It Has Been a Happy Holiday

Silent Night? Calm and Bright?

Asheville was awesome. But I haven't had time to write about it. Wrapping up at work until I return in January, trying to finish Christmas cards, still shopping for kids. Anyone in the Triangle know where I can find a pair of Heelys in a size 13 or 1? That's my mission today...after the party at Spanish For Fun. Last night was caroling at Galloway Ridge in Fearrington with Grace's choir. The hot chocolate ran out so I promised I'd make some when we got home. I made the homemade kind with cocoa, sugar, milk, and vanilla. While that was all out, I decided I might as well bake a couple of pies. Which I did. My grandmother's famous chocolate chess and Karo's famous pecan. I tend to forget how easy some pies really are. There's only about 5 minutes of prep time and the rest is the oven's job. I think a lot of the effort in baking, and cooking in general, is just the thinking energy it takes to plan a menu, buy the ingredients and commit to the time it takes doing it, following the recipe step by step. Anyway, I have two unexpected pies in my fridge now.

Western Otto: If you're reading this, this is for you.

Booba's Chocolate Chess Pie

1 1/2 C sugar
3 T cocoa
mix sugar and cocoa
Add 1/2 stick melted butter...mix well
Add 2 eggs
Add 1 small can of Pet Milk
blend
Add 1 tsp vanilla and a
dash of salt

Bake at 350 for @ 45 min.

The trick with this is to preheat the oven and put the pie crust in first with the racks pulled out, and then pour the mixture into the crust. Otherwise if you try to carry the liquidy pie to the oven, it often makes a mess.

Happy Friday, everyone!

An Example of How My Brain Works

Christmas lights are going up in my neighborhood on all of the regular houses that usually have them up, like the one on the corner with the duck pond out in front. You know it's Christmastime at the duckpond house because they string lights all along the edge of their house and always have one of those lit-up deer out on their short pier, bending down looking as if it's drinking from the pond. I've been worried about those ducks for a long time now as I watch their surroundings dry up as the drought worsens. This year I noticed that the owners put the house lights up and on but not the deer. My first thought was that maybe it had something to do with the drought and the idea that the deer shouldn't be drinking from a water source where every drop counts for those ducks. Like it's un-PC or something.

As If I Needed Something Else to Fret About

Since exams and papers have long been turned in, I now have something new to fret about in my dreams...whether or not I've put enough butter in the lima bean/asparagus casserole. If you're not familiar with this dish, it was a holiday staple growing up in my family. Cook some lima beans, throw in some fresh or canned asparagus, add a can of cream of asparagus soup, top with cashew nuts and bake until bubbly. It's a delicious dish even if it doesn't sound that way on paper, I mean on screen. I haven't fixed it this year as we went out for Thanksgiving and Christmas has yet to arrive. But it made an appearance in my dream last night as the kitchen cast prepared a meal at Chapel Hill's Community Kitchen on Rosemary Street.

In real life, I got an e-mail from my church asking if I could help prepare and/or serve the lunch meal at the Community Kitchen on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I was already going to take some time off to go to Grace's program at school so I thought, what the heck, it's something I've always wanted to do, so why not.

I got there about 9:30 AM for all the cooking and prep required to get a meal ready for 100 people by 11:30 AM. There was fruit to cut up, meat to cook, side dishes to bake, bread to cut up and my job? To dole out 100 individual pieces of dessert (cake, cupcakes, cookies, pies, etc). The kitchen scene reminded me of the kitchen at camp where I worked for two summers but with real adults doing the fixing, not kids out of college for the summer. It was one of those times where I walked into the unknown, to a well-oiled machine with a head staff person leading the volunteers and a head volunteer leading all of us. I was the new person that wanted to jump in and start getting desserts ready without having to ask a lot of questions, but there were a lot of questions to ask. Where were the desserts? Where would I actually do my work? Where would I put the hundred servings of dessert? Where were the knives, etc? I tried to learn quickly and stay out of everyone else's way...especially the ones with the sharpest knives.

I found the cooler with all the Harris Teeter cakes and pies and cookies, and the homemade stuff too, and the rule was, if I wouldn't eat it, then I shouldn't put it out to serve. I checked expiration dates on marble cream cakes and made my own judgements about whether to put out the puff pastries again. I found out that putting cupcakes on napkins was easier and less messy than cutting into cherry and blueberry pies. I found that my job invloved a bit of quality control as in how would I know if the pumpkin cheesecake was fit to serve the Community Kitchen guests if I didn't sample a bite first? My colleagues agreed. There was a lot of sampling going on. I learned that I wasn't the newest one by walking up to a middle-aged man to ask him, since he's been doing this longer than I have, if he thought one day past the printed expiration date would be ok. He said that he'd been there a total of twenty minutes longer than I had and that my guess was as good as his.

I learned that once everyone got into a groove with their jobs and had been working for about an hour, that the conversation moved more from "Do we need any more apples in this fruit salad?" to "Have you seen the new UNC basketball uniforms? They look good on the players!" Which led to middle-aged church women going ga ga over how Tyler Hansbrough looks in a jersey and shorts which led to one of them exclaming, "Ladies, we're old enough to be his mother!" Which lead me to exclaim, "I'm old enough to be his mother!" Which led to a moment of pause.

I got all of the 100 dessert pieces ready to be served but had to leave before the serving actually began. I had a great time working with that team in such a tangible way. I thought we were preparing a holiday meal, but we weren't. This is what they do every single day for people who live at the shelter and even people who come in to eat lunch for a wholesome, tasty, free meal. Afterall, lots of attention is put on having a meat, vegetable, starch, and dessert at every meal. That's more than I can say my family gets.

So to my dream...I was back in the Community Kitchen, this time working on a vegetable side dish, the lima bean casserole, when one of the team members (a man, not a woman) looked around funny when I was ready to serve it up. He apparently did a "quality control taste" and it didn't pass. I was crushed because I had followed the directions, I'd thought. Then I realized I'd only put 1 tablespoon of butter in instead of 1 stick of butter. We had to throw the whole thing out because we couldn't serve anything we wouldn't eat ourselves.

I guess I have food on the brain due to my restricted diet. The closest thing I've come to eating dessert or anything sweet is last night when I sliced up a few sweet potatoes, put them on a baking sheet, drizzled extra virgin olive oil on them then sprinkled generously with salt and pepper and baked at 400 degrees for about 15 minutes. They were good. Even Johnny thought they were yum.

Photo Shoot

Last summer I ran into an old college friend who's recently started a photo decor business in Cary. She needed some models to get some promotional materials up and out so I volunteered my kids. I picked up the photos this past Sat. and have uploaded most of them to my new Flickr account that you can view by clicking here if you're interested. These are a few of my favorites.

I wanted Grace and Johnny to smile and laugh "naturally" but they were all fake laughing and posing for the camera. I had to resort to interspersing "toot sounds" into a song I was singing to elicit the real laugh shown above.

Bad Timing

My latest health adventure involved a trip to Greensboro yesterday to have my first appointment here. When they asked me who referred me, I said, "Suzanne Somers" and they knew exactly what I was talking about. A year ago I was watching Larry King Live and Suzanne Somers was on talking about her new book Ageless, The Naked Truth About Bioidentical Hormones. There was and still is lots of controversy out there about Hormone Replacement Therapy, if to use it, and if so, which kinds, and what authority does Chrissy Snow have on any of this anyway? Long story short, I bought the book, read it, saw where Dr. Webster of Greensboro got rave reviews and decided to give him a try. I didn't actually see him yesterday but will at my follow-up visit in 2 weeks. Although I spent over $200 on supplements and refills of progesterone, I came away feeling good about the overall course of treatment. The last place I went charged me $90 out of pocket per visit to eventually end up saying (after several years of sticking with them) that I would just have to deal with my problems, like migraines, because, really 2-3 full-blown migraines a month isn't that many. The new place accepts my insurance and charges my $25 co-pay and tells me that they will not give up on helping me feel better. Better already.

The bad timing part is that they suspect (and I agree) that I have a systemic yeast problem going on in my insides cause by a compromised immune system, stress, all of that--the stuff that's been going on for about 4 1/2 years now. To heal my intestines and clear this up, they've put me on an anti-yeast medication as well as a strict diet to follow while I'm on the medication. I may need to be on the strict diet for 3-4 months. After that, I can slowly add the good/bad stuff back into my diet if I want. The stuff I have to avoid from today on out is:

• All yeast foods including bread, rolls, pastries, bagels, biscuits, and buns.
  
• Things that have been fermented, aged, pickled, malted, risen and leftovers.
• Avoid alcohol including wine, beer, whiskey, brandy, gin, rum, vodka and other fermented liquors and liquors (that means no spirits all during the holidays including Irish coffee on Christmas morning!)
• Apple cider, root beer, soft drinks, coffee and teas of all types, including herb teas, except Organic Chinese or Japanese green teas.
• Mustard, ketchup, soy sauce, vinegar, pickles, commerically prepared mayo and salad dressing.
• All sugars and all sugar containing foods. Aspartame should also be avoided
• All cheese
• All processed foods
• All fried foods
• All fruit
  

What can I eat?

• beef, lamb pork, rabbit (I've missed my rabbit!), buffalo and other game
• poultry ONLY free range and ONLY if cooked to 180 degrees.
• lots of vegetables such as artichoke, broccoli, squash, greens, parsnips, turnips, zucchini, cabbage, garlic (THIS is good news), beets
• limited corn, sweet potatos, winter squash, white potato
• dried beans
• barley, qionoa, millet, teff (I don't even know what those last three ARE), oats, rice, rye, and amaranth (again...?)
• flax seed, pumpkin seed, sesame seed, sunflower seed
• walnuts, cashews, brazil nuts, hazel nuts
• extra virgin olive oil
• NO deep fried foods
• NO grocery store oils
  

Yes to unsalted dairy butter, homemade mayonnaise and dressings.

All of this because there are little elves from Weaver Street that have lost control while baking loaf after loaf after loaf of bread in my stomach. All this right before the holidays and my big trip to Asheville. I am going to become the weird lady who brings her own salad dressing and sits in the corner nibbling on nuts and seeds. All of this so I'll eventually become, I hope the weird lady who nibbles on nuts and seeds that FEELS WELL.

Getting in Trouble

Us Against Them

Why does pareting have to be so hard sometimes? There's definitely a battle of wills going on at our house with Johnny refusing to eat anything other than junkfood and Grace refusing to swallow her medication in some form or fashion. We were told by Grace's doctor that if she couldn't swallow the capsules, then we could empty the contents and mix with a bite of applesauce or two at breakfast. Well that didn't go down well (pun) with Grace because she doesn't ever eat applesauce at breakfast. She gagged and coughed and fought and buttoned her lips and wiggled so much the first day, that we moved to plan B the second. David actually got her to swallow the pills with a few sips of water and we were all, like, way to go, Grace, good job. And for several days she did fine swallowing her pills until one day she didn't. She started gagging and coughing and kicking and spitting til we were like is it even worth all this? She won't eat it in applesauce or yogurt so David had the bright idea of getting the jumbo marshmallows that our kids love so well, thumbing a little well into the middle, pouring the capsule powder in the middle of the well, sealing the top and letting her eat the marshmallow for breakfast in one happy gulp. Didn't work. This morning she knew the first marshmallow was the one with the medicine in it and instead of just eating it already she nibbled a bit here and there waiting, just waiting for the taste of yuk. She did taste the bitter taste of yuk, b/c she took too long. And the gagging and coughing and dry heaving started all over and I'm not sure what we're going to do tomorrow.

In the meantime, Johnny has gotten to where he just doesn't eat supper. It's ok with me if he refuses to eat, because I know he'll eat when he's hungry, but he doesn't eat supper and demands he gets dessert, like a marshmallow. No way, we told him. No supper, no marshmallow. Last night this went on for a l-o-n-g time. It reminded me of the book that David and I read for our two-person bookclub, The Corrections where this father tells his son he can't leave the table until he eats all of his greenbeans. The little boy eventually falls face first into the cold, rubbery green beans, after having sat there for five hours.

We didn't do that to Johnny but we did say, no supper, no marshmallow. We heard all the excuses and still didn't budge. Supper last night was pork barbeque on rolls with baby carrots and grapes. I mean, how hard was that? He ate a few grapes and asked if he could then have a marshmallow. I told him, no, that a growing boy like him needed some protein and he needed to eat some meat. He said he hated protein. Oh really? I reminded him that he liked cheese sticks and that they have lots of protein in them and that if he ate the cheese stick (which he eats like two of every day), he could have a marshmallow. Talk about stubborn. He would not eat the cheese stick. It sat, he whined, it sat, we didn't waver. After over an hour of seeing if we would crack, he told me the cheese stick was just "too long." Ok, I told him, and cut it up and only put one bite and a handful of grapes on his plate in order to get the marshmallow. He. would. not. eat. the. $%&*ng. bite. of. cheese. stick. I then gave him another choice, I said, that if he didn't want the cheese as his protein tonight, he could have a few pecans...and the grapes. He finally agreed to that, ate his stupid protein and got his stupid marshmallow. Later in bed I heard him whispering "sorry" to Santa. I told him that Santa wasn't the only one he should be saying sorry to.

Silver or Black?

Now that my first semester of the MSW program is over (well, almost over...one more exam) I'm really in the mood to celebrate. I got off to a really great start this semester and am encouraged b/c in many ways, this is supposed to be the hardest. It culminated on Friday when I turned in my term paper I'd be working on all...term. So that meant 14 weeks working on it and thinking about it and 14 weeks of phone calls with my dad who guided me along the research and writing process. He sensed my enthusiam all along and encouraged me to keep this particular project going and maybe turn it into a Master's Thesis or Dissertation. We'll see. Other classmates described turning in the paper kind of like giving birth (these were students who, of course, have never given birth). Some people had emotional cathartic reactions while others experienced "dreaming in primary sources." One boyfriend of a classmate said that he was having nightmares about turning in the paper late. I'm glad it's over and that I can get a break from writing academic papers for the next six weeks or so.

I've caught the holiday bug and have started cleaning and clearing my house in preparation for the decorating the kids and I are going to do. I'm also getting excited about the Grove Park Inn/Biltmore House/Asheville getaway Kate has invited me to. We're planning out what we're going to wear on both nights of rather formal festivities. I had settled on this glittery silvery top that I got on Talbots on sale but Kate talked me into wearing my killer red dress that I got last year (on sale). She's right, it looks the best. I said to her the other day that I want my hair and make-up to be perfect when I wear the red dress and she replied, "Then let me do your hair and make-up." Ouch, Kate, don't hold back. My current dilemma is deciding on precisely what shoes to wear and more generally what color of shoes to wear. There's the standard black as black goes with everything, but I have this urge to wear strappy sliver high-heeled sandals and basic sliver (or diamond) jewelry. What do y'all think? Silver or black?

Do We or Don't We?

Johnny wants an electric guitar for Christmas--with an amp. He wanted a Batman car last year (and got one--a lego-sized small version that he's hardly touched in the last eleven months). If he does get one, I'll make sure it's from us and not from Santa--I don't want Santa to peak too early, ya know. Not surprisingly, I'm sure, I'm leaning towards "not." But there is a part of David and me that likes Johnny's declaration that he's not getting his hair cut--even his bangs that are in his eyes--because rock stars have long hair. Like, maybe he was born with a genetic coolness that passed us by and he's destined to perform on stage during the Super Bowl half-time shows rather than tooting in the marching band like me.

Four may be a little young to indulge in such an expensive and loud Christmas wish---but you have to wonder, how many of these guys (and even a few gals) got their start before entering Kindergarten?

Worth It

Two of my favorite things about visiting my family in Boone are the wonderful spa-like showers I take at Kate's place and the impromptu social gatherings held in her lawn or her landlord's back terrace. The water in Kate's tiled shower is hot and has perfect strong pressure and there's always a citrus-lime-scented body wash or scrub that makes the cleansing ritual a perfect experience. I never want to step out of the nourishing steam onto the cold, hard floor tiles, but that just motivates me to dry off and get dressed quicker so I can emerge into her cozy living room kept warm by a blazing wood stove.

The other thing I love (and this also happens at Kate's) are the social gatherings that take place between her friends, our family, Kate's landlord J, and his friends. There's overlap in J's and Kate's circle as J is my dad's best friend in Boone. It makes sense that if we're celebrating a birthday outdoors in her patch of grass (that J actually owns) J is welcome to join in. As are his friends and believe me, J has a lot of friends that steadily stream in and out of his side of the house. Some days J's random friends join us as there is always an extra piece of cake or slice of watermelon to share. Friday, we were the ones that gathered on J's terrace, all bundled up amidst a snow flurry here and there to enjoy fresh raw, steamed, and fried oysters and homemade potato chips. J's friend A walked up as my dad, sister and family were standing around drinking beer, adding hot sauce and slurping oysters out of the shells. That's the way it always happens. Someone extra walks up and instantly there's a party. They thought they were just getting J but they get all of us and we have a widened audience on which to perform all of our family banter. This time J said to A, "Oh, you got my message?" A said, "No, what message?" It turns out that with two bushels of fresh oysters from NC's coast harvested on Wed., J was spreading the word to come on out and help him eat them up. But J's friends should know they don't need a special invitation--when J's home, there will be good food, something good to drink and good company--oysters or not.

Standing in the cold watching my kids try their first oysters (and deciding they weren't yum), listening to Kate and my dad catch up and joke--something they hadn't done for over a year-- David reliving a taste of the ocean from the time we first met (when he ate a lot of raw oysters), and watching J do his outdoor cooking magic--it was unlike any day after Thanksgiving I've ever had---and it was one of the best.

Stuff

Oof, I haven't posted in a week...lots has been going on. Saw Obama at Central, had another paper due, dressed up like a woman from 1899 and did a presentation in class on Katherine Pettit and the founding of Hindman Settlement School in the mountains of Eastern KY. In a sec, I'll drive J to school and then head to Grace's doctor to talk about ADD medication for her (if there ever were a time, the time is now), then I'm going to the Community Shelter with some churchmates to help prepare a meal for the guests. At 1:00 PM I'm going to Grace's school to watch the Kindergarteners do their Thanksgiving Program. Tomorrow we're off to Boone for the day and night to eat T-Giving with my dad at a restaurant. Yes, the plans changed and I'm disappointed. Life goes on. Below is a video from when we went to the State Fair last month...apparently on the busiest day of the fair's history.

On The Verge of Getting Weird

Grace crushes easily. On boys that is. I've already addressed her Boy Craziness here, but I feel the need to address the subject once again. I was hardly ever open about my crushes with my friends, much less my parents. In fact, it wasn't until I announced my engagement to be married that they officially knew that I even liked boys. I did like boys, however, and I do have some early memories. Apparently I had a little boyfriend named "Rocky" in Kindergarten but I remember nothing about him other than vague images of him always wanting to start a fight. Then in first or second grade, I remember one of my brother's friends (who's two years older) knocking on our door one afternoon. I remember saying, "Daniel's not here," and him replying, "I'm not here to see Daniel, I'm here to see you." That was enough to spark a crush. Other than that, my crushes were very private, especially from my parents.

In Junior High I'd play these little games with myself while I was practicing the piano. I'd do things like, if I play these two lines without messing up at all, it means he likes me. Or when we were driving around town if we'd be in his neighborhood, I always imagined that maybe, just maybe, he'd be outside just at the time we were driving by and maybe, just maybe, he'd see me. The potential kept the thrill alive.

In High School I had a lot of crushes that I kept pretty much to myself. There was this one new guy (who was also friends with my brother) that was the coolest thing to blow into town. He was in my English class and my friend R had a major crush on him. Little did she know, so did I. I never told anyone about that crush but I feel like I may have been busted when Daniel caught me writing this guy's name over and over and over and over on a sheet of notebook paper. The whole sheet of paper was filled up with his name. On the verge of getting weird. Grace is on the verge.

She is currently obsessed (and yes, it's a full-blown obsession) with a little boy at school, we'll call him "K" who is her teacher's son. K isn't in Grace's class, but they do see each other at recess and for special activities. It's K this, K that, tell a story about K, Mommy. Grace's two favorite things these days are 1.) playing around on the computer and 2.) hearing stories about K. When Grace acts up and does things like pulls Johnny's hair because there are no eggs left for baking pancakes (?), her consequences are 1.) no computer time and 2.) no stories about K.

She demands so many stories about K all day long that it's beginning to drive me nuts. Tell me a story about K Trick-or-Treating, Mommy; Tell a story about K going to the doctor; Tell a story about K going to school. Tell it, Mommy, tell it. When I suggest to Grace that she tell me a story about K, she says, "No, Mommy, you tell it." I am so tired of making up stories about K that I've gotten to the point that I actually look forward to her first infraction of the day so I can take that priveledge away from her. On weekend days, I've come to limit my stories about K to 6: 2 in the morning, 2 in the afternoon, and 2 in the evening. No more!

In addition to wanting to hear stories about K, Grace reports every little thing about him that she can remember during the day. His tummy hurt, he's fine now, he said "Bye bye" to me, he danced like this, his middle name is Scott, he said "Go" to me today. "He said 'go' to you today?" "Yes, Mommy, on the playground when it was my turn to go down the slide, he said, 'go.' He actually did." Yesterday he didn't actually say anything to her but she reported that he looked at her. (He really did). The other night Grace said she wanted to dream but she didn't know what to dream about. I told her that she could dream about K and she was like, "Really, Mommy? I can dream about K?" "Yes, Grace, and you never know, he may dream about you too."

Grace told her teacher that she had a crush on K. I'm not sure her teacher quite knows what to make of it but I've decided to lay off on my daily reports to her of what Grace says about K because we're currently towing the line between isn't that cute and on the verge of getting weird.

While I Was Studying

Coffee Talk #1

At the Starbucks on the corner of Weston Parkway and Harrison Ave. in Cary, this past Thursday on my lunch break:

Me: What's brewing right now?

Worker: Blah, blah, and Christmas Blend.

Me: I'll have a grande, Christmas Blend, black.

Big Bald Guy standing beside me at the counter: Black Christmas. That doesn't sound too good. (Looking at the piece of Red Velvet Cake he's just paid for) My wife makes the absolute best Red Velvet Cake. I want to see how this one stands up.

(Later at the tables after I've taken a few sips of coffee and he's taken a few bites of cake)

Me: So, how does it measure up?

Big Bald Guy: My wife's is a 10...this is a 4 or a 5.

Me: Oooh

BBG: (takes another bite of cake). This is too airy. Red Velvet Cake is not supposed to be this airy. It's supposed to be dense.

(A businessman who's been eavesdropping whips around)

Business Man: Now, what did you say was too airy?

BBG: This piece of Red Velvet Cake. It's supposed to be dense.

BM: Oh, I know. My wife is an expert baker. In fact, we're opening a new restaurant soon.

BBG: Oh, really? Where??

BM: In Gulf Shores, AL.

BBG: Oh, that's a beautiful area. Hey, lemme run out to the car and I'll get you a copy of my book. It's about marketing for small businesses.

(BBG leaves, comes back in seconds later with a book)

BBG: What's your name? I'll sign it for you.

(He inscribes the book. Business Man #2 walks up to BM. BM turns away from BBG and starts working on his computer...BM#2 walks away)

BM: My boss doesn't like it when I talk enthusiastically about the restaurant. I work for (big important IT company).

BBG: Ah. Well, here you are, sir. Do you have a card? I travel to Gulf Shores, AL about twice a year.

BM: Sure (hands BBG his card). (with a gleam in his eye...he has a nice smile) Is there any recipe that you're dying to get your hands on?

BBG: (thinks for a moment). Pie crust. I'd love a recipe for the perfect pie crust.

BM: You got it.

The two men shake hands and BBG says: Keep smiling. (He looks at me and says, "He has such a nice smile, don't you agree?") I do agree.

BBG: So, are you in marketing too?

Me: Oh, no. I'm in grad school studying to be a social worker. And I work up on Weston at a private, non-profit. My husband is the VP of a non-profit in Carrboro and he's big into marketing right now.

BBG: Oh, lemme run out to my car and get you a book too. You can apply these principles to non-profits too.

Me: Oh, well, you can't give two of your books away in one day.

BBG: (as he leaves the store) You can never give yourself away.

So he gives me a book, we chat for awhile about the book and he signs it for me and tells me he hopes my husband likes it. I think, I hope my husband likes it too. That's one less Christmas present I have to buy. But I decide not to wait for Christmas, because I want to tell David the story. He shows me this absolute terrible marketing book he bought that says stuff all the way through it like: "B-I-G IDEA: Death of Distance. big idea: VALUE=V-R-R-O-O-O-O-M!" David is skeptical that the book I got from the stranger will be any better.

He gets a few pages into it this morning and tells me it's not really that bad. Other than the title, "dog eat dog & vice versa," because isn't the "vice versa" a little redundant? He does have a point.

I'm Beginning to Get It

I have to admit that I've never been a Radiohead fan. It's not that I hate them or anything, I just have never understood what the big deal is about them and how so many people can think they're so it, including my husband. So, I never saw this day coming, but I'm going to write about a Radiohead song.

The evening routine at my house has morphed into bath, brush, stories, and music. We used to do it differently when the kids were younger, but for about a year or so, after the kids have bathed and brushed we all four congregate in Grace's room for family story and music time. Either David reads to them or I do, and while one parent is reading, the other either just listens or silently reads something of their choice on their own. After we've exhausted the stories, we turn the light off and pick a CD to listen to while the kids fall asleep and David and I lie there and listen. To those of you who say, "Cut the cord, let the kids fall asleep on their own!" I say, "Quit talking so loud, I can't hear the music." It's become my favorite part of the day, after the physical and emotional stress and labor of everyday life. A chunk of my day dedicated to lying there in peace, listening to as much or as little of a CD of good music. The CDs in rotation are all music that David and I like, not necessarily kids' lullabies (but not necessarily not, either). We've listened to Sarah McLachlan, Norah Jones, the soundtrack to Garden State, classical and John Coltrane. We're currently on Radiohead's newest release, In Rainbows, thanks to David.

The albums chosen for evening listening have to be primarily mellow and dream-inducing, not fast, loud, and energy-inducing. In Rainbows is perfect. We start off with "Nude" and the kids enjoy listening to the angels sing. It's the only time in my life that I've listened to this much Radiohead at one time. Not so for David. David is "one of those" who has listened to various Radiohead albums over and over and over and over and over at certain times in his young-adult life. I just have never gotten what the hype is all about. I wouldn't say that I've been completely won over, but I'm beginning to get it. Especially with the last song on the album, "Vidoetape."

"Videotape" is slow, steady, and somber, reminding me through timbre and tempo of a funeral procession. In fact, the lyrics do indicate death, saying goodbye and reaching above but being pulled from below. The song is in 4/4 time all the way through, suggestive of a march. Piano chords alone keep steady time through quarter notes for the first few bars then joining the piano are snare-drum beats on beats 1 and 3. The tempo never changes, but more percussion is added to provide swell and crescendo. Next I hear what sounds like a rolling timpani drum beginning the rolls slightly before beat 1 to end with the snare and piano on beats 1 and 3. As the song continues, a symbal is introduced, I think a high-hat, but played with a stick, not pedal. This is where the steadiness deviates as the symbals tap inconsistently to what has been going on so far. The most interesting element, however, is when the glockenspiel is introduced (at least I think it's a glockenspiel) adding this hard-to-figure-out percussive element of both dissonance and resolve. I've had to listen to this part over and over to determine if what I'm about to say is even true, but I've decided it is true...it's my true perception. The first time I heard this song was the other night as I was drifting off into dreams just like Johnny and Grace but was conscious enough to think, "Wow, there are some really interesting things going on here." When the glockenspiel-sounding instrument is introduced, it both fits with the 4/4 time and doesn't. It's dissonant and resolving, unpredicatable and predictable, mysterious and comforting. The glockenspiel taps out three notes that somehow incredibly start off before beat 1 but end on beats 2 and 4. At least I think that's what I remember happening.

That's the thing...it caught me the first listen and since then I have listened several times over to figure out exactly how they've pulled off the persussion in this tune. I think I have it figured out, but I'm not sure. It's simple and complex. It's simply complex. Like I gather most of Radiohead's music is like. Whatever's going on, it's interesting. Interesting enough to ask David to dig out his worn-out Radiohead CDs so I can have a closer listen.

Thanksgiving Plans

Holidays are still quite hard for me without my mom because she made them what they were. Sometimes we would spend Thanksgiving in Boone, just the 5 of us, and sometimes we had a few people join us there. Often we traveled to Baltimore and the DC area to spend it with my mom's extended family until my parents decided they never wanted to be on the I-95 corridor during Thanksgiving weekend ever again. The last Thanksgiving in Baltimore was acutally my favorite. Above is a photo taken that year of the second cousins 19 years ago when I was 16. This is the year that my cousin Gabe (bottom row, third from right) taught his sister Welcome (sitting beside him) and Kate and me the wonderful card game Spades. The four of us played cards for hours while the adults drank whiskey and told stories. We didn't care what they did, and they didn't care what we did and we all had fun.

To me, Thanksgiving means the more, the merrier. Since my mom died, we haven't settled into a Thanksgiving tradition that we can all count on. And that's ok, because it's time for me to start my own things with David and the kids. But I'm really thrilled because we've lined up what we're going to do this year, and that is to drive up with my dad to his old college friend's Christmas tree farm in VA and spend the day with his family. This is the same friend that recently heard that my dad had died. The same friend whose granddaughter is in Grace's Kindergarten class. Many years ago, when we first moved into our house in Chatham County, my mom told me that S. C. (the daugther of my dad's college friend) also lived in Chatham County, and that there were like 12 things that S. C. and I had in common.

1. We're both named Sarah C.
2. We're both married to guys named David
3. We both have dads named Bill that used to go by Billy
4. We both have the nickname "Birdie"
5. We both have young children around the same age
5. We both live in north Chatham County.
6. We both shop at Lowes Foods
7. We both brush our teeth at night
8. We both like apples

and on and on. S. C. and I never connected until this year at Kindergarten. Her daugther and Grace are in the same class and ever since we discovered that, we've concocted ways to get our dads and daugthers together. B. C. (my dad's friend) had not talked to my dad in years because he (B. C.) was terribly upset about my mom. He was afraid that if he called my dad, he would bring up my mom and that it would upset my dad and then hearing my dad get upset would make him really upset. The rumor about my dad dying got B. C. and my dad talking again. The silence has been broken and now we're all planning to meet up at the Christmas tree farm to eat well, drink well, let the kids run around, play music, and let the two Billys tell all of their old stories. I can't wait.

Costumes

People (read: Aunt Kate) have been asking to see pictures of the kids dressed up for Halloween. Halloween dress-up began a week ago and continues even through tonight. My kids couldn't have been anything more predictable (Cinderella and Superman) but they were pleased and that's all that counts. Click here to see them in costume last week at Chapel Hill Comics, David's new favorite place to take them every Saturday. For showing up in costume, they each got a free comic.

A Peak Into Spanish For Fun Academy

David does the website and the blog for Spanish For Fun Academy. A video and pictures from today's Halloween party are already up (and I'm thankful because I didn't get to go). If you're interested, check it out...but be sure to scroll down and watch the clip of "Having some fun!" It's a great slice of life at the school for anyone who cares.

Cindabird

Props to my friend Tom Klubens-Photographer who whipped up this image in minutes upon my request. Tom is a talented photographer, veteran skateboarder, and all-around cool guy who used to drag Kate and me to High School back in the day. He drove fast and made us listen to the Misfits, Danzig, the Dead Kennedys or other like-minded old-school punk. He reminded me that I wrote in his yearbook our senior year, "Riding to school was both life-threatening and a great way to start the day."

Bizarre, Just Plain Bizarre

I got the strangest trick and treat ever yesterday when one of my dad's old college buddies called me to ask me if I'd heard the rumor. What rumor? That my dad had died. That was the trick (except it wasn't intended to be a trick. People thought it was true.) The whole story is so bizarre that I will have to collect my thoughts and the details for a proper post sometime soon. The treat is that my dad is alive.

Pulling One Over on Starbucks

I've settled into a pretty regular routine of going to yoga on Sundays from 4-5 PM and then to Starbucks for a couple of hours of reading/studying. Occasionally I drink regular coffee at that hour (and later), but as I go there mainly for an optimal place to study--free of incessant kid chatter and the site of dirty dishes--I feel obligated to buy something, and that something usually includes a Grande, black, decaf. Starbucks patrons probably know that if you ask for some type of coffee drink that has to be brewed, the drink's on Starbucks. Every single time I've gone there to order a decaf coffee, they've had to brew it, and I've gotten my beverage for free. I guess the vast majority of people buying coffee at Starbucks at any hour buy regular doses of strong java. And that Starbucks is confident with their gamble that they'll save more money in the end by not regularly brewing decaf and having a few customers a week asking for it, rather than always having a fresh pot of decaf brewed and only having a few customers a week asking for it. I'm not complaining--I'll keep taking my decafs on the house.

All My Kids Have Ever Needed to Know (So Far) They've Learned From the Movie 'How to Eat Fried Worms'

I think I've mentioned here before that Grace's and Johnny's favorite movie is 'How to Eat Fried Worms.' The 2006 movie was made from the book of the same title by Thomas Rockwell. David and I have thanked our lucky stars that this movie, with real kids, real humor, and real gross-out scenes, is the one they love most than, say, 'Elmo in Groucholand' or 'Dora Does Dallas.' We don't get tired of watching this movie any more than they do.

It's a classic tale of middle-school kids and the trials that occur when a new boy arrives at school and upon being challenged by the school bully, claims he can eat 10 worms in one day. Each character has a distinct role: Joe is the Bully, Billy, the new kid, Bradley's the timekeeper, Benjy, the cooker. There's only one girl name Erika that is tall and smart and the boys call her"Erk." Grace and Johnny bust out into 'Fried Worms' characters quite frequently and sometimes it takes me awhile to figure out that they're playing. When Johnny pushes Grace down the floor and she doesn't object--I realize they're enacting a scene from the movie, and that, therefore, the act of aggression is "play." When I kiss Grace in the morning and she hisses, "GET AWAY YOU BIG GIANT!" I am not at all offended...it's a line from the movie. When Johnny asks to wear my rings on his fingers (the bigger the better), I understand that he's playing Joe, the bully, with his intimidating death ring...that when used to punch out 10-year-olds, it will cause them to die...but not immediately...in the 8th grade.

A favorite scene in the movie is when "Adam" dances to Crazy Frog's 'Get Ready for This' on the dance dance revolution video game. The kids flipped out when they saw the video game at the bowling alley a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, the 'Adam' song wasn't one they could choose from on the game, and the kids were disappointed. David went home and fixed that with this video. It's my favorite video that he's done so far but apparently a 14-year old kid who found it on YouTube wasn't as impressed. David got his first comment (which he deleted) from this movie clip that said, "This is just dancing and bowling. You suck." Classic.

It's That Time of Year Again

Every year around this time I get a hankerin for haystacks, those tasty little butterscotch treats that your mom probably used to make. Every year I make them, eat too many, and then end up not wanting another haystack for a l-o-n-g time, precisely, for another year. I made a batch last night. At first Grace and Johnny were dubious (as in, "We don't want to eat hay"), but they ended up liking them just as much as I do. In case you want to try yourself:

BUTTERSCOTCH HAYSTACK CANDY

2 (6 oz.) pkg. butterscotch morsels
1 (6 1/2 oz.) can peanuts
1 (5 oz.) can chow mein noodles

Melt morsels over medium heat. Stir in peanuts and noodles. Spoon onto wax paper. Shape into haystacks.

YUM!

Fall Break

UNC is in Fall Break so I don't have class today. Yippee! And how do I plan on spending the day? Here's how:

1. Go to the gym
2. Go eat lunch with Grace at her school
3. Go for an hour-long massage
4. Go meet some classmates at Wilson Library's Rare Books and Manuscripts section (we are wild and crazy, aren't we?)
5. Spend some time in Johnny's class
6. Order a pizza
7. Watch a movie with David

Other news...

Grace's teacher asked me if I was expecting another baby. I thought, omg, do I look pregnant? But, no, Grace told her teacher that I told her last night that I was having another baby. Part of me wishes and part of me wishes not.

Oprah has a thyroid disorder too. Big whoop. If I had one month where I could go "rebalance" in Hawaii, I'd probably feel a lot better too. I'm not feeling your pain, O.

Gotta work on my Halloween costume this weekend. Gonna step up the Cinderella get-up this year in a big way. Stay tuned.

Check This Blog Out...It's "Hilarious"

http://quotation-marks.blogspot.com/

From the Desk of My Husband-The Vice President

Below is word for word an e-mail that David sent all staff at his place of his employment. I love it.

I want to thank the kind employee who left a giant box of mixed-matched coat hangers in my office for “any client who may have a need to hang some clothing up.”

Remarkably, this fills a need at this time. The Nothing to Hide Coalition, of which I am a part, tentatively had plans for a November “Coat Hanger Drive,” with all coat hangers acquired to be dispersed to “any individual suffering from mental illness in Orange County who may be in particular need of a coat hanger.” (We joked in meetings that we were going to call ourselves the “Nothing on Which to Hang Coalition.” We had a lot of laughs about that.)

Now—with the exception of about eight hangers that I’m thinking I can remove from my wife’s closet without her knowing—we’ve suddenly and abruptly reached our quota. A great need has been met.

The employee who helped out is a kindred spirit with my late Gran Cooley—a JFK fanatical Holy Roman Catholic with a wonderful spirit for extreme preservation and rescue of items that might seem to some as numberless and ubiquitous. Not so to visionaries like these. Gran Cooley taught me about the Great Coat Hanger Shortage of 67. She used to tell me of those dreadful times and say “lest we forget… lest we forget.”

Thanks for all those hangers… they now have a good home.

David E. Cooley

Vice President

Kindergarten Aggression

Grace has gotten mostly greens at school at the end of each day, but last Monday she came home with a red for hitting a little girl in the face. Ok, she punched her. In the face while they were standing in line for music class. For no apparent reason. Grace wouldn't explain to her teachers or to us why she hit this girl. All she kept saying was, "Because I did" and something about the girl not wanting to be her friend. (At least she didn't say "The devil made me do it," my brother's response as to why he carved and defaced one of my mom's antique dressers back in the 70's) My first instinct (after getting onto Grace and letting her know that is never ok to hit someone out of frustration) was to contact the parents and apologize and then explain that Grace has some issues and that it was most certainly an unfortunate impulse that led to the hitting, not intended aggression. But, you know? I don't really know what I'm talking about because I have no idea why Grace hit that little girl. Maybe Grace was mad at the girl. One of my biggest challenges as a parent of a child with special needs is teasing out Grace's behaviors as a result of her disorganized neurology and behaviors that are considered typical for her age and development.

I told Kate about it and Kate told her supervisor and her supervisor told Kate to tell me about her Kindergarten daughter getting into a fist fight in line at Chik-fil-a. This experienced mother wanted to assure me that aggressive behavior like that is fairly common in Kindergarten as kids adjust and socialize to the wide world of school. Then Kate reminded me that she bit a little girl in pre-school but that by Kindergarten she had learned not to do that kind of thing. At school that is. For I distinctly remember Kate biting me on my cheek on top of a bruise I got falling off a see-saw when I was in 3rd grade and Kate in Kindergarten. She bit my bruise. Can you imagine how much that hurt? The scars ran deep. The bite made a scar on my right cheek that caused a dimple when I smile, and when I get really worked up, my dimple scar begins to twitch. The psychological scars took much longer to heal. By 4th grade picture time, I was still highly self-conscious of my dimple and I refused to smile for the camera. I was no longer symmetrical and I considered it a physical defect.

People have commented about how cute it is ever since then and when they do I just want to go up and bite their cheeks. The strangest thing is that Johnny was born with a dimple in his right cheek. No joke.

And Another...

Video of our kids. We just can't get enough.

Sick Daze

Johnny has been sick since Monday evening with a fever and a cough-thing. He stayed home Tuesday and yesterday. On Monday evening, when it was clear he wouldn't be going to school the next day, I began to give him some liquid Tylenol. He squirmed and I told him it would make him feel better. At that he began to wail and said between sobs, "But I don't want to feel better. Because if I feel better, I'll have to go to school tomorrow."

I knew just how he felt. I'm feeling it right this moment. I woke up this morning at 3:00 AM with a headache that I still haven't been able to shake. But since I haven't been able to shake it? I get to stay home from work and crawl back into my cozy bed and snuggle up with the cold side of my pillow.

The Good, The Bad, and the Hallucinations

I've just caught up on some sleep that I desperately needed. I told myself when I started the SW program that I was going to try to avoid at all costs staying up late doing schoolwork. I often have trouble thinking clearly as it is (hormones) so adding lack of sleep to my taxed bird brain is just not a good idea. I violated that "pact" with myself this week trying to get a paper done that was due yesterday. For academic writing, I need lots of time to write many drafts and go over it many many times. I didn't have enough hours this past week to tackle this paper like I should have. I have to make critical choices every week about how to spend my time, and I haven't wanted SW to get in the way of my other priorities in life. It has gotten in the way this week, specifically with my priority of sleeping.

I had done the best I could drafting this paper on how the NASW Code of Ethics is limited in the support of policy practice. Wednesday I stayed up really late and got up really early working on the paper. Then Thursday rolled around and it was crunch time-I had to finish up and do whatever it took to get it done. Thursday, however, was a very busy day. Grace is now in choir at church every Thursday from 5:00-5:45 PM. This poses a scheduling dilemma for David and me, as in, who takes off work early to take her to choir every week. It's something I want to do, so I've done it the last two times. I wouldn't have traded this past Thursday for anything. It was a beautiful day and while Grace was in choir, Johnny and I had a relaxed time walking around Franklin Street. We discovered a new Halloween store right beside Schoolkids Records that I highly recommend--and it sure beats driving all the way to Southpoint Mall. We had a blast looking at all the costumes and masks for grownups and kids. Grace and I already know we're both going to be Cinderella this year, but Johnny and David are having a hard time narrowing down their options. It was fun kicking it on Frankin Street with Johnny, something I had never really done before.

After choir, I drove the kids to Weaver Street to meet David for their standing Thursday evening thing. He was there drinking a beer and I sat down long enough to have one too before facing the realities of the rest of my evening. You probably think that I left Weaver Street to go work on my paper, but that's not what happened. I left Weaver Street to drive to a Speech Pathologist's office to receive a comprehensive report on the results of Grace's evaluation regarding her Auditory Processing disorder. That whole thing is a blog post in itself (about how Grace was first seen in May, then again in Aug. and how the therapist canceled one appointment with me and simply wouldn't return my calls or written notes and how I was getting increasingly pissed because Kindergarten has been in session for a month and Grace's team has been waiting on this report to help guide her interventions...)

But--I showed up Thursday at 7:00 for what turned out to be a very good, detailed, comprehensive report on Grace's strengths, deficiencies and interventions that we need to put into place NOW rather than waiting until 2nd or 3rd grade when she begins to really struggle. At 8:15 PM I began slowly inching out of the therapist's office, anxious about how I was going to get this paper done. I got home, helped put this kids to sleep and then at 9:30 PM picked my paper back up again. I use my gmail account a lot by e-mailing drafts of documents to myself that I can work on a little here, a little there, a little wherever I can. So I logged onto gmail and opened the latest draft that I had e-mailed myself. As tired as I was, I knew I that this was it and that I had to push on through to get this freakin thing done. David stayed up with me awhile working on his own stuff and around 11:00 PM I began to break out into hives all over my body. I was itching everywhere and when I checked myself out in the mirror, I found red welts all over my body. Can stress bring out hives? Something brought them out and for the rest of the night, my fingers were busier than they have ever been in my whole life, alternating between scratching and typing, typing and scratching.

At 3:00 AM I was 4.7/5 finished with my paper. I needed to finish my concluding paragraph, do the title page and the reference page. I was spent and I needed to sleep. I printed out what I'd done so far and headed down the hall to the bedrooms. David was snoring so I went to Johnny's room. Johnny was sleeping in Grace's bed and Grace was sleeping on the floor in her room. I threw 3 weeks' of clean, unfolded laundry off of Johnny's bed onto the floor and as I crawled under the homemade quilt, I realized there were no sheets on Johnny's bed. I got settled on top of the quilt and pulled a clean sheet off the pile on the floor to cover up with. As I got settled in, my eyes gazed on Johnny's door right around the doorknob. I saw this small, black, furry ball creeping down his door slowly. I looked closer. Creep, creep. I turned the light on and nothing was creeping down the door. I turned the light off and the creeping started back. WTF? Light back on, no creeping. Light back off, creeping. I didn't have time for this hallucinatory-nonsense, so I made peace with it, and fell asleep. Until 5:30 AM.

Woke up at 5:30, came in to open the draft of the paper that I had saved 2.5 hours earlier but it wasn't there. I searched all over the computer in every way I knew how until about 6:00 when I made David come help me. He couldn't find the document either. Then I figured out what had happened. When I'd opened the document from gmail, from the internet, even though I'd saved it, I'd forgotten to save it on the desktop or in My Documents, so when I'd saved it, I'd saved it onto some unknown server out in CyberSpace. It was 6:30 and I need to e-mail the paper to my professor before 8:15 when I needed to leave for class. I thought about going to Kinko's with my printed out version so they could scan it in. Frustrated, David admonished me for letting something so underclassmanly cliche happen but gave me hope by suggesting I could probably just type it all over again. That's what I did.

From 6:45 AM to 8:15ish, I feverishly re-typed the paper I'd printed out, and I finished the title page and reference list. I've never been so focused in my life. Grace and Johnny were coming in asking me if they could take this or that to show and tell ("Yeah, sure"), asking me to read the new Dora book ("No, not now. DAVID! Please get them out of here!") and asking if they could wear their new shoes to school without socks on ("YES! Now, run along.) I wouldn't have known if they'd both gone to school without their pants on, and if I'd known, I wouldn't have cared.

At 8:15 AM, I e-mailed the paper to my professor, jumped in the shower, and was out the door by 8:32 AM. Arriving 12 minutes late to class, it was enough for my classmates to check at break if everything was ok, but not late enough that I stood out alone. Two people came in after me. I mostly regretted that I hadn't been able to check one last time for typing errors, but it was either do that or risk getting docked for the paper being late.

After my sleepless, stressful morning from hell, my troubles instantly melted away when I got my first paper back from my second class and discovered I'd made a perfect score. In addition to saying it was an excellent paper, my professor added,

I'm glad to hear that you're actively thinking of ways to decrease your stress level~this graduate program is very demanding and you'll enjoy it more and get more out of it if you can devote adequate time and attention to it.

This paper was an analysis of our personal genograms (family histories and patterns of relationships, medical issues, etc.) as well as our personal ecomaps, (visual representations of the supports and stressors in our lives). I'll leave you with my last sentence of that first paper, the essence pretty much summing up my personal motto:

I am better equipped to make decisions about how to balance my time and energies. I realize, and can apply to clients and their families, that at any given stage we are both the products of intergenerational influences over which we had no control and critical choices that we make every day. With this knowledge I will encourage my clients to live as I do, doing the best with what I have.

Look What I Just Got Invited To...

So, my sister has a relatively new job (2 months) and she's still surprised by little things her company does to build morale. Like this December event that she invited me to. How in the world could I turn this down?

Kate's Annual Company Meeting:

December 16th and 17th at the Grove Park Inn Resort and Spa in Asheville, NC.

December 16th:
4:00pm – Check-in at the Grove Park
5:30pm – Candlelight Tour and Dinner at the Biltmore

December 17th:
8:30am – Free time for me, company meeting for Kate
12:00pm – Enjoy the Grove Park, Shopping, and Spa
5:30pm – Reception, Dinner, and Dancing

Her company is taking care of everything except any shopping and spa treatments! They even have kids' activities lined up Sunday from 5:00-10:00 PM and Monday from 8:00 AM-10:00 PM, if I were to bring kids. But I'm not planning on it.

The Reason I'm Not Blogging Much Lately...

is because I've been working on two SW papers. The one due tomorrow addresses how the NASW (National Association of Social Workers) Code of Ethics is limited in policy practice. I got 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night, not intentionally though. Once I did call it a night, I tossed and turned and then I woke up at 5:30 AM. I'm definitely too old to keep this up.

Mixed Bag

The Five Most Regrettable Acts of Last Week

1. I called one of my new Sunday School co-teachers "Melody." Her name is "Harmony."

2. Melody, I mean Harmony led an activity whereby the adults folded a piece of paper in half, traced the childrens' right hands with their thumb touching the crease of the fold, and then cut the hands out with thumbs in tact on the fold so that when you opened the paper, there was a set of joined praying hands. It took me four tries to get it right to where the hands were actually joined and not two separate pieces.

3. I have this pesky skin problem that I'm self-conscious about. So I use all manners of cover up and concealer on my face when I'm applying make-up in the mornings. The other day, on the way to take Grace to school, I dotted my red spots with concealer (noticably darker than my skin tone) and was going to let it set for a few minutes before I blended it. I walked Grace in, had a serious quick chat with Grace's teacher about some of her issues, and was horrified to get back to my car and look in the mirror to discover that I had forgotten to blend.

4. Browsing around on MySpace I found the site of a guy that I recognized from Grace's school. He looked very familiar at the Open House and I was pretty sure I knew him or of him in undergrad and I was pretty sure he was in a band. I recognized his face and his last name and identified him as the father of a little girl in Grace's class. So I sent him this random MySpace message entitled, "I thought you looked familiar"and proceeded to identify myself as Grace's mom and that we were at Carolina at the same time in the early nineties and how does your daughter like school and hopefully I'll see you at drop-off sometime, blah, blah, blah. I got a very nice message back saying, "Hi, Sarah, that is my twin brother M..."

5. Getting out the door in the mornings is always a struggle. The other day as I shuffled Grace into her car seat and all of my stuff up front, my arthritic thumb gave way and my coffee spilled all over the front passenger seat and all over Grace's sweater that I was going to put on her on the walk up to school. We were both near tears, but by the grace of God, the coffee didn't get on me, and by the grace of Grace, she was fine with wearing her brown hoodie.

The Years Go By

David and I celebrated our 9th Wedding Anniversary yesterday. (Yes, marriage has turned him gray!) I've been going through old pictures of just the two of us (dating back to 1994) and it's fun--and weird--remembering that we had a life together, just the two of us, before the kids came along. You know how anniversary years have specific gift-themes, like the 1st Anniversary is paper, the 5th Anniversary is wood? Well the 9th Anniversary is pottery and willow. A contemporary theme of the 9th Anniversary is leather. Looks like we'll go with that one this year, because we're celebrating big this year...at Van Halen next weekend!!!

How do 9 years of married life look on us?

1 year of wondering together whether Grace will be ready for traditional Kindergarten.

2 years of having fun with this blog.

3 years of my never-ending health issues. The latest is I think I have arthritis in my left thumb.

4 years of diapering, dressing, feeding, bathing, brushing, reading to, hugging, kissing, teaching, singing, buying for, nagging, playing, adoring...times two.

5 years of trying to stick to a set household budget but breaking it everytime if there's book you want to order, a CD you want to download, a pair of J. Crew pants you just have to have or a pizza that I can't live without.

6 years of loving every episode of the Sopranos together.

7 years of thinking our house is too small/too cluttered/too run down in places, and then after one evening of sitting outside our big, private yard, realizing that we love it here.

8 years of daydreaming about going back to Greece someday.

...AND...

9 years of living with, laughing with, and loving your best friend.

This-N-That

Wow, where to begin? First of all, I can breathe again. The summer heat was oppressive, but with the break in humidity, being outdoors is once again enjoyable.

Goodness of Fit
I really, really, really, really, really like the MSW program. I'm taking a History of Social Welfare class and an Individual and Family Development class. I like them both. The difference in undergraduate and graduate school is that as an undergrad, I figured out ways to skip out on my readings so I could have more time for going out; as a grad student, I'm trying to figure out how to find more time in every day so I can do all the reading. Because I want to do all the reading--it's interesting. I love that the field of social work is so interdisciplinary and that already we're incorporating history, politics, economics, sociology, psychology, etc. into class discussions. The Wilmington Massacre of 1898--fascinating! The resiliency of families for individual and group therapy--totally captivating. I entered the program feeling sure I'd go the "Macro-Broad-Based Human Services" route. It took me two weeks to realize that the path I want to take in this program is the "Direct Service-Children and Families" route. Yes I have an interest in macro social work practice and I could see myself as the director of a non-profit social service agency one day. But I'm already the top staff person at a private Foundation, so I know I could get a job in human service administration in the future. What I don't have is the clinical experience and that's what I'm going to take advantage of at Carolina. This program is a perfect fit for me.

Grace
David's observation on Grace and Kindergarten sums it up pretty well. Over the weekend he said to me, "When you were little you liked to play school. Grace is school." Her life revolves around it. She's consumed with it: her teachers, her friends, her activities, her homework, lunch, recess, art, music, PE, being a helping hand, getting a green at the end of the day. She assigns us all different school personnel, and so far I've gotten to be the lead teacher, the assistant, and the art teacher. David got to be the PE teacher and Johnny got to be the lunch lady. She's rockin the sight words and is excelling in Spanish class. (I hope she gets extra credit in Spanish!) She gets Speech Therapy, Occupational Therapy, Physical Therapy and Resource assistance in and outside of the main class. In a recent IEP meeting, the EC coordinator asked whether Grace would feel awkward carrying around a special picture schedule just for her. Her teacher already has Grace figured out. She said, "Well, I don't think Grace would mind...it might be an issue for the other kids, but not for Grace."

In other exciting Grace news, she got her first paper cut last night and we all celebrated accordingly.

Johnny
Johnny (and Grace) got new shoes yesterday and he loves them so much that he asked me if he could sleep in them. I said he could. Flash forward to the difficult teen years--I can picture saying, "Don't talk to me like that, young man, I let you sleep in your new shoes when you were 4."

On the way to a kids' birthday party on Saturday, after a long traffic jam due to the football game, I announced that we were almost there. Johnny said, "I just got a feeling in my tummy like when we go over a tickle bump." I love that he could articulate that sensation. I get the same feeling in my tummy every time I think about the upcoming Van Halen concert.

David
David's the strong and steacy force behind our family that keeps it all together. In the name of recycling, on Sunday he spent a great deal of time disassembling on old futon frame and refurnishing the wood into a structure for the kids. Maybe it's a stage--maybe it's a table without legs, maybe it's a platform that will go in the Tee-Pee he's making. Our maybe it's a skateboard ramp--right in our own backyard.

Another Reason It's Not a Great Idea to Mix Your Personal and Professional Lives

At work when I send out large group e-mails, with the help of our IT guys as the middlemen, I use a company called Constant Contact that sets up professional looking "email campaigns" and keeps up with who's read the email, who didn't get it, who says they didn't get it but really did, etc. So, when people get group e-mails from me when I'm announcing our program calendar or an upcoming lecture or other event, their e-mail message appears in the same format as our company's homepage. It's pretty snazzy.

If email recipients only have "text-only" capability, they won't see the web-page images, but they can still read the text of my message.

So, I recently sent out an "email campaign" and have gotten a few replies that have been truly baffling. A couple have been RSVP responses to an invitation that went out in April, for an event held in April, where people actually replied, "I'm sorry, I won't be able to make it." That little snafu was our IT guys' fault--they didn't clear out the last campaign or something of that nature. They assured me that ONLY people that opened the email with "text-only" capability saw the former invitation and out of 350 + people it was sent to, it's probably not that many.

So, yesterday I get a reply from someone (who's replying to the correct, recent email) and it's all good, but in her reply to me, I notice she has picture attachments, 2 gifs and 1 jpeg. I was curious why she'd attach a picture file to an email reply to me, so I opened the attachments.

One of the attachments was of several images and I only discovered this by scrolling my mouse roller up and down. One was our website heading, one was a spacer, but then--sit down for this--one was of JOHNNY! As a BABY!
It totally freaked me out so I immediately forwarded that message to our IT guys and got the director on the phone and said, "Open the attachments! Are you looking at a PICTURE OF MY SON??" He insisted that no, he saw the webpage header and the spacer and all business-related images, but none of a fresh-faced baby. Without a satisfactory answer from our IT guy as to why this happened, I hung up and immediately deleted all personal photo files I could find on my computer at work. Because, God forbid, what if people accidentally pulled this up?
Or this one?
Or even this?
Or what about this?Well, that would actually be funny.

Good Times at the CVS

Many close to me know that I LOVE shopping at CVS. Not only is it convenient for me to shop there (there's one right up the road from me), I love their merchandise and I REALLY love their end-of-season sales. I have learned, though, that not all CVSes are created equal. A store located near a retirement community might have a larger stock of beach umbrellas than, say, a store located next to a university that might boast the largest selection of beer huggies. So what do I do during the end-of-season mark downs? I travel to all three corners of the Triangle searching for the best CVS deals I can find. I've had my mind on other things this season so when I casually walked into a Morrisville CVS today for batteries and saw the "90% Off Summer Merchandise" sign, I nearly flipped. The pickins were very slim and the only decent things I could find worth buying were 1). A Spiderman sippy cup for .29, 2.) 4 sheets of Spiderman room and window decals for .99 and 3.) a doll that resembles a "Groovy Girl" for .49. I grabbed all three, pretty happy to be getting these treats for my kids for under two bucks. They honestly don't need a thing right now after two big rounds of summer birthdays. But a mom never knows when she might just need that special new thing at just the right time.

When I got up to pay for my batteries and 90% Off Summer Merchandise, this woman with a very Jersey-sounding accent declared, "Oh, my gawd, That doll's aDORable. Where'd you find it"

"Over there, see under the 90% Off sign. But I think this was the last one."

"Oh, it's so CUTE. This little girl in my church would LOVE it."

I smile as I run my debit card through and get my gobs of coupons back that I never use b/c they're never for the items I ever need or want.

"This little girl at church? She doesn't have a doll and this doll would just make her day."

"She doesn't have any doll? Look, she can have this one."

"Oh, my GAWD, Honey, that is so sweet of you. So sweet. Are you shuuuuure? Let me pay for it."

"No really, my daughter doesn't need any more dolls. And no, don't fish out your quarters. I don't want any money."

"Thank you SO much, this is really just going to make her day."

The sale making my day. Me making this lady's day. The doll that's going to make this girl's day. All for less than half the cost of an order of biggie fries.

The Goodness of Colors

Grace's Kindergarten class has a color system to track and report kids' behavior throughout the day. It goes like this:

Everyone starts on green. Green is what you start on and green is what you want to end on. Green is good.

If the child does something against the rules but stops the behavior once the child is reminded by the teacher, the child moves to blue. Blue is ok-- not as good as green, but not as bad as yellow.

You get a yellow, if you are repeatedly told not to do something but continue to do it anyway. Yellow is not good. But it's not as bad as red.

Red is when the behavior doesn't stop after the reminders and warnings, and it requires a note home the parents. You do not want to end the day on red.

At the end of the day, the child's color is recorded on a calendar that gets sent home for the parents to see. Grace has gotten a green every day so far except this past Wednesday, and on Wednesday, she got a yellow. She got a yellow and a note home to us which the assistant teacher explained is not exactly with their system. Usually, a note isn't written home until the child gets a red. But because Grace wasn't clear that getting a yellow wasn't good, the teacher thought to write a note home in hopes we could talk to her about the goodness of the colors.

Grace's infraction is that she won't stay quiet and still during naptime. (No shocker to us). Kids aren't forced to sleep or even close their eyes (if I knew how to force this I'd be doing it on the weekends!) but they do need to remain on their towels and they are not to talk to their classmates. Grace is having great difficulty following these rest-time rules. So, at the end of the day when she got a yellow, her response was "Yay! I got a yellow!"

Wed. evening I explained to her that even though yellow is a perfectly nice color and all, it's not a great color to end the day on. Green is good. Green is what we want to end the day on and you need to try as hard as you can to follow the rules in her classroom, even when it's really hard. David even took it a step further and said that if she got a green the next day and continued to get greens, he would go shopping with her and they could buy some running gear and begin to run together. Deal? Deal. With a hug and a handshake, Grace got it.

Thursday she came home with a green and we all celebrated. Even her former teachers and director at SFFA, where David takes her after school. They all know the system and grill her each afternoon on what color she got.

So yesterday when I checked in with David by phone in the afternoon, he told me that he did something bad. He said that when he picked Grace up from school at 2:45 PM and asked her what color she got, she smiled and said, "Green." "GREEN??? AGAIN??!!" He was furious and reemed her out while her bottom lip eventually began to curl. She sat in the back seat all the way to SFFA with Daddy cross with her for getting a green at school. Again.

They walked into SFFA and the first thing Adriana asked her was, "What color did you get, Grace?" but before Grace could answer, David said disappointedly, "She got green again. Can you believe it?" "But green is good, no?"

When David told me this I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Kindergarten is a major time of learning new things....for all of us.

When All Else Fails, Head to the Great Southern Buffet

All summer, David has been wanting to get our camping gear down from the attic, organize it all, and then for the four of us to go to one of our favorite mountain sites in NC for an overnight camping trip. He hadn't ever even been camping before he met me; but now, some of our favorite memories are from camping trips taken in NC, VA, and CO, both at music festivals, and with the unlikely--but intimate and sorely missed--core group that included my mom, David, me, Kate, Western Otto, sometimes Walter, and give or take a tag-along here and there.

We picked this past Saturday to drive up to Boone/Blowing Rock and camp at the Julian Price Park campground. Due to the knotted-stomach-inducing week I just had trying to get everything done, when Friday evening rolled around, camping--with my kids--was looking less and less appealing. We'd already committed to driving up to the High Country so Daniel and Sheila and my dad could give Grace her b-day gifts from them, and so we could give Sheila and my dad their b-day gifts from us. When I began checking online for available hotel rooms in Boone and the only two options I could find included terrible ratings that were entitled "Room for Hell" and "Meth Alley" (for $98 a night, no less), camping was looking better and better by the minute. But the kids had "hotel" and "free breakfast" lodged in their minds and refused to get excited for camping. I decided that I did NOT want to go camping with kids who did NOT want to go.

The fact that I am compelled to search for available hotel rooms when three of my family members live in Boone--in different residences--both makes no sense to me and at once perfect sense--but even I had to draw the line, impose boundaries, and establish Plan B.

Plan B was for us to meet in Wilkesboro at the biggest kid-friendly buffet we knew about, a place that used to be called Ryan's and is now called Fire Mountain. David's and my astonishment at the amount of food available for consumption was topped only by our astonishment at the waistlines of the collective consumers. David was the skinniest guy in there. People were there to chow.

Our table stuck out--not only because four or the five adults in our party were the slimmest ones in the rooms--but because we paraded in with bags of birthday gifts, and leading the march were Grace and Johnny, dressed like Cinderella, and Superman, respectively. We became a spectacle, but one from which we could all walk away when the evening was done, back to our communities, where, who knows we might have actually been embarrassed at the attention we called. Because, I don't know--is it me? Or do you have family members that redefines all-you-can-eat buffets to all-you-can-eat-in-one-sitting AND-can-wrap-up-in-a-napkin-to-stuff-in-your-pockets-to-take home?

When Daniel asked me for a hint for what to buy Grace for her birthday, I asked her if there had been something she'd really wanted but hadn't gotten for her birthday. She said, "Yes, a Chou Chou doll." I passed along the hint, and when Grace opened a Baby Chou Chou Make Me Better Doll, she beamed from the inside out and said, "It worked, Mommy!" It was a moment that I'd like to bottle up and release and re-live when we need to be reminded of how non-corrupted and grateful and sweet Grace really was on September 1, 2007. I realize, though, that I can't have the have the impossibly sweet Grace memory without the vision of the pocket pork-chop. It's ok--I'll take em both.