2 Books I'm Reading and am Excited About

Brain research fascinates me. New findings are especially interesting as I work to crack the code on what makes Grace tick (and all of us, really). One way to describe Grace's difficulties is by saying that she has "indigestion of the nervous system." A therapist recommended a good book to us, A Users Guide to the Brain, by John Ratey, psychiatrist and leader in the field of ADD and ADHD. This book illustrates the four "theatres" of the brain and helps shed light on where things might be getting jumbled up for Grace.

Recently I've gotten interested in the subject of music and the brain, which is endlessly fascinating to me as I explore the touted benefits of music for young children (both to play and to listen to) as well as reflect on my own musical history. For example, am I a left-brain musician? It would appear to be the case as I excel at sight reading--I can read almost anything you put in front of me on the piano, flute, or penny whistle--yet have found no success in picking out more than the basic chords and melodies on my guitar and have real difficulties learning to play a piece "by heart." I'm a very logical and literal person, (left brain) yet I think I'm creative too (right brain). And what makes me love or dislike a song? The lyrics? The timbre? The pitches? The rhythm?

I'm currently reading two books that address some of these issues: This is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession, by Daniel Levitin and Between Couch and Piano: Psychoanalysis, Music, Art, and Neuroscience, by Gil Rose. This is really exciting stuff to me, and I can't wait to see what role music "plays" in Grace's (and Johnny's) development.

The Naked Cooleys Band

We started a new band in my family over the weekend called the Naked Cooleys Band. But before you get too excited (or too grossed out), let me confirm that Grace and Johnny are the only members of the band. They were inspired by these guys.

The Most Interesting Thing In My Purse

I've driven from North Carolina to Colorado three times: Two times just my mom and me (Think "Toot and Louise"...and no, my mom's nickname didn't have anything to do with whether or not you'd enjoy spending long periods of time in a car with her....) and the third time with my mom, sister, and David. Don't you know that was just a blast for David.

David passed the time by delighting my mom with little games such as, "What's the most interesting thing in your purse?" and "What's your all-time favorite Sally Field Movie?" etc.

Below is the contents of just one of my purses (I have about three in rotation every season) and I'll let you be the judge as to what is the most interesting item.

1. an apple
2. my wallet
3. a broken pair of sunglasses
4. one almond
5. a polka-dotted all-purpose notepad
6. purell hand sanitizer
7. one upper Crest White Strip
8. a Disney Minnie Mouse pen
9. a mini Hello Kitty notepad
10. toothpaste
11. random receipts
12. Bath and Body Works lip and face balm
13. a lollipop stick (just the stick, no candy)
14. another almond
15, a matchbox sized four-wheeler
16. a quarter
17. a dime
18. two prescriptions
19. a tube of earplugs (?)
20. a bottle of Dim Sum (and dim sum more) (this is a nutritional supplement, btw)
21. a broken watch
22. 2 tubes of concealer (cover up...you know, makeup)
23. 10 "ink" pens
24. 8 things of lip gloss in varying shades of pink

A Day Off? Off My Rocker, Maybe

Some people think I sit around eating bon bons on Fridays, my day off. Here's what I have lined up tomorrow, or today by the time you read this:

7:30 AM Drive Grace down to Pre-School in Pittsboro
9:00 AM Go into work for a couple of hours to deal with computer server problems, a broken air handling unit and room set up for an event on Saturday
11:00 AM Drive from Cary back to Pittsboro, pick Grace up, drive her to SFFA, and then drive to West Franklin Street for an Literacy Council planning meeting for two author reading events that we're planning for spring, Haven Kimmel, and Sarah Dessen.
12:30 PM Pick Grace up, take her to Speech Therapy and Occupational Therapy
3:30 PM Pick Johnny up and take Grace and Johnny to UUMC to volunteer in the childcare room during the Red Cross Blood Drive.
5:45 PM Donate Blood
6:00 PM Drop the kids off at home and head back down to Pittsboro for a Parent Work Group at the PTA Thrift Shop
8:30 PM Finally get home to enjoy the rest of my "day off."

How do I get myself into these things?

Nothing Gold Can Stay

My favorite poem:

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Nursing A Migraine Hangover

They come like bandits in the night, unannounced and uninvited, holding me captive while they rob me of my riches, leaving me flattened in their wake, asking, "Why me? Why now?"

Yesterday's riches included an after-work class at the gym, dinner with David and the kids (that he prepared) and settling in as a family to laugh at this year's American Idol hopefuls. But no, not last night. Couldn't be. The evil migraine step mother decided that it was time to pay me a little visit. As I showered off my workout, my vision in my right eye went blurry. "No way," I thought. "Is this..." "YESSSSSSSSSS! IT ISSSSSSSS!" the migraine serpent hissed. Unbelivable. It's not even that time of the month. I'm used to it by now and calmly explained to David and the kids that I was getting a migraine and in about half an hour would not be able to talk or play anymore. My words didn't really mean anything to Johnny and Grace as they continued to hang on me demanding to be swung around, upside down. I think they all got the message when I became Mommy-Migraine-Monster and hissed, "HELP ME OUT, DAVID! I'M GETTING A MIGRAINE!!"

Woa.

So the pain and misery came right on schedule, forcing me to forfeit the rest of my night. And here I sit today nursing a major migraine hangover, without any fond memories from the night before.

Single Parenting: Not For Me

I don't know how single parents do it. Whenever I know that David is going to be working late, I find activities to do with the kids outside of home, in an attempt to diminish the hours and minutes I'm home alone with them. I think it's some residual after-shock from the days when he worked late every Sunday coupled with the fact that my kids tend to go a little crazy when we're couped up in our 1100 ft. square box for too long. Ok, so they're not the only ones who go crazy.

David used to work every Sunday from 3 PM-11 PM, and for those 8 hours a week, especially in the early days of being a mama to two, I felt like a desperate housewife. There's just this feeling when David's not home. It's not like we even talk that much when he is home. He's on the computer and I'm doing my thing, but just knowing he's there provides a major psychological advantage, especially in the beginning, when I was still recovering from my second c-section and more or less home-bound. I tried 'hiring' some neighborhood sisters to watch Grace and Johnny for an hour or so on Sundays while I would attempt to fold socks or unload the dishwasher, but they required more of my attention than my kids did. I mean, who ever heard of a 15-year old still in diapers? (Just kidding). Then there were these long expansive hours I needed to fill that included endless loops of "Wiggle Bay," "Baby Bach" and "Elmopalooza." I remember one Sunday afternoon, I killed an entire hour singing every word to the "Best of the Beach Boys" tape to my audience of two. Johnny, just weeks old, was held captive in a bouncy seat. Grace, on the other hand, could have walked away, but didn't. All eyes were on me, for a solid hour, while I sang and danced to all of my favorite Beach Boys hits. An hour where no one cried. They weren't smiling, either. They had this look of, "Who is this woman and why does she want us to call her Mommy?"

Annual Lectures on Art and Psychoanalysis

The Lucy Daniels Foundation, in conjunction with the North Carolina Museum of Art, presents its 15th Annual Lectures on Art and Psychoanalysis. Each lecture is free and will be followed by a lovely reception. Ellen Handler Spitz is a repeat speaker and I've heard she's just fantastic. I'm particularly interested in Saturday's lecture on representing death to children. Several topics on death have come up in my house recently. One is in Grace's new book Little Red Riding Hood whose version has the grandmother and Red Riding Hood being eaten by the wolf and the wolf later being cut open by the woodsman to free Granny and RRH. I think this is the original Brothers Grimm version, the gruesome one, as many of their tales are.

Then the other night Johnny asked me if I was going to die, if Daddy was, if Grace was, etc. I told him yes, we all are going to die at some point. Johnny then wanted assurance that he wouldn't die until he was big (right, Mommy?) and I told him that no one knows exactly when they're going to die. He wanted to know if I was going to die and I told him, yes, someday. He said he would be lonely and wanted to know who would take care of him. He ran in to ask Daddy if he would take care of him if I died and Daddy said yes. That was all the assurance Johnny needed and after that, he didn't seem to care much if either of his parents died as long as the other would still be around to pour him his apple juice on demand.

What is Too Scary? Representations of Death in Works for Children

Saturday, February 3, 2007, 3:00 PM, Lucy Daniels Foundation, No charge

Drawing on her recent research, Ellen Handler Spitz explores ways we represent death and loss to children in the major cultural sites of animated film and television. Focusing in detail on a classic example from each of these prevalent genres, she asks us to reconsider the choices we make when we decide to show or to hide, to explain or to gloss over, to interpret or to share the sorrows of life with young children.

Art as Memory and Loss as Vanished Form

Sunday, February 4, 2007, 2:00 PM North Carolina Museum of Art, No charge

In the wake of tragic disasters worldwide, this lecture explores how visual art has served historically to facilitate public mourning and to ensure the persistence of both memory and oblivion. Raising questions about this type of art in general, we will focus on the oeuvre of a distinguished contemporary conceptual artist, Horst Hoheisel of Kassel, Germany, who creates dramatic, strinkingly effective pieces he calls "anti-memorials," thereby challenging us to interrogate the relations between public memorials, private shames and sorrows, and the inevitalbe processes of attrition.

Ellen Handler Spitz, PhD, lectures internationally on the arts and psychology and is the author of five books, most recently, "The Brightening Glance: Imagination and Childhood" (Pantheon Books, 2006). Having held major fellowships and prizes including a Getty, a Bunting, a Clark, and a Camargo, she is currently Honors Professor of Visual Arts at the Unversity of Maryland-Baltimore County, where she teaches interdisciplinary seminars in the humanities.

Jolly Green Julie

I just watched this gal on the Martha Stewart Show showing off her handmade beaded necklaces! I've never been so excited for someone I don't know! I had butterflies in my stomach waiting for her segment to come on and she was just so adorable and perky and cute and excited to be there (Julie was happy to be there, too). JPH was the first person that I haven't met (yet) to e-mail me in reference to bird-spot (ok, the only one but still cool) and I've been following her blog ever since. It's probably not a coincidence that she also lives in the Triangle, but, again, still pretty cool. Check her blog out sometime...I've added it to my list.

They Just Don't Make Them Like They Used To

Around here, "snow day" really should be called "snow hour," because that's about how long the fun lasts until the snow stops...or melts. Admittedly, Johnny woke up yesterday morning as excited as he did on Christmas, "Mommy! Come look! It's snowing outside!" And he wanted to get out in the elements before the sun even came up (see picture) or the coffee was gone. So we did. And I'm glad, for the kids' sake, because it may not come around again this year, or even next. But growing up in Boone? I know a little something about real snow days.

We missed, on average, a good two weeks of school each year due to snow, and that's why we always got out late in June and started early in August. But it was totally worth it. We lived on the best street with the best kids, and our yard sported the best hill of all. All the kids would come out: Stuart, Will, Laurie, Dawn, Brian, Ben, Nathan, and the three of us, for ruthless games of "Batterroids" where we used the rules of "King of the Hill" and the main objective was to keep people from reaching the top of the hill by pushing them down. Sometimes it hurt but it 'hurt so good,' and we were willing to take one for the team for the chance to play with the big kids.

Sledding was awesome, either on a hill in one of our yards, or down our very steep street. Laurie introduced us to the kiddie-pool-plastic sled where five or six of us would pile in a kids' swimming pool and go at it, faster than a speeding bullet, hoping and praying we wouldn't hit a tree, or something worse. We made snow forts and pitted the girls against the boys in all-out snowball wars. The best snow, of course, was packing snow, where you could just begin rolling a little ball across the yard, and all of the snow stuck to it, making the ball bigger and bigger and bigger, leaving a bare grass patch along the way. We made larger than life snowmen, nothing like the pitiful 3-inch snowman the kids and I attempted yesterday. I always knew if it was "good snow" when I looked out the window and saw an even blanket of white spread across the yard, no grass peeking through.

After a morning's full-on snow playing, we'd eventually go inside, cold and hungry, all of us to the S house, for hot chocolate and cookies and a blazing fire. We'd rest, watch MTV, play cards and Atari, then put our snow gear back on and do it all over again in the afternoon and in to the evening. Johnny and Grace don't even know what they're missing.

Putting My Foot Down (When I Can)

Me: Oh, no, no, Grace can't wear those to school.

David: Why not?

Me: Because those beads are intended to decorate the bottom of a lampshade.

But what did Johnny wear home from school yesterday? A pair of girls' Barbie jeans, with sequined butterflies on the knees. A size and a half too small.

Because It's Too Good Not to Share

Bird-Spot's first ever photo caption contest: What should it be?

1.) Scary Gary

2.) Weird Beard

3.) Fathers of the Revolution

4.) Other (You fill in the blank)

Life Imitates Art

We pull around the corner onto Willow Way and see "Adam" hop on his skateboard (without a helmet). "Shouldn't he be in school?" I think. No sooner do I pull into my driveway, park, and wrangle Grace out of her car seat than does Adam appear, skateboard in one hand, flourescent orange boomerang in the other.

Me: Why aren't you in school today?

Adam: I took today off. I didn't see the need to go, being Friday and all.

Me: But Monday is a holiday anyway. Now you're going to to be home from school for four straight days.

Adam: So?

Me: Does your mom know you're not in school today?

Adam: Yeah, she knows.

Me: And she doesn't care?

Adam: She cares, but yeah, she knows. (long pause) I had a stomach ache this morning so she didn't make me go to school. I don't have one now, but I'm going to have one later this afternoon. I got it from my mom.

Me: So, what grade are you in now?

Adam: 5th.

Me: Do you like school?

Adam: Yeah, I like it.

Me: What's your favorite subject?

Adam: Science.

Grace: Danny Phantom soup.

Before Adam has much time to process what Grace has just said, I pipe up, slightly nervously, "Yeah, that's right, Grace. We do have Danny Phantom soup. Do you watch Danny Phantom, Adam?"

Adam: Yeah. I watch Danny Phantom sometimes. Where's your brother?

Grace: An...an...an...Johnny at school. Spanish for dot com. Worm boy.

Again I step in to cover. "We just watched the movie 'How to Eat Fried Worms.' Have you seen that? Or have you read the book? The boys in that movie are about your age."

Why did I suddenly have the urge to act cool in front of this ten-year old boy? What doI care what he thinks about me? I'm old enough to be his mother! It's Grace, I was protecting. Conversation starters that Grace has used in the past, one-word-ers such as "socks" and "sprite" might not work with Adam. I needed to intervene to kind of explain Grace to this boy. But Adam seemed plenty interested in both of my children without me getting in the way.

Adam: Remember when I came over that time and sprayed you guys with the hose?

Grace: Yeth.

Adam: Hey, do you still have that dead snake?

Me: No, that's long gone, but there are snakes in the bamboo thicket. Right over there.

Adam: Is there a table back there too? I've never been back there.

Me: Want to go in it? It's a little overgrown, and we do think there are snakes back there. Copperheads.

Adam: I'll just look.

Me: So, does your boomerang work?

Adam: Not really. It's old. I found it at the park.

Me: Does it work at all? Why don't you go to our front yard and show Grace how it works.

Adam: Ok, but there's a chunk out of it, and it's not going to work like it's 'posed to.

Adam goes into our big front yard and whips the bright boomerang high into the air. It circles around and thuds onto the side of our neighbor's house.

Me: Oh, my gosh! An old lady lives there! She might come out to get you!

Adam: It was an accident!

Me: Try it again, but this time aim it towards the trees.

He tries it again, and Grace and I are sufficiently amused. But we're also hungry for lunch.

Me: We've gotta go in and eat lunch, Adam, but maybe we'll see you around this weekend. If you see us playing in the yard, feel free to come over. Johnny would like to see you, I'm sure.

Adam: Hey, can my cousin come too? She's 15 and she'll be visiting from Siler City.

Me: (Why would a 10-year old and a 15-year old want to hang out with 3 and 5 year olds?) Sure, that would be fine.

Right about now, David drives up, gets out and asks Adam about his boomerang and skateboard. We then say goodbye and we think Adam is on his way. Just as I finished making a tuna fish sandwich, there's a knock at the door. It's Adam.

Me: Hey, what's up?

Adam: Does anyone know how to get a boomerang out of a tree?

We look and his boomerang is WAY up in one of our trees.

David: See those bamboo rods in the front yard? Use those as sticks to try to shake it out of the tree.

Adam: I'm not very good at that.

Me: David, can you go help him?

Grace and I walk out to the front porch and watch while David and Adam poke the bamboo sticks up to the tree to try to shake the boomerang lose. No luck, still stuck. After several minutes of this, David and Adam walk back to the backyard where the bamboo thicket is. David saws down a 20-foot (green) bamboo stalk, and he and Adam haul it to the front yard. The bamboo is too big for Adam to hold, so David hoists it up and starts poking again, leafy side up. I yell from the porch, "Why don't you turn it over and poke from the other side??!!" David tries this and finally, the boomerang springs loose.

We all cheer and clap, and I can tell Adam's day has been made. David walks back in, famished. Tuna fish sandwich?

Those were a couple of very Rushmorian moments.

All That Glitters is Not Gold

My Golden Globe Afterthoughts:

• On Hugh Laurie: funny= sexy. Every time.
• I want to think Renee Zellweger is pretty, but I can't get past her squinty eyes.
• Speaking of eyes, did Forest Whitaker have pink eye?
• As much as I love him, I think James Woods is long overdue for some microdermabrasion.
• What was up with Hugh Grant's hair?
• When Hugh Grant said, "Prince, wherever you are, stand up and take a bow," I swear I heard Prince say, "I am standing!"
• I guess boys never outgrow the thrill of giggling over their private parts.
• Is Kate Winslet not the most talented beautiful woman (or the most beautiful talented woman) on Earth?
• Vanessa Williams? Thing 1 and Thing 2 called. They want their hair back.

That's all.

Out on the Town

New Year's Resolution #7: Get out and hear live music more often. Check.

At my age and stage, I use a little more discretion than I used to in deciding whether or not to go out and see a live show. Nowadays, there's the issue of who'll keep the kids, is it a wise choice of how to spend twenty-plus dollars and is the fun of the evening going to outweigh the fatigue I feel the next day by choosing to go out at the time I'm usually crawling into bed?

Friday night's line-up was a pretty good bet: 5 bands (two I'd even heard of), no cover charge and promises from friends of today and yesteryear to meet and hang out. After a full and varied evening of drinks at Speakeasy, meeting friends of friends at the Cave, catching most of the five free sets from bands that all seem to have a solid following (for good reason), non-stop conversation with friends I hadn't hung out with in seventeen years, they practically had to sweep us out of the Cradle after 1:00 AM.

I left with that now all-too-familiar sentiment that there's something about growing up in Watauga County that sets us apart and makes it easier and more likely to pick back up where we left off, that Austin is a city in Texas that I'd definitely like to visit, and also the name of a brand-new baby girl who is pretty darn lucky to have the dad she does.

Had I Known How to Save a Life

There was a time in my adult life when I didn't weigh enough (even soaking wet) to donate blood. Once I hit 110 lbs., and stayed there, I've been giving blood when I could. Of course, there was the year that I was pregnant with Grace, then another year I thought I was pregnant, and then the times I was nursing. I didn't give blood all of those years. But this year I can. My committee at church sponsors a blood drive each year in our fellowship hall. We're trying to obtain at least 40 good units this time, and people can even donte two units and get their plasma back! Doesn't that sound fun? I don't weigh enough to do a double-unit donation. Women need to weigh 175 lbs. for that, and I can't remember the men's weight requirement. But I do know you do get double snacks for double donating--I'll personally make sure of that. There are legitimate reasons why people can't--and don't--donate blood. But if it's something you can do and are willing to do, and have always thought you'd do one day but one day never comes, please consider coming out in two weeks:

What: American Red Cross Blood Drive
When: Friday, January 26, 2:00-6:30 PM
Where: UUMC, the church with the big steeple on Franklin Street...the one beside Schoolkids
Why: Nothing beats human blood! Mwa ha ha ha

Let me know if you want to sign up. Thanks and hope to see you there!

I'm Off the Hook (Again)

I got out of 2, yes TWO traffic violation tickets today and I didn't even have to work at it. I've been known to get out of being ticketed by crying and/or flirting with the officer (male, female, gender ambiguous, you name it), but not without some concerted effort.

I was driving to the State Employees Credit Union (honest enough, right?) in Cary, and the speed limit started off at 45 mph, went down to 35 mph, and then to 25 mph in a school zone. I was driving in the school zone hours and was pulled over for clocking 41 mph in the zone.

The officer checked out my license and came back and asked me if I wear corrective lenese. "No, Sir." Then he flipped my license over and informed me that I in fact, do have an official "restriction" and that is "corrective lenses." See, I have really good eye sight but got a mild prescription back in 2002 for driving at night to better see distances and stuff. In 2004, when I renewed my license, I was wearing my glasses. I don't ever wear my glasses unless I need to see far away. I haven't been wearing them for a long time now for two reasons. 1.) because Johnny broke off one of the arms and I haven't bothered to get new frames, and 2.) because the last time I got my eyes checked, the Optometrist said I didn't HAVE to wear glasses (even driving at night) if I didn't want to.

#2 is the excuse I gave the officer for why I didn't have my glasses on.

He said he wouldn't give me a speeding ticket, but that he would give me a ticket for the license restriction thing and that I could go to the DMV with the eye doctor's note, and see if they would remove my restriction, take that to court, blah, blah, blah.

A few moments later, he came back to the window and said I would only get a warning for the retsriction, because his printer was jammed and he wasn't able to print the ticket.

Cha-CHING!

Cherry Pickin' on iTunes

For Christmas I got $75 credit to iTunes AND I got a new iPod shuffle that is just mine, all mine, that I don't have to share with anyone and can load only songs that I want on there. Mostly I listen to my iPod while exercising, and though I totally like to listen to Wilco and Granddaddy and Elliott Smith, I don't like to listen to these singers while I'm running.

I'm having fun cherry picking songs on iTunes, and when my playlist is up and "running," I'll post my faves.

On another "musical note," I just found out that Elvis Costello will be at MerleFest this year! Not a musician that I associate with the 'Americana' genre but one I'm really psyched will be there, nonetheless!!

Looking Back

I wrote in a "paper and pen" journal when Grace was a baby. Pre-blogging. I've dug up the very first journal and plan to create an entire blog capturing entries from her first year.

Here are two:

September 21, 2001

I cried a lot that first week-and into the second and there are still tears today. Today's tears probably have less to do with postpartum baby blues and more to do with the emotional aftermath of Sept. 11. My first week home I was a ball of emotion. Physially, I felt really bad. I was in regular postpartum pain--with an enlarged uterus and lochia (lots of blood) getting all over everything. Four weeks later there is still blood, but not too much pain.

My incision hurt extremely much in the beginning and I even had to change rooms and beds where I slept. I can't even describe the pain in my abdomen that I felt that time trying to get out of my bed. The computer room became the sick room, where I fruitlessly pumped faithfully after every single feeding. Well, I trusted my instincts on the pumping thing and now have the hang of when to pump. The other day, I pumped out 6 ounces total. That was unheard of in the early days.

I cried because I loved her so much and had worried about her all during my pregnancy. I thank God for letting her turn out so well, so beautiful, her delicate eyes, nose, mouth, hands, fingers, toes. Even her little {dislocated} left hip is beautiful. I cried because I was in pain and felt like David was forgetting what I had just gone through to bring Grace into the world. I cried because breastfeeding was not going well and I cried because I thought it was my fault. I cried a lot because I didn't think I deserved such an utterly innocent and sweet baby--because of the type of 'talking-back' child I turned out to be. Mama made me feel better but I don't know if I'll ever get over that feeling. I cried because I thought that David loved the baby more than he loved me, and I cried because I thought that David thought he was doing a better job at parenting than I was. It surprised me how much I cried that first week, but I'm feeling much better now.

September 26, 2001

It is a beautiful day today, just gorgeous. I'm at Weaver Street with Grace, sipping lemonade, eating fruit. Just saw Bruce and Tim. I needed out and for her to sleep a little, so I put her in her car seat and we took a ride. She's been asleep ever since. There are lots of mothers and babies here. I look at them all and talk to a lot of them. So far, most every baby is older than Grace. One day, though, I will see a tiny baby that will be younger than Grace and I will think to myself, or say out loud, "Gosh, it seems like just yesterday Grace was that little." Today is tomorrow's yesterday and yesterday's tomorrow. Did I say how beautiful it is today?

Things

Things That Grind My Gears, Get My Goat and Gripe My Butt:

• When drivers slow down before putting their turning signals on.
  
• When lemon wedges are sliced so thin that it's impossible to effectively squeeze any lemon juice into your beverage.
  
• When people pronounce "poinsettia" with only three syllables....There's an "i" in there, people!

Things I Never Get Tired Of:

• Flea Markets, Yard Sales, Thrift Shops and Bargain Bins
• Watching the Heels beat Dook

Things I'm Looking Forward To This Spring:

• MerleFest '07
• Camping (Let's do it this year!)
• Thursday evenings and Sunday mornings at Weaver Street
• When it warms up enough to dine 'alfresco' (although that might be tomorrow...it's going to be in the 70's!)

Things I'm Not Happy About Coming Back Into Style

• Skinny Jeans

Things I Absolutely Have to Finish Before the End of Next Week

• My grad school application
  

Lightfoot: Greatest Last Name EVER

My brother called me a couple weeks ago and told me that I had to check out this online Facebook group that he got invited to called: Lightfoot: Greatest Last Name EVER. I've read all 88 posts and the Lightfeet are really sort of freaked out that there are so many of us around.

I didn't fully appreciate my last name growing up, and now I know that there were hundreds of other girls, even other Sarah Lightfoots, that got the same drill as I did. No, I'm not related to Gordon Lightfoot. Do I look Native American? Heavyfoot? Heavyankle? Lighthand? Lightweight? Heard them all. Apparently we all have.

Above is the English-origin Lightfoot family coat of arms. Rooted in the Anglo-Saxon culture, Lightfoot was a family name given someone who was a swift runner. Not unfitting for me. Some of the first settlers of this family settled in Virigina in the early 1600's. There's even a town called Lightfoot, VA. Slaves often took the surnames of their owners, hence the significant black Lightfoot contingent. There are Native American Lightfeet in the US, many of them Cherokee.

I learned of a conspiracy that we Lightfoots might be royal descendents of King George III. Legend has it that he secretly married Hannah Lightfoot and bore a son, who would be the rightful heir of the throne.

I came to view it as a really cool last name and considered for awhile not changing my name when I got married. David supported the idea and actually encouraged it, but I legally dropped my given middle name (Louise) and took Lightfoot as my middle name. The eve before my wedding day, as I was getting closer to wrapping my mind around officially becoming a Cooley, my mother in law approached me at the rehearsal at the church. She said, "Well, you're about to become an Oglesby, aren't you." I about freaked. But the truth is, I'm every bit as much an Oglesby as I am a Cooley. And I'm every bit as much a Johnson as I am a Lightfoot. That's ultimately why I chose to legally change my name. Technically, I'm Sarah Louise Johnson Lightfoot Oglesby Cooley. And that's just too damn long to write on my checks.

I never imagined that my last name would land me jobs in somewhat Affirmative Action/quota fashion, but that's what happened when I applied to be a VISTA Volunteer. After interviewing in Toccoa, GA, in person, and feeling that placement wasn't right for me, I accepted a placement sight unseen in DeFuniak Springs, FL. All I knew about the area and what I'd be doing was what the recruiter told me over the phone. All they knew about me was from my application materials and the phone interview.

I showed up one November morning to the Community College satellite center with my standard long blonde hair and fair skin. I introduced myself, and the first words uttered by my soon to be new mentor was, "You're Sarah Lightfoot?" Only later would I find out that they were fully expecting a dark-skinned, dark-haired Native American young woman to round out the diversity of the VISTA team. You know, color it up a bit. How did I learn this? David told me, of course. Guess I blew that one.

Why Our Mailman is Johnny's New Best Friend

I get home from going to a movie by myself (bliss). Another package has arrived with multiple gifts for the kids.

Me: "Wow, these are neat. Who are these from?"

David: "Jessica."

Johnny: "No, they're not, they're from the mailman."

You Say You Want a Resolution

New Year, blank canvas. Here goes.

Sarah's 2007 New Year Resolutions

1. Learn Spanish at a level that at least matches my kids' abilities.
2. Write monthly letters to Welcome, my cousin in the Peace Corps.
3. Get back on track writing monthly letters to Billy Ray, my pen pal on death row.
4. Get back on track taking my vitamins and supplements and medications on time and consistently.
5. Keep my exercise routine up: cardio 3 times a week, either running, swimming, or machines at the gym, weight training at least 2 times a week, yoga on Sundays.
6. Run a marathon after training with Team in Training, which raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation.
7. Get out and hear live music more often.
8. Play live music more often.
9. Write more, worry less.
10. Send cards, gifts and thank you notes on time.
11. Lose 5-10 pounds. Even though I exercise a lot, I eat a lot too. And I tend to agree with David: How many chins does one woman need?
12. Give Crest Whitestrips a fair shake.
13. Be more diligent in keeping my cell phone, PDA and iPod charged.
14. Get organized and all that.

Hello, Goodbye

New Year's Eve is the one night of the year when the kids beg to go home and sleep in their own beds and the parents keep saying, "Not yet, just a few more minutes 'til midnight. Whoopie!" "But, Mommy, I'm TIE-uhd!" "Not long now. Go have fun, here's a piece of chocolate."

At least that's the way Venezuelans do it.

New Year's Eve is a major family holiday for Venezuelans and we were invited to experience this year's cultural fanfare and festivities. Arriving at 8:00 PM, we were, (like we always are) some of the first guests to show up. It's taken us over five years to learn that when Venezuelans invite you to a party that begins at 8:00 PM, most people in the know arrive at 10:00 or 10:30 PM.

Tons of Venezuelans were there: our friends, their children, their parents, brothers, sisters in law, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, other Venezuelan friends, one other American family, and us. A wonderful, spirited crowd indeed. There was an impressive spread of food on one table with ham, salads, the Venezuelan version of delectable tamales, a lentil dish that is to be the very first thing eaten in the new year to encourage twelve months of good fortune, key lime pie, and lots of other stuff, but we weren't supposed to eat from that table until midnight! Luckily there were plenty of other things to keep our minds off the main meal: appetizers, dips, chips, wine, beer, margaritas, kids running around, presents under the tree, music, fun people to talk to.

Despite his best efforts, Johnny pooped out for good around 10:00 PM. We put him on a bed full of older kids who were watching tv and doing loud kid-stuff, but he slept all the way through. Despite our best efforts, Grace wasn't able to fall asleep, though she begged to go home and sleep in her own bed. Complete torture waiting for the strike of midnight!

Around 11:30 PM, champagne glasses were poured and passed and grapes were counted and distributed. Grapes? Yes, twelve grapes for each person. The custom is that twelve seconds before midnight, each person is to eat twelve grapes (one per second? Couldn't be done!), each grape representing a wish for the new year. Then we all counted down, toasted the new year, then hugs and kisses all around. All of the kids, except for Johnny, were awake and celebrating with their parents. After eating our first meal of the year, a fireworks display, and a little more champagne for those who weren't driving, we called it a night. and made it home around 1:30 AM.

When the kids and I stumbled into the kitchen around 9:30 AM (major sleeping in for me!) David had eggs, toast, bacon, and hashbrowns cooking up for us. And he'd already run 5 miles.

Happy 2007!