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.