocking traffic?"

"why don't you ask the people stuck behind me"

of course i apologized for being rude, she just laughed and said she understood and said the tow truck was on the way...

the duke suggested a construction cone lying by the side of the road to put behind the truck...so i did that and people got the idea...

i kid you not though, practically everyone driving by shot me dirty looks or honked or flipped me off or ignored me...

then one guy who was stopped a few cars back gets out of his truck and comes all at me gesturing rudely and accusingly

"WHAT!?!...YOU OUTTA GAS OR WHAT!"

"UNLESS YOU HAVE A GAS CAN WHAT'S IT TO YOU?!?...BUT IF YOU MUST KNOW I THINK IT'S THE BATTERY AND THE TOW TRUCK IS ON ITS WAY!

he rolls his eyes at me and huffs back to his truck...

good lord!...the only person to stop was a wafer thin woman who looked like she only ate raw food and not much of it...and it wasn't just her, the bumper stickers gave it away too...

i know i'm stereotyping, but i've known a few raw foodists and they aren't exactly the most robust and energetic of people...one lady i met spoke at a conference about the raw food movement and how great and healthy it is, and i kid you not she had to have someone carry her bag for her...

ANYWAY, so she stops and asks if i want help pushing the truck out of the way...i thanked her profusely for her offer and for being kind but declined telling her the tow truck was on the way...

now, i'm not opposed to pushing...i pushed a car uphill in traffic and into a parking lot when i was 8 months pregnant with the duke...by myself...i can push a car...

but, if you haven't guessed it already, the beast is HUGE...the bumper alone is the size of a small compact...okay, maybe not, but not only is it huge and you've got to judge the push just right or suffer the consequences, there wasn't much of anywhere to push it with all the standing traffic and no shoulder due to construction...

the only other person to stop and ask if i needed help pushing it out of the way was another small single woman all dolled up to the nines...

so truck after truck of construction workers and cable guys and car after car of all manner of people and the only people to offer help are the unlikeliest people...of course.

you know, the world is a random and very sweet place if you know where to look...

oh, and chivalry is apparently dead.

ANYWAY, my own knight in shining armor showed up and we headed to his car waiting in the adjacent parking lot and he waited for the tow truck and endured the dirty looks...

on the way home wingman worried how papa would get home...i said

"the tow truck driver will drop him off"

"does the tow truck driver know where we live?"

"honey, every tow truck driver in the county knows where we live"

x.

why buy a mattress when you can sleep on the couch.

the duke was singing this this morning and it pretty much sums up my inability to actually execute a project...

BUT despite my extreme laziness and love of procrastination, i am actually painting my bedroom...

yes folks, only two years after buying the paint (except the trim and ceiling paint which i just got...yea new martha stewart colors!...just in time!) and purchasing new bedding the project begins...

anyhow, it's beginning to look a lot less like a forgotten church basement and more like a place of respite...

and that's only with the primer...a whole gallon so far, and not even for the walls!

all the trim was this old ugly blue that took scads of primer to cover up...and the ceiling...

oy.

call me ishmael because that ceiling is my own personal moby dick...i've been staring up at that mess forevah and wanting to do something about it...

(well, secretly heavily wishing and praying to the allmighty that i could hire someone to do it for me...or just move.)

it's comprised of decades old acoustical tiles...not the kind that are perforated with metal cross bars but just the press board kind that just fit together...

except they don't "just fit together" and so then you have crappy dirty white ceiling tiles with dark brown gaps in between...

it's far uglier than i am describing...trust me.

and the fact that i have been staring up at that ugly ass ceiling for over eight years is a testament to just how farkin' lazy i really am...

i am very thankful neither of my children were conceived under such an ugly ceiling...

BUT, priming that ceiling makes me think my laziness was just my own darwinism kicking in...because that ceiling will. be. the. death. of. me.

the ceiling is really high, and it slopes at one side...i'm up on a stepladder with my neck at an ungodly angle getting in between each and every tile to cover the brown gaps with primer...and this is after rolling the whole ceiling in primer which is an activity that carries it's own fresh hell...

(how many times did i just use the word ceiling? gah.)

but now the primer's on and it's time to do it all over again with the actual paint...the step ladder, the neck craning, the rolling...

my only saving grace is the thought that one day i will lie in bed and look up and see the most beautiful blue in the world and it will make me happy...

and trust me, it WILL be BEAUTIFUL or at least i will convince myself it is...because i will die of old age under that "beautiful" blue as i am never. painting. that. ceiling. again.

x.

check the plug, yo.

so you know how you hear those stories about people calling in the plumber or washing machine repair main in a frantic snit because their washer stopped working?...only to find they hadn't checked the cord and it ended up costing them the bill for the visit?

and then you smugly think, gawd, what an idiot.

so this morning i go out to wash baseball clothes and uniforms, which seems to be my new destiny in life, and i go to turn on the washing machine and nothin'...bupkus.

immediately i went through the whole oh. my. gawd. the washing machine is broken!...it's only a few years old!...now i'll have to call the repair guy!...that's gonna cost me a fortune and i'll have to wait because it's going to be hot today and people are probably already calling about air conditioners and fans and stuff!...and my mud porch is a MESS!...i'll have to clean it before he gets here!...oh geeze why this today!

and then i remembered the plug.

i looked behind the machine and yup, sure enough it was unplugged.

turns out when i was getting the flag down yesterday to fly for memorial day from the shelves above the washer/dryer it had dropped and when i fetched it i inadvertently unplugged the washer...

i wish i wasn't such an emotional why me? half-wit when faced with the smallest difficulty...i automatically go into worst case scenario mode and it takes full minutes before i calm down enough to realize there may actually be nothing wrong.

which of course is always a let down for a drama queen like me.

because then i have no *real* story to tell and you get posts like this.

yo.

in other news i will be taping off my bedroom today in hopes of actually painting...sometime this week...right.

no really, i am aiming high!...once the duke has started school for the day and i have wingman ensconced in some activity it's me and the blue painter's tape...

chocolate walls.

ceiling in vintage map (kinda a real subtle tiffany blue)

trim in chamois cloth (kinda a creamy cream color)

"creamy cream"?...i know. but it's the best i could come up with.

now, i don't know if this will work...i am guessing here on a palette made up of different things i've seen...BUT, considering that room hasn't been painted in about 30 years, and badly done to begin with, i think i'm good.

i always did like the low hurdles the best.

x.

and if the devil is 6 then god is 7.

so last fall my sister and i went to the hometown of kurt cobain for a wedding...we took the beast, i drove and she picked the music...one of the cds was the pixies...

we bopped along, the weekend came to a close, and i dropped her home...

then i noticed that she had left not only her pixies cd, but her other music as well...secretly i was glad because i was digging the pixies cd in my stereo, and wouldn't see her for two more weeks so i'd get to enjoy it longer...

but then it wouldn't come out.

as in it was stuck in the stereo and seriously would. not. come. out.

and since the beast is a diva the *only* part of my stereo that worked was the cd player...not the radio...because she doesn't want you to be all the way happy, get comfortable, and then forget who's really in charge...

so at first it was kinda a fun novelty...and since the lord of the ring, the duke of fun, and wingman and i all LOVED it it was okay...

it was a joke "hey, the pixies again, awesome!" "what do you want to listen to?. oh, i don't know, what about the pixies!"

HI-larious...for the first three months, anyway...

that cd took us to the store and to thanksgiving and to stoveman's 60th birthday party in the city and off to my nephew's 9th birthday party the next day in the next city...dragging a bit and steeling ourselves for another party...that cd took us through the perpetual grey slog of christmas traffic wondering when it would be our turn to turn left and why everyone else in all the other cars looked terribly unhappy to be where they were...

probably they weren't listening to the pixies.

that cd accompanied us on the first leg of our journey back east, and was waiting for us when we got back...piled into the beast with more luggage than a funk band on tour...(this of course after we futzed with the beast and got a jump from my brother in law and whispered sweet nothings into her ear just to get her to move her 17 ton patootie and take us home)

after a month away and the journey we had to get home that cd brought familiar comfort to our travel weary family...

and it was playing when the beast decided to not go a mile further not 10 miles from home...

that cd spent 3 more months silent while the beast was in rehab...hopefully thinking about what she had done and turning her life around...

and when we got the beast back?

the stereo was ripped out and sitting forlornly on the front seat...seems the stereo amp was creating a draw on the battery...it wasn't that big of a deal as it was obvious we needed a new stereo anyway...

so, what about the cd?...well, stuck in the now totally non working stereo...still...

but now that we could get to the screws it was no big deal and a few minutes later the lord of the ring extracted the cd...

and now i've got it here and ready to give back to my little sister...

our whole family knows every song by heart...every melody...every chord change...every hook...for awhile it was the soundtrack of a life a family lives while in the car...every journey big and small...all the things that happen when you are going from point a to point b and everywhere else in between...

and while i am glad we'll be getting a new stereo and i'll be able to listen to the radio and my stevie nicks cds and wail along to the wreckers (shut up, it's all i have some days) i can honestly say i am going to miss the pixies...

but if you think i'm sticking that fucker in my new stereo you'd be dead wrong.

plus, i've got to get it back to my sister...eventually.

x.

coffee, t&a, or me.

so lately in our area there is an explosion of lingerie/bikini latte stands...as in the gals you get your double tall with extra whip and a twist from are servin' it up scantily clad...

now, people can do what they want...i don't generally give a rat's ass...and i don't have a problem with scantily clad women per se...or men for that matter...in the right circumstance (and i mean right circumstance...as the weather warms, i have to say i'm a little uneasy about going anywhere around here as everyone dusts off their summer wear and hits the town)...but seriously, too much flesh, likely *not* well contained is *not* my idea of how i would like my food or beverage being served to me...

after all, skin is the largest organ of the body!!...eww! shudder eww!.

oh, yeah, naked sushi anyone?

i will never understand humans as long as i live.

plus, i was a barista for quite awhile in my past life...and lemme tell you, with the steaming espresso machine, foaming milk, and scalding coffee coupled with all that flesh and inadequate coverage not to mention TO GO COFFEE CUP LIDS THAT ALWAYS LEAK!!, well i'd be fairly concerned about on the job safety...i mean, that kinda work environment oughta warrant more than a few visits from OSHA.

meanwhile, it's a holiday weekend and i wish you all fun and frivolity with a minimum of stress and strife...

x.

this message brought to you from the snarky division of hallmark.

besides the handmade cards i got from the boybarians on mother's day (the duke's saying he loved me as much as he loved the yankees and wingman's wishing me a happy mother's day and wondering what i would look like bald) i got two cards from two friends as well...

i write this now, because i just got one of the cards today...

when you know someone a long time it's always an interesting thing getting a greeting card from them...because greeting cards are like shoes...either you have taste and know what you're doing or you don't...no ifs ands or tasseled loafers about it...

what's worse is getting a card from a lover...oooh, i hate that word lover (say it like molly shannon for added effect)... /shudder...but you know what i mean, it could really go either way...usually bad if they only go to hallmark...or even worse! a bad greeting card with misspelled words...grim. prognosis for relationship not good...

but, i digress.

greeting cards are trickier than shoes even in that you generally don't pick out a pair of shoes to send someone on a whim just to say hi! or for an occasion or holiday...

and if you do, well you just have too much damned time and money on your hands and you're partially insane...

there are soooooooooo many cards that could be sent to me that would really give me pause...does this person know me at all?...have the last twenty years shown them nothing?...aren't hand painted kids in adult clothing holding flowers a little 1988?

card #1

(outside)
light blue background with a graphic of a summery pink girl drink

Cheers! It's Mother's Day!

(inside)

Not traditionally a drinking holiday, but why the hell not, I say!

card#2

(outside)

a winding road with a cartoon chicken asking the following

Why did the mom cross the road?

(inside)

No one could tell, really. She was mumbling to herself about peace and quiet. She circled the block a couple of times and came back a lot happier. Happy Mother's Day

what i particularly like about these cards is that the sentiment is there and it. is. real...none of this As you reflect on this most important of days know that your place in this world is one of great importance as you shepherd your flock to the future pastures of blah blah flowery blah...

not that there isn't a place in this world for that kind of sentiment, but i'm not that kind of mother...because to me mothering is very real and sometimes very gritty...no amount of contrived script, graphic lace, and scalloped vellum inlays can convey what it is i do on a daily basis...

and i love that people get this...people who are supposed to care about me DO because they. get. it. too.

i love being a mother...i love my children...but if i can't find the humor and my way to the bottom of a glass some days i'd be circling that block WAY more than a couple of times...

x.

gardening 101.

i have failed gardening 101 oh for about 8 years now...this is the first year we've lived here that i have a slight bit of a grip on the whole thing and actually might make it through to the first frost without running from the car to the house in hopes of never laying eyes on the dying mess...

i inherited a LOT of garden when we moved here...and in my extreme naivete, i thought it was a bonus...

yeah.

anyhow, the last two months we have been chipping away at rampant weeds and dead plants...moving things around, spreading dirt...we built the boybarians some raised beds and they were very ambitious the first year out...we'll see how that goes...

i've created a very pretty border bed and it's nearly finished all the way around...i've got the front garden cleared and ready for planting...next it's the lavender patch...MAJOR weeding, replacing a couple of plants that bit it in the big storm, and re-doing the path down the middle...

now is a pretty time outdoors...not too hot, things still look green and inspiring...

i have nearly *no idea* what i am doing in the garden, but i am doing something...it's a start...

gardening is part brains and part brawn...and a whole lot of hope and heart...

the thing is the brawn is killing me!...clearing the weeds and hauling the detritus to the weed heap and then shoveling and hauling and spreading of the dirt is hashing my legs!

not to mention i've been slightly worried about my neck and what all of this is doing to it...and amazingly enough my neck is just fine...not a problem...and i tell you, in the past i would have already been out of commission by now...

yea physical therapy!...did i just say that?...don't tell anyone...

so my neck is good...for the first time in a LONG time...but me legs, oy!...

the main thing about gardening for me is just the patience...and the constant vigilance for a time...and then patience once again...

i don't mind admitting i suck at all of that...sure the attacking and ripping out of years worth of weeds choking the soil and other plants i can do...there's something metaphoric about that process that is better than the best therapy in the world...it's the weeds that come after...and need to be dealt with on a constant, but less intense basis...it's having the were with all to figure out what may be wrong with a plant that isn't doing too well...and to care enough to do something about it...

sure, going to the nursery and eying all the beautiful plants beckoning you over (pick me! pick me!, they cry) is sooooo easy...and the potential, the idea is enough to fill your trunk and empty your wallet and just pushes it over the edge and seals the fate...a new plant, so sweet, full with life...we tease it from the pot and put it into the soil...we water it...we wait...how easy, we think...and then we think about what the plant might be at full bloom...

sometimes forgetting what the plant is now, what it will be in the meantime...

but that's where so many of us go wrong...the idea gets us and it's everything that comes after that gets obscured...the actual work...the process of growth that requires our attention...our care...

gardening is a good idea and a whole lot of work...there's so much more that comes after the fun of planning and picking...it's the idea that if you plant a seed you will see it through...through weather and pest invasion and the inevitable periods of neglect...both for the reward of what the plant produces as well as for the experience of doing it...but mostly because you took this plant and put it in your soil and now you must care for it...anything less just wouldn't be right...

it's easy to *not* garden...really really easy...except for the crippling guilt and shame when you're ignoring the dying yard for roughly half the year, it can be done quite successfully...in fact, until this year, we used to call our property the garden of benign neglect...

benign or not, it's still neglect...and neglect even in the best of conditions is no good...so, slowly but surely we're turning it around...and like anything worth doing there's a good formula for that...chipping away at the jobs we can do, considering help for the jobs we can't...and learning as we go...

my garden will not be perfect, it will not be the best garden anyone has ever seen, it will not win awards...which is just fine by me.

my goal is that in the first days of august, when the summer is in full bloom and the air is thick with heat and the grass is dead and the ground is baked hard, i won't have to run from the car to the house in hopes of not laying eyes on a dead and dying mess...my goal is to drive up and be greeted with life and growth and beauty...to walk leisurely to the house enjoying the trip...to sit under the little cherry tree by the garden, in the shady cool, and enjoy the fruits of my labor...

full well resting in the knowledge that did the best job i could...not because i threw my hands up and let fate and the inevitable take hold and say i did the best job i could do, taking my seat in the shade early on...but because i got down on my hands and knees and did what needed to be done...

x.

raaack! polly *does* want a cracker as long as it comes with a bottle of wine.

so the lord of the ring and i have been thinking for awhile now how we can get a little place in the city...any city fer' cryin' out loud!!!...

really, though, with two kids homeschooling next year and my wanting to go back to school it would be beneficial to be more urban...a dream, but we're optimistic...

so, we were talking about some options the other night and we were agreeing that a two bedroom would be okay, but in order for him to have a workable home office a three bedroom would be ideal...and that generally a three bedroom place would have more overall square footage, which we both agreed was a great idea...then the duke said all nonchalant

"yeah, 'cuz i'm gonna need room for my birdcage"

oh good lord what now?

apparently, the duke of fun is planning on getting a bird...not just any bird...first he was lobbying for two parakeets...and then it came down to it and what he really wants is an african grey parrot...

possibly the most time intensive pet around...they live 50-80 years, need a minimum of three hours of outside the cage time a day, one hour of exercise a day, a wide variety of interesting toys which they will attack and get bored with easily, water changed frequently during the day because of bacteria risk, special diet, supplements, air filter and humidifier by the cage are suggested, at least 12 hours but 14 are ideal of sound sleep a night or they get grumpy, and they need to be bathed at least once a week...

yeah, and did i mention they live 50-80 years?...

oh, and they talk...not just any talking...they eventually get to a point where they can string sentences together and respond to you conversationally...they are also expert at mimicking any noise they hear...they are also sensitive and emotional and do not like being left alone...especially if you go somewhere or if you are sitting down to a meal...

good lord!...i didn't say this but he might as well wait to get married!!!...ha ha, i keed i keed...

one quote i especially liked was

"You don't know a scream until you've heard your African Grey scream bloody murder at his toys. Which they do quite often in play."

ohhhhh, greaaaaatttt. LOVELY.

seriously, you've got to be freakin' kidding me!...he got some books from the library so he's well aware of all this...and we discussed in very. full. detail. about how papa and i are not willing to care for his bird long term should he go away to college or extensive traveling...hell, i need to go away to college and do extensive traveling!

this means i will never fully totally be alone in my own home...ever...whatever i did in a past life it must have been really bad and i am so very sorry...

the real kicker and what may save us all is the fact that they roughly run about $900 bucks a bird...not including the cage and the toys and the food and all that...

the lord of the ring and i told him that we thought he was too young to really know about that kind of commitment now, but if he saved up $1000 for expenses likely by that time he'd be old enough to make a better informed decision...

man. the duke is a fine boy, the BEST!, but seriously?...a bird like that suggests a level of nuts that i just don't think i've encountered yet in my family...and believe me, i've had plenty of encountering...

and *right* after that discussion as i was tucking wingman into bed and turning off the lamp and walking out the door so bloody thankful that he was finally in bed for the day one down one to go and looking forward to switching off my brain he asked

"who was jesus?"

i love the fact that my children cannot comprehend just how close to the edge i really am at all times...i certainly wouldn't want them to tone down their boybarianess in favor of my sanity...

OH, and i totally blocked this out but remember baseball mom from last week?...well at the beginning of that whole "you called my mother a feminist and now you shall pay with my wrath you heathen!" conversation i learned a very interesting fact...

SHE VOTED DOWN THE LIBRARY LEVY LIFT!

so *that's* who would vote against the library, huh?...sounds about right...i can't believe i forgot that when i was posting about it last week...

probably had something to do with the fact that i was still upset that the levy did. not. pass.

that's right, it wasn't *just* her but a little over half of fifty percent of the county who voted it down...

i am surrounded...these are not my people and i am surrounded by them...

what would jesus do indeed...

methinks he wouldn't care if it was only two bedrooms and not much overall square footage.

x.

i have to keep reminding myself he's six. and to breathe.

last night wingman said

"my favorite president used to be george washington...but not any more"

"oh, who's your favorite president now?"

"george walker bush"

silence.

and then as calmly as i could possibly muster i said

"george bush!?!"

"yeah...not george herbert walker bush, that's his dad...just george walker bush"

damned presidential placemat.

see, i feel compelled to explain that when given the opportunity to choose something that is his "favorite" from things he doesn't actually care about or understand wingman will always go with who is winning or has won or is currently on top...

and since george walker bush is president now, wingman seems to think there is something special about him and therefore earns him the honor of being "favorite president"...

it is at this point i could make a quip about the general american population with regards to politics and six year olds and president bush but i just can't bring myself to do it...too easy...and it's just no fun anymore...

"You hold your future in your own hands. Never waver in this belief. Don't swagger. The boy who swaggers-like the man who swaggers- has little else that he can do. He is a cheap-Jack crying his own paltry wares. It is the empty tin that rattles most. Be honest. Be loyal. Be kind. Remember that the hardest thing to acquire is the faculty of being unselfish. As a quality it is one of the finest attributes of manliness."

-Sir Frederick Treves, Bart, KCVO, CB, Sergeant in Ordinary to HM the King, Surgeon in Ordianry to HRH Prince of Wales, September 2, 1903

01.20.09

x.

i might as well have called her mother a whore.

at baseball practice yesterday i had the following conversation with one of the other mothers...she's older than me by quite a lot...but still!...anyhow, she is telling me about her own mother who at 88 has become something of a political activist...especially so in women's issues...so i say

"wow...so she's discovering the feminist within"

"oh!...NOT. AT. ALL...she's still very much a lady...she's careful with her dress and is impeccable with her language and manners...and she's still quite the consummate hostess"

you should have seen the look on her face!

you should have seen the look on my soul.

and yes, she went on describe how, in her opinion, society has become too feminized...we are too squeamish and not letting our boys become men...they are too soft...too many boys being raised by single mothers...and you know how she said it it was as if it was the single mothers who were at fault...OF COURSE!...and absolutely nothing about the dads and their roles/non roles in all of it...

you know if she actually used the word "damned" she would have used it to describe the feminists...she nearly couldn't even say feminist what with the severe purse of her lips...

oh yeah, and home schoolers have a problem with proper socialization of their children.

indeed.

you know it exists, but when faced with it it's actually quite shocking...i'm sure my mouth wanted to hang to the ground, but the fixed and frozen smile on my face prevented it...

sometimes i completely forget where i live...

well, not live as much as endure.

x.

random boybarian thoughts.

the duke and i were sitting on the porch yesterday while he did his school work and i tried to recover from my physical therapy appointment...sure it was six hours earlier, but it takes me awhile to get over acute trauma...

so, we're sitting there when the duke looks up and asks

"do you think ants have feelings?"

"well, i don't know for sure because no ant has ever told me, but i'm pretty sure any living thing has the ability to feel or at least sense"

brief pause

"well, that doesn't make vegetarians and carnivores much different, does it?"

i am so not touching that.

good luck, duke.

so later wingman and i are headed out in the car (i might get my truck back today after oh like three months in frankenstein's garage, but that's another story) and in the time it took me to turn on the car, put it in reverse, reverse, and head down the driveway we had the following conversation

"mama, what is a retirement home?"

"well, it's a place people who are older and who no longer work go to live with other people like them...or it can be a place people buy separ-"

"are super heroes real?"

"well, i've never met one but if you think-"

"did my piano teacher have her baby?"

all that and we hadn't reached the mailbox yet!

and then today wingman outlined exactly what he would like for and who he plans to invite to his birthday party...next january.

and if i know him he'll stick to that plan like glue...oh, he'll add to it here and there when he gets a whim, but for the most part what he decides now is set...

until the day before his party when i'm about to make the cake...that's when he'll change his mind and the theme of the party...

x.

you can't get theah from heah.

wingman has some r trouble...well, if we lived in new england he'd be taken for a native...but since we live in the pacific northwest it's some "r trouble"...in fact, i try to get him to use the phrase, wicked smaht, but he won't do it...sigh...i have so little pleasure in my life...

anyway, it used to be all r's...like all his r's would come out as a w sound...especially so with words that started with r...

it's waining outside...that's not the wight one, i want the wed one...

now, those "want to be w's" are shaping more often than not into proper r's...and his trouble now lies in the endings that require an r sound...

the kitten's name is otha...(arthur)

the hat is on the flooh of the cah...(floor, car)

at first i was concerned and really was thinking of speech therapy as a future consideration...but as he grows it's getting WAY better...

we are consistent but casual about asking him to repeat things properly and i show him how my mouth and tongue move when i create my r's...guerrilla speech therapy, i know, but it's what i got...

and not five minutes ago without even thinking about it he said (drumroll please!) SHORTS!...not shahts BUT shorts!!!!!

it's the little things...

and in other news the kittens continue to be CUTE!...much to my continued dismay as i thought i had them all fostered out!!!...it turns out the person slated for chico's pair is backing out!!...and they are tooooooo cuuuuuuuttttteeee to remain living here without a forever home waiting for them...having them around, essentially homeless, is like taking a trip for two when you are ovulating...bad idea...too many variables...

and to top it off, both chico and the man are taking turns being in heat...yeah...the man was first and got out!!!...she didn't come back for about 6 hours and we finally found her at the bottom garden entertaining the tom from a few acres over!!!...CRAP!

i know it's her hormones and she can't control it but SHIT! it was no better than finding her in the backseat of a chevy!!!

we scooped her up, brought her in, and as a result as the weather warms up we've got every freakin' door and window shut up tight for about the next 5-6 weeks until we can get them fixed!!!...

now chico's in heat and man is she annnnooooyyyyiiiiinnnngggg!...seriously. annoying.

i know she can't help it but COME ON!!!!...the pitch of a cat in heat should be piped through prisons during riots, or for crowd dispersals, or anywhere else where you want to drive people so nuts they cannot complete a thought, much less an action, and will do anything you say just to make. it. stop.

so here we are, work from home, school from home, everyone home together with two horny cats stuck inside and a passel of just on the verge of mischievous kittens...

i am NOT saying having a baby would have been easier, i am just saying no one got off easy with this substitution...

except maybe the tom from two acres away who only has to sit in the yard and wait for one of us to slip up and leave the door open...

x.

there is hope. and my mad letter writing skillz just might be it.

they published my letter!!!!!

i know, huh?!?

okay, i'll start from the start...this morning i went down to the mailbox and got the local paper and tore it open and NOTHING!

fuckers!...how could they NOT publish my letter?!?...good lord i really am surrounded by idiots!

so later i hit the road to do errands...

i go to the library and when i walked in one of the librarians said

"hey!...GREAT letter to the editor!"

"what?...how did you know?...they didn't even publish it!"

"sure they did...here, i'll get the paper"

so he gets the paper and it's the local paper for the other part of the county...kinda the same, but different in content...and sure enough, there it was!!!

then all the other librarians gather around me and it's like i'm britney spears in a wig shop!!...they're all. over. me.!!

i tell ya...

okay, so librarians know me by name...what about it?...sure, it's not cheers, but you know, sometimes take what you can get...

and, the best part is the letter was in the "sound off" section...the special section where they highlight just one letter to the editor...obviously, the best letter to the editor...

indeed.

in other more sobering AND exciting news there has been a LOT of doing with chico and the man...

okay, so about 5 days before chico gave birth she had been in a cat fight...some tom from a few acres away...

or so we thought...she seemed fine after a day and we attributed the tiredness and soreness to early labor...she gave birth last thursday and that was that...except she seemed to have some sort of infected lump on sunday...she had cleaned it by monday, but the lord of the ring took her in just to be sure...

poor mama...she was attacked by raccoons!!!...who knew!!!...the bites and placement, etc. suggested she was bitten by at least two if not three!!...her wounds were incredibly deep and were beginning to abscess after all this time...

so she was in surgery forever! where they found another bite under her tail!...meanwhile we spent a futile afternoon trying to bottle feed the babies...no luck...

boy but that just figures in this family...the duke *barely* took a bottle of breast milk as a baby...and wingman never even let it far enough in to see what it was all about...buncha nipple snobs in this family...and that was just the beginning...try giving the two of them anything but real maple syrup for their pancakes and good luck!!...course who could blame them...hmm, do i want colored corn syrup or nature's sweet goodness fresh from the tap...wait...what are we talking about again???

apparently, i digress...

so, she finally came home before evening, with a shaved back and tail, five plastic drain tubes, and a BUNCH of stitches...totally sad and yet totally punk rock...poor mama kitty...

chico has been in pain and out of sorts today and we've just been trying to get her calm and resting...she seems to be *okay* for now, but we're keeping our eye on her...

that was monday...tuesday morning about 5am wingman climbed into our bed and nonchalantly said

"papa?"

"urnnhh?"

small sigh.

"i went to pet the man because she was meowing under the duke's bed and she was eating something with for' legs and a tail...pwobably a wat (rat) from the duke's closet"

GOOD MORNING! now i'm up!...the lord of the ring and i look at each other...

"are you sure it's not a baby kitty she's cleaning?"

we head in there, the duke still asleep on top of his bed, and sure enough the man is giving birth underneath his bed!!

she ended up with three kitties total and they all look exactly like her!!!...so far so good with them...

did i mention that this was *supposed* to be the day for the makeup trip to the city to celebrate the duke's birthday that was first foiled by the birth of chico's kitties?...canceled. again...he's been fairly gracious about the whole thing, though by default we have been calling him catboy...you know, just 'cuz...

so there you have it...i could go into further detail about the suffering i've been doing at physical therapy but that would just get boring and you know, terribly self involved compared to what my poor mama kitty is suffering through...

i will say, though, that the evil minion has me doing a sort of core strengthening exercise that involves pelvic thrusts on the ball WITH WEIGHTS ON MY HIPS!

i'm not sure how this relates to rehabilitating my neck injury other than it sure takes my mind off of it.

x.

silly mortal politics.

so i sent the following letter to the editor today...who votes down money for the library?...fuckers, that's who!

i omitted identifying county names and such, but it should read just fine...



I am simply amused by the host of letters vehemently against the library levy lift. Everything from cries of nickel and dimming the residents of the county because the county just may need more operating money than a five year old voter approved annual increase in property tax revenue might provide, to absolute certainty that the library does not need any additional money to do its job. Despite the fact that the library specifically states that they need additional operating funds and clearly outlines why.

In a day and age when libraries are disappearing all over the country we should be proud and honored that we have as great a library system as we do. So over a quarter of County residents don't have a library card? One letter to the editor used this as a point in her argument against the levy. How ridiculous, because all it does is illustrate that nearly 75% of County residents do. Last I checked that was well over the majority and by a fine, cushy margin to boot.

Furthermore, the same writer suggested the money the library levy lift would raise would be better spent on feeding, clothing, and housing the residents of this county. All very fine notions, of course! Except why pit one against the other? Have we become so base a society as to suggest that self-education, intellectual pursuits, and exposure to ideas are luxuries? And how exactly do we figure out how to solve the problems life provides, like feeding, clothing, and housing the residents of our county for the long and definite haul if we are not first exposed to the wisdom and lessons history provides us, and the information and ideas needed in the act of problem solving?

The bottom line is it becomes less amusing and more appalling that our county would even consider voting down the library levy lift if we as responsible citizens stopped to consider our children. Our nation's kids are fat and unhealthy and addicted to video games. And will only become more so without other options and the means to self-education available. Schools are under increasing pressure to perform and produce and as a result have less and less room for what they deem as *extras*. Generally speaking intellectual pursuits and the arts. The availability of a good library picks up some of the slack, provides options and alternatives, and to some kids it can make all the difference in the world. Which then makes all the difference in our world as our children will one day be in charge of it.

I cannot imagine spending an extra 30 cents per $1000 dollars in a better way.

letters to the editor are a funny business...you've got to say what you want but have to go about it in a *specific manner* or it won't get printed...i know this because i have never had a letter to the editor printed...well, i only tried that one time, but still!...it was a great letter!

basically if you sound like a politically aware 70 year old man it gets in...

i'll keep you posted.

x.

i heart kittens.

so chico had her babies yesterday...on the duke's birthday...

and while kittens are cute and all it pretty much foiled our birthday outing because it was obvious chico wanted us around...

so we stayed...and now we've got two new baby kitties...one white one black...

kittens really are cute...well, once they are done with the birth process and all cleaned up that is...before that they are fairly disgusting...seriously...i feel very un-evolved typing that out but that's just how it is...

and kittens are cute in the same exact way that babies are cute...they are supposed to be cute...like there's no mystery involved in the cuteness of a kitten or a baby...they come this way so they won't be abandoned or mistreated because of their inherently annoying characteristics...like pooping wherever they are sitting and keeping you up all night...

what i wonder though is why this pretty much stops at the infant/baby/kitten stage?...like we don't need darwin on our side as we age?

sure, i so don't worry about being abandoned or mistreated and i certainly have figured out bathroom protocol, but seriously my inherently annoying characteristics could use a dose of *cute*...

that being said, the duke did wear his "my mom is #1" shirt out in public yesterday...

so all is not lost...unless he was being ironic...

can ten year olds be ironic?

because this ten year old has sarcasm down pat.

i wonder where he gets it?

in physical therapy news it still sucks...it's me and a bunch of old overweight people...and i'm not saying that in a judging manner, just as an observation...weight does a NUMBER on you for sure...but as you age?...man...

i know i need to be there...my neck needs to be there...i'm just a bit disconcerted by the one big room and closeness of it all...i'm all on my back, feet on the ball, weights in hand, doing pelvic thrusts to beat the band and the guy next to me is trying to move....his....wrist...just...a...centimeter...farther...than...yesterday...

i'm not making fun of the injured as i am one of them...but i do know they all look at me and my obviously designed by a sadist work-out and wonder what in the fuck *i* am doing there...or it's simply because i'm the only one in the room being treated who doesn't remember the spanish-american war...

regardless, i went home and told the lord of the ring that that CAN'T be us...i'm not spending my twilight years pushing his ass in a wheelchair or he mine because we neglected our health and physical fitness when it really mattered...

we discussed this over beers and leftover ribs from the duke's birthday dinner while we watched a marathon of dog the bounty hunter on t.v...

it's good to be on the same page.

x.

i'm calling steven spielberg's mom and asking for advice.

wingman and the duke have been making movies with the digital camera.

and seriously, i think a child psychologist would have a field day with the results.

the duke is mainly the cinematographer and wingman is his more than willing more than capable subject...OMG half the time it's like watching the coen brothers at work and half the time it's like watching an episode of jackass filming...wingman is whack, and the duke?...well the duke is the duke and it comes out in his work.

anyhow, they really get into it...especially the duke...he's got a good eye and knows how to get the best out of wingman...

so his 10th birthday is tomorrow and the lord of the ring and i decided to get him a small simple digital video camera and case...he is going to flip and i am happy to gift him with something creative and interactive...

except in viewing their films last night i realized what a BIG mistake this is!...they both film indiscriminate of background...they film and try to not get me in the mix, but hello i'm always here and so if you don't see me you certainly hear me and i'm usually screeching something in a decidedly unflattering manner or uttering my now famous tag line

"DON'T film me"

i cannot emphasize enough how i despise having my picture taken...let alone have actual moving footage taken...and you know they will be making a lot of films and what are films if you don't show them to other people?...people other than your family?...outside people?...THE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD!

what the hell was i thinking!

i must love the duke more than life itself or when they were passing out brains i was in the line that said "wine"...

his birthday is tomorrow and so you know what this means don't you?

i've got 24 hours to scour and redecorate the house and lose dozens of pounds AND the screechy bitchy mom voice.

and i thought giving birth to the little bugger was the hard part!

x.

tuesday. already.

boy, the days move fast...good lord between physical therapy, pregnant cats, homeschooling, birthdays, baseball, boybarians you name it i just can't get here!

but i've got about 2.5 seconds while the boybarians are doing math so here i am...

my physical therapist passed me off to one of his minions and i am POSITIVE this bloke has seen the movie hostel one too many times...not that i've seen it mind you, i can barely watch harry potter without getting scared...but people talk you hear things and i know what it's about...and apparently so does the guy who did my routine today...

the duke did well at the chess tournament, didn't place but was playing kids who were ranked much much higher than he and gave them a real run for their money...

wingman is done with kindergarten in about a month or so...he's getting a little sad about it, poor kid...he's looking forward to homeschooling with us, but will definitely miss that daily social dose...

i am SO working on that for the both of them...there is just not much out here for us in terms of groups and activities and such...and the big city is just an smidge too far away to be do-able on a regular basis...there's a solution there somewhere, i just haven't found it...

no kittens yet, but i suspect it's any day now...so far i've got five kittens penciled in for adoption and hope to keep lining people up...i don't want to have to surrender them to a shelter or pet store...and i am NOT keeping any however cute and cuddly and lovey they are...

i mean my god my kids are lucky THEY'RE still here!

and on that note, i've got to run...wingman is making lunch today and i need to assist...bagel faces and pink lemonade...he is just a little six year old boy and i'm going to miss that when he's older...

though my ass sure won't miss bagels and lemonade. gah.

x.

the importance of being ernest.

so the duke pitched his first game last night...whatta kid!...all eyes on him and he was as cool as a cucumber...he was the relief pitcher so he didn't come in until the top of the 5th and only pitched one inning before the game was called due to time restrictions...he struck one kid out and overall did really really well...i could never in a million years do what he did...

and the most i could manage watching him last night was wringing my hands and not so silently praying that each kid from the other team got struck out!...all's fair in love and baseball.

and the duke just kept saying how much fun he was having out there...he's such a cool kid!

though he did choose wheat thins for the team snack...i'm not sure what that's all about, but he assured me all the kids would like them...and they were baked wheat thins too...i SWEAR i gave him other choices and that's what he chose...i am proud and wincing all at the same time...

nothin' like finishing a big game and washing down the loss with a bag of multi-grain baked wheat thins.

but back to the duke, he and i attended his first symphony on sunday, and this saturday is the state chess championship...he is such a balanced kid with the physical and the mental...i really like that about him...i am envious of that and i hope he retains that throughout his life...

i am just so darn proud of his pursuits, and how he approaches everything with enthusiasm, dedication, and just a general all around good attitude...

he must get that from his father because lord knows his mother is a three car pile up on a good day...

oh, and all on his own when we went to get him some new pants last week he chose a shirt that has my mom is #1 on it...i swear i didn't have anything to do with it!

though, i have yet to see him wear it in public...

and then there's this;

my little sister was visiting with her passel of kids last week and she was telling me and a friend about my niece's new middle school for next year...she really likes it but was explaining that it didn't have advanced classes...because my memory is shot i can't completely remember the whole of the conversation, but the gist of it was if a kid was advanced perhaps they'd give him/her extra work, or if he/she needed extra help they'd get it...but they'd all be in the same class...and then she was explaining something about how during the year, the whole school or class had to read the exact same book (for a project? book club?).

apparently this struck the duke in some way as i heard him mutter softly under his breath

"communists"

and if there's anything left to be said about that i don't know what it is.

he really truly is the best...he's a GREAT kid and i know i am totally utterly blessed...i don't know what it is i did to deserve him, but believe you me i know just how lucky i am...

x.

i don't know, but lesson #1 might just be to not do business with someone named mad dog.

so i started physical therapy for my neck...

it's not so much therapy as it is a butt load of hard ass exercise with someone watching your every move...

at one point my physical therapist was having me do some ridiculous exercise on the ball that involved muscles i thought had retired...he said

"okay, at this point you want it to burn a little"

and i said

"you don't get many christmas cards, do you?"

but the absolute BEST part came when he said

"oh, you don't want your stomach resting on the ball"

and i said

"that's not my stomach resting on the ball as much as it's hanging on the ball"

indeed.

in other news, the duke of fun heads for the state elementary chess championships this weekend...we were all going to go, but with two pregnant kitties due whenever in the next bit of time i decided i should stay close...

so it's just wingman and me this weekend, and oh yeah, two pregnant kitties...did i mention i have two pregnant kitties?

spring has sprung and there's gardening and baseball and the like...add in two sessions of physical therapy a week and school four days a week, not to mention something every weekend till mid june and i feel like i'm scheduled from now until kingdom come...

i'm only used to being so busy in my brain...my addled pockmarked brain...

and i STILL don't have my truck back...some bloke named mad dog was building a transmission for it BUT built and sent the wrong one!!...he's replacing it with a heftier, beefier, butcher version, but it's set everything back...and the transfer case is somewhere in california for re-hab and due to be sent back this week...

good. lord. good thing i love that damned truck so damned much or the time the hassle the EXPENSE just might seem the teeniest. bit. not. worth. it.

but like with everything the lord of the ring and i take on at least we go big...project trucks, pregnant kitties, etc. etc. etc...and that's just in the last year...we've got about 12 more in the inventory...our relationship shorthand really just comes down to one look...the what the hell have we gotten ourselves into now? look...

the first time we shared that look was about four months into my pregnancy with the duke...which is a look i think a lot of pregnant couples end up sharing at one point or another...

but as of next week it will be ten years since the duke was born and our family started and we couldn't imagine any of it turning out more perfect than it has...

and by perfect i mean at times headed towards fucked up beyond all recognition...

but, i guess that's just how we roll...yo.

x.

i guess this must be how joseph felt.

so, our new kitties, chico and the man?...well, the man finally made it back about 4 days after we came home with chico...she returned to her former apartment and we went and picked her up...

they are the bestest kitties EVER!...sweet, wonderful kitties...

except about 3-4 days after we got chico i noticed something was amiss...as in she seemed a bit full, girth wise, and had some other *noticeable* signs of pregnancy...

yup. this *strictly* indoor kitty who did need to be fixed came to us in a fix...i took her to the vet and sure enough she was about a month along...good. lord.

i don't want to say they knew and didn't say anything, but i am a natural cynic...fuckers.

but i love chico and am glad she's with us...babies and all.

at least the man came to us fixed...

that was two weeks ago.

fast forward to late last week.

i started suspecting something was amiss with the man...as in she seemed a bit full, girth wise, and has some other *noticeable* signs of pregnancy.

IMPOSSIBLE you say, as i did, she's FIXED!!

parasites? bloat?

we took her to the vet and sure enough she's pregnant...and no, she's never been fixed...and due about two weeks behind chico...

two pregnant cats.

i am having a very hard time, at this point, giving the benefit of the doubt to the former owners. double fuckers.

they had to have known...at least that something was up...i don't think immaculate conception extends to the feline set...

anyhow, again, i love these kitties so i guess it was meant to be...i certainly am glad they are with us and not in the care of their former owners...so i guess it all worked out...

except for the fact that i didn't want an actual kitten to begin with and now i'll have a whole passel of them...figures.

the whole point of this acquiring of the kitties was to placate the boybarian's want of a new baby sister or brother...now with my next few months taken up with two pregnant cats and a subsequent house full of kittens, i'm thinking it would have just been easier to have a baby myself!!

kidding! lord, i am sooooooo kidding!!!

really!! REALLY!

great, just great.

now i've done it.

x.

late evening. tuesday. fort building.

two handmade quilts pieced together, each from the idea of a new baby, each with fabric washed with colors taken from the best paintbox ever, and each stitched together with pure pure love from grandma as cover.

two larger than life teddy bears, chosen for their eyes and bow ties (i'm sure) from the other grandma. (so lucky these boybarians are to have two.) add in one larger than life gorilla named george. all three lately forgotten in favor of growing up, growing older...tonight they are, if not "center stage", the stars of the wings as they are critical *flanking* for a weaker side of the fort susceptible to enemies.

two glow in the dark with the touch of a button synchronized watches from pops (stoveman) set to whatever the setting is that connects the troops and furthers the mission.

one box of hot wheels for securing the flaps. heavy. sturdy. available. known.

a bowl of popcorn for necessary re-fueling after an evening of bowling and cousin visiting. not to mention the mission for which the fort is necessary in the first place.

two books, chosen only for grabbable proximity, as securing gear for top of fort to anchor on table.

che; a memoir by fidel castro
gardenhome; creating an urban haven a parting gift from the recent visit of our dear friends mis and lapu-lapu...

my open and currently being consumed bottle of local red table wine is just there on the table...if i didn't keep picking it up to refill my glass, because of its height and shape and visual interest it could become a crucial tool in the operation (and god laughed at the irony)...for now it has an inexplicable (to me) ring of hot wheels around that seems ever changing.

we are still here.

x.

chico and the man.

we now have cats.

well, cat...as soon as the one who ran away when she figured out what was up comes back we'll go get her too...

apparently, she is kinda skittish and not too social...keeps to herself and only occasionally will join the family for some interaction...

great...a pet with issues...because that's just what i need...sigh...thing is, she'll fit right in...

i'd like to think it was just part of her nature that she bolted rather than something to do with having taken one good look and us and deciding to run like hell...

though i'd totally understand as i have had those days, too...

they are both girls and come as a pair, though they are not siblings...the one we currently have is very very very sweet and seems to have acclimated to her new digs quite nicely...though i think she misses her friend...

we weren't prepared to take them right then...we were just going to *look*...but as these things happen the guy who had them had other ideas and in about 2.5 stale cigarette smoke filled seconds on a filthy apartment building landing COMPLETE with an inexplicable scattering of macaroni and cheese on the welcome mat and a lovely decorative display of silk flowers and color coordinating glass vases in front of the neighbor's door (for ???) we were being handed cats and they were *ours*...

who are we kidding, though...dogs have owners, cats have staff...

though the duke REALLY REALLY wanted to name a cat "calvin coolidge", we aren't going all angelina jolie on them and have decided they are keeping their original names...

they are both sweet names and fit them quite nicely...

and are, as far as you know, "chico" and "the man"...

x.

i can't WAIT for the duke to have kids.

so yesterday the duke had an appointment with our family dentist...

and the dreaded phrase *orthodontic intervention* was uttered...now, it isn't for certain that he needs anything, but our dentist is sending him for a consult...

so i'm trying to explain to the duke what this may or may not mean...what braces are and do, dental appliances, etc...

"these items work so that your teeth don't end up...well..."

"what?...looking like yours?"

you know, there are kids out there who say things like "you are the prettiest mommy in the whole wide world"...i know there are...

x.

knock knock.

the day i sit down to pee and there isn't a knock at the bathroom door or a voice calling through it for whatever it is that is SO damned important it can't wait the 30.5 seconds i actually require to complete my business in peace is the day i won't know what to do with myself...

i fully expect when that day comes i will then need to start taking the phone into the bathroom with me...

"hi. it's me. talk to me, i need to pee"

x.

girl friday.

whaddaya do when you're a 35 year old mother of two living in the middle of nowhere fighting your own personal battle of the bulge and hating the sound of your own voice repeating the same four phrases hourly to the same two boybarians who choose to ignore you and the minutiae of it all just gets to be too too much?

music.

but what if you don't know what you want?...to cry to scream to be taken somewhere else?

you order the following and wait patiently on the porch.

1 cd from an angry rant filled substance fueled brit chick

1 cd from break my heart and bury my dreams and i'll kick your ass alt country chick duo

1 cd from red haired russian waif who will take you into someone else's world of magic and minutiae...if only for roughly 4.5 minutes at a time

and if you weren't such a cheap ass bastard you would have stalked right past the free shipping and threw down actual cash money for the paid shipping and would be listening to something else right now OTHER than the theme to "wonder pets"...

and just because it's friday and you'll likely need some cool catchphrase while you're out clubbing this weekend i will leave you with the following three favorite phrases of the duke...

"well, that's a bust!"

"interesting..."

"what a buncha baloney"

yeah, i don't know either...he's channeling wally cleaver or some small town crook with big city dreams...

dude, if it gets worse i'm totally putting the angry brit chick in his walkman...

x.

beware the ides of march.

"well, the ides of march are come."

though as far as i'm concerned, i'd say every day around here is fodder for a shakespeare play!

the ides of march means it's almost st. patrick's day (fucker.) which means it's almost spring (yea.)

when i was little, around this time we'd start practicing for the may festival...the may festival was a yearly event involving the third through sixth grades of my elementary school...don't quote me on that...in fact i had to call my little sister just to get many of these facts straight...

ah, the good old days when my mind used to be a terrible thing to waste...

basically, the whole shebang was centered around a maypole...the younger grades just did some choreographed dance to music while the fifth and sixth graders actually danced around the maypole with the ribbons until the whole maypole was wrapped in a colorful pattern...

all to 'jimmy crack corn'.

how terribly pagan!...well except the 'jimmy crack corn' part...when i got older and found out what a maypole was all about i was soooo thrilled by our funky little may festival...an elementary school event steeped in paganism!!!...dude!!

but at the time did no one else notice?...or care?...you know they had no idea...because if they did you know there'd be no may festival in short order...

although, maybe not...i mean we still had santa claus in the schools then...and my town still had a sambo's restaurant...when i was growing up, the majority of people and parents just kinda went with stuff...well that's what it seemed like anyway...

not today, though...no sir...it's funny, though...you know with all the campaigns for social awareness/justice, strives for equality, technological and other advances meant to bring us farther than we've ever been, it seems we've been most successful in creating little or no 'wiggle' room in schools these days thus stagnating real growth in awareness...all these amazing tools at our disposal, and yet we have a palpable fear of stepping out of bounds in using them...

there's always got to be some committee to be sure there's not one person who might possibly be offended in the least by the observance or celebration, group or club...

good lord the moment the wrong person or parent gets offended at what something being celebrated or assembled for in the schools might mean then it's all over...maybe not right away, but soon enough...by the time the letter to the editor is written and the news cameras are called out it's all but over...somebody's always getting offended by something and there's always a media outlet at the ready and waiting to be sure the offense gets fast tracked...

of course i'm all for free speech and all the attendant benefits...it's just all the things that don't get said or done as a result of free speech and all the attendant benefits that bugs me...

it seems that with abandoning what might be offensive to some, and not replacing these celebrations, observances, rituals, groups with anything else at all, there is little or no cohesiveness to unite our student bodies...

and no, myspace doesn't count.

a generation of children at loose ends...and we can only guess what will be at the ready to tie them up...

there is so much diversity in this country...instead of homogenizing our schools and communities for fear of offending someone, how cool would it be in our schools to attempt to honor all that diversity?...at least as much as we could?...and good lord not just with the few obligatory posters tacked in the hallway and the few carefully chosen politically correct books facing forward on the library shelves...

but actually honoring and celebrating the days and celebrations and rituals that make us different...and maybe just a little bit the same...

but we don't...we don't because diversity to many is too scary... and because being perceived as different to many is too scary...

i'm just surprised i guess...i'm surprised that the big ol' melting pot is *still* after all these years just about who has the biggest wick....and who's just afraid of getting too close to the flame...

but unlike shakespeare's play, i don't know if there was ever any specific warning for culture at large to heed...though there have been plenty of self-appointed soothsayers along the way...

i know all that has been done (or not) over the years in the schools and communities to eradicate religious, racial, gender, and cultural and otherwise bias has been seemingly with our children's best interests in mind...

but like another great english literary figure said

"the road to hell is paved with good intentions"

indeed.

x.

happy pi day!

so our furnace went kaput.

it was a very pricey kaput, i might add...

so now there are strange workmen in my house lurking about trying to install a whole new heating system...yeah, you heard that right...system.

see, when you rent, your heater breaks and someone comes and fixes it...when you own a hundred year old house your heater breaks and suddenly it's a system.

we are extending the heat into a part of the house that only has wall heaters...so that's good...the wall heaters are expensive to run and not exactly the safest methods of delivering heat...

so by this evening we'll be the proud, not to mention warm, new owners of the mercedes benz of heating systems...minus a boybarian to pay for it all, but hey, sometimes that's just the price you pay...

moving right along, baseball starts soon...you can imagine how thrilled i am...

the problem this year, like saying "baseball starts soon" isn't ENOUGH of a problem to begin with, is that practice number one is in a town 20 minutes to the north of us, and practice number two is in a town 20 minutes to the, well hell i'm not good with directions or geography, but it's 20 minutes in some other direction...

what the hell?...it's baseball...a grassy field, some kids, a bat a ball...is that so hard?...apparently it is...so now we drive...

thing is, there's a mcdonald's on the way to each of the practices...i smell a conspiracy...a conspiracy sprayed with beef juice and fried within an inch of its life...

the totally awesome news is that wingman has decided NOT TO PLAY T-BALL THIS YEAR!!!...

in this league he's still too young for regular baseball, so would be in t-ball again...god what a moronic and irritating practice in futility t-ball is...good lord...

anyhow, not ever knowing my opinion of the "sport", he decided for himself that he didn't like it and wants to wait for baseball...HOO-FREAKIN'-WAY!!!...fine by me...though the liquor store might mourn the dip in their springtime revenues...

we all have our triggers...

in the meantime the search for kitties continues...when i was little there was always a box of cats somewhere looking for a home...where i lived you couldn't swing a cat without hitting a box of kittens...

but no...nowadays you've got to go searching for a cat...hoping you make it just before all the little ones are gone...pet stores, farm stores, shelters...trying to stay one step ahead of the other families out there searching...

there was one cat i really liked...god he was fat...and slightly old...he had that look on his face that suggested he would perpetually ignore you...or eat you...whichever came first...and he was such a bad cat he had to be locked in a dog cage with a big ol' lock because he kept getting out and causing trouble...his name was 'muchacho'...

perfect in every. single. way.

i said

"what about that one"

they all looked at me in horror...like i was nuts...they're all thinking little and cute and cuddly and precious and i want to bring home andre the giant...

and you know the boybarians are thinking god i'm glad mama doesn't date...

all right enough already...time to get back to the grind...but before i do i will leave you with a little treat!

31415926535

a little slice of pi.

x.