Pre-vacation lull

I am at the cottage on the lake. It is fabulous out. While others might think that the weather is frightful -- it is actually quite peaceful and beautiful. The raindrops have receded and the sun is etched out between the clouds. The reflection of the sunbeams on the water, which is calm and still, are intoxicating.

Or is that the wine?

After a full day of packing and cleaning the house, it is delightful to sit here, on the porch, and enjoy a mid-summer evening. Because the weather is so bad, there is no one here. It is dead calm, and Peter and I are going to go out on the boat for dinner. It will be nice, as I won't see him for a week, as I am leaving tomorrow afternoon.

I am just loving the new me in regards to packing: I do it so frequently that it is a piece of cake. I spent more time today putting together a slide show than I did packing. And I popped into the garden for a brief stint and decided that I am sacrificing the kale to the insects that are eating it, because nothing else is being eaten, and well. I get sacrifice. And I can get kale cheap at Musterfield farm.

Oh! The clouds are breaking up. I can see mountains in the distance. I can see the forest for the trees if you will.

If I don't have internet for the next two weeks, I wish you all a beautiful and sunshine-filled scrap of summer. Because you have to believe I have been intending for these next two weeks to be fab.

Peace.

Out.

Rainy night pouring (puddle of useless prattle)

I hate to perpetuate the misery by bringing up the subject of the weather, but it is also nice to have a record of the worst summer in the history of mykind (mankind, but I'm not a man).  I might not even be kind either.

It just rains all the time.  Here and there a nice day pops up, but never more than two fairly decent days at a time before the clouds and rain return.  And today, July 23rd (I better hurry or it's gonna be tomorrow) was cold.  I saw people wearing fleece jackets.  

And yet, I am somehow tan.  Which is kind of weird, since I haven't sat on a beach ALL summer long, though I will admit I have been known to be found on the dock, but I am almost always under an umbrella if the orb in the sky actually gets brave.  The only thing I can attribute this to is gardening, jeeping and hiking, all of which take place outdoors and are proof that even if it doesn't appear to be sunny out, there's still something there screwing around with the pigment of your skin.

Wow.  While it is a cliche to mention that talking about the weather is like the worst most boring thing you can say, I am really not coming up with anything else here!  I am some how tan?  Who the hell cares.  Oh ... do you think my creativity is somehow linked to actual sunshine.  Like the plants in my garden, my creativity is unable to flourish, and grow, because it is seriously lacking vitamin D?  

Is it because it is nearly midnight?  I don't know.  I don't really care.  I just realized that I hadn't blogged in a few days and I am not the least bit tired because I didn't do anything but drive around all day in search of a stupid movie that Charlie needed for school, and sometimes when I don't have an idea in my head if I just start typing something will come.

Guess not.  

Oh well.

Oh.  It's raining out.  I can hear it.

Sorry.  

I need to pack for vacation -- and I have no idea whether or not there is internet at the cottage we will be staying at for the next two weeks.  So this could be it.  I foresee a few days of harried packing and running around trying to remember all the things I must have ... because why would I do it in stages?  I am not a very organized person -- though sometimes I can be very organized.  I am just inconsistent, but I am consistently unorganized when it comes to packing.

Get it?

It is interesting to me the things that I take from trip to trip, depending on what type of food "plan" I am following.  I can remember not too long ago packing up trays of wheat grass that rested on the top of everything else.  When I was in line to get on the ferry, one of the guys who worked there looked at me like I was a nut job.  Who brings grass with them?  It did look funny -- there were six trays of it.  Well, come on.  It makes sense.  It takes a long time to grow wheat grass and it was all staged properly.  I wasn't going to leave them behind!  Also in tow on that trip was the juicer.

But the juicer won't be making this trip.  I discovered while I was in Arizona that I can live on smoothies if necessary.  I can make green smoothies and get the same bang as I can get from juice and it is one less thing to haul around.  The salad bowl (it is huge) always comes.  When the whole family is together, there is no substitute for a big-ass salad bowl.  When I say huge, think kitchen sink huge.  It is wooden, was scandalously expensive, and is one of my prized possessions.  

I love my bowl and I loved my grass.  HAHAHAHA.

Yeah, I know.  Ideas are still not "growing," I get it.   And the clock just turned, so this is going to say tomorrow, even though to me it is still very much today.  And raining.

I am anxious to get to Martha's Vineyard -- it is one of my favorite places on earth.  Though Sedona could be up for a tie.  They both invoke in me the same thing -- an overall big sigh sense of calm and peace.  Even if I am in the middle of a huge traffic jam heading into Edgartown, I could care less.  I don't know if that is because to me, when you are on the island nothing like that really matters, or because ultimately, nothing like that really matters.

Ya know?

And after an extremely stressful spring and early summer, now that we know where Charlie is going to school, now that I know I will be working (more on that later) it will be nice to take the way I am feeling (which is mellow and not stressed at all) and place myself on a beach (and damn it all it WILL BE SUNNY) and just absorb all that the island is to me.

The movie that Charlie needed to watch for school was A Beautiful Mind.  I saw it when it first came out, which if you judge how young Russell Crowe was, was a lifetime ago, and really enjoyed it.  But I also enjoyed it this time.  Even though I knew the story, it was interesting to try to figure out when he started to go bonkers.  Really, right from the beginning.  I wondered if Charlie would like it, and he did.  I loved how the wife was so amazing; how she supported him in his plea not to have to return to the hospital for more shock therapy treatments and to be put on drugs.  She knew it took away his very essence, and she was willing to put herself at risk for that.

What is so heart warming about the story is that despite the fact that his brain was wacky, he figured out how to live with it.  He managed to find a niche at Princeton University, where people looked up to him because of the part of his mind that was so ... beautiful.  So much more than theirs, all put together!

Which is much the way I feel about ADD/ADHD drugs -- where children are put on something mind-altering so that they can "do better" in the classroom.  But I've always wondered why the solution is to change hundreds, thousands, probably millions of children's brain chemistry, instead of changing the one approach a classroom takes.  Doesn't make any sense.  Perhaps it is the concept of taming the brain to adhere to someone else's idea of what is right.  Because who the hell has the right to say that the ability to sit and listen to mind-numbing information for 8 hours of a day is important?  

In my mind (and I do believe mine is quite beautiful) individuality is everything.  Being who you are and finding ways to express that is what it's all about.  Whether it be with a keen sense of humour, or a flashy way of dressing or a laugh that sounds like a hyena.  Hey, whatever it is that sets you apart from someone else, that is what is so special.

I remember when I was in middle school, Levi's were all the rage.  EVERYONE had Levi's -- it was cooler than cool to wear Levi's.  But my mother shopped for our clothes at the second hand store, and she could buy perfectly good other-brand jeans for next to nothing.  When I said that the ONLY pants I could wear were Levi's, she took one look at the price tag and said absolutely not.  She said I could get five pairs of decent pants for the price of one pair of Levi's.

She ruined my life.  And therefore I ruined hers until she took me to buy my pair of Levi's.  One pair she said, and I wholeheartedly agreed.  I just NEEDED those damn pants so that I could fit in.  Be cool.  You know.  We all know.

But I was impetuous and didn't think things through, and I was instantly drawn to a pinkish (salmon?) colored pair.  Now, everyone else was wearing jean Levi's -- I didn't even know that COLORS existed!  And without another thought, I bought them.

Except, I found out that my friends didn't have a huge stash of Levi's of their own.  They had one pair.  Of jeans.  And they wore them three or four days out of the week because they just pretended they had a whole bunch.

Do you think anyone was going to believe that I had purchased a week's worth of pink pants?

What a dilemma.  Once again, my life was ruined.  So now what?

So my two friends and I were getting ready to go to a dance.  Big doings.  And they were IRONING their jeans.  Ironing them!  (which is how I discovered that they only had one pair, because Jill burnt the knee of hers and I saw that mark every time she wore them, which was all the time!)  And I asked them, how many pairs of Levi's do you have?  To which of course, the answer was one.  OH!  Had I only bought jeans.

Are you getting the angst here?  I am no longer feeling calm and mellow.  I am stressed.  That was a very difficult period.  I was in middle school, I was of course feeling like a complete loser because I didn't have Levi's -- then I GOT some, but not a color I could pull off on a daily basis.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.  But then, this guy, this cute, hunky, gorgeous (and older!) guy, told me I should wear those pants all the time because they gave me a heart-shaped butt.  He told me this in study hall.

So I did.  First I wore them twice a week, then three ... and, well, they were getting washed so often that they were getting a little frayed looking.  And then one day, the knee ripped.  I tried to sew it, but that is not one of my special gifts.  They looked like crap.  Heart-shaped butt or no, my pants were toast.

So I started wearing other clothes, and I started to get comments like, oh, those are cute.  I love that skirt.  And so on.  And my confidence grew and I started to experiment with clothing a little more, and eventually developed my own style.  I later realized that Levi's did nothing for me, and found other brands that actually looked mucho better.  

What does this have to do with anything?  I have no idea.  It is well after midnight and I am rambling nonsensically.  I am a puddle of useless prattle!

What a cool sentence.

Dreaming inferno

I had the most vivid dream last night.  You know it's a keeper when a full 24 hours later you can remember it in strong detail.  

I was in a big building, sort of like a big barn, and it was night out and there was a festive atmosphere.  This large barge-like thing with fireworks was going through the barn, when it caught on fire.  As the explosions began, I stopped and tried to keep people from running towards it.  There were lots of kids and they were excited to see the fireworks; they didn't sense the danger.

I was completely panicked.  I kept yelling through the bedlam that it was too dangerous, that the fire was growing out of control.  I realized that I couldn't stop them and so I started running out.  Then I noticed a room and a child was in it, laying on a bed.  The room was completely white and sterile and I realized the child was burned.  Not from this episode, but from something else.  I knew I had to get the child out, but I also knew that the child was greatly damaged and needed all of the supplies that were in the room.  I struggled to pick up the child and grab all the "stuff," that I could.  But it kept falling to the floor.  I put the child back down and searched frantically for something to use to carry things, but there was nothing.  I was completely helpless and nonplussed as to what to do next, and then the smoke started coming into the room.

That was the end of the dream (thank heavens) but it really stayed with me, all day long.  As a result I had that feeling that something was off, something was wrong, and then I would think of the dream, and wonder if that was what was making me feel uneasy.

I looked up the significance of fire in a dream, and what do you know.  It said that it could indicate a transformation in your life, say for example a new job.  And the fire indicates that it is burning down all the barriers to that transformation.

I had a job interview on Friday.

The brain is such a cool thing.

Mid-summer musings

I was just reading a report that layered on the gloom and doom and discussed that the economy was far worse than the Obama administration thought. I found that what is considered doom and gloom and creates bad press are just simple facts that almost pose as common sense.

For one, the unemployment rate is far worse than what is reported because it does not factor in people who are now in part-time jobs because they lost their full-time jobs. Well, if they are working, then how can they be unemployed? Oh, it's not their dream job. That's different.

Also, American's have started saving. There has been none of this for years. And years. And years. Whenever it seemed that we didn't have money to spend, we found it in the equity of our homes or in tax cuts that made no sense. Fuel the economy is the government's solution, and man, I wish they'd stop it, because I am sick to death of sitting in construction.

I have a hard time seeing how a handful of construction companies getting MEGA-rich is fueling our economy, but I suppose their employees are thankful. But there are no caps. Like, say, this paving company shouldn't get ALL of the work for every strip of highway that shall be re-paved.

No, no, I have no desire to run the government. I am not even being critical of Obama -- this was not his mess and his shovel is small. But still, does common sense really EVER factor in? It just doesn't seem to.

Right now the last thing American's should be doing is going out and buying stuff. But somehow we've become a country that measures their prosperity by how many trips to Wal-Mart you can fit into a week. And if you have to ::::::gasp::::::: cut back and not buy more blow up snowmen for your yard, then you are poor. The American dream has escaped you, no point in going on.

So the way I see it, unless we can reclaim this crazy consumer spending, we will forever be in a recession. THEN AMEN!

I just watched the movie Wall Street the other night -- and one thing to really consider is that it's not always about greed. Like Charlie Sheen says, "everyone is doing it. It's what is being done now." What he is referring to is illegal trading activity. But that is the truth. Somewhere along the line we threw out ethics and replaced it with "he did it, why can't I?" Because you won't make the mega-bucks if you do it the right way.

And what will be done with those mega-bucks? If you haven't seen the movie lately, you should. The way his apartment is decorated by his "interior decorator-slash lover" Daryyl Hannah is priceless. And hideous. And of course, expensive and therefore chic.

Money and power, power and money. If you can manage to live this life without any interest in either, then you are doubly blessed. Peter often says that I am lying when I say I don't care about money. Why? Why am I lying? I think the problem is that I have everything I want and so that means I don't care about money because I have it. But I don't have it. I just get what I want. They are two exclusively different things and he has NEVER understood that. Part of the magic of that is not caring.

If I was told that tomorrow I had to live in a tent for the rest of my life, well. First off, I wouldn't live in a tent for the rest of my life. I have a long history of building forts, so I'd figure out a mansion in the woods (one reason why I adored the movie Swiss Family Robinson.) Now this type of discussion throws Peter into a tizzy: because I can say that because I know it won't happen. So therefore it doesn't mean anything.

But that's not really true. What it really means is that I ultimately DO NOT CARE where I live. Oh, hell yes, if I can live in a really nice house and drive nice cars and eat at fancy restaurants and buy crazy expensive organic food, am I going to? Sure, why not. (Gotta fuel that economy dontchyaknow!) But I don't NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED it. I like it, yes. But need, no.

And power. Do I need power? I get the feeling of importance, of being a certain thing. Of commandeering respect because of "who" you are, related to that title. But here's the thing, you are born who you are, and I believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that I come from greatness. Yes, yes, that sounds so awful, snobbish, completely and totally out there. But even that statement alone would not come from someone who didn't believe it.

Greatness, how? (I am sitting here laughing, because there is no way to write this without sounding like a total crazy-ass. But I don't care. And it is part of that non-caring that is essential to who I am. I don't care what anyone thinks of me. I never have.)

So why is that? Because somewhere in the secret of my genetic code lies the answer -- and my intuition tells me so! And that doesn't mean that it's about being the Queen of England in a past life, it means that no matter what happens in which life, it will be a great life.

Because that is what I intend.

Ahhhh, mid-day musings. And no, I haven't been drinking. But Jeeves should be around soon with the cocktail tray.

And snacks.

SOS -- Save our Summer

This is like the summer that can't get jump-started. It's July 15th (I think!) and we are at the lake. It was a gorgeous day, but more fall like than hot like. By sunset I was wearing a sweatshirt. The sunset itself was fabulous. One of those stare at and pinch yourself because wow, anything in the universe that luscious can not be real.

Except it is. And so is this weirdo summer. I hate that we missed those long summer nights that began on June 21st -- because it rained every night for weeks and it was dark all day long. I hate that we haven't had any hot, sweaty, groaning because you can't stop sweating nights. Not because they are enjoyable, but because they are a part of summer.

I hate that August, which is always cold in New Hampshire, is only weeks away.

It makes me tense. It makes me anxious.

When the snow stopped falling and the ski areas were in jeopardy, they were saved by snowmaking machines.

We need summermaking machines.

STAT.

Just bitching

The Jeep needs a new seatbelt because the dog chewed it.  It really is a good idea to wear a seatbelt when in a Jeep, and so I ordered one and made an appointment.

I went to drop it off and was being picked up by Maddie in the Sequoia -- which has a broken back window.  Peter put it down (it is electric) because he had gas tanks in the back and didn't want to die.  I get that.  I just don't understand why he didn't take the pickup truck.

Anyways, I told the guy at the garage that I also needed that fixed.  We decided that was more important than the Jeep.  I feel like I spend a lot of time at this garage!  You know it's not a good sign when you walk in, they know your name and your car.

Then we have been having problems with the electricity in the house -- it keeps blinking.  Or going off altogether.  Surging, stopping.  The guy came to check it out and he is pretty confident that it is the buried line between the house and the pole.  He said that that wouldn't be "their problem," but ours.  Of course.

So when these things start to happen in great clumps, it is not coincidental.  It is something that I am doing.  Clogged energy perhaps?  Combined with all the issues at the cottage, it is a bit overwhelming.  I spent hours searching for an affordable stove yesterday -- not really one to be had.  It is a large stove, 36 inches, so I think now it is time to consider a smaller one.  Or just let someone else deal with it.  I still have to schleppe my vacuum cleaner over there to get rid of the blonde dog hair that is covering the furniture and floor over there.  (I only bring my black haired dog, for the record.) But before I do that I should vacuum up the sea of black dog hair floating around here.  Gross.

I asked the kids to clean up the kitchen.  You know, the kitchen that I left clean.  That started a fight, because Charlie really doesn't like to do ANYTHING that you ask him to do.  If he happens to do something because he feels like it, then great.  But asking him is just putting a match to a fuse.  He goes off and his favorite saying is that we are the worst family in the world.  That is my particular favorite.  And a lovely way to start a day.

But I hang tough -- because I am NOT going to clean up after the little slob.  Especially him.  There is a place in the living room where he sits, and the carpet underneath where his feet go is disgusting.  So a day spent at home is about yelling and fighting and threatening and hating.

Was I mentioning something about clogged energy?   Gee, weird, I know.

I am off to my garden to bring in some lettuces for my juice.

That is a good thing!

UPDATE:  So the garage just called and it will cost $350 to replace the part for the back window.  I asked if they could just keep it up -- we don't care if it goes up and down.  Well no, it's all one part and it is all rusted out and the clips that hold the window are rusted and not replacing it could mean the window might fall out if you go over a big bump.  Oye.  So much money for something we won't even use.  Makes no sense.  And Peter is going to be mad that I said yes to having it fixed ... (which is why I gave up fixing the cars years ago, but the job has been returned to me, and I am having the argument we will have later in my head right now!)  I will try NOT to point out that HE broke the damn window.  Really, I will.

But I do believe that it is rusted because I saw with my own eyes the mess it was when Peter tried to fix the window himself.  It seems as though a car manufacturer would be able to come up with a design that keeps water OUT of getting inside a door.  Or are cars designed exactly so that they will rust so that you will buy new ones?

Let the world flow you by

Manuka honey.  It's this crazy expensive honey that I bought at the health food store because I am a sucker for such things.  It tastes very strong and makes me feel kind of sick.  So I don't eat it.

I do however, put it in a cup of tea from time to time to derive all the benefits that are promised.  But for the most part, it sits in my cupboard.

On the 4th of July I slipped on a step and really cut my leg on the stone patio I landed on.  It's a fairly deep cut but right on the bone, so it's never generated much in the way of blood or ooze.  But this morning in the shower the scab-like thing that was protecting it came off and now it's just plain icky looking.  I haven't had a bandage on it since the first day, but I've been running around all day with it exposed and it kind of hurts.

Then all of a sudden I thought "manuka honey."  And sure enough, it is this hugely healing stuff that is perfect to put on a wound to create an anti-bacterial barrier so that your body can create new skin.

So, that is why I have that honey.  Just in case I was wondering.

So when you are in the flow, you are usually REALLY in the flow, and today was exactly like that.  Maddie woke me up (I thought quite cruelly by yelling at me that it was TIME TO GO) this morning because she was anxious to go get her driver's license.  (She is out on her first solo trip right now as we "speak," and quite frankly, I've been there/done that and I am happy that they are both out of the house!)  The plan was to drive up to Lebanon because she was obsessed with taking her test in a place that was not a city.  Whatever.  I looked it up, and the offices in Lebanon were open on Mondays.  But first we had to head in the opposite direction about 10 minutes to pick up her paperwork from the driver's ed. teacher.  Fine.

In the meantime, Charlie was obsessed with torturing the middle school secretary (apparently the only body in the school) and then the high school secretary (apparently a wonderful and HELPFUL woman who actually in the end did help him) and he kept calling me on my cell phone.  So I was in the midst of calming him down from a sobbing crisis because the middle school bitch (umm, secretary) basically told him tough patooties once again, and also insisted that EVERYONE was on vacation this week.  And because the guidance recommendation wasn't sent to one of the schools, they weren't going to be able to give him an answer.  He was flummoxed.

Maddie climbed into the car DISGUSTED and said that we had to drive further in the opposite direction because they had written her name wrong on the paperwork.  I then announced, as we drove further away from Lebanon and closer to Concord that we would be going to Concord.  She was mad.  She didn't want to go to Concord (you know, because everyone who goes there fails.  In her mind anyway).  I then told Charlie to call the superintendents office (and wouldn't you know, somehow they managed to scare up the principal of the middle school, who upon hearing from the superintendent's office that he needed to do something, actually did it.)  Unbelievable.   So, I am going from one phone call after another from an irate and upset child to a steaming and freaked out and anxious child sitting next to me in the car.  

Oye.

And I am talking about being in the flow?  Odd, I know.

So we arrive in Concord and there is no line.  We walk right up and the woman processes the paperwork.  Maddie goes in to take her test.  Charlie calls and says that everything has been taken care of and he should hear from one of the schools by today.  (The other one still has one thing coming by mail, because no one in the middle school actually knows how to use a fax machine apparently.  OR, they choose not to.  Power.  Or abuse thereof.)

I open up my Kindle and happily read, though actually it is more fun to people watch at the DMV.  Which I did.  Drama.  I should spend a day there then write a short story.  Because as I was waiting for Maddie to go to the bathroom on the way out, an older woman was taking her eye test but only got half right.  So the woman behind the desk asks her if she wants to guess.  TO GUESS!!! HAHAHAHAHA.  So I stand there, literally laughing out loud, as this woman guesses. G?  No, the woman shakes her head.  M?  Unbelievable.  I left in near hysterics.  And Maddie was concerned about getting her license!  Hell, they want the money, they don't care who is on the road!

But ... she finished her test and came out and said that she didn't know one question.  NOT ONE.  She said nothing was from the book.  The child is so predictable.  And so anti-flow!  She stood in this one line behind two people for a few minutes, then I pointed to another line that had no one in it.  The thing about the DMV is they don't care about fair -- they just take the next person.  So lo and behold, she went right up to the woman and discovered in seconds that she had only gotten two wrong on the test.  Excellent.  But.  There were no driving appointments left for the day in Concord.  I said, what about Lebanon?  The woman shook her head.  "No, they are closed today due to a gas leak."

WHOA!  Can you imagine how frustrating it would have been to drive up there to discover that?  Clearly we weren't supposed to go there.  Awesome.  We signed up for a 1:00 appointment (it was 11:00) in Manchester, and wouldn't you know, as the flow goes, it was right in the same plaza as the health food store I needed to go to.  Love it.

So, Maddie was freaked about driving in the city, so we drove there, found the place, then I had her drive what I figured would be the route they would choose.  We did that, returned, waited about five minutes and then off she went. (And yes, he took her that way.  I am so smart.)  She returned 15 minutes later, we went back upstairs and lo and behold, there was NO line!  (Earlier there had been about 20 people in line.)  This young kid jumped on it, and then even followed us to the next step to make sure that the woman took us next!  Beautiful.  So about 10 minutes after that Maddie had her new license in hand.

And then we went to the health food store and I picked up all the things I needed, and then Charlie called to say he was accepted at the school.

The 13th has been a good day!

Rain drain

Well, another beautiful (if clouds and rain are your thing) summer day. We decided to hell with it, since this is the new summer it is time to adapt. So, we came to the lake. Kids are swimming in the rain, people are walking in the rain. Really, I suppose it is true that rain won't kill you. I'm not particularly fond of the idea of sitting in the rain. Just not the same thing as sitting in the sun. Go figure.

So, since the weather isn't top notch, I thought it would be a good time to clean the cottage up a bit. The first thing I decided to do was find out if there was actually carpet underneath all of the grass and dirt. Since it does rain most of the time, kids have been tracking in crap. And even though there was a rule once upon a time that if you were wet you came in the backdoor, I don't actually see that happening these days. Is it because I don't enforce it? I think the difference is that when Nana is here, she is in the house and can catch them. I am usually outside and scream at them after the fact.

Not that they care. I have been screaming about wet towels left laying around since the beginning of time, and I am not sure, but it seems that problem is getting worse!

So, I hauled out the vintage vacuum cleaner and turned it on and started to push it around. It did a great job of pushing around the bits and pieces on the floor, but it did not seem to eliminate any. I changed the vacuum bag, thinking that might help. Nope. I then put my hand at the bottom of the hose to see what type of suck was happening. Only a whisper of suck. I played around with it, but the thing is just old. The hose is fraying and probably doesn't let the suck happen in force. I looked for some tape to take care of that, but the last time I saw the electric tape it was being wrapped around one of the kids cut foot. Naturally they did not return it to where it belongs. Wherever that is, I searched high and low.

So, with great disgust I pushed the bits and pieces around some more and then gave up. So what that means is that I have to bring my own vacuum cleaner over at some point, but it is heavy and clunky and I'm not doing it until the last moment. So a dirty cottage it will be.

Oh! I see a patch of blue sky. Could it be possible ???

I hope that when it is sunny for a few days in a row, my blogs get more positive!

It's just been that kind of day. First I had to drive 45 minutes to pick up my share from the CSA I belong to. Because of this weather, nothing is really growing, and I knew this, so it was hard to drive all that way for a little bit. I got a bunch of radishes, a small head of lettuces, a small bag of mesclun mix and a bunch of chard. I can always use the lettuces, but I'm not a huge fan of radishes and the chard is delish but my plan was to have caesar salad for dinner. With chard?

Then, I dropped Charlie off at the lake and returned home to pick up Maddie to take her to driver's ed. so she could drive. Then I drove back to the lake and hauled in groceries and such and did the cleaning attempt and in a few minutes I have to drive back to get Maddie. And then take her to driver's ed. class at 6:30 tonight and then pick her up at 8:30 tonight.

Does any of that sound fun to you?

Rainy DAZE

When the universe appears to be conspiring against you, it is time to look a little deeper.  As in WHAT THE HELL is going on?

First we have this weather.  Peppered in between long and endless gray days full of rain purging from the sky are a day here and there with sun.  Not true summer sun -- not hot, endless ohmygod it is so hot out sun.  Just the sun, usually peeking out behind clouds -- but sun nonetheless.  But just when you think the worst is behind, another gray day socks in and while I will admit that it is not POURING out, it is cold and drizzly.

Then this whole thing with Charlie and schools.  Okay, he didn't get into Proctor.  Do I believe that all things happen for a reason?  Yes, I do.  I think that school is changing into a jock school and I think (I don't think there is a master Hitler-esque plan) that subconsciously those in charge are leaning towards a male-dominated regime.  They are recruiting jocks specifically to play sports.  Maddie has had some of this kids in classes with her -- and she says they are number than a box of rocks.  Maddie's soccer team had over 30 girls on it -- no one considered creating a third team.  Why?  Exactly.  Who knows what else is falling by the wayside during this time of re-creation, but my son is not a jock and therefore would not fit into this school.

Great.  So we move on.  But wouldn't you know, we find out on Friday afternoon before the holiday that the stupid, moronic SUCKY AS HELL middle school did not send out the transcripts, and the english teacher who told Charlie she would send out her recommendations ASAP didn't do it at all.  WTF?  Seriously.  What is the message here?  Other than the school is incompetent -- but beyond that, what else am I missing here?

I told Charlie that school was one thing, but the lessons he should be deriving from all of this are better than 12 years of sitting on your butt in the classroom yawning.  THIS is what life is about.  Incompetent people are everywhere, always creating roadblocks for you when you least expect them.  It is the way you learn to deal with it that makes or breaks you.  Me?  I just ran away.  I admit that I have no ability to kiss ass or stoop to a certain level.  Nope, you can't eat principle for breakfast lunch OR dinner, but you can create a world for yourself that is somewhat apart from "all that."

So here I am, torn again about what exactly it is I want for my children, and how best to help them obtain that.  Hallie has followed the proper channels and never strayed far from coloring outside the lines, and she is exceedingly successful.  I am proud of her and hope that she is as happy with her choices as the rest of the world is.  And Maddie will figure it out.  She doesn't make waves, she doesn't have that sense of injustice that is such a pain in the ass to carry through life.  But Charlie?  The kid is JUST LIKE ME.  Without the ability to tone it down.  And I'm not even saying I toned it down all that much throughout my life.  But still.

What will best serve Charlie at this time of his life?  He is so awful to live with right now.  He is scared.  He was hoping to hear from one of the schools by now -- and what does he receive but another disappointment?  Will this make him stronger?  Perhaps.  Will it make him appreciate it more?  I don't know.  It's just so much to deal with right now.  On top of puberty, the fact that developmentally he has to push away his mother and is taking on that job with great relish, the uncertainty about where he will go to school next year (and when I say that he will attend Kearsarge Regional High School over my dead body, I say it with as much vehemence I can muster, for the new high school principal is someone another school district wanted to fire.  Gotta love that!)

So you take that muddled stew and mix in a SUCKY DOG ASS summer, and well.  You get ass!

So there.  

On another note,  I am so impressed by the way that Charlie takes the bull by the horns and tries to fix things.  He called the middle school.  No answer.  (Really, they have NOTHING to prepare for?)  So then he looked up the vice principal's home number and called him there.  Well, good for him!  Perhaps he is a natural-born salesman; and somehow we have to figure out how he can sell himself.  He also called the schools he is applying to and explained the situation, then later called the VP back and told him to fax the information.  I told him to wait until tomorrow -- and to call the schools and see if they received anything.  If not, we'd devise Plan B.  That sometimes you had to initiate action and then see if it actually takes place.  Rome wasn't built in a day, blah blah blah, and well, patience is a virtue.

Did I really say that?  LOL.  No, but I did want to rein him in, or else he'll be calling everyone.  And then he'll revive that pain in the ass reputation they have adorned him with.  NO ONE, especially the public school system, is interested in a real go-getter.  Which is completely understandable.  This is a population still trying to figure out what the phrase NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND MEANS.

It means ass.

Cottage industry

This picture was taken directly from a website where they have a live camera set up on the lake.  This is about 1/2 mile away from the cottage.  

My husband's family has a cottage on Lake Sunapee where he spent every summer of his life while growing up.  We live about 15 minutes away from this cottage, so we are the ones who open it up in the spring and then deal with whatever crops up.  While there are a total of six siblings who have a stake in this cottage, their geography puts them in the position as vacationers when they come to the cottage.

We are never vacationers, as we rarely stay there once his parents are in residence because it's just not that big.  But before they arrive, we do spend weekends there and get a small taste of what a cottage has to offer.  Now, don't get me wrong, we reap many benefits -- we always have a place to go that is on the lake -- but it's still not the same because we are day-cottage visitors.

This spring when we opened it up, several problems cropped up.  First, the water heater was on the fritz, and secondly there was something major-wrong with the bathroom upstairs.  We got the first inkling of this when the water was turned on and we were all standing in the kitchen (literally waiting for leaks) when water started pouring down the wall (above the upstairs bathroom.)  Peter ran upstairs and I tried to salvage the two drawings my sister-in-law had done who knows when -- they have been on the wall as long as I've been around, and that eclipses 23 years.  

So now what?  Well, the water heater needed professional help, so we eventually called that in; but the thing with this family is that they are all do-it-yourselfers.  So Peter tried to fix the hot water heater himself before he gave up, and he worked on the bathroom for hours.  First he made a template of the bottom of the toilet, then cut out a piece of plywood and set it on that.  Nope.  Still leaked.  Then he did the opposite, and cut a hole in the floor and set the toilet in that.  (Doesn't that mean that the toilet has not very much between it and say THE KITCHEN?)  Anyway, that seemed to take care of that.  But the downstairs bathroom is another issue.  The toilet rocks.  And rolls baby!  It is an accident waiting to happen.  I happen to have very strong leg muscles, so when it starts to tilt I can stop it.  But ... it's as I said, a disaster in waiting.

Sooooo, his brother who lives in Minnesota is more than willing to get to it, and fix 'er up.  But, like I said, he's in Minnesota.  What needs to be done is the entire bathroom floor needs to be replaced.  They intend to do that, but logistics are hard to figure out.

In the past, Peter has always waited for his parent's to arrive and give him guidance on what should or shouldn't be done (when it comes to the big jobs.)  While he puts in countless hours puttering around and fixing this and that, he always saves the big jobs for when they come so his father can help and decide the course of action.  But this year they are late.  And while they have arrived in early July before, they have never been as late as the end of July, which is what looks to be the case this year.

And in the meantime, the stove in the kitchen is really broken.  The door broke a few years ago, but Peter's dad fixed it with a contraption of wood -- you just wedge it up against the door and floor and the door stays closed.  And honestly, you only trip on it a few million times while you are in their preparing a meal.  But it's gone beyond a broken door -- now the oven just plain won't start.  And to begin with it's a bit scary:  You turn on the gas and hear that click click click click and think OH NO, if it doesn't light soon we're all going to the big bazoom in the sky.  Frightening.

Now, the siblings (or those with spare change in their pocketbooks) agree that a new stove is necessary.  But it is automatically assumed that Peter will take care of it.  Not monetarily, but the work of it.  And so, that in turn means it goes to me.  Don't you just love the world of family dynamics?

The other night Peter and I were sitting on the porch and the kids were out hanging on the public dock.  We could hear them and we knew who they were with, but it was approaching 9:30 and Peter said that he had always had to come in at 9:00, and then maybe he could go out for another hour or so, but he could never stay out beyond 10:00.  I've been married to the man forever and I know that he was probably thrilled to go to bed at that hour.  It has always been late to him, so I bet that he was like to his friends, "oooh sorry, I HAVE to go home," secretly all the while thrilled to have his head hit the pillow.

Well.  As a night person I could never abide by the restraints of time.  There is NO ONE THING in the world as wonderful as sitting out under the stars and talking until the sun comes up.  So when Maddie came to the porch for some reason or other and Peter said that they needed to come in soon, she was like WHY?  And I had to say, I agreed with her!  Why?  Because he said so?  Because that was what always happened when HE was a kid?

So I broached the subject with him, and he was curious as to how long they could stay out?  And I said let's see when they come in on their own accord.  So we went upstairs to bed at 11:30.  Again, we could HEAR them outside, so it was not a big deal.  They came in about 10 minutes later.  In truth, if there is a rule, then I am going to break it.  So yahoo for my kids that the moment I sniff out the potential of a new rule in the making, I am going to swat it down, and perhaps go even further the other way.  But I have always believed that if you give your kids freedom they will figure out their own way and it generally is a path straight back to you.  At least that has been my experience to date.

So ... anywho, during this discussion of time's past and all, Peter said that it was the first time that he had realized that the general upkeep of the cottage was his responsibility.  Now.  I have known this for all the years and years that he has been doing it that it was only going to get worse as his parent's contribution lessened with time, but still, he never saw it that way until now.  NOW!  Wow.

The whole concept of sharing a property like a cottage is really quite interesting.  Next door there is a family that has been there for generations, and the brother and sister who inherited it from their parents are now inundated each summer with their children.  The sister has one child; the brother has three.  The sister's one child is younger and still has no children.  The brother's children all have many children!  All together there are six grandchildren under the age of 9.   Now the sister doesn't want to come up for the summer anymore.

Would you?  Would you want to be in a small cottage with six small babies, many of them crying, whining or complaining a good portion of the time?

I personally have avoided the cottage over the years because of a family member (who is now no longer part of the picture, AMEN to divorce) because the old adage one bad apple can spoil the bunch is as true as they come.  There are times when you have to weigh the pros and the cons, and if the cons win, then so be it. 

We don't have small children running about anymore, but we do have teenagers, who come along with their own set of issues.  My sister-in-law just dropped off three boys and left them there for the weekend, and that brings up yet another question: Is that allowed?  While they are certainly old enough to be left alone, and while she was pretty confident that there would be other family members there to monitor them, again, is that allowed?  I guess what that means is that it is something that I would never do.  It wouldn't even cross my mind, and these are kids that choose to not speak with you, for the most part.

Of course it is allowed.  Everyone does whatever they want, and they always have.  And believe me, there are many, many times I wish that I was in the position of arriving for the weekend to find a clean bed and a seat on the dock and a boat to use and food to eat, and then I just climb into my car and leave the "magic house," where one doesn't have to do anything.

And then again, to have such problems is a luxury!

Yippeeee

Happy 4th of July.

Here's the thing.  Pretty soon it's gonna start raining men.

Hallelulah.

DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE

I read the book, My Sister's Keeper, by Jodi Picoult when it first came out.  As a fan of Picoult, I always looked forward to her books and read them in hardcover.  But that book made me change my mind, and she went from a favorite author to not so much someone I was even interested in reading.  I even waited for her last book to reach my kindle.

It's not that I don't like her formula (semi-unusual setting, law suit, medical problem) it's just that somewhere along the line she started pushing it.  Taking unbelievable stories and one-upping them so that she may as well be in the science fiction genre for how realistic they are.  What I am saying is that her endings suck.

So, apparently without keeping all of this in mind, I talked my sister into going to see the movie?  Why?  And more importantly, why did I not take a box of Kleenex?

Now, I love movies, I love books, I love stories ... and I am pretty generous with my praise.  I will even give all a benefit of the doubt and understand that some people might like it more than me, or whatever.

DO NOT GO TO SEE THIS MOVIE.

There is absolutely NO REASON to go see this movie, unless of course you feel like sobbing and having a throbbing headache for the rest of the day after watching it.  It totally and completely sucked.  It did not follow the book at all, and because the book had more character development in it, it was not necessarily a book about a girl dying of cancer.  That is ALL the movie was about, and seriously, why would anyone want to subject themselves to that?

DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE.

It was exhausting.  And it didn't make a lot of sense.  And neither did the book.  The entire project should have been scrapped!  The book, the movie, the whole deal -- shouldn't have happened.

Now, my sister and I could certainly relate to many aspects of the movie, because we've lived the leukemia scene; we've been in the hospital (certainly she waaaaaaaaaay more than me, but it is an illness that without any doubt touches everyone) and we've watched a little girl suffer.  So from that perspective, it certainly was no fun to be reminded of any of that.  But even beyond that, it was just a bad movie.  Like any movie adapted from a book, unless you've read it there are things that don't make a lot of sense.  Like when the lawyer starts having an epileptic fit.  No discussion of it, just bummer man.  Later, after the movie I flipped through the book and realized that the only reason that the lawyer had taken on the case of medical emancipation for the little girl was because he too had felt that he had no control.

Well, gee, kind of a big deal, but not worth mentioning in the movie!  

DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE.

I could go on and on, but I won't.  I have never disliked a movie as much as this one.  Ever.  We were crying within five seconds of watching it -- because that was all it was going for.  The cheap cry.  The few parts that were somewhat happy were always erased by returning to the dying present -- because that is how the movie worked.  Flashbacks of events, and always returning to the hospital, the inevitable death.

BLECH!

DO NOT GO SEE THIS MOVIE.

Seriously.  Not even to see if I am serious!!!