I'm moving.....

Inspired by a friend and frustrated with changes in Blogger, I am moving to Wordpress. The posts are all over there. Book mark my new address....

http://ryterrytes.wordpress.com/

That Kind of Day.....

I am a part time Teacher. For the last eight years I have taught Kindergarten 2 and a half days a week or two days one week and three days the next week. Last year, my first as a Technology intructor, I was in class every Monday, Wednesday morning and Friday. This year I was upgraded to an 8/10ths position. I work four full days a week. It's a perfect life. My paycheck has almost doubled. I have every Tuesday off to do 'my' thing. It's for house cleaning issues, errands, appointments, lunch dates, extra school activities, etc. etc. For the past month and a half Tuesdays have been packed with 'must dos.' Except for today.

HRH is at a training session for his UAW position deep in the 'up north' of Michigan for the whole week. Where they have snow. Many inches of snow. Last night the Princess told me she had signed up for Jazz Band at school and needed to be at her middle school by 7:15....a.m. Sooo...instead of our usual 'wake Princess at 6:45, drive Prince to high school, come home, breakfast with Princess, make lunch and drive her to middle school by 8' Tuesday morning routine, I got them BOTH up at 6, made a healthy, hearty breakfast sandwich for BOTH of them, packed a veggie and dip lunch bowl for her lunch, drove him to the high school, tarried on to the middle school, dropped her off and came back home. All in my jammies, thick heavy socks and ugly orange crocs that I was ecstatic to purchase for $7 in South Carolina last summer before realizing the nobody anywhere wears ugly orange crocs in public which is why they were only $7. It's only 8:30 am and I have no where to go. For the whole day.

Soooo....I am planning to make myself a sugar free hot chocolate, pour a bowl of corn flakes with frozen blueberries on top (yum...love the way the milk freezes around those babies!), plug a movie into the dvd player and grade the 250+ papers that need to be recorded in order to mark the 500+ report cards I need to do in the next few weeks. Maybe I will do a few loads of laundry and fill another bag with clothes for the Salvation Army. Maybe..... And outside? Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!! Loving these ugly orange crocs......

The Sixth of the Sixth

Got this one from my friend, Mary. The idea was to open your 6th picture file, post the sixth picture there and explain it. What a laugh! What a memory.....

It's out of focus but I don't care. The Princess was six. Had been with us for just barely over a year. She was missing a tooth. She could sing 'On Top of Spaghetti' with the cutest Russian lilt and lisp. Decked her out with a giant fork of 'spaghetti' to sing at the church's spaghetti dinner and talent show. She wouldn't go up without her dad. Half way through the song she looked up at me (in the audience filming with the video camera), forgot all the words and ran into my arms. Completely stole the show. LOL Did it again two years later when she and her dad did a beautiful Vince and Jenny Gill rendition of 'Let There Be Peace on Earth.' It was our favorite sing along song in the car for a very long time.

Bitten again......sigh.

I am doing some research for a story I am writing. Yeah...just another fan fiction thing that I do when there is nothing else 'cooking.' I have fans that have been clamoring for another 'road' piece for a while now. This time I am sending my families from a previous fic - 'The Duplex' - to Walt Disney World for Thanksgiving. Something about 'seeing' the esteemed Goran Visnjic (aka Luka Kovac) in a Goofy hat is appealing. And someone has emailed and asked that I interject 'Abby Lockhart' (aka Maura Tierney) grumbling around in a Minnie Mouse get up. Haven't figured out how to get that in but it sounds like a hilarious possibility. Hee. At any rate, I am having some mindless fun. I always do when writing fan fictions. But that's for another post. This one is all about WDW.

I thought I had outgrown the place. Seriously. I went to Disneyland twice and WDW once (the year it opened!) with my parents when I was growing up. My sister and I went to WDW together - alone - the year she graduated from high school and I graduated from college. Road trip extraordinaire! What memories the two of us have of that trip. I went once again with my husband - who was then my fiancee - for a long weekend. We took his daughters for a week several years later and stayed in a camper. We joined my sister's family there when my son was a toddler. My parents moved to Florida and WDW became an easy day trip....or a jumpstart for an extended stay. We took my youngest step, a niece and our three year old son for a week once. My son and I went back for a day six months later when we were visiting my parents. Pathetically, my son had been there six times before the age of seven. Then along came the Princess from her Russian orphanage. Our family was now four strong and I was working part time. Which meant a partial pay check. The trip became rather pricey for us. But, we had saved a day of our tickets from the year before (Disney tickets are good forever) in order to take her at some point. And we did two years after her arrival...for her 7th birthday.

It was...interesting...to experience the Magic Kingdom with a child who has not grown up with the Mouse. She had seen a number of the movies via our dvd collection at that point - Snow White, Bambi, Peter Pan, Mary Poppins and The Little Mermaid (which scared the bejeezes out of her). She even had several sing along dvds committed to memory. (Listening to 'The Tiki Room' with a Russian lilty lisp was hilarious!) This was to be HER trip. She was to pick and choose where we were to go. I anticipated having her overwhelmed with it all. Instead, all she cared about was getting pictures taken with all of the characters so she could have a photo memory book like the one I had made her brother years before. That's all. Oh...and swimming in the pool with the dragon slide at our for one night only New Orleans Resort pool. Sooo....that trip ended up being placed in the hands of the master - her 9 year old brother - who managed to get us to all of his favorite places in three different WDW parks in ONE day....and back to the pool for a late night swim. My feet had blisters on top of blisters! That was six years ago. The last time we were actually inside the parks.

So now I am researching what things are like at Walt Disney World for the holidays. What the new attractions are. Where the new restaurants are. For my story. And I have been bitten again. Sigh. My children are 13 and almost 15 now. They are more interested in their friends, their sports, their school activities. The 'master' has been to another kind of park and is now a roller coaster fiend. He wants to ride them over and over all day long. I thought the Peter Pan ride would be a hard sell. He wouldn't be interested in another trip to WDW. She wasn't much intrigued the first time around. Surely she wouldn't be interested this time. Or so I thought. I am just mulling a trip over. Trying to figure it all out. Financially. But their eyes have begun sparkling at the thought of the possibility. Heh. Walt Disney was a genius. That WDW 'bug' is freaking contagious.

Musta Missed It

I seriously must have missed something here. I didn't go to the polls. Maybe that's it. I did my voting via Absentee Ballot. We had a Teacher Workshop all day long on election day and I didn't want to spend my evening standing in line. So I voted at my desk at school five days prior to the Big Day. It was a particularly tiring day so I didn't even manage to stay up to watch the counting. In fact, I was in bed and sound asleep by 10 pm. So I musta missed something.

They tell me it was a historic event....this election thing. The first time a family of color will be moving into the White House. Hmm. I musta missed something because I ceased seeing Barack Obama as a 'black man' MONTHS ago. Seriously. He was just a 'candidate.' I was paying more attention to the issues this time around. To what both candidates had to say about education, the war situation and economy. I didn't really see what color his words were. Just wanted to make sure that they were something I could support. Something that was important to me. So I musta missed something else.

Frankly, I found the last few days of this campaign to be totally boring. I hate aggressive verbal attacks. I can get plenty of that on the playgrounds at school. I didn't even watch much tv last weekend. (Maura Tierney is gone from 'ER' after all. Sigh.) I watched only to see what was happening with Senate, House and local campaigns. I was totally sick of hearing "I am ___ ___and I approve this message." Even some local candidates were using it. Bleh. Quite frankly, the tack sounded better coming from Richard Dreyfuss' mouth in 'An American President.' Very passe this time after a short while. So I think I musta missed something.

My blogging friend, Mary, at The Eleventh is probably purple with rage reading this by now because I didn't 'get' it. Or maybe she is embarrassed and is not wanting to call me a friend any more. This election was a HUGE deal for her. But, I wasn't crying when I cast my vote. I was actually trying to balance the durn ballot on top of the huge stack of letters my kiddos had written to Veterans during our Tech Lab sessions. I have very little room for a huge ballot on my desk. And I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to watch which states were turning blue and which states were turning red. Old age is exhausting these days. And I wasn't particularly stirred to learn who the winner was. Maybe I already knew? But rest assured, Mary. I was totally moved by the bits of his grand speech at Grant Park that I heard. Gonna get that transcript sometime soon. Actually I felt something akin to the same sort of feeling when I heard a similar recorded speech at the museum in Boston last summer?

However, NOW comes my time to sit up and truly pay attention. THIS is the process I am interested in. 'Transistion' is MY thing. I am very curious about cabinet appointments. I love reading all the predictions about what the First Lady will be making her 'cause.' I am intrigued with a young family taking up residence in the White House. Who freaking cares what color they are? It's going to be interesting to see which schools are scouted for a 7 and 10 year old. (Hint to Michelle: Check out Sidwell Friends. They did good by Chelsea, already know the Secret Service drill and is a 22 minute drive from the White House. Momism knows that the ride time gives you a chance to go over those spelling word lists and Math facts!) It'll be fun to see if a dad is relegated to dog walking duty on occasion. It will be a joyous thing to see positive spirits and willingness to work hard radiating from Washington again. I am not gonna miss that!

A little cheese with that whine?

I have seriously been put to shame. Spanked. Settled in the corner to 'think' about my actions of late. I have been whining about being bored. Whining about having nothing to look forward to any more. Whining about the futility of my day to day activities and chores. Not thinking outside of my little world like I should be.

During a recent online conversation, my sister responded with 'it's getting to be that time of year for you, isn't it?' How could I have forgotten?

I hate the holidays. I hate the money that is spent. I hate the feeling that I have not 'given' enough. And I have always been totally torn about where to spend them, how and with whom. When my stepdaughters were smaller there was no question. Whenever we had them we spend that time with my husband's family. Christmas Eve one year. Christmas Day the next. My sister would drag her husband and kids from their warm southern climate to our ice and snow to be with my parents and us. My steps became teenagers and the decisions about where they spent holidays was no longer ours. Our son came along and there was even more incentive to spend holidays with my far flung family. My parents moved south and traveling during the holidays became expensive....and necessary. My daughter arrived from Russia, I became a part time teacher and the money was no longer there to travel with four. My sister's family decided to spend holidays at their home and we all snagged bits of time here and there to be together. And I hate the holidays.

But today I logged on and started transversing my favorite blog sites. At the Eleventh I saw my cutie, Rabbit, in her Halloween costume and at Blood Signs, my comrade in stepmomhood was lamenting about steppers finding their 'place' on kid holidays (you're lucky P...we very rarely had the girls on Halloween but I have made several of their costumes.) At Snacks Please, it was a delightful rundown of the new vocabulary of my favorite baby girls and their big sister. ( I want them....seriously. ) But it was when I logged on to The Pioneer Woman that I was taken aback. The Marlboro Man and her two oldest punks are headed for a week in the Dominican Republic to see the work being done by Compassion International.

I have been trying to get our finances in order this month. We have more money coming into the house because of my return to an almost full time position. I sent a donation to Shaohannah's Hope, the Chapman Family's program for adoption. It was the money we got back for our tickets when we couldn't attend the rescheduled concert of last summer. Adoption is important to us. I know we will contribute there again. I signed us up to give monthly to Mercy Corps's hunger program once again. I also wanted to start sponsoring a child some where. You know...send money to the program and letters of encouragement to a kid. I figured mine are old enough to be involved as well. I had been twiddling about where...which program to use. There are so many to choose from. The Pioneer Woman's post was perfect timing.

So now my already international family has ties with one more country....Korea, Russia and the Dominican Republic. We are sponsoring an older boy because we figured - like with adoption - the older ones tend to be overlooked. Anthony is 10 and a soccer playing dude like the rest of my children. Soccer? Gads. You'd think I would have learned......

God Is No Fool

It was the fall of 1973. I was a very nervous college student. I was attending a small college about 40 minutes from my childhood home - Michigan Christian College. It was my first class on my very first day as a freshman. It was early morning. I settled into an old wooden chair desk in a small damp classroom at the end of row of rooms in a 'cabin' in the woods of the campus. Pencils lined up. Spiral situated nice and square on the desk. I wasn't one to make friends quickly. Didn't really have anyone to talk to. Then in walked the 'professor'. He strode to a corner desk, hiked a cowboy booted foot to the seat of a desk and announced - with an Oklahoma drawl - that we were there for the 'Fundamental Basics of Mathematics'.....other wise known as 'Fun Math.' My college career was off and running and that particular teacher set the tone for what were to be two of the most amazing years of my life. Ken Franklin introduced us to a poetry book in that class that became a campus cult favorite. He read a poem aloud at the beginning of each Math class. We all had our own copies. I remember purchasing one at the college bookstore for my Mom - who used to make mid week donut runs to our dorm with goods from the family donut shop. I had each of my friends choose a favorite poem and write a note telling her why it was a favorite. She treasured it for a good long while.

I lost my copy of the book. Actually I had given several away to friends YEARS ago not realizing that I was giving away my last one. I would think about it occasionally. Remember a poem that was particularly meaningful to me. Wondered where I could get another copy because I had discovered that it was out of print. Well...I found one on the internet several weeks ago and paid $30 for it. THIRTY dollars. And the inside flap price says $4.25. Go figure.

But it's nice to have it back....no matter what the cost. Nice to have it on my bedside table again. It's even as ratty and beat up as my own copy used to be. Thirty dollars very well spent. Just looking at it brings back fond memories of antiquated quonset hut biology classrooms, dormitory fun, late night devotionals, chapel services every morning, my roommate, pranks, prayers, my friends, duck weed on the lake, the totem pole, Faculty Firesides, chat sessions in the hall, term papers, all night study sessions, 'Amazing Grace', campus theater productions, cafeteria meals, Beautiful Days, Bible classes, 'W Club', psych class with Ron Luckett, Hebrew History with Terry Blake (who used to always call me his 'beautiful, beautiful Lyn'), Stephanie and Casey.....so so many memories. Thirty dollars VERY well spent. And my favorite poem? I think it was everyone's favorite at one time or another. They printed it in the year book one year. It's number 43.

"Bits and pieces
Bits and pieces

People. People important to you, people
unimporttant to you cross your life, touch
it with love and carelessness and move on.
There are people who leave you and you
breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why
you ever came into contact with them.
There are people who leave you and you
breathe a sigh of remorse and wonder why
they had to go away and leave such a gaping
hole. Children leave parents; friends leave
friends. Acquaintences move on. People change
homes. People grow apart. Enemies hate and
move on. Friends love and move on. You think
on the many who have moved intoyour hazy memory.
You look on those present and wonder.

I believe God's master plan in lives. He
moves people in and out of each other's
lives, and each leaves his mark on the other.
You find you are bits and pieces of all
who ever touched your life, and you are
more because of it, and you would be less if
they had not touched you.

Pray God that you accept the bits and
pieces in humility and wonder, and never
question,
and never regret.

Bits and pieces
Bits and pieces"

Lois A. Cheney
God Is No Fool


Michigan Christian College is now Rochester College and is located in Rochester, Michigan.

Raising A Reader

Okay....so I did everything right with this kid. Everything right that I would advise parents to do with their budding readers. I am a TEACHER, fer cripes sake. I KNOW what to do. I read to him from the very first day we got him. He had stacks of books at his crib side and then his bedside. We had a basket of books in the car. We had TONS of favorites. We used to write books together and illustrate them. We listened to music, sang along with the songs, played rhyming/letter sound games in the car. I invested in Sing Along video tapes that had the words running along the bottom of the television screen. We would read the backs of cereal boxes as we ate breakfast before school. I 'modeled' reading habits by daily reading of the newspaper, magazines and books myself. So how...just HOW....did I end up with a kid who hates to read?

Learning to read himself was a struggle. I know that. Just could not get the letter/sound hook back in Kindergarten and first grade. And then there was the time period when he was four and five when he would not allow me to read with 'voices' because it scared him. He took a particular liking to the DK books that focused more on pictures than words. Still loves' em. His second grade teacher introduced him to research reading for report writing. He loved doing that. His third/fourth grade teacher read aloud book choices guaranteed to draw a laugh...and he loved that. HIs fifth grade teacher told me not to worry because his reading skills were in place. She didn't enjoy reading herself so she was able to give me a new perspective. It still boggles me. How can you NOT enjoy reading?

He reads his Eurosport catalog from cover to cover when it arrives. He reads Sports Illustrated when he is in the bathroom. He has quite a collection of sports bios but I am not sure if he has managed to read any of them from cover to cover. He reads about other sports on line every evening before he goes to bed. I guess there is some hope......

However, he is in high school now and is required to read outside of the school day. They have a test on Mondays and a classroom discussion on Thursdays. Coupled with the drawing he is required to have in his sketch book on Wednesdays for his design class, our weekends are sometimes real battle grounds. VERY serious gnashing of the teeth and moaning and lamenting. And the book they are reading is Tuesdays With Morrie. Short. Sweet. Written by a sports writer. I gave six copies away as gifts for Christmas when it first came out. I love it. I thought he would love it as well. But alas, the words that get spewn around are things like 'stupid' and 'who cares?' I finally had to decide that it was going to have to be read together if it was to be read at all. I bought a copy for his dad. They are reading it together....when I remind them that it needs to be done. I'm saving MY participation for the next novel battle. If he thinks reading a short, moving book about a man's ongoing relationship with his dying teacher is 'inconsequential'......just wait till we have to tackle To Kill A Mockingbird. And it's one of my absolute favorites. Heh.

Just got his report card. That English Lit class?? He has an 'A-' and his grade was followed with 'Outstanding performance' and 'Outstanding attitude' comments. Go figure......

Hummingbird Cupcakes

Still caught up in the whole NYC thing. Still totally bamboozled by the coolest city I have ever been in. It simply never occured to me that Hummingbird Cupcakes could be made anywhere else in the world but at the Magnolia Bakery in West Village. It has become kind of my New York 'thing.' One taste and I was totally sold...and hooked. They are the kind of taste you can get a 'hankering' for on a cold winter night when nothing else will do. Hummingbird cupcakes...heavy with the moist fruit of crushed bananas, pineapple, coconut and pecans....covered with a creamy, real sugar cream cheese frosting. Yum. So, imagine my surprise when I ran across a recipe for 'Hummingbird Cake' in a large collection of cake recipes emailed to me by my sister. And imagine the equally stunned surprise of my children when they awoke to the smell of baking cupcakes this sunny fall Saturday morning. (DH was at work....serves him right for working on a Saturday!) Cupcakes they were not allowed to touch until they had been frosted with a buttery yellow cream cheese frosting.

But now I am crushed. I just did a web search. The Magnolia Bakery does not have a 'secret' recipe for these decadent items. Naturally, Martha Stewart has her own spin on them. With dried pineapple flower adornments. It's an old southern recipe apparently. And the bakery even has it's own cookbook. There are no 'secrets'. You can buy them. Sigh.

But mine turned out really, really good actually. Not quite as heavy with fruit as The Magnolia's. And of course I haven't managed to master the Magnolia way of frosting with that cool little swirl....yet. But right now I have a counter full of the things. Gotta do something with them. Ice cold glass of milk anyone?

The Fifth Grade Caucus

I am a Technology Teacher. I was actually grading them on their computer generated letter writing format. I wanted to make sure that they knew how to insert a date, formulate a salutation, write a paragraph and then an ending. And I love reading things written by fifth graders. They know enough about changing fonts and colors to make the reading interesting. It's easy on the eyes and I had 134 of them to read. So this task wasn't any different than usual. Just tugged at the heart strings and twanged the recesses of my mind. The innocence and enthusiasm of fifth graders. Dang.

Their job was to write a letter to one of the four candidates - Barack Obama, John McCain, Joe Biden or Sarah Palin. They were to tell them the three most important problems the new president had to solve. I didn't really keep track of how many of them wrote to which one. I probably could have predicted the outcome of the upcoming election had I done it. The issues they chose included several references to school lunches and soccer field conditions but most were deeper. Thought provoking. Here are a couple of random selections.

"Dear Senator McCain, I think if you get elected you should stop global warming. You should also help kids get more exercise. You should make sure every kid gets and allowance so they can save money for their future. Sincerely, Billy T." A ten year old...worried about his financial future?

"Dear Barrack O'Bama, You need to fix sending the troops back bcause if you don't we'll have another 9/11 and we don't want that to happen again. You also need to make taxes the same amount instead of making rich people pay more and poor people pay less because it won't be fair. You also would make a good president because you will make history and so would Sarah Palin but I am going to vote for you because my Mom is. You also need to stop saying bad stuff about McCain because it is rude and he is rude to because he says really mean nasty things about you. Sincerely your friend, Chris." We play nice and fair on OUR playground.

"Dear Barack Obama if you become president please help the environment by stopping global warming before it reach's durrasic measures. I hope you can accomplish this. Please also stop wars and terrorists before it can't be helped. Maybe it would lead to world peace and with world peace people can accomplish anything. Please acclompish this or things could end badly. Sincerely, Jacob" Amen to that.

"Dear Barack Obama, There are two problems that I think are very important things for the new president to solve. One problem is Global Warming. One reason I think it is important is because the air we breathe is getting polluted. So for some kids, it's hard to breathe. Another problem is how high the gas prices are these days. When we get our license the prices will be up to ten dollars. P.S. By the way, good luck in the election. Sincerly, Nathan" Love the post script... before the ending. We are big on encouragement and positive comments in elementary school. .

"Dear Senator John McCain, The one thing you could fix is all the jobs that families are losing people are going to other cuntries and gas is not a big deal to other rich people but it is to us and we are 11 and 10 years old so if we see it, you should....Thank you for reading, Stevie" Gotta love this kid but she is already aware of economic distinctions?? Did I even care when I was ten?

"Dear Senator Barack Obama, There are two problems I think are very important for the new president to solve. One problem is gas prices, they are very high and will probably get higher if the new president doesn't change it. Another problem is global warming. I think more people should recycle, even though a lot of people all ready do. I believe there should be a law that says every single classroom in the U.S.A. should have a recycling bin in it. Sincerely, Julia" We are a green school. We have recycled paper, plastic bottles and foil/styrofoam packaging from lunch trays.

Then there was the kid that suggested stopping the gas price rise so he wouldn't have to quit his soccer team. And the girl who wants new jobs in the USA so her dad doesn't have to work in Sweden any more. And the child who suggested making hurricane proof housing in hurricane areas....and growing more food so people do not go hungry. And the boy who suggested the new president lower the voting age to 13 because 'we have good ideas and we know how to problem solve.'

And lastly....this one from a challenged student....

"Dear Senator Barak Obama,
Help people in the streets. So people don't die.
People stop littering. And globule warming just
So living things don't die.
Sincerely, E"

Their world in a nut shell......Fifth Graders.

Are we listening?

To Bag or Not to Bag?

When we went to Disney World nine years ago, I wore a fanny pack into the park. Excuse me....a belly bag. It was convenient at the time. It held our tickets, my camera, a change purse full of money and a bottle of sun screen. Over the past nine years it has proven to be SO convenient that I never went back to using anything else. Oh sure, I carry a back pack that generally holds everything I need for school...lesson plans, papers to be corrected, hand lotion, camera, lunch, water bottle, paper plates, craft supplies...and generally my belly bag. Carrying everything in a back pack saved me from the infamous purse snatcher who unknowingly trip trapped through several halls in my old school taking money and check books and credit cards from every purse he/she could find....twice. Who would think of looking in a backpack when they were actively searching for...purses?

But I came home from New York City carrying a purse. A $19 purse I picked up at Meijer on my way to the airport. It was a practical decision actually. You are only allowed a carry on bag and a purse for the plane. The purse holds more. More room for a cell phone. M&Ms. Tissues. An apple. People Magazine. I seriously expected to ditch the purse again when I got home. Seriously. It bothers me to have the straps keep falling off my shoulder. But I never - ever - anticipated the excitement I would create by having this faux leather black bag.

"Hey, Mom.....I LIKE the purse!" she said. "Mom has a purse?" he said. "Hey, Hon...are your keys in your purse?" "I hear your phone ringing in your purse." "Did you put the mail in your purse?" "Do you have any gum in your purse?" Yes...I do. Along with a cell phone, a wallet, a leopard print change purse, a hairbrush, antibacterial lotion, new school pictures, my Playbill, my key ring, school id badge, flash drives, my camera, cough drops, TicTacs, band aids, sticky notes, ink pens, two Sharpies, pony tail holders and an empty 16 oz. cranberry juice cocktail bottle. It holds a LOT more than the belly bag. And that is not always a good thing.

I had my belly bag contents down to a science. The wallet (a gift from a student several years ago...bless him) took the most room. Pens and pencils nestled in the bottom with several cough drops. The cell phone fit on one end and the digital camera on the other. The leopard print change purse could be tucked in front of the wallet. Tissues and several band aids were stuffed into the front pocket. Concise. Organized. Perfect. And cause for much less 'excitement.' But I decided to maintain the purse for a while to see if I could make it work with my current lifestyle. All told, it's actually been kind of aggravating thus far.

Can't tell you how many calls I have missed on my cell phone digging through the dang purse to find it. Pens never seem to be in the pocket you thought you left them in. One cough drop has already wormed it's way out of it's wrapper and adhered itself to a band aid. My camera has some mysterious scratches on the lens. Fortunately most of them rubbed off. I've lost a cover to one of my flash drves. TicTacs have spilled and roll around the bottom pretending to be solidified lint. And pennies are everywhere already. Everywhere.

So, I am left with a dilemma. To bag or not to bag? What is the big deal? Is there something more 'normal' about carrying a purse? More...adult? Something that makes me like all the other moms and wives out there? Eh...I can deal with falling straps if it makes my family happy. And the first time someone tries dipping in for money...or check books or credit cards...I can whack 'em with the purse. Right?

This Girl......

This girl was glad to see her Mom come home from New York City. This 'get your hair out of your eyes where are your glasses skateboard loving soccer playing do I hafta wear a dress woe is me still the shortest kid in the whole class' girl missed her old Mom. There is a different kind of rythm to your life when you are the only girl in the house. I know. I strummed that rythm before she came into our lives. Things are changing for her right now though and I am not quite sure she is ready for it. We dropped her big brother off at his first high school Homecoming dance last night. The sight of all the girls - some of whom she knows well - gussied up in their sequined gowns and shorty dresses with heels tripping into the high school gym has her worried. The seventh grade dance is coming up. I have assured her - several times - that we will find some slacks and a shirt/sweater/blouse that she can live with. Something nice. Something girly.....but not too girly.

Her 'Gotcha Day' is coming soon. Eight years since we brought her into our family from Russia. Thanks for changing the rythm for your old Mom, Sweetie Pie. You rock my whole world.

The New York 'Adventure'

It all started with the finger nails. I have always bitten my nails to the quick. Never been able to stop chewing them. Last December - when the Princess got a box from Santa and didn't like them - I discovered the plastic glue on things. Can no longer live without them and I haven't gotten brave enough to get the 'real' things. The night before - while lost on the way to a soccer game 90 minutes from home and the gas tank settling in the red zone - I peeled the most recent set off. As I was on my way to New York City for a big adventure, I needed new ones. Stressed for time, I hadn't had time to put them on at home. So...I figured that sitting in a bathroom stall at Metro Airport was as good a time as any. Call it 'multi-tasking.' Oh, I know, the nail technician in you is horrified. But, never done it before and will never do it again. I mean, they went on okay. Broke two off trying to get toilet paper off the roll, stopped and glued them back on only to discover that a bit of toilet paper had gotten caught in the edge of the glue and when I tried to pick it off...two fingers were glued together. Arrggghhh!

Once out of the bathroom I made the first of several 'walking mistakes' of the trip. I eschewed the brand spanking new tram ride to the other end of the tarmac where my gate was located. It was only 18 gates away after all and here were the moving sidewalk things to ride. Right? Heh. One was working and the other was not. My cute little cherry covered satchel minus wheels got heavier with each step. (Note to self: NEVER try a plane trip again without the carry on bag with wheels....even though cherry covered satchel is cute.)

Made it to the gate okay...made it on the plane okay....and that's where the days and days of stress began to peel off in layers. Stress of the new school year beginning. Stress of getting to know and organize again the 767 students that pass through my computer lab each week. Stress of soccer practice/games/tournaments here and there at the same times. Stress of preparing materials for a substitute to take over my most chaotic scheduled school days of the week. Stress of just getting two kids back and forth to school and their various activities. Stress of trying to manage home and hearth. Peeling away in layers. This trip was mine. Three days visiting a city that I have wanted to see since I was eight years old. A city described to me in wondering delight by my mother after a visit for my dad's army division reunion in 1964. On my way at last.

When I first began planning this trip, I made reservations at a cute little bed and breakfast in Greenwich Village. A room for one for one night. I planned to see the play I had tickets for on Tuesday night and then again on Wednesday night (yeah...call me crazy but more on that later) and take a plane home immediately after. When it became clear that the airlines were not going to cooperate with my little plan and I would need to stay another night, I contacted the B&B. They weren't going to be able to accommodate the second night. I needed to find another venue. Expensive. VERY expensive. I began thinking about finding a travel partner. Someone to share hotel and taxi expenses with. That's when I discovered a new friendship in 'Indie.' (Not so much named for the devil may care adventurous spirit she shares with one of my favorite Harrison Ford characters as much as from the small Indiana town she hails from.) Through phone calls and text messages we got to know each other a little (she is unbelievably shy), made hotel arrangements that suited us, purchased her ticket to the play and made plans to meet. Which is why I ended up sitting on a bench in front of a popcorn stall in the baggage claim area of the Delta tarmac at LaGuardia airport. Her plane landed 90 minutes after mine and I was watching for her. We had shared pictures so I sort of knew who I was looking for. Sort of. She came trudging down the walkway toward me and I smiled. She stopped and turned around, apparently not seeing me, pulled out her phone and started texting. I walked toward her and she stopped. Shared smiles and we were off in a taxi toward our hotel in Chelsea.

You have undoubtedly heard about New York cabbies. Believe me. Every single word you have heard is true. Better buckle up! They are brash, brave and determined to get you where you are going....just maybe not in one piece. Traffic from airport to city was horrendous and complicated by emergency vehicles trying to get through. Horns honking, sirens going....it was everything my mother described. I LOVED it! Every second of it.

Once settled in our hotel room we set out on a walk to nearby streets for a place to get something to eat. Our hotel was convienently nestled between Broadway and 6th Avenue. We found a tiny little deli across 6th Avenue and purchased very un-midwest like sandwiches to take back to the hotel.

I was meeting a friend at the Playwrights Horizon Theater on 42nd street before the play I had come to see. She and I had 'met' online through an AOL message board that focused on 'ER.' We share an affection for the show, the work of Maura Tierney and writing. She has done it professionally and is a retired life time member of the Writer's Guild. I just do it for fun. Over the past three and a half years we have shared a lot of other things as well. This night we were meeting face to face for the very first time to share a meal and an evening at the theater to see Nicky Silver's 'Three Changes', starring Maura Tierney, Dylan McDermott and Scott Cohen. So I set out for my first encounter with hailing a NY taxi on my own.

It wasn't so bad I guess. I'd done it in Chicago. I'd seen it in the movies often enough. I mean, if Doris Day can do it, so can I. I held up my arm as a bevy of taxis rushed down 6th Avenue. One pulled to the side and rolled down his window. I said I was going to 42nd street and he shook his head and sped off. Uh oh. This was going to be harder than I thought. I held up my arm again and a black car pulled up to take another rider. He rolled his window down and asked where I was going. I told him and he nodded. I slipped in the back alongside a gorgeous black business woman. We started to chat. She was delighted to find out I was from Michigan and regaled me with her first encounter with the Great Lakes ('like the Atlantic without waves!')at a Traverse City wedding the previous weekend. Then our conversation slipped into the economy, Barack Obama, education, fashion shows in Bryant Park, theater, where to go in the city and on and on. She pulled out her money and told me softly to give the driver $12 when I got to the theater....and then she was gone. My driver continued several blocks to the theater, did a U turn in the middle of the street and dropped me off right in front. He accepted my money, tipped his head and was gone. So there I stood. Directly in front of a theater I had been planning to attend for months. It was a heady feeling.

I checked out the windows. Walked the length of the block to see where Indie (aka Shawna) and I could grab a bite the next night and then meandered back to the theater. People - staff - were starting to arrive. And then my friend arrived. Big smiles...hugs...and whispers about waiting for the cast to arrive. While we were talking I noticed playwright, Nicky Silver, and cast member, Brian J. Smith, standing near the corner of the building smoking. Silver was decidedly ignoring us. I stepped forward to help him with the Orange Crush bottle that was unknowingly falling out of his jacket pocket, shook his hand and told him I was looking forward to seeing the play. Exchanged smiles with Brian J. Smith (a very young looking cutie who plays a rather despicable character) and my friend and I were off to take our dinner reservation at 'Chez Josephine', right next to the theater.

We were met at the door by a delightfully polite and happy elf of a man - who I later found out was Jean-Claude Baker, the owner and one of Josephine Baker's adopted 'Rainbow Tribe' sons. We were led to a small table in the midst of a narrow colorful art deco dining room. Dinner was a salad of endive leaves with Roquefort cheese and toasted walnuts and a bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese. Yum! As we left we were presented with a large post card featuring his mother. I wish I'd done more research before going. I would have loved to have talked to him for a longer period. Anyway....onto the theater!

The Playwrights Horizon theater is lovely and modern and has wonderful stadium type seating. It holds just 198 patrons. Not a bad seat in the house. My friend had an extra ticket and happily sold it to someone waiting in line. The house was absolutely full. We went inside and sat and waited. The lights went down and when the spotlight came up on her, Maura Tierney delivered the opening lines and the play began. The reason I had come.

'Three Changes' is a perplexing piece to say the least. It's funny. It's emotional. It's dark and dreary.....and confusing. I haven't talked to a person yet who was able to say they understood what was really going on with these five characters. One had it all...he thought. One lost it all....wanted what the other had and set out to get it. One was trying hard to create the persona that she DID have it all....but knew, deep down, something extraordinary was missing. Into the mix we stir a selfish, clueless 'other woman' and a darkly affective homeless teen. 'Three Changes' Not exactly family fare. Not exactly....what? I like my plays to have a satisfying ending. I like to have the pieces of the puzzle 'fit.' This one was like the button box Laurel gives to Nate to help him cope with his depression. When the buttons are sorted and in their place, the box is dumped, mixed up and you start all over again. I was a bit exhausted at the end. And depressed.

But the ACTING? The acting was phenomenal. Maura Tierney does not disappoint. Never has in my book. She was delightful as a woman who tried to turn every situation with a quip and a smile....and yet easily twisted to reveal layers of unhappiness. Dylan McDermott drove his character from a reasonably happy man to one struggling with confusion and despair. His life was on a train track going in a direction he didn't want to go....literally. Scott Cohen was the man with the plan. An interesting actor with an interesting role. Aya Cash played clueless and was delightfully funny. Brian J. Smith's portrayal was funny in his enthusiasm and yet very unlikeable. So that makes him a good actor, right? Frustrating in that I have had students with the same sort of persona he created....and that's pretty scary.

The people who have known me for a while are going to appreciate this bit. During the break between Acts I and II, I stood up to stretch and talk and overheard my friend talking with someone sitting next to her. They were wondering about the noise they had heard all during Act I. I asked if it was a high pitched squeal and reached to check my hearing aid. My friend she thought that it was me but wasn't quite sure how to let me know without being rude. I told her to BE rude and laughed. I was told that there were hearing assisted devices available at the snack bar but before I had a chance to get one, someone from back stage came out and offered to get it for me. All I had to do was hand over my driver's license. Two minutes later I was presented with a head set. Hee. Nothing like making your presence known. And if people only knew what kind of trouble not being able to hear that squeal has gotten me into....

After the show I was returned the head set and retrieved my license and my friend and I were talking about how long to wait for the actors to come out. I was going through my bag looking for a picture I had made to have signed for my daughter when Maura entered the lobby from backstage. She was walking at a clip but stopped with a huge smile when I asked if she would sign something. Dang but she is cute in glasses. I handed her a pen and the picture, explaining that the top part was from an essay my daughter had written about me when she was in 4th grade...about how I 'liked watching 'ER' because of a cool character named Maura Tierney and how I might get to meet my 'cool character' some day.' Maura started to read it and I told her she didn't have to do that...just sign it. She laughed and said she wanted to and then signed it for me. She had been talking to my friend about the play and was totally accommodating about having a picture taken....four times....and yet they were all out of focus. (I keep my camera on forced off flash and forgot about that...dang) I kept pulling away and she kept pulling me back. Heh.

Indie (aka Shawna) was waiting for me when I got back to the hotel. She wanted a recounting of every single little detail. Several. Times. Over. It was fun being with someone who didn't mind that. Who has as much invested in Maura Tierney fandom as I do....well...maybe even more. We were up quite late talking about whatshesaid, whenshecameout, whatshewaswearing, howtheplaywent, howmanystayedforautographs, whatisgoingtohappentomorrow....etc.

Wednesday morning I was up before five - as is my habit. I took my book into the bathroom to read for a while. Showered. Dressed. Waited. When Indie (aka Shawna) was up we headed for the free breakfast offered by the hotel and then we were off. Now, my friend from the previous night was concerned that we would not have a proper 'New York experience' because our visit was to be so short. I am still not sure what that 'experience' might be but we did good on Wednesday. First we hailed a cab and headed for the Grayline Double Decker Bus tour. Wandered around Times Square a bit looking for the stop we were supposed to get on at. Climbed a board and took a quick tour of the city's downtown loop. Now, I love watching how people react to things...especially when I can't follow the narration being given. Our bus pulled up next to a nondescript building to wait for a light and I saw the late 60ish woman in front of me gently nudge her husband and slightly tip her head. Turned to look and I snapped a picture of 'The Museum of Sex.' "Sheesh, they have a museum for everything!" I snorted quietly and she grinned when she turned to look back at me. And then she outright laughed when I suggested that we take a field trip there. Hee. Teachers. Always on the lookout for a new 'learning experience.' We are so funny. Sometimes.

When I look back at the pictures I snapped on this tour, it's apparent that I was taking photos of tall buildings that no one was really going to care about but me. I did snap one of a police officer on a horse in the middle of traffic (my daughter's career aspiration) and a couple of interesting sidewalk sights. I was looking around trying to orient myself but it's impossible in a city that contains so many different 'personalities.' When we reached the pier we were changing buses and everything smelled so good. Lots of smells to get those salivating glands running. The next stop was in East Village. Indie (aka Shawna) and I had kindsorta plans to lunch at a restaurant MT had mentioned on the 'Martha Stewart Show' back in the fall. I asked our bus driver if it was possible to walk from East Village to West Village from where we were. His eyes widened a bit and he pointed out a nearby bus stop. He said we could walk it but to take the bus.....please. Heh. My adventurous counterpart, Indie (aka Shawna), and I disembarked, counted out our dollars and waited for the bus. As we climbed aboard, we were told that we needed $2 in change...which we didn't have. Another rider pointed down the street and said we could buy a bus pass 'down there.' We went down the block a bit and found a taco joint with a window open to the street. The young kid working inside had no clue where we could buy a bus pass but gave us two Sacajawea dollar coins for our bills. He emphatically told us to make sure we got a bus exchange ticket with our money as well. Sweet kid. Back to the bus stop and after a 10 minute or so wait, we were on the road again.

I love the 'villages'. East Village. Greenwich Village. West Village. They are away from the honking horns and flashing lights and overcrowded sidewalks and streets of Manhatten....which was the only part of New York we had seen yet. Here they had huge shade trees covering the sidewalks. I had a googled map to Morandi so we stopped and sat in the sun on a sidewalk bench to get our bearings for a moment. My mom called. After reassuring her that we were having a good time and I actually DID know where we were going, we were off again. We found the corner where the restaurant was supposed to be, turned around and there it was. So cute. The sidewalk was almost completely open to the inside and we were offered an inside or outside table. Given that the outside was a bit filled, we chose the quieter inside atmosphere. It was like dining in a Sicilian wine cellar...or at least what my mid-west mind imagines a Sicilian wine cellar to be like. Sitting in a corner table, we perused the menu and selected an apple/toasted macadamia nut salad recommended by our waitress and a grilled focaccia caprese with cherry tomatoes, mozzarella & basil. Again...yum. And the presentation was beautiful. Almost too beautiful to eat. So....I took pictures. The waiters were laughing and enjoying us...I think. : ) Forgoing dessert at Morandi we headed out for an easy stroll toward the Magnolia Bakery.

West Village exudes wealth, youth and charm. It's pretty. Relaxing. People were friendly and I was most intrigued by the book stores that I saw. Little one room setups filled with shelf upon shelf of paperback books....expensive paperback books. I am a reader. I read in the morning. I read before I go to bed at night. I read while things pile up around me. I read on vacation. I read on long car drives when DH is driving. My children love bookstores. We go for full half days when we get the chance. Browsing. Looking. To meet authors. I could easily have spent several hours in this one, purchased a book and found a sunny bench to sit on to read. I need to go back. Seriously.

The Magnolia Bakery is well known in New York circles for it's cupcakes. And you gotta love a place that has 'cupcakes' in it's website address. Luckily it was a good day and there were only eight or so customers in a very small shop. There were many more employees baking and frosting and decorating. We chose four cupcakes from the window display area and made our way back into the sunshine. Here is where I made the second of poor walking decisions. We decided to walk back to the hotel....an easy walk, according to our waitress at Morandi. Heh. Next time we master the subway system. Totally.

It was an interesting walk though. We passed schools with parents and nannies waiting to pick up children, high schools with snickering teenagers in plaid skirted uniforms, a hospital, mothers and nannies pushing strollers with babies, privately owned brownstones and shops. People walking dogs. People asking for money. People selling things. And all around the 'music' of traffic, voices, construction machines....the music of a city. Didn't hear that so much in Boston last summer. Didn't hear it with quite the same intensity in Chicago. Definitely not in Detroit. New York has a 'music' all it's own.

After relaxing and napping for a bit, we headed out for the Playwrights Horizon Theater. Indie (aka Shawna) was a bundle of nerves and had been for most of the day. She was there to see the play....and to meet Maura Tierney. It had been a long, busy day for us both. We arrived a bit early and headed for the Papaya Dog at the end of the block for something to drink as we waited. At the theater we sat in the lobby for a moment waiting for the doors to open. I traded my license for a hearing assistance head phone. (The non hearing impaired person always thinks they are wonderful but they aren't. This set made it sound as if the actors were speaking inside a box....hollow and echoing.) An elderly gentleman who looked very tired and very perturbed headed toward the couch near me. He sat down with a sigh and I told him he looked very happy to be there. He rolled his eyes and laughed. His wife dragged him there a lot, he said. Some good plays and some not so good plays. Then we talked about the fun he had driving home from a Michigan family vacation through Canada. Nice chat. He was sweet and interestingly enough, was sitting in the spot directly behind me inside.

In the theater auditorium, Indie (aka Shawna) nervously settled herself in her front row seat. I sat on the stage edge and we talked about the set and where the actors were going to stand. We were hoping the person sitting next to her would be a single as well...and willing to trade their ticket for mine so we could sit together. That wasn't to be so I headed back to my row 7 center seat (THANK you, Holly!!), put on my headphone and settled in for a second performance. Given that it was the second show of the day, it didn't seem quite as edgy. MT caught a couple more laughs than the night before. Brian J. Smith - a good deal less. I also caught him 'secretly' sticking his tonuge out at MT...twice. Probably an attempt to break her concentration. Brat.

As someone who has directed/produced in community theater and is used to observing 6 to 8 weeks of regular rehearsal, one full week of dress rehearsals and then - at least - three to six actual performances, seeing a show twice in sucession was almost mandatory. When I had the chance to purchase two tickets and no one close to me was interested in going, it was a no brainer to see it twice. It's not like watching a movie twice where everything is exactly the same. Theater changes with the tempo of the audience...with the time of day....etc. Each performance tends to take on it's very own 'personality.' Twice? It' a given.

After the show we headed to the lobby to wait for the actors. Brian J. Smith left in a hurry. Scott Cohen and Aya Cash were talking with groups of friends. Dylan McDermott, bag in hand, was leaving at a clip. I was actually surprised to see him because he hadn't come out at all the night before. He stopped when I spoke and grinned when I told him he'd done a wonderful job tonight and had an even better performance the night before. He was surprised that I had come twice and I explained that I was a Teacher from Michigan and was skipping school to be there. I asked if he would mind signing a 'please excuse....' letter for my principal. He laughed and asked where I taught as he signed my note. He handed it back and said 'this is great' then with an evil little chuckle, shook his head and left. Sigh. I think he may have kick started my long dormant Dylan crush into action again. What a hottie.....sigh. Time to break out the 'Home for the Holidays' dvd again.

Maura Tierney had slipped out of the door and was visiting with several groups, including the ones circling Aya and Scott. She caught my eye and grinned and eventually made her way toward us. Indie (aka Shawna) was mesmerized. She was frazzled and very nervous. She was choking on her words. Maura was patient and accomodating to us both. She was cute and sweet. She talked and signed and posed for pictures and then said good by. She was standing outside on the sidewalk with Scott Cohen and the people they were talking with. They stood between us and the place we had decided to eat at after the show. Indie (aka Shawna) could not bring herself to walk past them so we waited for them to move. We followed as they made their way down the street, all talking and laughing. We moved into our Papaya Dog stand and ordered one of the best tasting hamburgers I have had in a long while. And it was a little difficult to eat. I was dealing with the very first cold sore on my lip that I have ever had in my life. My tonuge and roof of my mouth were raw from continually sucking on cough drops for two and a half hours during the show....twice. (The first night I was almost choking as I held back a cough until the loud sound of a subway train, which I had been forwarned about, started.) Dang nasty mid-western cold!

Thursday morning brought breakfast, shopping, packing and airports. It was a way cheaper ride back to LaGuardia than it had been coming. Indie (aka Shawna) got her boarding pass and we went to the main terminal for a last lunch together. We went back to the bus stand, took silly pictures together on our phone cameras and rode the bus back to our terminals. We hugged when it came to her terminal and then I rode the route again to mine. On my plane I was seated next to a wonderful older woman who was on her way home from Washington DC, where she was part of a group lobbying for more $$$ for cancer research. SHE had her picture taken with Senator Stabenow and was very excited about that. She was pleased about their progress for more funding and I was properly impressed. Nice chat.

When I landed in Detroit, I made my way through the terminal. And yes, I rode the tram this time. Found the bridge to the long term parking garage. Found the elevator that would take me up three levels to where my car was parked. Non-functional. Dragged my not so cute any more cherry covered bag without wheels up three flights of stairs and through the garage to to open section where I had parked. No car. I looked everywhere. Still no car. A businessman on his way home helped me look. No car. He left me standing there, trying to punch DH's number into my totally dead cell phone. Finally I pulled out my envelope where I had written the car's location. Heh. I had parked it in 9-D...not 9-A. It was down the entire length of the parking structure. I started trudging with my bags, found a rolling cart and tossed them a board. Kept walking. Found the car. Tossed my bags in the back seat and headed home. Back to 'real' life. Back to lesson plans, laundry and soccer games.

There were people that thought I was totally nuts to embark on this trip alone. There were people that thought I was very irresponsible to be meeting with people I had met on the internet. There were people that thought I was crazy to sit through the same play twice in a row. Nuts to you! This trip has had it's lessons to be learned.

It has totally ruined my mid-western palate. I have always been an 'adventurous' diner and this trip has stepped that up a notch. No more plying to the desires of family yearning for meatpotatosandcorn. That's boring. Hold on to your forks, folks. We are trying new things in the future. Things with....basil.

I was able to finally meet and enjoy an 'old' internet friend in person and discover that we may not have a lot in common but there is some wonder and comfort in knowing and enjoying one another. We'll get a good picture next time, D. I promise. The Princess and I are already planning to visit in August for her 14th birthday.

I was able to watch a new friend spread her wings a little and do some things that were way out of her comfort zone. She was nervously game for any new adventure I had laid out for us. And she was very patient with me. She is also the fastest adult text messenger that I have ever seen. Shawna...you totally rock.

I was able to meet and greet an actress that I have had tremendous respect and admiration for her talent for a very long time. Was not able to open my mouth and tell her that however. I become verbally challenged when faced with someone I admire. The fact that I didn't ask how she manages to stay out of the paparazzi loop.....how she really feels about leaving a show that brought her into our homes on a weekly basis and basically bought her some financial security....what is next on her career agenda.....what makes her laugh.....what book she is currently reading.....kills me. The fact that I didn't ask those things will be a huge disappointement to my internet circle of Maura fandom. Dang. Can handle the cabbies and the random strangers about the Great Lakes and driving through Canada and field trips and cancer research without breaking a sweat. Go figure.

Mostly though, this New York adventure handed me the realization that I can still enjoy things on my own. That I still have the courage to try the things the I want to do. It allowed me to show my children that if they have something they really want to do - it's possible to make it happen. And it has stirred enough chutzpah in me to actually think about making an appointment to get some 'real' nails put on for a change. By a real technician. Now....if I could just get a hummingbird cupcake or two shipped to Michigan......

Swing Vote

We were looking for a movie last weekend...something we would ALL enjoy....and found 'Swing Vote' at a local second run theater. This movie, starring Kevin Costner, was about a drunken ner'do well father that finds himself the center of national attention when HIS uncounted vote will determine the outcome of a presidential election. His dismay at having voted at all - a vote actually cast by his disgruntled 10 year old daughter - and the ensuing attention from both political camps as they try to sway his vote was fun, and a little frightening, to watch. The lengths that politicians will go through to get your vote was amazing. The play acting. The 'half truths'. The 'gifts.' Costner's character, driven by his frustrated daughter (a cute performance by Madeline Carroll), begins to see and understand the responsibility of his vote. As the movie ended at a moment that does not reveal the winner of the election, it caused a lot of discussion in the car on the way home. Mostly between HRH and I. Then a voice popped up from the back seat asking if you really HAD to vote.

The Prince has always been my child to whom transition and choices are difficult. He has as much difficulty choosing between Cinnamon Life and Fruit Loops now as he did when he was four. (I will never forget the morning I finally just poured BOTH into his cereal bowl....and he was supremely happy.) This is a little disconcerting. He is too young to vote in this Presidential election, but will be able to cast his vote in the next one. I worry that we have not prepared him for that.

My Dad and I could really go at it in a political discussion when I was growing up. I was always ready to voice my opinion on anything and everything. It was at our dinner table that I learned to be responsible with my choices. If I felt strongly about a candidate or an issue I had to be prepared to defend my stance. I have tried to foster that at my dinner table as well. HRH doesn't like to be challenged and tends to back down after sputtering a bit. My son does that as well. It won't be a problem with my daughter. She is like her mom in being willing to stand up to any issue. (Our current debate? Why a sloppy, hand me down tee shirt is not appropriate for school. So far I am winning that one.)

Choices are always harder when you have had more experiences. Now that I am an adult, so many more things come into play when making choices. The biggest being how it will affect my children and the world they live in.

Because of our experiences with infertility and adoption, I have issues with Pro-Choice that I have difficulty reconciling. Because of their tactics and inappropriate use of pictures with aborted fetuses, I have HUGE issues with Right To Life. Because of the difficulty I have scraping together enough pennies to fill my gas tank, I tend to look long and hard at a candidate's stance on oil drilling on US soil. But, because of my affinity with and respect for the natural world, I tend to be more aware of messing with natural habitats of...say...polar bears? I simply can NOT support sending US soldiers off to fight wars on foreign soil. I do not feel that 'The American Way' is the best way for everyone. Viet Nam was a huge part of my adolescence, after all. And yet I am constantly having to check myself when talking to friends whose sons, grandsons and nephews are stationed in hot spots defending the democratic way of life. I listen to Christian stations on my car radio because I am one and like the music...but always lose patience with the hosts who constantly slam and rant and make 'Christian' comparisons. Don't even get me started on health care. I have parents on a fixed income with health issues that suck away at their bank account and students whose parents cannot afford to repair eye glasses or get proper meds when they are sick because they are too 'wealthy' to fit the too poor scenario. My family is enclosed in a cushion of excellent health care programs that I honestly wish I could share and am selfish enough to want to maintain at all costs.

So, how to impart on my son that it is his responsibility to be aware and to make the choices he feels are right? I am listening to what he has to say. I am silently frustrated with some of his decision making processes but am reminding myself that he is still a kid....with fewer experiences. I am encouraging him to discover that there is a reading world outside of 'Sports Illustrated' by having newspapers, 'Time' and 'Newsweek' handy. No more Cartoon Network'. The only thing they are allowed to watch in the morning on a school day are news programs - hoping that they will 'catch' something other than just the weather as they eat breakfast and get ready to go.

My children WILL go to the polling place with me in November. They always do. This time I hope they begin to realize what a way cool and responsible right it is to be there. This time, we have chance to make history....no matter what the outcome.

Why I Am Boycotting the Emmys

The Emmys will be on Sunday night and I will be watching something else. Definitely. This year I am boycotting. Grrr. They bypassed Maura Tierney....again. By all rights, Tierney and Goran Visnjic should have been nominated for the 13th season's premiere, 'Bloodline', alone. That fact that they weren't was an outright crime. Toss the riveting 'Murmurs of the Heart' and the sweetly done 'I Don't' later that season and the crimes multiply. Bloodline? THAT episode was a wonder to behold. The editing, writing, direction, sound, the acting enemble....everything came together....but especially the characters of Abby and Luka. Watching the two actors play off one another...well...see for yourself. These clips were provided by friends. The music is choppy because I edited out the bloodiest bits. SHE was in a bed for the entire episode and flat on her back for a good chunk of time. HE was working from behind a surgical mask. The fact that Goran Visnjic was able to convey his character's horror and anxiety and frustration while half his face is covered is important. The little tricks they use, hand holding, sighing, eyes rolling....and watch his slight rolling on the balls of his feet when he needs to convey indecision. The look in his eyes transversing from intense studying to sick worry in an instant. And the subtle touches between the two of them that convey the intimacy between two people very much in love. Wow.


The past 14th season totally belonged to Maura. She dragged her character - and her audience - kicking and screaming - into the lowest possible place Abby Lockhart could have gone.....and brought her out again slowly but surely. 'Blackout' - the episode in which Abby reaches the depths of despair made me physically ill even thinking about it. For days. I lost my writing muse. For weeks. Watching the character - finally - ask for the help she needs weeks later...was heart wrenching. Watching this actress ply her craft was a wonder to behold. You see, when you are hearing impaired you rely on so many other things to get the gist of a scene rather than just spoken dialog. And she delivers....every time. Needless to say, these two can convey more with a hug than others can with pages of dialog.


The 15th and final season of ER is upon us. Maura Tierney has already filmed the last of her regular appearances on the show. She is off and onto new things. The Academy of Television Arts and Sciences has lost it's chance to recognize her work on 'ER.' And this one viewer isn't watching. I think I 'll pull out a movie....or give myself a pedicure....or sort the straight pins in my sewing box....or pack. Because on Tuesday morning, I am off to New York City for a couple of days. I have been planning this for months. I have tickets to see a new Off Broadway play titled 'Three Changes'.....which stars Maura Tierney. Heh.

The Concert

Because of a scheduled soccer tournament, we were unable to attend the rescheduled concert at Pine Knob with Steven Curtis Chapman and Michael W. Smith. I cashed in the tickets and sent the money to Shaohannah's Hope - the foundation for adoption established and run by the Chapman family. Steven and Caleb Chapman appeared on The Early Show last week. Beautifully done segment that included the new version of his hit, 'Cinderella.' Kind of ironic because this song was the only one that Nina really, really wanted to hear him sing. Here is a link to a video.....
The Early Show with SCC and crew.

Time Marches On.....part deux

There is this big plastic crate under my computer desk. It gets in the way of my feet as a rule but sometimes lends itself to becoming a foot rest. It's contents are both aggravating and precious. It's full of school papers....from my children. Kindergarten writings...fourth grade reports....second grade Math papers...report cards....awards....you name it. Things that collect dust and take up space but that you know you just can't pitch. I am not really the sentimental type and tend to be pretty stingy about what I keep. But it just keeps piling up. I was just rifling through it but didn't find what I was looking for. I know it's there and I wanted to scan it to post here. It's a 'report' that the Prince wrote in second grade.

His second grade teacher was absolutely brilliant. If they finished their classwork they were 'allowed' to go through her book collection to write reports. They could read them aloud to the class. For extra credit. My son took to that notion like a bee to honey. We went through nature magazines for pictures he HAD to have to illustrate a piece of work. He became obsessed with bobsledding during the winter Olympics that year and wrote a report. He wrote about tigers and rain forest animals. He wrote about people. And on September 12, 2001 he wrote about the World Trade Center.

I had learned about the 9-11 tragedy while in school the morning it happened. I had actually accidently flipped on the radio button of my CD player before morning circle and heard desperation in the reporters voice. Parents who were helping for the morning took their children and left school. Televisions and radios were on in obscure places all over the building. Teachers gathered in the speech room...the office...the Teachers' lounge....to watch it as it unfolded. We said nothing to our students during the day. When I came home, I was glued to the television set. My children were outside playing. I tried to talk to them about it - to make sure they weren't afraid - but neither seemed too interested. They were 6 and 7 and a half. More interested in playing street hockey. And riding bikes. I didn't push it. I knew the issue would come up at some point in some way. I just didn't expect it to happen at 6:30 am the very next day.

Sleep didn't come well the night before and I was up early. I was looking through the newspaper. There were pictures and reports coming from New York. My little Prince came stumbling out of his room and climbed onto the chair next to me, mildly interested in what I was reading. We went through the newspaper pages and I explained what had happened. As I got up to fix him a bowl of breakfast cereal, he was looking through the pictures again and the found a pair of scissors. And went in search of paper and glue sticks. Froot Loops forgotten, he began writing a 'report' with a vengeance. Obsessed. He was suddenly a man on a mission. How to make sense of this horrifying piece of his world?

It was only 4 pages long. Four 9 by 11 sheets of computer paper stapled together with a construction paper cover. One page had two pictures of the twin towers in flames and a sentence explaining that planes crashed into the buildings. There was just one photo on the second page of the fallen buildings. Another page was covered with pictures of people fleeing the streets and a sentence explaining that people were running away. The last page was my idea. We found pictures of people helping and praying. I remember that he wrote - 'The helpers are here' - as a caption. Simple. Concise.

He took the report to school to share. I was serving as a helper in an Art class that afternoon when his teacher came to find me. She hadn't looked at the report when he'd brought it in. Not until her lunch break. She had been stewing all day and wondering how to address the 9-11 event with her second grade class. Then she came across his report on her desk. An answer to a very literal prayer. Perfect. Simple. Concise. To the point. And in a child's eye view.

Sometimes we forget. And we mustn't.

Instead, we get caught up in the mundane of every day life..... gas prices..... unemployment.... foreclosures.....elections.......

I think I wanna write a report.

Time Marches On......

The First day of schol...er...um WEEK of school has passed. For years....well, minus two when I had to be at work and DH didn't remember the camera....we have taken pictures on the front steps as we have gone out the door for the very first day. Princess is going to hate this year's one day. Since Prince was off to his first day in high school and had to be at school 90 minutes before her, she chose to sleep in till we left. Hence the bed head and pajama tops. Hence the dark sky in the background. It was freaking EARLY! So now we have a new morning routine. I am up at 4:30am when HRH leaves for work. I answer email, write, do lesson plans, fold laundry etc. until waking the Prince at 5:30. He showers. I shower and dress, make lunches, load the dishwasher, start more laundry, etc. He dresses, gathers his school things and we are out the door at 6:45am.....after I have woken her up. While I am gone, she showers, dresses and packs her back pack. I return, after dropping him off at the high school, have breakfast with her and we leave for school. I drop her off at 8:10 am and then drive next door to my school - 45 minutes early.

I am actually liking this morning routine. It gives me some much needed one on one time with each of them and extra morning time in my classroom. When the weather changes we may have to adjust things a bit. Princess will likely have to give up her beauty sleep but she's okay with that. We found a bagel shop between the high school and middle school drive. They are doing well. HE is handling high school like a trooper. His favorite classes are Algebra II and Economics. Math??? Coulda hit me with a ton of bricks. I NEVER saw that one coming. SHE is liking being the only one at the middle school and hates Social Studies and Math. I am just melancholy for the good old days sometimes. The days we all went to the same place at the same time. This one is from first and third grade. Back when they would let ME pick out their clothes.....sigh.

A Question About Love

It was a question asked out of the clear blue about eight years ago. The Prince had gone to school with me and was running around on the playground with my Kindergarten students. A mom had stopped by to take her child home early and was standing with me enjoying the sunshine, the sight of healthy, happy little kids racing all around, swinging and climbing on play structures. She noticed my Korean born child and started to ask me something. Something that was stuck in her throat and then came out in a rush. She said she loved her child more than she could possibly have imagined. She had from the very first...as he grew inside her. She stumbled over the next part and finally asked me how I could possibly love MY children in that same way?

Wow. That was an interesting moment. It has stayed with me all of these years. Pops up at odd times. Wierd times. I can still see her face...and the face of her child so much like hers. I have thought often about this incomprehensible, defining kind of love that she was talking about. Did I? Do I? I have never felt the stirrings and movements of a little body inside mine. I have not shared that sort of thing with my husband. I have not gone through physical labor pains. I have not given birth. I don't know if those things could possibly make my feelings any different than they already are.

My husband has daughters from another marriage that he loves desperately. I don't know that he feels anything less intense for the son and daughter that arrived by plane. He has definitely has had more 'quanity time' with these two. Back in the days of weekend visitations we used to commisserate by telling each other we were giving his girls 'quality time' at our house. I have since learned that 'quality/quanity' doesn't really matter. It's 'time' that does. Any kind of time. But that's getting off subject.

My son was four months old when he was first placed in our arms. My daughter was five years old when we first hugged her. We did a paper chase and a homestudy process and bared our souls to strangers and to one another trying to decide if we were right to be parents...and if we were ready to be parents. We waited with hearts in throats for those phone calls and papers that validated our decisions and searches. We put together a crib ...and later a bed. Selected clothing we wanted to see them wear. Chose curtains and first books and first toys. Is that kind of what you go through with a pregnancy?

I would imagine that those first photographs that we saw were very much like the first ultrasound images that other people see. I knew instantly that these were my children. I didn't cry...which I think surprised our caseworker. But I remember a definite tightening in my throat. A swelling in my heart. I couldn't wait for them to be here. To be in my arms. To feel the softness of their hair. To kiss their cheeks. To smell their smells. Is that what you go through too? The waiting?

Our labor took place in a court room. The 'birth' was completed with the dash of a pen. But those days were the happiest days of our lives. Overwhelming happy days. They were safe. They were finally here and they were ours. Is that what you go through too?

We celebrated and stressed over first steps...first teeth....first missing teeth...first days of school...homework woes....and little friendships and fights. We planned overwhelming birthday parties and laid back sleepovers, attended parent conferences and programs. We've sat in emergency rooms waiting and worrying. Looking ahead we see boy friends and girl friends, first dates, proms and....shudder.....driver's licenses on the very near horizon. Is that so very different than you?

I worried about missing the babyhood firsts with my daughter....but I didn't. We shared a different kind of firsts. The firsts of an older child. The look on a five year old's face when she bit into her first piece of watermelon....sat on her very first bicycle....went swimming for the first time. It was all there. On a different level. Much like your experiences?

It's hard for someone who has not gone through an adoption process to understand how we could - so completely and utterly - love someone elses' child. But they miss the point totally. This is our child. Our son. Our daughter. No more. No less. Completely. Incomprehensible. Defining. Like yours.

"The Case of the Missing Brown Betty"

I have been gifted with children who do not like to eat breakfast. They never have. But I guess I can identify because I am not a breafast food eater either most of the time. They would rather wait until lunch to eat. However, when they don't eat, they - the Prince especially - become evil, growling, snapping turtle beings from another world in another galaxy. Always. So the beginning of the school year presents a challenge in planning to get something into their tummies before the bell rings. The Princess will eat cold cereal....but she likes it dry...in a baggie. Eeew. On rare occasions - when I don't have the time really - I can talk them into poached egg on toast or a scrambled egg sandwich. Oatmeal with a scoop of ice cream (it's just frozen milk and sugar...right?) usually lasts well into October. We had a run on cheese quesadillas once....for about a week. My own personal junior high favorite, bologna and mustard on toast, is always a standby and not necessarily that healthy. So I try to get creative. Every summer.

Today I wandered over to one of my favorite blogs - The Pioneer Woman - where there is an outstanding collection of picture perfect (and not so perfect) recipes. Looking for something fruity and different to use for breakfast this fall, I happened upon this recipe for Apple Brown Betty. I love the Pioneer Woman. She makes me want to cook butter for my family....and if you have ever tagged through her recipes you know that 'butter' is not a typo for 'better'. Heh.

Anyway, I made some changes to the recipe based on what I have in my kitchen. I cut the brown sugar in half...well way more than half. I dutifully cut seven slices of fat free, whole wheat bread into tiny cubes. I peeled and thin sliced 4 Granny Smith apples. I added a handful of soaked dates - just because I had some leftover in the cupboard from HRH's chocolate chip date birthday cake. I watered the layered fruit, sugar and bread layers with 4 tablespoons of water and covered it all with slices from a stick of my favorite 'not really butter'. Wrapped it all in foil and baked that baby. It was out in time for the kiddos to try for.....lunch. Taste tested it with a warm healthy sized serving and it was deeelicious. The Prince wouldn't touch it. The cooked apples were too brown for him. And he is also suspicious of anything with apples and cinnamon because I have a tendency to toss some hideous raisins in with it too.....or dates. Princess liked it. She likes anything with fruit and can over look the hideous raisins...and dates. She ate a healthy serving. Had another healthy serving myself. Yum. Saved the rest for HRH's dinner treat.

And then while I was working on a cold tuna salad thing to stick in the fridge for dinner because we have soccer practice and a soccer game in two different directions tonight, I had another spoonful...right from the pan. The not-butter and brown sugar carmelized with the bread cubes quite nicely. So I had another spoonful to celebrate my good cooking skills. Stepped away for a while to check my e-mail and wandered back to stir the cooking macaroni...and took another bite. One wasn't enough, so I took a second. Or was it a third? Anyway, HRH's serving kept getting smaller and smaller. Sigh.

So now the pan sits in the sink filled with hot water and soap, soaking all that stuck on carmelized sugar away. And HRH is wondering why there are so many spoons in the sink. Heh. Next time I will save my spoon.

Thank you Alexander G. Bell!

I love my cell phone. Truthfully I was the very last kid on the block to get one. I fought it tooth and nail. Why did we really need it? Cell phone waves can give you cancer, right? WHY did we really want ANOTHER bill??? HRH got a cell phone for 'work.' Had it for almost a year before the soccer practice mixup incident.

It was one of those nights when he was working late and the kids had to be in two different directions for practice. Prince ended up having to go to a different location. I passed him off to another parent to drive, took off with the Princess to her practice and suddenly realized that HRH would be going to the first location to get the Prince. Envisioning the poor Prince standing all alone at the second field waiting for SOMEone to get him after practice was probably the very first time that I could justify having a cell phone. So I broke. I agreed to get a cell phone. THAT was three years ago.

This is the phone that I got. I insisted on red. No one knew why. And I kept it a cryptic secret for well over a year. Princess was the most adament about finding out why. She loved playing '20 Questions' about my phone's redness. I kept telling her that she had SEEN the reason why but she could never figure it out. Heh.

I love my phone. I can actually HEAR on it. It was just the right size and shape and weight. The hinge has loosened enough to flip open at the flick of a wrist. I can text easily with a single thumb...and I text....alot. HRH got a deal from Sprint one day recently. Ordered two new FREE phones. One for me and one for the Princess. Just like his. Heh. BOTH were sent back post haste. Princess is NOT getting a phone of her own till she is fourteen. Only 357 more days. As for me, WHY would I would want a phone like his? I LOVE my phone. I picked it out myself. I was not ready to give it up. Sprint keeps calling. He keeps telling them I will look when I am ready. Heh.

So, it's been three years. He keeps hinting. The kiddos and I went looking yesterday. Went to three different places actually. Nothing felt right. Too square. Corners were too sharp. Not...thick...enough. Can't hear on them. Sigh. Till I found this one with a camera....and a memory disk so pictures can be printed on the computer. I can hear on it. It has a keyboard for texting but I will have to learn to use two thumbs. I guess I am coming up in the world. At least we are still in touch with one another. And Princess is STILL not getting one till she is fourteen. Only 357 more days......

Oh...and I insisted red because of this scene from a season 12 episode of ER. Abby has a red phone. Yep. Once an ER addict, always an ER addict. Heh.