Weather or not

So I spend a week in crazy hot sunny weather in Chicago and then I return to rain.  I left rain.  All it does is rain here.  I wonder why?

There is no point in complaining about it ... because it just is.  It just is POURING that is!  This is no gentle, balmy rain.  This is the real deal, and it has been going on for hours.  So I ask again, why?

Well, because of the Gulf Stream and cold air from Canada and this and that.  Those are the reasons, and there's not anything you can do about it.  Unless of course you move.  Which I would LOVE to do!  Oh yes!  Move!  Peter even made a comment about moving yesterday -- even he has an official rain limit -- and so perhaps this is all my fault.  Perhaps my strong need to move somewhere civil has created this!  Because seriously, if it rains all summer, I am OUTTA HERE!  It's not raining in Seattle.  If you want to see something crazy, pull up Seattle on a weather site and see that the next 7 days are sunny and in the 80's -- not a cloud in the sky.

So, it's raining, and it will continue to rain for the next full week.  The kids are home, complaining (loudly) that there is nothing to do.  I am lucky to have woken up with a frog in my throat -- I can't stand listening to myself talk.  Perhaps it is because I slept with windows open above my head and the cold, damp air that is New Hampshire enshrouded me with its bitterness and made me ill?  Who knows, but I don't want to chance a walk in the woods and getting soaked to the bone and then chilled, so :::::::::::::sigh::::::::::::::::::: what shall we all do?  What do people in Seattle do?  I think they just put on raincoats and go about their lives.  Which I am all for, except that it is COLD and POURING.  Not balmy and moist.

My plan for this week was to pick as many strawberries as possible to freeze for the next year.  But wouldn't you know, they are having a bad strawberry year and lost many plants to frost.  The berries also don't ripen in the rain, they need the sun.  My garden is not growing like gangbusters ... it too yearns for the sun ... so I expect that all gardens are in the same plight.  Which is the whole I only have a few months out of the year that I can garden, and well, that is being bitten into by weather.

Where will I move to?  Well, that is a good question.  What I would like is a continuous 70-78 degree temperature with full sun and no bugs and the ability to live outside for most of the year.  I want an outdoor living room, kitchen, bedroom, the works.  I love to be outside, and when I look through catalogs and see those outdoor spaces all set up with cool furniture (that would rot in New Hampshire if left outdoors) I just salivate.  So where?  California?  Some tropical island?  I don't know, but I do know that whatever Yankee mentality I had bred into me is diluted ... I don't just accept hardship, I scorn it!  I say, rain rain go away, and if you don't then I won't stay!

So there!

Now it's back to the regularly scheduled programming of bored kids looking to me to amuse them.

Lovely.

Superfood withdrawal

Wow, I am not going to do it again.  It's not worth it.

What?

My daily diet ALWAYS consists of a few staples, no matter how good or bad I eat in totality for that day.  For the past nine months I have had near-daily doses of maca powder and cacao powder, often mixed in coconut water or a smoothie with fruit.  I can go a day or two without it and not notice anything, but this is the first time I've ever gone a full week, and let me tell you, I feel like a different person entirely.

The most revealing results is a TOTAL lack of energy.  At first I blamed it on not enough exercise, just sitting around socializing and eating and drinking, and then later, in Chicago, the blistering heat.  But I woke up this morning and felt the same kind of blah way.  And I woke up CRAVING a smoothie, which I am drinking now.  And I realized that this has been the longest period I have gone since October without my superfoods -- and they definitely make a difference.

I think you can go a day or two because it is still in your system, but by the time a week has gone by, it's outta there and you are just left with your own listless self!  

Normally when I go away I either pack my blender and superfoods or figure out where I can access what I need.  I just assumed that once in Chicago I'd find a health food store and be fine; but Hallie lives in a very quiet neighborhood area, and the only way to get anywhere is to walk ten minutes, and seriously, it was too hot to want to do that very often.  We also fell into the pattern of waiting too long to get something to eat; so by the time we were on a search, we wanted to EAT whatever was in sight.  Charlie was also with us, and so that affected eating choices as well.

It's no big deal, really, in the grand scheme of things, but I'm not going to do it again.  It's just so much more enjoyable to feel full of life and ready to tackle whatever comes your way, versus feeling exhausted as soon as you wake up.  That is ridiculous, and so easily overcome by the addition of just a few items in your diet.

So later, after my smoothie, I am going to make a green juice and put in algae powder, take a spoonful of my super-honey and flavor my water with milk thistle and then vinegar.  I am going to flood my system with all of the ingredients I have deprived it from the past seven days and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that soon my will to live will grow exponentially and I will feel like singing and dancing and throwing my arms out and twirling around on the top of a mountain.

Food is a drug, and you can either choose the drug that makes you feel like crap, or the one that makes you feel greater than you could ever imagine.

I will never go seven days again.  I choose not to.

Michael and Farrah ... hair and a white glove

I remember we were having a party however many, many years ago, when Peter came out (it was late and/or early) and said that Princess Di had died in a car crash.

I remember how it hit me: OH MY GOD, we can die.

I know, I know, that sounds ridiculous, but let's face it: we never think that we are going to die. It's just not how we live. We live to live and death is one of those things we pretend is never going to touch us.

The death of Princess Di was a milestone to me because she was so young and vibrant and had her whole life ahead of her. And she died. And that meant that we could all die.

Today Michael Jackson died and I was sitting at a bar on a Chicago sidewalk and watched as the news started to filter out. I personally found out from a friend who was told by someone on the phone. I didn't feel especially shocked or even that upset. He was weird. I know that doesn't mean he should die, but he was never normal, he was never anyone I related to on any level, and so his passing, while sad, did not affect me.

But it did to the younger crowd. They were very upset, which I found interesting, because I think his music was more my generation than theirs. I actually knew him when he was still black and not so weird, and he was a very talented individual, without a doubt. But something went very, very wrong with him, and I just let him go. He faded into the ether of time's past and I was happy to let him stay there. His death is secondary to me; he became unimportant to me a long time ago.

Farrah Fawcett also died today, which is kind of weird. Yes, she was expected to die, but still, doesn't the fact that she died on the same day as a HUGE pop icon sort of mimic how her life as an actress turned out? She was a poster girl, really. She blew out of Charlie's Angels because she wanted more money and they said no, and she never really went anywhere after that. She was really not that big of an anyone, and if she had been the only celebrity to die today, she would possibly have been given some decent press and footage.

But no. Michael Jackson stole her final curtain call.

I think that is weird. Or maybe not.

What is a celebrity? In this age of reality TV, being on TV is no longer a BIG DEAL. Why do we idolize these people? Why do we think that they are better than us? More important than us? More worthy of being splashed across the news waves ... who will know when WE die? Will it be broadcast? Will anyone care?

Over and over today I kept hearing "it is so sad." They were, of course, referring to the death of Michael Jackson. I kept thinking his life was so sad. Everything he did to his body -- for whatever reason -- was an indication that he wanted to change himself. He clearly did not want to be who he was -- and the only time you don't want to be who you are is when you are deeply unhappy with that person.

I believe people die of broken hearts, for whatever reasons. And the only thing he ever lived for was for the approval of his family and his fans. I have a feeling that in his mind he no longer had either. And so it broke for good.

He tried to build this world into a fantasy land -- I hope he's finally found what he was looking for.

Little boys grow up to be pains, not cowboys

We were at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago yesterday and we were on a guided tour of a coal mine (well, you know, a museum coal mine) and our tour guide was this chipper young woman who called the kids in the group "minor miners." There was this one little boy of about 3 who was very out-going, chatty and outspoken. Whenever the guide asked a question, he was always yelling out an answer, or making comments like "I am afraid of fires and sometimes at night I can't sleep because my house will burn down."

And the group would laugh. And the mother, somewhat embarrassed but not entirely, would try to get him to behave; but the guide kept insisting that it was fine and no one else seemed to be bothered, so she let him go. I watched as he wound up even further, and at one point he was a bit frenzied and said to everyone, "watch, I can hop on one foot," and then he did so. "And wait, I can hop on the other foot too, watch me," and everyone watched.

He was absolutely adorable and he reminded me of my own son at that age. And then it hit me. This kid was doomed. He was being taught that his behavior was cute by the reinforcement of everyone's laughter and encouragement. And it felt good, you could see it in his face. So, he is going to spend the next few years honing his skills and then he is going to go to school.

And they are going to crush him. And tell him to stop it. To be quiet, to stop asking questions, stop being so ebullient and charming because it's not useful or helpful or wanted in the classroom. And it's going to take a few years for him to un-do the conditioning he has undergone throughout his childhood, and in that time span he will be labeled a problem child. And eventually he will grow more quiet and unhappy because he will no longer understand what is the right way to behave, and I wanted to say to his mother, DO NOT SEND YOUR CHILD TO PUBLIC SCHOOL BECAUSE THEY WILL HARM HIM.

And they kept popping up in the same places that we did in the museum, which only underscored the fact that I was supposed to say that to her. I was supposed to plant that seed in her mind so that it would grow strong enough so that by the time he is school-aged she will know for sure it is not the proper place for him. But I didn't. And now I feel bad, but I know that in the future I will not make this same mistake, because it has been on my mind ever since and I hate the thought of that little boy being squashed as much as I've hated watching it happen to my own son.

Charlie loved the museum. He ran around like a little kid and went from exhibit to exhibit with childlike enthusiasm. He didn't want to leave (Hallie and I were dragging five hours into it) and we were able to end the day with him going into a flight simulator; which left him all bubbly and happy. The two things that over-the-top excited him were that and the farm equipment that he could climb into and pretend to drive. One was one big-assed tractor and the other was a thresher, which was monstrous. He kept saying that he wanted to drive those when he grew up; and I was very interested myself how high-tech farming has become.

I started to think about how this country needs to return to organic farming (and it already has) but that the future in my opinion will be more about healthy food as opposed to the genetically modified pesticide-laden crap that fills our supermarkets. And I thought that it would be a lovely way for Charlie to combine his love of machinery with a positive life goal. (I decided Hallie was going to be an engineer; I can decide if he's going to be a farmer too!)

The other thing he talks about is being a pilot. I like that too!

Family Ties

Just spent a wonderful weekend in Edina, MN at a family wedding celebration -- and it was so much fun. We flew in on Friday afternoon, checked into our hotel then proceeded to my brother and sister-in-law's home where the festivities were already beginning. My sister-in-law had already arrived from Albuquerque and "the cousins," which consist of a group in their mid-20's/early 30's were there with boyfriends. And the bride and groom were there as well. The setting was beyond perfect and the weather was fabulous. Having come from rainy world, the sunshine and hot temps were a real treat.

As we all sat poolside and watched the younger kids do flips off the diving board, we chatted and caught up, then had a cookout. Then we returned to the hotel and Hallie and I checked out the hotel bar. You know, because one should always be aware of their surroundings! A sangria or two later, we all eased our bodies into the heavenly beds of the Westin and had an excellent night's sleep.

On Saturday morning we returned to the resort (their house is that nice, and with the pool area, it really feels like a resort) and after a breakfast of bagels and coffee a group of us did a nice three mile walk around Lake Harriet. I have an aunt named Harriet, so I kept thinking of her during the walk!

Saturday afternoon brought in more people; family from both sides and it was fun to meet new people and see others we hadn't seen in a long time. The "official" party was on Saturday evening, but we'd really been in party mode since we arrived. We went back to the hotel and spiffed up a bit, then returned and enjoyed a wonderful catered dinner poolside (and watched the kids do flips off the diving board, which was a never-ending entertainment). It was a very good time that was enjoyed by everyone, I am sure.

Then on Sunday the entire group reassembled for a wonderful brunch, poolside. And the threatening rain had the good sense to hold off until we were all finished. Then we spent the rest of the day saying goodbye as people left one by one. A smaller group (of 11) had dinner at a great Italian restaurant last night, and then we said our last goodbyes to the bride and groom as they climbed into their car to begin their drive back to Boston.

And we went to bed because we had to be up at 5:00 a.m. to get to the airport. And we arrived with plenty of time, and it was perfect: Peter and Maddie's gate was right next to ours and they boarded at 6:30. We said goodbye to them and then we went over to our gate and stood for about five minutes, then they boarded us. We could look out the window and saw when their plane left. You can't get things to work out any better than that!

So Charlie, Hallie and I arrived in Chicago 15 minutes early (when you're in the flow, you flow!) and now we are hanging out in her apartment sweating. It is sooooooooooooo hot outside, super sunny and beautiful. But since we've been up since dawn, we're not feeling all that perky!

It was really a great weekend and even though we were all together 24/7 for three days, it all went very smoothly. I was so struck by the feel of generations, the cyclical aging process and the passage of time; and my sister-in-law Sue, whose son it was that had just been married, echoed those sentiments. She had put out picture albums and in her wedding photos my husband was the same age as Charlie is now; and her parents were so young (they were the oldest attendees of the party and her father is definitely a little rickety walking around). In the photo albums he looks exactly like her brother. Her mother is absolutely beautiful in the photo albums, and beautiful now. A true example of aging gracefully.

My in-laws were not able to attend because my father-in-law has had recent surgery, and I kept thinking that they had missed a very important event. Peter has five siblings (including himself) and they were all present. The last time that happened was about 12 years ago for their parents 50th anniversary. Unless someone else plans on getting married soon; I don't see it happening again for awhile. And it really drove home to me the belief that if you can attend a wedding (or funeral for that matter), then you should. Because life is very short and it's truly a milestone to be together, if only for a short time. It affords yet another notch in the stick of time; you know, the last time we saw you was at Zach and Bobbi's wedding party.

We need such events to use to measure time!

But what I enjoyed the most, I think, is to hear all sorts of old stories and meet people who could tell you new stories about people you know from a different perspective. It was fun to see everyone interact and to watch the true evolution of a stranger to a family become a family member.

Priceless.

Amazing Amazon

I remember when Amazon.com first came into existence.  I thought I had DIED and gone to heaven.  Imagine, shopping online for books, clicking a button and within days that book arrived.

Seriously.  It was like a dream came true.  I was one of their BESTEST customers.  I was not afraid of putting my credit card information online (can you imagine?  I had friends who wouldn't do this because they said it could be "dangerous.") and I sure as hell enjoyed that cardboard box arriving at the office with the Amazon emblem blazed across it.  

Sheer joy.  In fact, I was such a good customer that they sent me an insulated coffee mug stating so.  And those were the days when they JUST sold books.  Just books.  And I was happy with that.  But I became enamored with the concept of things arriving at my door, so I quickly became a regular customer of drugstore.com and PetSomething (so many pet-something names, so little time) and had all my toiletries and dog food delivered.  The UPS man and I -- we were tight.  He especially loved me when he had to deliver the 50 pound bags of dog food.  Oh, and when I ordered wine online he thought I was as cool as they get.

You know, because I am.  Ahh yes, those were the days.  OF FREE SHIPPING.

Then it all went away --- pooof --- in a cloud of cost.  Suddenly it became cost-prohibitive to spend a fortune on shipping when in truth, I could you know, go to the store.  There were no coffee mugs; in fact, Amazon and I parted ways for a time.  I love a trip to the bookstore and the time I went to order a book on Amazon and realized I was going to have to spend $6.00 to get it to me, in a huff I drove to the bookstore and memories of a million past visits to bookstores washed over me as I entered the place, and  I realized I'd done myself a great disservice by never leaving my chair.   And now they were serving coffee!  Things had improved in bookstores since I'd last been.  Who knew.

Then, I stopped working and suddenly proximity to a bookstore became a new issue.  And I tentatively looked at Amazon and realized they had come up with a new plan for free shipping.  Sure, it didn't mean quick delivery anymore, and they were going to ship it all in one package so it meant that if something was backordered, you were in for a good long wait.  But it was a start.  I put my toe back in the water, and of course, in no time was completely submerged.  Amazon and I were back.

And now that I have the Kindle, well, I am a slave to them.  Hell, I was always theirs, I'll admit it.  And today is the dawning of a new era.  I just realized that they sell food.  Yeah, I always knew the word Amazon was due to the fact that they were going to sell everything.  And while I almost exclusively use them for books, I have been aware they sell many other wares.  But not food.

My local grocery store, a Hannaford chain that doesn't believe in making the customer happy, was carrying the line of coconut water that I use in my daily smoothies.  Then the shelves went dry.  I approached their customer service rep and inquired as to whether or not they would be perhaps re-stocking this brand, or even another.  The woman, a corporate flunky with too many years behind the counter, shrugged.  She shrugged.  She didn't even attempt to glance at a computer screen or make up a lie.  Nope.

I know for a fact that they love themselves.  I've seen them all hugging in the aisles.  But they don't apparently love their customers -- or have forgotten in their corporate happy-employees make good employees lessons that the customer is still a factor that should be considered.

Anyway.  I got a little pushy and asked her if perhaps she could find out.  She looked up from whatever she was doing over her thin glasses and sighed.  She sighed!  What was it that I was looking for?

I smiled my nice corporations suck but since they are taking over the world and I can't do a damn thing about it smile and said that there was this coconut water on aisle three that was no longer there.  Was it, perhaps, in another aisle and I couldn't find it.  OR WAS IT FUCKING GONE?  (The last line was in my head ... but I was still smiling that pretty fake smile.)

She sighed again.  I know.  Tough question.  Instead of again, pretending she was doing something about it, she told me to wait a minute, that so and so would be back soon.  

My smile vanished.  I tried, I swear, to keep it pasted on, but those lips were falling downward and I couldn't stop it.  In fact, I was spending more time keeping myself from telling her off or, well, even spitting on her.  What the hell?  

So and so came along and the very busy woman doing nothing asked me to repeat my question.  Wouldn't even take the time to pretend I was important enough worth treating like, well you know, a customer, and whom she was trying to help.  PASS THE BUCK.  I said, with my pasted on smile, that no thanks, clearly they were too busy to help me, I'd go look for another store.

She looked up sharply then, somehow wondering where the nice person asking her the stupid question had gone, and So and so looked alarmed and asked me what was going on, could she ... and this was beautiful.  Could she help!

I sighed and wished vehemently that I had thin, stupid glasses from which to peer at her over and repeated my coconut water question.  Jesus Christ.

She said, oh, you know, I am not sure.  What aisle?  I told her.  She said they were rearranging that aisle.  I said do you think it's in another aisle?  She didn't know.  But she would find out.  Some day.  Well, she didn't say that, but she did look at a computer screen and seemed confused.  Perhaps it wasn't on?

I said fine, you know, I have to go, but next time I'd bring a search party and we would scour the aisles looking for it.  I did say this with my smile .... the one behind which I was saying I AM SO NOT SHOPPING IN THIS STUPID SToRE ANYMORe smile, and she started saying no no, let me go look, but nope.  I was done.

So ... ANYWAY.  I realized I needed a new dealer for my coconut water habit, so I looked online.  And lo and behold, I was brought to amazon.com.  I was delighted -- I do so love Amazon, and lo and behold again, I could get my coconut water for 30 percent cheaper than at the stupid store and FREE SHIPPING and ... I signed up for a subscription service so that every month my case of coconut water will be delivered.

There were angels singing in the background as I pushed all the buttons signing myself up for this wonderful and epic decision.  Then I thought, but wait!  What else do they have?  And they have ALL the superfoods that I travel across the countryside in search of.  Tears were streaming down my face as I clicked and clicked and clicked.  All with free shipping.

HALLELULAH.

Amazon has changed my life yet again.

Now, I think after this ringing endorsement I should get another coffee mug.  Don't you?

Rainy day ramblings

It feels like it rains all the time.  Perhaps this is because it rains all the time, I'm not sure.  We had a fabulous and gorgeous Saturday with swimming in the ocean and basking on the beach and frosty margaritas and lobster for dinner.

Then on Sunday, it rained again.  What?  We get one nice day and must sacrifice another five in penance?  Come on.  Summer officially starts on Sunday and quite frankly, it is time to act like it.  Winter has NO PROBLEM acting like itself; so I would appreciate summer taking itself a little more seriously.  If I wanted to live in rain all the time, I would move to Seattle.  Or London.  Damn it!

On another note, I can't find my travel jewelry case (which contains jewelry I'm quite fond of) and my little itty booklight which I also miss and it's DRIVING ME INSANE.  When I came home from Sedona I didn't do a very good job of unpacking.  I wasn't too thrilled to be home for one thing, so I fought it.  My jewelry case sat on my desk for weeks.  Bags of items were left to lanquish for just as long.  Then, I had to clean the house for a big party and I remember thinking to myself, as I put things where they normally don't belong, that I would pay for such lazy hiding.

Well, yeah, that would be now.  I've wracked my brain trying to recall where I put them.  All I get is a feeling that I put them somewhere I won't stumble upon any time soon.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.  I'm running out of potential places.  I've gone through my whole bedroom closet, my desk, the bureau's where I shove things ... now I am thinking someone stole it.  This is way easier than believing that I am too stupid to find it!!!  The only thing I know for sure is that these things have to be somewhere.  AAAAAAAAAAAARGH.  I just looked in another place.  No go.  

I decided to get a GPS thingy because we don't travel that often out of our stratosphere, but when we do it's pretty much a given that we will get lost.  We've had them before in rental cars, and when we go to Minnesota this weekend, there was no way I wasn't going to get one for the rental.  But they cost $15 a day, so if I am going to get one anyway, doesn't it make sense not to spend $45?  Yeah, exactly, I am glad you see it my way.  So I spent a few hours comparing them.  I was pretty much always leaning toward Garmina (I added the 'A') and she came out with flying colors in the reviews.  I found them cheap on Amazon. com -- discontinued models.  So cool, that's on the way.

And .... TA DA ... I went to the farmstand this afternoon and there it was -- green beautiful green, fresh from the garden produce.  Oh JOY-O-IRIFIC!  I picked up some romaine lettuce, arugula and radishes and said we were having a detox dinner tonight!  Unless it was green or red it wasn't going to be served!  I also have some beets, cukes and green beans, fresh strawberries and bananas.  You know when you are craving that stuff that you have been baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!  And I have.  Lobster is not clean eating.  Just YUMMY!

It is pouring pouring pouring.  And I first started this post this morning, and now it is almost 6:00.  Constant rain.  Driving rain.  It is quite possible one could go insane.

Crap, crap everywhere and not a drop to drink

This is not an actual picture of my kitchen, but I can see how this happens.  And it could happen in days, if not hours.  Attack of the crap.  Crap attack.  CRAP!

The downstairs has been de-cluttered and has been fairly easy to keep "neat," on a daily basis.

But the upstairs.  Oh, the upstairs.

I just don't get it.  Why is there always so much CRAP around?  Didn't I just go through all my clothes and haul out bags to Goodwill?  Didn't I do that with the kids as well?  So what, are there clothes trees that I don't know about?  And do the clothes fall from them like ripe apples and start to rot?

Yeah, I think that's what is going on.

As I plowed through a mountain of laundry first thing this morning, I vowed to stop putting things in piles and walking away.  The entire hallway ledge is one pile of clothes after another.  The laundry room itself is a disaster that I've been ignoring for months and months and months.  So I decided to take charge today and get it over with, once and for all.

Except, it's so daunting!  As I folded sheets to put into the linen closet, the linen closet was a wreck.  DAMN IT, I screamed (really, I screamed) I just cleaned this thing.  Who the hell is jamming things that don't belong here on these stupidly tiny shelves?

There was no one to hear my words of frustration, unless of course you count a cowering dog who takes everything I do or say personally, or a teenager who had her head underneath a pillow and probably won't surface for many more hours.  But does it matter?  We clean and organize and neaten and fix, only to have it undone.  I am always torn between just letting it all go to pot because that's where it's headed anyway; or trying to keep ahead of the pot-going inevitability, always foolishly believing that THIS TIME I will beat it.

I never do.

Even as I sit here, at once was a clean desk, I see piles of piles that I don't even recognize.  Oh, okay, that is Charlie's homework, a bunch of CD's that contain pictures I no longer need, a water bottle that for some reason sits here instead of finding its way into the dishwasher because it is new and needs a washing ... and of course that pile of magazines, mail and other crap I pile up to deal with later.  ::::::::::::::sigh:::::::::::::::::

And all it will take is about ten minutes to get it taken care of.  But I have only just begun the upstairs and there are only so many ten minute stints in a day; and because I was so frustrated I woke up sleeping teenager and took her out to breakfast.

I have read that the surest way to halt all creative and industrious progress is to eat bad food.

I am always into research.

As time goes on ....

Last night I was putting together the music for the 8th grade "celebration" slideshow that I have the "honor" of doing, and Charlie came in to check it out.

(The process of getting to the stage of actually applying music was a pain in the royal ass, since I do not know more than 20 or so kids by name so Charlie had to name each one for me, then I had to check off on a list how many pictures there were of each kid ...  it was really stupid for someone who doesn't know the kids to do; but that's public school for ya.  There, now I feel better, my final slideshow bitch!)

At Charlie's school they do not have middle school graduation, they have a dance, and a parent committee is put together to come up with a theme and so on; and that is really the ONLY fanfare that you get as an outgoing 8th grader.  We are attending a family party in Minnesota on that day, so Charlie is going to miss it altogether, and before I made the plane reservations, I had asked him how important the dance was to him.  He said he could care less.  And since it was much easier for us to get out on Friday (and cheaper) I went with that.

So he was sitting in the chair opposite my desk and the slideshow was playing with the music, and the last song came on, which is from High School Musical, and he got the funniest look on his face.  I tried to read it and wondered if it was because it was such a totally dorky song, but no, he seemed to like the music.   So what was it?  Then I thought, "Oh no, it's because he's realizing that he's NOT going to the celebration thing and he's bumming out."  I was just about to say something, when he spoke:

"I'm going to high school," he said in a voice of total and utter amazement and disbelief.

"Well, yeah," I answered.  "That's the plan."

"No, mom, you don't understand.  I am going to high school.  I will never be in 8th grade again, I will never be in middle school again.  I am going to high school."

The dawning of a new age -- and there it was to see, plastered across his face.  As he watched the pictures I could see him processing this new idea; one that obviously hadn't occurred to him before this.  And I wondered, was he sad to be leaving a school he had been so miserable in?  So I asked.

And he made a face and said that of course he wasn't going to miss it, and looked at me like I had two heads.

And then I asked if he was now finally realizing that he was missing the dance.  And he said no, at the baseball party yesterday afternoon the same kids called him fat and gay, so no, he wasn't too bummed out about not attending an event to get yet another dose of abuse.

So I stopped trying to put a label on it and let him finish up his AHA! moment in peace.

Then it hit me.

MY LAST CHILD IS GOING TO HIGH SCHOOL.

Holy shit batman.

One market crashes, another blossoms

So, I was going through this little thing called "The Shopper," which is full of ads and doin's around the area, and as of this summer there will be a new farmer's market in just about every one of the surrounding towns.

Seriously, do we need that many?  Are there enough vendors to provide wares to all the seeker's of farmer's markets stuff?

The town that I live in has one and whenever I go by there always seems to be a fair amount of cars.  It is held on a Saturday morning, and the timing just doesn't work for me.  I like to have my menu planned for the weekend before the weekend so I can enjoy myself and not worry about food, so the problem with a farmer's market is that you can't depend on them.  Not like the supermarket, where the shelves are always stocked.

I make a juice every morning that requires a head of lettuce, half a bunch of kale, apples, lemons and ginger.  Out of those ingredients only two can be obtained at a farmer's market -- and then only for a short amount of time.

I guess what I am saying is that in New Hampshire, they just aren't practical.

Now ... in California and other states that don't host winter for 9 months out of the year, they make a lot of sense.  But here?  I don't want a jar of jam and I don't want that goat's milk soap nor do I want a home-baked pie.  You can get ALL of that at a decent store that deals in such items and while you would think I would be the first person to head to a farmer's market, I am actually not.  Like I said, I find them inconsistent, inconvenient (they are on certain days within certain hours) and over-priced!

They are, at least in this area, tourist attractions.

Then I think maybe I should set up a booth and sell my raw chocolate concoctions -- because they are super yummy and good for you.  But would people buy them?  They would have to be somewhat expensive because they are made with only the finest ingredients.  And they are temperature-sensitive and will melt if you don't eat them immediately.  I don't know.  I'm not a true entrepreneur, I've never cared about doing something for money ... but I do see a trend here ... and maybe it would be wise to jump on it?  

I don't know.  Just mulling it over.  It would be a full-time job keeping up with all the burgeoning farmer's markets in the area.

Maybe for now I will write down the phone numbers or dog-ear the pages in "The Shopper," and go eat a piece of chocolate and think about it.

Pollen pollen everywhere

This is pollen spores.  I have 10 million bazillion in my head

So I seemed to have developed this new thing: I am allergic to pollen.  At least that is my self-diagnosis, but my head is about to explode, my sinuses feel as though a rhinoceros has moved in and my ears feel like they need a good pop.

In other words, I am fairly miserable.  Oh.  And my eyes water and every once in awhile feel as though someone has stuck a pin in them.

Cool, huh?

Since I hate medications of all kind, I found this drink that actually does work.  It is a concoction of coconut milk and meat, the juice of three lemons, the rind of one, a good shake of cayenne pepper, local honey and a teaspoon of grated ginger.

Oh.  Yes.  It is absolutely disgusting.  And because of the coconut it is white and frothy.  So it actually looks as though it's a tropical drink.  Until you taste it.  It's pretty much beyond nasty, but you are looking at a girl who drinks vinegar, so whatever.  It's all relative.  And it works.  For three whole days I felt fine.  Then it returned with a vengeance.  And what's a person to do in pollen paradise shit out of coconuts?

Yup, suffer.  I can't stand the over-the-counter meds -- they leave me light-headed and dry mouthed.  I can drink heavily for that and enjoy it far more.

So, as I am ready to hit the sack feeling as though my head is 900 pounds, I casually looked up what to do on the Internet about pollen allergies.  And it said that my area had severely high counts, which is like duh, but whatever, and that to avoid pollen I should stay inside, wash myself before going to bed to remove all traces of pollen and not open my windows.

I see.  So my daily lifestyle of digging in the dirt, hiking, driving around in an open-top Jeep and NEVER being inside is probably the problem?

Tomorrow we look for coconuts.

Before I go ... coconuts.

You know what drives me nuts?

Gas pumps that don't have the little clippy thingy so you can get it pumping and walk away.  You know, to like clean your windshield or file your fingernails or whatever you feel like doing with five minutes of your time OTHER than holding on to a nasty smelly pump and inhaling fumes.

I really hate that.  And why?  What is the purpose of not including that thing on the pump?  I used to stick the gas cap in there to hold it, but my cap is attached to the car, as are most these days.  And then I would use a water bottle, but I don't use plastic water bottles any more because I am saving the environment and all.  So.  I am basically screwed and have to stand there.

It drives me nuts.

I also don't like driver's ed.  At all.  Maddie is taking it and it is 15 minutes down the road.  If you drop her off and pick her up that is 1/2 hour.  BUT ... if you drop her off, drive home, drive back and pick her up, that is one hour.  (I like to exhibit my stellar math skills any chance I get!)  The town it is located in is a one-horse town.  In fact, there might not even be a horse, but what I am saying is that it is B-O-R-I-N-G.  Zip there, nada.  So.  Really my only option is to sit in my car for two hours or drive one hour and be home for one hour.  It doesn't really work any way you slice it.  And today is even better!  She had driving from 10-12.  So I drove her there then continued on another 20 minutes to the big city of Concord.  Where I had exactly one hour to do some shopping.  

Which isn't really enough time and before I knew it I had to jump back in the car and go pick her up.  And now we are home and at 5:40 I get to take her back down.  She keeps thinking she needs to get a job, but I tell her to be reasonable:  When would she work?  And do I REALLY need another thing to drive her to?

No.  I do not.

On another note, the lupine are blooming; the back patio is still showcasing lilacs and rhodies and my veggie garden is looking pretty good.

mountains, snakes and tarantulas ... oh my

Mount Kearsarge, 2930 feet and mocking me right now!!!

This mountain kicked my ass today.  I don't know WHAT was going on, but I was pathetic.  Maddie, who normally complains that I won't wait up for her, was miles ahead of me.  I don't know if it was because I didn't eat something first; or because I walked 40 minutes yesterday then did an hour-and-a-half hike in the woods or because I had a heavy dinner and a few drinks last night ... but WHATEVER the combination, I was struggling.

By the time I reached the top I felt like I'd climbed Mt. Everest for heaven's sake.  But then I had something to eat and perked right up.  The climb down was a piece of cake in comparison.

But when something like this happens, it means only one thing.  I will be hiking Kearsarge on a daily basis until I can fly up.

OH!  So, we were coming down and this young couple stopped to ask if the dogs were going to bite them, to which we responded absolutely not.  And then the girl (who was dressed in a frilly purple shirt, white shorts and clutching a Vera Bradley bag) said, oh, be careful, there is a HUGE snake down there.  

Down where?  I asked, a huge note of panic creeping into my voice.

Maddie laughed, the boy said the snake was little, the girl insisted no, it was HUGE.  

And my heart was pounding.  Really?  Did they REALLY have to tell me about the snake?

So, I spent the entire way down scanning the ground for the damn thing, sure it was going to freak me out and then I was going to start running like a maniac down the hill.

Maddie said that I should be more scared of bears.  I said bears didn't scare me at all.  Then she posed this question:

If someone was holding a gun to my head and was going to shoot me dead unless I let a bunch of tarantulas climb all over me, or let an anaconda squeeze me, which would I choose?

I said death.

She said no, seriously, which would you choose.

I chose death.

She said MOM, you can't choose death.

I said I saw no other option.  None.  Zippo.  Either of those options were like Sophie's Choice, which child should I give up to the gas chamber?  Impossible.  Shoot me dead.

She said I was ridiculous.

Which would YOU choose?

Movies and books

I love movies.  And books.  And books and movies.  I love to curl up with either/or and completely immerse myself in whatever they have to offer.

I recently finished The Pillars of the Earth, by Ken Follett.  What a good book.  Of course, it's not a book you want to read if you have other things to do in life because it completely sucks you in and you lose all contact with reality, but I thoroughly enjoyed every page.  I love that feeling, when you have done whatever you are doing for the day, and dinner is in the oven (or you're just not going to cook dinner because you sat down and started reading and lo and behold, it's too late to ook dinner!) and you think to yourself, what was I going to do?  Oh yes!  Read my book.  It's better than a hot date.

Seriously.

So last night the kids and I watched "He's Just Not That Into You."  I love all kinds of movies, I am an equal-opportunity movie watcher, but I have a real place in my heart for romances, those movies that are as predictable as the sun coming up; but still worth basking in.  This one was pretty good and it was funny because Maddie kept saying, do girls really act that way?  Do guys?  Oh yes, they do.  

The movie starts out with a young girl on the playground and then a boy comes storming over and pushes her and starts yelling at her and telling her she smells and looks like dog poo.  Of course, she is slightly upset, and as she sobs, her mother explains to her that the reason that the boy treats her like that is BECAUSE HE LIKES HER.

Oh my.  I must say that I am guilty of telling my children this very same thing, and when you look at it from different perspectives, you realize it is incredibly damaging.  For, the only thing you are going to search out in your pursuit of a man is one that treats you like crap.  Because that means he likes you!  Except ... sometimes it actually means HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU! 

Geesh.

So, I returned that movie (has anyone used the Red Box?  I find this thing to be so intriguing ... it costs ONE DOLLAR to rent a movie for a 24-hour period.  One buck.)  It is a vending machine located at the grocery store; which I tend to avoid, but unfortunately we continue to have to eat.  So why not make it fun and get a movie?  Love it.  I used to use Netflix, but it seemed expensive because I have movie moods -- I don't watch movies all the time.  So for months sometimes these movies would just sit around, and then I'd watch all three consecutively and forget to mail one back and then I'd be left in a movie mood with no movie!

I also love the on-demand movies through Comcast, though those are pricey if you watch them every night (which when I am in a movie mood can happen.)  I also will tape old movies that I see are playing (without commercials) and watch those.

So for tonight I have New In Town.  And I am looking forward to curling up on the couch and watching it.

I love movies.  And books.

And books and movies.