Here's my top ten list of things that happened this year:
1) The Reenactor got a different job at his company. This means after nearly 12 years of marriage I don't have to look forward to him working shift hours on nearly every holiday weekend, being called in because something broke, then not coming home except to sleep for two weeks, and his general angst and unhappiness in his former job. He is now stictly an administrative office geek, and we all saw a difference in him immediately.
2) T2 started kindergarten. In spite of the fact that I still hate to have him and T1 gone from the house so much, it is a new day for me to have time during the day to get some things done.
3) Our vacation to Disney. Okay, I complained long and loud about it in earlier posts, and I still think the whole thing is vastly overrated, but the kids did have fun, and it was a joy as a parent to watch them experience it.
4) My trip to NOLA to help with Katrina relief. Even though it makes me angry to my core that so many people are still without adequate shelter and assistance repairing their homes three years after the fact, it was both educational and rewarding to work with such good people who are actually living there and living this nightmare on a day-to-day business. I was so honored to meet Rev. Vance and Fred from C of C. They have a special box of admiration all wrapped up under my tree.
5) Getting the bathroom (s) and kitchen remodeled. Even though our house has been been a complete mess for most of the year, we are getting it together and cleaned up now, and we are happy with the results. Now we're going to sell it!
6) Finding out that I really have good friends as I struggled through some mystery illness/condition for several months last spring. I still don't know exactly what happened to me, but I suspect it was a combination of a too-intense antibiotic mixed with some other meds I was taking at the time to relieve a severe ear infection; mixed up with the stress of The Reenactor's workload (at the time) and many other things. Whatever it was, it was a nightmare. My friends stood by me, and were so supportive. Thanks to you all.
7) Realizing I can say no. And that is my theme for 2008....saying "no."
8) Discovering even more wonderful state parks in So. Ill. Beautiful trails, close to home, all good!
9) My brother moving back to MO. I cried when he called to tell me, and now that we got to spend part of both Thanksgiving and Christmas at his excellent new home, I realized just how much I needed to have more family living in the Ozarks. Sisters, take a hint! We need to all live closer together!
10) T1, T2 and The Reenactor. I hit the jackpot with all of you.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
3 gen
Happy birthday to my son, the finest boy I know. Happy birthday to me. I'm just turning 39, again. Happy birthday to Howard. Out there somewhere he's enjoying the best chocolate cake in heaven.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
the phone call
I ask for your endulgence as I go in a very personal direction today. After my father died a couple of years ago a friend of mine--who had lost her mother the month before--told me that as I grieved I would go for weeks feeling fine, then I would get "zinged" out of nowhere and find myself crying about my parents. Now that both my parents are gone I do find that often I will have a Mom or Dad "zing" out of nowhere and it cuts to my core.
Last weekend I was visiting family in Missouri and had the opportunity to go to a party where there were many people from my hometown. Most of these people were several years older than me, but I remember them from church and school activities of my youth, and it was great fun to talk to them. At one point a woman I don't know or remember, when finding out my maiden name, said, "oh I had your Mother as my teacher in fourth grade." I immediately got "zinged" when she said that. My mother taught school in a one-room schoolhouse in a rural part of our county before I was born. It is very unusual for me to meet one of her former students. The woman continued, and told me that my mother was an "awesome" teacher. A while later I met a man I personally didn't know, but recognized his name. When he asked who I was and I told him who my parents were (in trying to figure out the hometown family tree) he said that my dad had been a regular customer at his tractor parts store for years. He said that my dad was one of the finest men he ever met, and that he (my dad) always treated him with nothing but courtesy and respect.
What those two people didn't know is that they gave me the best Christmas gift I got this year...a new memory of my parents.
Later, at my brother's cool new/old house, I got another "zing" just standing next to a piece of furniture that belonged to my parents, and now has pride-of-place in the dining room at The Edward's home. As long as I can remember this desk/hutch served sentry over family meals and gatherings in our childhood home. It held my mother's collection of cookbooks, and the cubbyholes in the desk were full of her notes to herself, and an odd assortment of snapshots. The drawers had a peculiar wood/musty/barn smell to them when pulled out that is seared in my memory. The first time I visited The Edward's house at Thanksgiving I pulled out one of those drawers just to smell it. Still smells that way.
That piece of furniture is once again standing over our family meals, and I find great comfort in that.
On the last night we were in MO I had this moment where I was thinking of what would happen if I dialed my parents' old phone number. It hasn't been in service for three and a half years. Would someone answer? What if someone answered and sounded like Mom? I thought about what it would be like to dial that number and hear my mother answer. For the record, I didn't dial the number...I'm not that far gone...but it was something I mulled over for a long time.
Then the day after Christmas I was listening to NPR, and Writer's Almanac was on. I haven't heard W.A. in a long time, mostly because it is on exactly when I'm taking the kids to school, and I'm ususally listening to XMKids on that drive. On Wednesday Garrison read a poem by Grace Paley called "I needed to talk to my sister..."
Here's the poem:
I needed to talk to my sister
talk to her on the telephone I mean
just as I used to every morning
in the evening too whenever the
grandchildren said a sentence that
clasped both our hearts
I called her phone rang four times
you can imagine my breath stopped then
there was a terrible telephonic noise
a voice said this number is no
longer in use how wonderful I
thought I can
call again they have not yet assigned
her number to another person despite
two years of absence due to death
(I copied this from the W.A. website...here is the copyright info:)
from Fidelity. © Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008. Reprinted with permission.
Last weekend I was visiting family in Missouri and had the opportunity to go to a party where there were many people from my hometown. Most of these people were several years older than me, but I remember them from church and school activities of my youth, and it was great fun to talk to them. At one point a woman I don't know or remember, when finding out my maiden name, said, "oh I had your Mother as my teacher in fourth grade." I immediately got "zinged" when she said that. My mother taught school in a one-room schoolhouse in a rural part of our county before I was born. It is very unusual for me to meet one of her former students. The woman continued, and told me that my mother was an "awesome" teacher. A while later I met a man I personally didn't know, but recognized his name. When he asked who I was and I told him who my parents were (in trying to figure out the hometown family tree) he said that my dad had been a regular customer at his tractor parts store for years. He said that my dad was one of the finest men he ever met, and that he (my dad) always treated him with nothing but courtesy and respect.
What those two people didn't know is that they gave me the best Christmas gift I got this year...a new memory of my parents.
Later, at my brother's cool new/old house, I got another "zing" just standing next to a piece of furniture that belonged to my parents, and now has pride-of-place in the dining room at The Edward's home. As long as I can remember this desk/hutch served sentry over family meals and gatherings in our childhood home. It held my mother's collection of cookbooks, and the cubbyholes in the desk were full of her notes to herself, and an odd assortment of snapshots. The drawers had a peculiar wood/musty/barn smell to them when pulled out that is seared in my memory. The first time I visited The Edward's house at Thanksgiving I pulled out one of those drawers just to smell it. Still smells that way.
That piece of furniture is once again standing over our family meals, and I find great comfort in that.
On the last night we were in MO I had this moment where I was thinking of what would happen if I dialed my parents' old phone number. It hasn't been in service for three and a half years. Would someone answer? What if someone answered and sounded like Mom? I thought about what it would be like to dial that number and hear my mother answer. For the record, I didn't dial the number...I'm not that far gone...but it was something I mulled over for a long time.
Then the day after Christmas I was listening to NPR, and Writer's Almanac was on. I haven't heard W.A. in a long time, mostly because it is on exactly when I'm taking the kids to school, and I'm ususally listening to XMKids on that drive. On Wednesday Garrison read a poem by Grace Paley called "I needed to talk to my sister..."
Here's the poem:
I needed to talk to my sister
talk to her on the telephone I mean
just as I used to every morning
in the evening too whenever the
grandchildren said a sentence that
clasped both our hearts
I called her phone rang four times
you can imagine my breath stopped then
there was a terrible telephonic noise
a voice said this number is no
longer in use how wonderful I
thought I can
call again they have not yet assigned
her number to another person despite
two years of absence due to death
(I copied this from the W.A. website...here is the copyright info:)
from Fidelity. © Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008. Reprinted with permission.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
the Birds
We were overtaken Sat. by a herd of black birds. My guess is that there were thousands in this flock, and were probably heading through our area ahead of the big snow/ice storm that was north of us. It was a bit Hitchcock-esque watching them all land in the yards around us, virtually covering the ground with a mass of black, chirping, squawking movement.
Our cat was about to lose her mind watching them. She was running from window to window and twitching with energy to get out there and hunt.
Click on the photos to see them a bit larger, and you get a better idea of how many there were.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Peace on Earth
Last night at bedtime T1 asked me in a hushed, tearful tone if we were going to be bombed. "Do bombs happen here?" she asked.
It's one of those gut-clenching parenting moments, when you hover on the precipice of being honest, or being cheerfully dishonest. T1 is no fool, and she is very tuned in to things she sees or hears at school, or from friends, so I have to be careful in my approach to such a question.
I asked her why she was asking, and it turns out that while helping me find a "write a letter to Santa" website, she had briefly seen the CNN website, with a photo and headline of a car bombing in Algiers, and because she is really getting good at reading, was able to make out two words..."car" and "bomb."
I explained to her that the photo she saw was taken on the other side of the world, and not close to us, but my mind was thinking of the fact that somewhere in Algiers, or Iraq, or Isreal, a child just like T1 was asking her mother at bedtime why a car blew up outside her school today, or why her friend was killed when she went grocery shopping with her daddy.
T1 asked me why do people have wars. I was tempted to launch on a tirade against presidents who knowingly send our soldiers into a country where we have no real quarrel to start a war that never should have been started, but it was late, and I didn't want to keep the poor child up for hours while Mommy ranted.
This is a question that when you look at it from the simplicity of a child's perspective is something every person should ask. What good does it do? What possible good comes from bombs? It is so sad that 2000 years after Christ was born--bringing the message of peace and love to all of us--we are still keen to senselessly kill one another.
T1 asked if she or T2 would ever have to be soldiers. God help us all, I hope no mothers have to send their children to war by the time they are grown up.
It's one of those gut-clenching parenting moments, when you hover on the precipice of being honest, or being cheerfully dishonest. T1 is no fool, and she is very tuned in to things she sees or hears at school, or from friends, so I have to be careful in my approach to such a question.
I asked her why she was asking, and it turns out that while helping me find a "write a letter to Santa" website, she had briefly seen the CNN website, with a photo and headline of a car bombing in Algiers, and because she is really getting good at reading, was able to make out two words..."car" and "bomb."
I explained to her that the photo she saw was taken on the other side of the world, and not close to us, but my mind was thinking of the fact that somewhere in Algiers, or Iraq, or Isreal, a child just like T1 was asking her mother at bedtime why a car blew up outside her school today, or why her friend was killed when she went grocery shopping with her daddy.
T1 asked me why do people have wars. I was tempted to launch on a tirade against presidents who knowingly send our soldiers into a country where we have no real quarrel to start a war that never should have been started, but it was late, and I didn't want to keep the poor child up for hours while Mommy ranted.
This is a question that when you look at it from the simplicity of a child's perspective is something every person should ask. What good does it do? What possible good comes from bombs? It is so sad that 2000 years after Christ was born--bringing the message of peace and love to all of us--we are still keen to senselessly kill one another.
T1 asked if she or T2 would ever have to be soldiers. God help us all, I hope no mothers have to send their children to war by the time they are grown up.
I'm not alone!
My niece emailed to me a website link last night, from a commecial she had seen on her local television newscast. I am so thrilled to find out that there is an entire website devoted to the same angst over WM that I have shared with all of you in this blog for nearly a year. At first glance it appears to be chock full of information about WM's terrible employee compensation, dependence on manufacturing in China, and other just crappy ethical behavior, to KEEP THOSE PRICES LOW.
Here's the link:
http://wakeupwalmart.com
Here's the link:
http://wakeupwalmart.com
Saturday, December 8, 2007
the Happiness of Bubble Lights
Since my Christmas lights are out of reach in the dark recesses of our storage shed, and I've got too many other commitments this year to spend much time trying to get them out, I went ahead and bought all new lights for our new Faux Christmas tree this year....first one ever for me. I've always been a purist when it comes to Christmas trees, and purchased "live" (actually "dead" since they had been cut down) but this year a friend turned me onto a deal I couldn't turn down...a $20 artificial tree at a surplus place here in my town. The tree actually looks remarkably good, and since I need a decent tree this year, with no wilting, browning of limbs, or whatever, I bought it.
So anyway...I went to a big box store (NOT WM!!!) to buy lights, and there, in the midst of all the lights were bubble lights. The good old "retro" lava-lamp bubble lights. My brother has had them on his tree for years, and I've always admired them. I was further convinced to buy them since they were on sale, and once I got home started stringing lights on my God-Knows-What-Sort-of-Manufacturing-Conditions-In-China tree. The regular lights all went up quickly, and looked...well...okay. Then I added in the bubble lights. T1 and T2 were immediately thrilled with them, as was I. In fact, I kept looking at them all night. Every time I walked through the room I looked at my bubble lights. Here's what I will say about them, they make me smile. They just are so happy looking.
So there. If you are having bad week, go out and buy bubble lights.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
How depressing
I live in one of the top three most depressed states in the US. A recenty survey identified my Commonwealth as one of the top three, lagging only behind Utah. Turns out because there is a general lack of funding for mental health care here, so we are suffering from an abundance of untreated depressed people.
This doesn't surprise me.
The study went on to note that the states with the largest counts of people identifying themselves as "depressed" were also the least educated states.
I'm not knocking the idea that there are depressed people out there, I'm knocking the fact that as a society, particulary in the Commonwealth apparently, depression isn't recognized as a health issue and funded accordingly for lower income people.
On the bright side, we do have more smokers than most other states, as well as a higher level of obesity.
Pick me up a bucket of chicken and a pack of smokes on the way home, Buford, I'm feeling blue today.
This doesn't surprise me.
The study went on to note that the states with the largest counts of people identifying themselves as "depressed" were also the least educated states.
I'm not knocking the idea that there are depressed people out there, I'm knocking the fact that as a society, particulary in the Commonwealth apparently, depression isn't recognized as a health issue and funded accordingly for lower income people.
On the bright side, we do have more smokers than most other states, as well as a higher level of obesity.
Pick me up a bucket of chicken and a pack of smokes on the way home, Buford, I'm feeling blue today.
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