I don't mean to diss Christmas. I really don't. I have the largest christmas tree the living room can take; there are decorations all over, lights and a wreath on the front door. I get into the holiday, I really do. And I also get excited at trying to get the perfect gift for everyone. But I am seriously running out of ideas, and my mother made a comment recently that made me think. She said, I think you've done it all.
I've spray painted a box to look like the Tower of London when Hallie was going to London and our big gift to her that year was money. I hung it, chandelier-like from the inside of the tower, and wrapped it, a big gift. A very big gift. I've created treasure hunts for big ticket items like the Gator; I've filled an enormous box with rocks and then taped the small gift (an iPod) to the top of the box -- so the receiver would understand that it was a BIG gift! (And of course, half of it for my kids has always been about the wrapped boxes the weeks before Christmas. The "I have better presents and MORE presents than you." I have come up with little devious plans like a number system (instead of names on the packages.) Though last year I forgot which was which! Ooops! I would listen to them talk. Maddie would say if Hallie is one, then I must be two, and Charlie would be three. But if I was trying to be tricky, then Charlie would be one and Hallie would be three, but Maddie would always be two. (She was right!) This year I put their names on their packages, but once the grumbling started, the pointing out of inequities in number of boxes and sizes, I told them that I switched names this year. So Maddie could be Charlie, or Hallie could be Maddie or ... well, you get the gist.
This is a total lie. Their actual names are on the boxes, but the doubt has already been formed. Maddie told me this morning, while perusing the rather small array of packages, that I am just cruel.
I seem to be a little behind this year (though the house is clean, decorated and my food shopping is all done.) But I have very little for stockings, and that is usually the one thing I enjoy shopping for. The stumbling across perfect little items to tuck into the stocking, something small, not always cheap, to go along with the filler of candy. I usually stock up on the candy end of things at Target, so I hit that yesterday. The place was wiped out. There were so many shelves that were empty, and the Christmas candy aisles were threadbare. I was a little taken aback, and so I stood there for a moment, observing. There were people pushing carts aimlessly, in search of something to put into them. There was very little joy to behold. For this Christmas shopping to fill stockings and provide presents is NOT a joyful event. It just isn't.
I was in the mens section, looking, looking, looking for SOMEthing. Anything. There was this display of Christmas boxer shorts, so I went to look. There were about 11 boxes of Small, triple packed underwear sets. They had lights, or reindeer. They were cute. Overpriced. And Small. Oh, wait, I found a XXL box. Oh well.
I then wandered across the aisle and looked at tights. All of the Mediums were gone. There were lots and lots and lots of Smalls. Oh, and a few XL's. I hope the retailers are taking stock of this. There aren't that many small people out there anymore! Then I glanced over and saw people looking at the men's Christmas underwear. Like me, they examined each box, only to discover they were all Small. And I saw them get excited when they spotted the XXL, then took it out of the box (like I had done with both the small and those) only to discover that XXL is like ridiculously large. And ditto on the smalls. I almost told the next person. But isn't that what we were all there for? The hunt? For one small moment there was hope that you could fill a stocking with some overpriced kitschy underwear for your loved one. Then it was over, and you moved on. Ho ho ho.
Peter likes smarties in his stocking. There was only ONE package of smarties. One. I didn't even realize that smarties were traditional holiday fare! My biggest thing this year is not to buy something for the sake of buying something. And for the most part, I have done this. I looked at some small flashlight for a few minutes, before putting it back with the knowledge that I have purchased Peter countless flashlights over the years to fill his stocking. We like never lose power. We don't go camping that often. Our current cache of flashlight greatly exceeds our needs! He doesn't need a flashlight. He doesn't really NEED anything. What a lovely problem to have. Right?
Sigh. I always go through the same thing, this time of year, every year. There is not enough. Not enough. But not enough what? Enough stuff that no one really needs? How did we get caught up in this? I don't remember, as a kid, that the quantity meant as much as the quality -- or what you wanted. The hardest thing for my kids is coming up with wants. Bravo to us, as parents, for providing them with their every want and need. But it leaves a bit of a void for Christmas shopping!
One other thing I did not do this year is shop very much. I usually go out with friends a couple of times, with my sister. But this year I have hardly done that at all. Maybe it is a good thing that I am finally accepting what I keep saying: they don't NEED anything, and there is no point in buying to provide things under the tree. In my mind I am always saying that. I am always saying that to them too. But I still have that need to try to outdo myself. I think that is too hard, at this point!
The bottom line is, it will be all over soon, regardless of what is purchased. It is one day, a blip on the calendar, and yet we give it so much importance. To what end, I ask? To what end?
I just don't know. I am still working it out!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Trader Joes
One thing I have enjoyed about Maddie being so close (and yet so far!) at college, is the opportunity to go to Trader Joe's. Because she comes home frequently enough for me to hit the store several times a month, it has opened up new doors for me, in terms of how I food shop.
Living in such isolation (well it sounds good!) I am stuck with very limited choices in where to obtain food. While summers provide ample opportunity between my own garden, my CSA and other local farm options, once the gardens have closed up shop, I am pretty much left with sub-par food choices at the local supermarket. I have had to drive for food for years, and I am okay with that, because I have never really known nothing else. But this Trader Joe's accessibility has been lovely.
Except for a few things.
For one, you can't go there on Fridays. There is no place to park and the place is mobbed. I mean, half the time Fridays is the day I go, but you have to get there early and the whole experience downgrades exponentially with every passing hour. I will say this, and I will mean it: People in that part of the world are mean and sucky. (I also want to say that the people who work at Trader Joe's are wonderful, down to earth and friendly, and are even starting to recognize me. The customers, however, are an entirely different story.)
After I dropped Maddie off at school on Monday morning, I proceeded south-bound on 128 to the Trader Joe's. It was traffic mayhem, and as I sat at a light and watched a sea of humanity pass me by, I thought, I don't care how wonderful the shopping is, I could NOT live here. Not even for a little while. I found a parking spot easily and grabbed a cart and began my shopping. I try to park my cart in obscure little spots and then run around and get what I need, because traffic jams with carts is fairly common. (Like the woman in front of the cheese who kept her cart in front of her and then looked at everything to her left, therefore basically taking up the entire cheese display. Rude.
As I stood before the cereals in search of a certain one, this gray-haired lady was near the flowers having a bit of a melt down and screaming loudly IS THERE ANYONE TO HELP ME? She "looked" ahem "normal," but her actions indicated otherwise. It was very distracting and I finally found what I was looking for and whizzed off to another section. But it's not a very big store, and it seemed she was stalking me. Or stalking my space. I kept wondering why I was letting it all get to me -- I should be delighted to be there, period. There was a woman with two children who was letting them run around and she thought they were amusing.
Let's just say, I did not.
I am leap years away from shopping with small children, but I have been there. And I would not have let my children do that shit, because it is annoying, unnecessary and just plain RUDE! Oops, the moronic mom smiled at me as her toddler rammed her cart into me. So sorry. As my thoughts ran along the lines of FUCK YOU LADY AND THE CART YOU RODE IN ON, I tried to get a grip. What was this energy here? Why was I allowing myself to get caught up in it?
I had to go to the bathroom, so I parked my cart and did my business, and when I returned, I left my cart where it was, off the beaten path and in no one's way, and continued my shopping. There was an employee near my cart as I approached with an armful of goods, and she said, Oh, is this your cart? I thought it was abandoned.
Really? Do people abandon carts? What the hell is that? So I rescued my cart and went off to the dairy section, where I was clearly in the way of this woman who only wanted to look at the section of dairy that I was standing in. I kept moving my cart, and moving myself to accomodate her, but that didn't seem to make her happy.
I just don't fit in. I don't know how to be ruthless and bitchy (well of course I do, I am a woman) but that isn't my natural way. I want to smile and be accomodating and friendly and share the space with one and all, and just buy my food and be on my way. But there is a territorial bent to the whole experience -- almost as though they recognize me as a stranger. Not from these here parts.
Then as I was getting back onto 128 to head home, there was only one car coming towards me, in the right hand lane. And they refused to move over to the wide open left hand lane. Why? Why do people just ignore common courtesies? So once again, I punched my accelerator with the intent to jam my large vehicle right into their Mercede ass. NEGATIVE ENERGY city! Geesh. The place is toxic!Clearly I had a chip on my shoulder that day -- because you attract what you put out there. I can't blame it on Massachusetts I suppose. The state can't really affect my state, can it?
Not so sure!
Monday, November 14, 2011
Weird but true
When I am in the middle of writing a novel, I find it most helpful to tape picture of my characters around my desk. It makes them feel more real and it also makes it easier to remember their physical appearances in the beginning, before they become full-bore people in my life.
I come across these characters in magazines or I will attribute their looks to say a movie star and then kind of morph them from that. But Walter, Walter was in a magazine, in some ad I guess, because he's not a face I've ever seen before or since. But the moment I turned the page and saw him, I knew it was Walter.
Walter has been on my wall for quite a few years now. This particular book has been slower than others I have written (or am still in the process of writing) to flesh out and quite frankly, I have gotten to a certain point and had no idea where to go. So I stopped. But as of the past month or so, I have been going gangbusters with it, and once again Walter is a part of my daily life.
I love Walter -- he is a rich character and it has been challenging to write from a perspective of an older man. Walter spans in age in my story from about 40 to his late 60s, and the story also includes his wife who is 20 years his junior. It also includes another character who is 20 years the junior of his wife (I don't come up with this stuff, it wants to be what it wants to be!) I have struggled with the second story line because I am able to put myself in that position and the question would I want to be with someone 20 years younger than myself is a most resounding no! And then I wonder if it is believable. And of course that invites questions and then I question myself and wonder what the hell am I doing writing a book on this bizarre topic anyway?
But this book wants to be written. For one, it is the sweetest experience thus far in that it is not all-inclusive. I don't have to sit down and write and write and write and write and then write some more because I am worried I will forget. There is nothing frenetic about this particular process. It is a book that knows that it mellows with age (and I am not going to do a fine wine metaphor here because that is so B O R I N G.) I can sit down for a few hours and write. And it flows. And then I can get up and go do something else and when I sit back down again, be it a few hours later or even a few days later, it flows again, seamlessly. And while the characters are in my head, and they often talk to me, they only do so when beckoned. It's been a lovely experience. But that is not all.
The day I was seriously questioning raising the age of the young college student that my 40+ heroine was not only dating, but was like in love with, I was shopping at a local market and this young (college age) guy was all over me. At first I was wondering what is his problem was ... how many times was he going to accidently bump into me in the aisles? How many times was he going to ask me if I needed any help. How many times was he going to try to catch my eye? Then it hit me! This was just a message from the universe to let me know that all is possible. Now, I was not at all attracted to the kid, don't get me wrong, but the message was that he COULD be with me. That of course did not come at the time, but when he gave me this bizarre look when he handed me my bag and brushed my fingers with his, I walked out of there somewhat dumbfounded. But by the time I had climbed into my car I got it. And laughed out loud.
So I scurried home and let Cooper (I don't like the name either, but for some reason that is his name) stay his age. But then ANOTHER character jumped into the fray, and so help me god I was ready to quit. I stepped back and thought, what is this story about and why does it need to be told? It's ridiculous. It is complicated and hard to remember what is going on when and how and what and there is a brain tumor and if you think it sounds like a soap opera, well, you ought to have it in your head!
But then I went to a party. The hostess is in my book club and of course I knew her. But I had never met her husband. I did, however know, that her husband is 18 years older than her. No, the book has nothing to do with her, it was well under progress by the time I met her. But I thought it was interesting, just another one of those "coincidences" you run into ... all the time! So I had that on the back burner, where it has been simmering (I think I need to have a long chat with the both of them for perspective, and how nice of the universe to provide that, huh?) but I am not there yet ... I am still fleshing out the last major character and further plot lines and flashbacks and journals that are kicking my butt. When all of a sudden her husband came up to me and introduced himself and my mouth dropped open and ... HE WAS FUCKING WALTER. I am serious, almost the spitting image. I was beyond dumbfounded, I could hardly speak. I shook his hand and I swear to god, it was like meeting Walter in the flesh. He had the same .... he was Walter, plain and simple. He was who Walter would be if he was actually alive and well, at that moment in time it felt like that was the case.
I was a bit freaked. And then I felt like I was at Walter and Margie's house as a spectator. How many times had Margie talked about having had no friends other than Walter's? (Margie is the heroine in the book if you didn't pick that up.) The hostess of this party had invited the book club because she too had commented that she almost exclusively hangs out with her husband's friends.
It was a weird night. But don't worry universe, I totally got it. No need to give me further assistance. In fact, I am not sure I could take anything more!
So now I must go join Walter and the gang before another character comes to life!!!
P.S. I always listen to music when I write and there is always one artist that seems to put me in the right groove ... and I will essentially listen to the same album over and over and over. Once I have done this, that particular album can never be listened to again (for obvious reasons!) Such over-saturation needs to be applied to an artist that I am not madly in love with. I have been seeking that particular artist and for three days in a row, every time I got in the car a song by Lady Antebellum was playing. Same song. Sometimes it would play twice. No, seriously. So I have my new list of songs ... and they are of course, perfect. The universe is so helpful!!!
I come across these characters in magazines or I will attribute their looks to say a movie star and then kind of morph them from that. But Walter, Walter was in a magazine, in some ad I guess, because he's not a face I've ever seen before or since. But the moment I turned the page and saw him, I knew it was Walter.
Walter has been on my wall for quite a few years now. This particular book has been slower than others I have written (or am still in the process of writing) to flesh out and quite frankly, I have gotten to a certain point and had no idea where to go. So I stopped. But as of the past month or so, I have been going gangbusters with it, and once again Walter is a part of my daily life.
I love Walter -- he is a rich character and it has been challenging to write from a perspective of an older man. Walter spans in age in my story from about 40 to his late 60s, and the story also includes his wife who is 20 years his junior. It also includes another character who is 20 years the junior of his wife (I don't come up with this stuff, it wants to be what it wants to be!) I have struggled with the second story line because I am able to put myself in that position and the question would I want to be with someone 20 years younger than myself is a most resounding no! And then I wonder if it is believable. And of course that invites questions and then I question myself and wonder what the hell am I doing writing a book on this bizarre topic anyway?
But this book wants to be written. For one, it is the sweetest experience thus far in that it is not all-inclusive. I don't have to sit down and write and write and write and write and then write some more because I am worried I will forget. There is nothing frenetic about this particular process. It is a book that knows that it mellows with age (and I am not going to do a fine wine metaphor here because that is so B O R I N G.) I can sit down for a few hours and write. And it flows. And then I can get up and go do something else and when I sit back down again, be it a few hours later or even a few days later, it flows again, seamlessly. And while the characters are in my head, and they often talk to me, they only do so when beckoned. It's been a lovely experience. But that is not all.
The day I was seriously questioning raising the age of the young college student that my 40+ heroine was not only dating, but was like in love with, I was shopping at a local market and this young (college age) guy was all over me. At first I was wondering what is his problem was ... how many times was he going to accidently bump into me in the aisles? How many times was he going to ask me if I needed any help. How many times was he going to try to catch my eye? Then it hit me! This was just a message from the universe to let me know that all is possible. Now, I was not at all attracted to the kid, don't get me wrong, but the message was that he COULD be with me. That of course did not come at the time, but when he gave me this bizarre look when he handed me my bag and brushed my fingers with his, I walked out of there somewhat dumbfounded. But by the time I had climbed into my car I got it. And laughed out loud.
So I scurried home and let Cooper (I don't like the name either, but for some reason that is his name) stay his age. But then ANOTHER character jumped into the fray, and so help me god I was ready to quit. I stepped back and thought, what is this story about and why does it need to be told? It's ridiculous. It is complicated and hard to remember what is going on when and how and what and there is a brain tumor and if you think it sounds like a soap opera, well, you ought to have it in your head!
But then I went to a party. The hostess is in my book club and of course I knew her. But I had never met her husband. I did, however know, that her husband is 18 years older than her. No, the book has nothing to do with her, it was well under progress by the time I met her. But I thought it was interesting, just another one of those "coincidences" you run into ... all the time! So I had that on the back burner, where it has been simmering (I think I need to have a long chat with the both of them for perspective, and how nice of the universe to provide that, huh?) but I am not there yet ... I am still fleshing out the last major character and further plot lines and flashbacks and journals that are kicking my butt. When all of a sudden her husband came up to me and introduced himself and my mouth dropped open and ... HE WAS FUCKING WALTER. I am serious, almost the spitting image. I was beyond dumbfounded, I could hardly speak. I shook his hand and I swear to god, it was like meeting Walter in the flesh. He had the same .... he was Walter, plain and simple. He was who Walter would be if he was actually alive and well, at that moment in time it felt like that was the case.
I was a bit freaked. And then I felt like I was at Walter and Margie's house as a spectator. How many times had Margie talked about having had no friends other than Walter's? (Margie is the heroine in the book if you didn't pick that up.) The hostess of this party had invited the book club because she too had commented that she almost exclusively hangs out with her husband's friends.
It was a weird night. But don't worry universe, I totally got it. No need to give me further assistance. In fact, I am not sure I could take anything more!
So now I must go join Walter and the gang before another character comes to life!!!
P.S. I always listen to music when I write and there is always one artist that seems to put me in the right groove ... and I will essentially listen to the same album over and over and over. Once I have done this, that particular album can never be listened to again (for obvious reasons!) Such over-saturation needs to be applied to an artist that I am not madly in love with. I have been seeking that particular artist and for three days in a row, every time I got in the car a song by Lady Antebellum was playing. Same song. Sometimes it would play twice. No, seriously. So I have my new list of songs ... and they are of course, perfect. The universe is so helpful!!!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Born to drive
Yesterday I completed a milestone, and yet, I was in the background. The milestone was Charlie going to get his license, but for me it was the last child I would ever have to take to the DMV!
It is such a great place to people watch. There were loads of mothers and the occasional father, with their about to be licensed kids, and we sit on the chairs and wait. We stand in line over and over, then return to our seats to wait. We have a very small purpose -- we have to of course drive with them there; we have to be there to stand in as the "adult," but we're really not all that needed. They take the written test while we sit and wait. Then they too have to wait until their designated driving test time nears, and then the poor parents are discarded once again, we must vacate the car and let a perfect stranger drive off with them. And we wait.
When Hallie went for her license, we drove down to Concord and stood in line (and waited of course) only to discover that we didn't have a heating bill. Yes, that is what I said. We needed to have some proof that she lived in the actual residence that she said she did. They said a heating bill would work. A HEATING BILL! We had to drive home and find some stupid heating bill, and then, because we were so disgusted with Concord, we drove (I actually drove this time because this was no longer fun and games, but serious business, and speed limits could not be adhered to in order to get this job done!) like mad up to Lebanon. Where she had time to put in her written test; but alas, they were closing and she was unable to get her driving test in. OH MY GAWD.
Then we drove back up there the next morning and she FINALLY got her license. I told everyone I knew, don't go to the DMV without your heating bill. Not any of them that I can recall ever had any use for a heating bill. But they had them!
Then Maddie and I went down to Concord, (with a heating bill of course) and she passed her driver's test, only to discover that there were no driving times available that day. But our friendly DMV assistant kept at it, and there was an available time in Manchester. Of course, Maddie didn't want to drive in Manchester (they all have heard stories from friends who have gone to this DMV or that DMV and it is the BEST DMV to go to!) As far as I am concerned, all of my kids were highly ready to get their licenses by the time I brought them to the DMV. I have seen kids who didn't know their right from their left get their license -- I wasn't too worried about their passing. And Concord is the CLOSEST and is far more interesting to people watch than some smaller office. (Though they are all closing due to budget cuts, according to one woman I talked to.)
Anyway, she panicked that she had never driven in Manchester, so we went down and I had her drive what I suspected would be the exact route she would take (and it was) and after several healthy doses of waiting, she finally had her license.
Charlie was the most eager of all of them to get his license. So eager, in fact, that he convinced the driver's ed. teacher to change the date of the class so he could get his license as close to his birthday as possible. He has been driving since he was five-years-old. This is not even an exaggeration -- says the mother who watched her near toddler son drive around and around and around in the driveway why the father said it was fine. Fine! He used to go to to work with Peter and drive around in an old pick-up truck on his back lot by the hour. The kid loves to drive. It was common for there to be regular activity in the driveway on any given day. One car or the other would go by; then the Bobcat would start up and he'd be driving that around; then the Gator, then back to one of the vehicles. I remember Hallie getting so disgusted at the amount of gas he was using driving around in the driveway!
When I climbed out of the car to let the driving guy in, he asked me if I thought Charlie was ready. I told him that he was born ready. Oh really, the man said. I am not even kidding, I said, as I watched as Charlie confidently told the man to climb on in. There was never even the slightest doubt in my mind that he would get his license. Even as we watched, minutes before his own test, a girl not pass and slam into the passenger side of her car and ignore her mother (it is always the mother's fault, is it not?)
The entire experience was probably the easiest out of the three. Walked in, stood in a short line (they never looked at the heating bill, or in this case this time, the tax bill) he did his eye test, then his written, and back in line to find that the next available driving time was 1:40. It was then 12:30 -- time for lunch! We went to lunch, we were back in time; he took his test, he came back in, he got his license. I was in the dressing room at L.L. Bean by 3:00. Easy peasy.
The hardest part is that he has the longest drive of the three. Hallie and Maddie drove literally five minutes down the road to school. If there was bad weather, I drove them. There was a forecast of snow for today (which did not pan out, thank heavens) and Peter was quite insistent that he didn't want Charlie to drive his truck with the bald tires in snow. I thought to myself that it's a tough time to get your license -- right before snow season. Will I ever want him to drive that distance in a lot of snow?
I am still waiting for him to text that he has arrived at school on his maiden voyage -- he drove to the gas station and the store last night, but this is really the first "big" trip on his own. You can tell he is number three because I didn't actually notice the exact time he left -- so I can't really watch the clock and wonder. But he will be fine.
As for me, I am somewhat torn between throwing a huge party or just absorbing this last milestone on my own, quietly. It seems mind blowing that I never HAVE to drive a child to school again. Seriously ... mind blowing. We have been juggling the art of getting Charlie to one school or another (all very far away) since he was in fifth grade. I could climb into my own car right now and not have to be back at a certain time to pick him up! I guess we both picked up a little freedom at the DMV yesterday! Thank Gawd for the heating (tax) bill!
It is such a great place to people watch. There were loads of mothers and the occasional father, with their about to be licensed kids, and we sit on the chairs and wait. We stand in line over and over, then return to our seats to wait. We have a very small purpose -- we have to of course drive with them there; we have to be there to stand in as the "adult," but we're really not all that needed. They take the written test while we sit and wait. Then they too have to wait until their designated driving test time nears, and then the poor parents are discarded once again, we must vacate the car and let a perfect stranger drive off with them. And we wait.
When Hallie went for her license, we drove down to Concord and stood in line (and waited of course) only to discover that we didn't have a heating bill. Yes, that is what I said. We needed to have some proof that she lived in the actual residence that she said she did. They said a heating bill would work. A HEATING BILL! We had to drive home and find some stupid heating bill, and then, because we were so disgusted with Concord, we drove (I actually drove this time because this was no longer fun and games, but serious business, and speed limits could not be adhered to in order to get this job done!) like mad up to Lebanon. Where she had time to put in her written test; but alas, they were closing and she was unable to get her driving test in. OH MY GAWD.
Then we drove back up there the next morning and she FINALLY got her license. I told everyone I knew, don't go to the DMV without your heating bill. Not any of them that I can recall ever had any use for a heating bill. But they had them!
Then Maddie and I went down to Concord, (with a heating bill of course) and she passed her driver's test, only to discover that there were no driving times available that day. But our friendly DMV assistant kept at it, and there was an available time in Manchester. Of course, Maddie didn't want to drive in Manchester (they all have heard stories from friends who have gone to this DMV or that DMV and it is the BEST DMV to go to!) As far as I am concerned, all of my kids were highly ready to get their licenses by the time I brought them to the DMV. I have seen kids who didn't know their right from their left get their license -- I wasn't too worried about their passing. And Concord is the CLOSEST and is far more interesting to people watch than some smaller office. (Though they are all closing due to budget cuts, according to one woman I talked to.)
Anyway, she panicked that she had never driven in Manchester, so we went down and I had her drive what I suspected would be the exact route she would take (and it was) and after several healthy doses of waiting, she finally had her license.
Charlie was the most eager of all of them to get his license. So eager, in fact, that he convinced the driver's ed. teacher to change the date of the class so he could get his license as close to his birthday as possible. He has been driving since he was five-years-old. This is not even an exaggeration -- says the mother who watched her near toddler son drive around and around and around in the driveway why the father said it was fine. Fine! He used to go to to work with Peter and drive around in an old pick-up truck on his back lot by the hour. The kid loves to drive. It was common for there to be regular activity in the driveway on any given day. One car or the other would go by; then the Bobcat would start up and he'd be driving that around; then the Gator, then back to one of the vehicles. I remember Hallie getting so disgusted at the amount of gas he was using driving around in the driveway!
When I climbed out of the car to let the driving guy in, he asked me if I thought Charlie was ready. I told him that he was born ready. Oh really, the man said. I am not even kidding, I said, as I watched as Charlie confidently told the man to climb on in. There was never even the slightest doubt in my mind that he would get his license. Even as we watched, minutes before his own test, a girl not pass and slam into the passenger side of her car and ignore her mother (it is always the mother's fault, is it not?)
The entire experience was probably the easiest out of the three. Walked in, stood in a short line (they never looked at the heating bill, or in this case this time, the tax bill) he did his eye test, then his written, and back in line to find that the next available driving time was 1:40. It was then 12:30 -- time for lunch! We went to lunch, we were back in time; he took his test, he came back in, he got his license. I was in the dressing room at L.L. Bean by 3:00. Easy peasy.
The hardest part is that he has the longest drive of the three. Hallie and Maddie drove literally five minutes down the road to school. If there was bad weather, I drove them. There was a forecast of snow for today (which did not pan out, thank heavens) and Peter was quite insistent that he didn't want Charlie to drive his truck with the bald tires in snow. I thought to myself that it's a tough time to get your license -- right before snow season. Will I ever want him to drive that distance in a lot of snow?
I am still waiting for him to text that he has arrived at school on his maiden voyage -- he drove to the gas station and the store last night, but this is really the first "big" trip on his own. You can tell he is number three because I didn't actually notice the exact time he left -- so I can't really watch the clock and wonder. But he will be fine.
As for me, I am somewhat torn between throwing a huge party or just absorbing this last milestone on my own, quietly. It seems mind blowing that I never HAVE to drive a child to school again. Seriously ... mind blowing. We have been juggling the art of getting Charlie to one school or another (all very far away) since he was in fifth grade. I could climb into my own car right now and not have to be back at a certain time to pick him up! I guess we both picked up a little freedom at the DMV yesterday! Thank Gawd for the heating (tax) bill!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
It's not supposed to be work!@
I am such a disorganized person -- and truthfully, that rarely bothers me. But then again, I am NOT really disorganized in most things. Just when I write. I am very careless and lackadaisical when writing, because it seems when I am in the middle of a book; it would be impossible to forget anything.
I have three novels that are in various states of flux. One is completely written but I am incapable of believing that or something, so I leave that one in the belief it needs more. Then there is another one probably more than halfway written, and that one grabs me from time to time. But this one I am working on now has been the most compelling as of late. The characters have not flooded my brain, as they have a tendency to do. But instead, they are on the periphery, waiting. They are waiting for me to finish their story. They are so patient too ... and I have come to the realization that it is because those characters are patient themselves.
I sat down this morning to write where I left off yesterday. But it doesn't feel right (write) and because I am clearly in the mood to write, I am writing here instead. Somewhere there is a notebook with my notes on this novel. I just can't find them. There is a lot of confusion if I lose track -- as I am now going to start going back in time. But I need to pick a timeframe and that just puts me off. I don't do outlines, I just jot down notes and let the book flow. But this one has never been like that. It has asked more from me right from the beginning.
The premise is hard for me too. I am not sure where it came from, or why it even needs to be written, but I struggle with scenes (of the sexual nature for starters) between the main female character and one of the main male characters, who is 20 years her junior. I have no business putting myself in the situation, because it is not about me, but still. There is such a weirdness about it -- like really, it doesn't feel right. And yet, why is it okay when older men hook up with women so much younger? Why does that not seem predatory and wrong? I guess that is part of the main theme of the book -- the coming to terms with that actual question. (Why I am writing about it really confuses me, I must admit! It certainly doesn't come from experience. But that is the way such things happen I guess. They sort of kind of be what they want to be!)
But my frustration right now is that I can't find this notebook that contains all my notes. I just flipped through six -- and they were all something I am working on. But not this one. Which makes me wonder, am I supposed to be re-thinking it?
I feel like the girl in the picture above. In fact, that is exactly what I did when I realized I wasn't going to be able to just fly through and type like a maniac this morning. Sigh.
I can't even find a fancy new notebook to use. Which may mean I have to clean my office. GAH!
Sunday, October 16, 2011
A picture is worth a thousand words (though of course I added those too!)
Sometimes I just prefer a natural photo. This one is untouched and I find it very calming. There would be no need to have the browns be browner. I find this very calming in its simplicity.
At first I was going to crop this so Zach was the only subject in the frame, but then I realized that the car gave the added benefit of the motion of speed. Both Maddie and Charlie were using my camera, so I am not sure who the official photographer is. But good job!
P.S. Click on any of the above photos to get a larger, cleaner version!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
24 Things
I was going to begin this thing on October 1 called 24 Things. Each day, for 24 days, I was to remove one thing from my house -- give it away, sell it or throw it away -- in order to create space for creativity to flow. Space.
In the few days leading up to October 1st, I have been on a thing frenzy. And not disposing of, but obtaining of.
This is who I am. If even **I** tell myself that I am going to do something, I do the opposite. I can NOT be told what to do -- even by myself -- without a negative reaction! It is as though I unleashed some purchasemaniac within me -- and I just want to BUY BUy Buy buy. So wrong.
It is October 2 and I have only bought things because the rules are you have to purge one thing -- and NOT purchase ANYthing for 24 days. Clearly I do not like rules. Even self-imposed ones.
Such amazing and total self-destruction of my own potential goals. The rule not to purchase stuff has rekindled a complete and total love of stuff. I want stuff. Pretty stuff. STUFF and things. GIVE THEM TO ME. NOW!
Yeah, I know.
It kind of freaks me out too.
Epiphany. (not a good one!)
Need.
Greed.
Confusion.
Self-loathing.
Wonder.
Anxiety.
Churning stomach.
Mind blowing.
Wrong.
Unfortunate.
Evasive.
Pathetic.
Astonishing.
Unexpected.
Amazing.
Foolish.
Pitiful.
Upsetting.
Disappointing.
Self-discovery.
Not that big of a deal.
Recoverable.
Faddish.
I may not have begun to purge 24 things. But these are my 24 words to describe this. Now as Scarlett would say, Tomorrow is another day!
In the few days leading up to October 1st, I have been on a thing frenzy. And not disposing of, but obtaining of.
This is who I am. If even **I** tell myself that I am going to do something, I do the opposite. I can NOT be told what to do -- even by myself -- without a negative reaction! It is as though I unleashed some purchasemaniac within me -- and I just want to BUY BUy Buy buy. So wrong.
It is October 2 and I have only bought things because the rules are you have to purge one thing -- and NOT purchase ANYthing for 24 days. Clearly I do not like rules. Even self-imposed ones.
Such amazing and total self-destruction of my own potential goals. The rule not to purchase stuff has rekindled a complete and total love of stuff. I want stuff. Pretty stuff. STUFF and things. GIVE THEM TO ME. NOW!
Yeah, I know.
It kind of freaks me out too.
Epiphany. (not a good one!)
Need.
Greed.
Confusion.
Self-loathing.
Wonder.
Anxiety.
Churning stomach.
Mind blowing.
Wrong.
Unfortunate.
Evasive.
Pathetic.
Astonishing.
Unexpected.
Amazing.
Foolish.
Pitiful.
Upsetting.
Disappointing.
Self-discovery.
Not that big of a deal.
Recoverable.
Faddish.
I may not have begun to purge 24 things. But these are my 24 words to describe this. Now as Scarlett would say, Tomorrow is another day!
Monday, September 26, 2011
This is a story about books!
This is a post about books. I went to Amazon.com to check on their daily kindle deal, and the same as it has been the past few times I've gone, the book didn't appeal to me. But today I asked, why does it not seem like a book you would read?
It is called Brain Rules, and it is written by a doctor who is a molecular biologist who studies the brain. Why wouldn't that interest me? So, I decided that regardless of the topic, I am going to download the Kindle deal of the day, and read them. This one cost $1.49 and well. It would have to be pretty bad not to be worth that amount!
I don't know what my favorite genre is, not really. When I first started to read, you would get those things from school where you could order all of these books, and I would check ALL of them! They all seemed so fascinating! Since they were relatively cheap, my mother always said yes. To ALL of them! I would read with delicious delight the descriptions of the books, and I would add up the cost, get money from my mother, cut out the small order form, and then take it to school the next day. And then I would wait. Oh, those things took so long to come in! I used to drive the teacher nuts, is the book order coming in today?
When I was old enough to ride my bike to town, Tracy McDonald and I would walk into the young adult room at the library, and I swear, I would swoon! Such a sacred place. I can still picture the row of Happy Hollister books, in the bookshelf to the far left corner. Oh. There was nothing as exciting as that day the librarian led me to them. Tracy, who was older than me, had already read them, and had gone on and on about how much I would like them. Oh, and how! The only sad thing was that I went through them so quickly. And they were an old series, with a dead author. It was quite disappointing. I remember asking the librarian if there would be any more. And she shook her head. I am sorry, but no. But then I went on to Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew. And then when I was in sixth grade, I read a naughty book. I have always been a voracious reader, and one Sunday afternoon I was bored and in the downstairs TV room. There were bookshelves filled with "old people's" books, that I'd never really examined. I indiscriminately pulled one from the shelf and started to read. Soon, I had closed the door to the room, because I didn't want anyone to see me reading it. Then, when the babysitter started sleeping with the father, I hid behind the green chair! My greatest fear is that my mother or father would take THE BOOK AWAY FROM ME. And thus grew a new passion ... reading smut in the living room behind the green chair. Ahhhhh. But alas, my mother didn't have a lot of smut, just a small collection. So then, I started to read the classics, which my father had these old versions of, and we were told not to touch them. (I figured they had to have some serious stuff in there if I wasn't to go near them.) Well, let's face it, Mrs. Haversham rotting in her wedding dress was creepy. Not my great expectations of sex in a closet or whatever the hell I was reading. But interesting.
That led to a very early interest in romances. Danielle Steele, Kathleen Woodiweiis, anything that had a picture of a big strapping man with his muscles popping out of his shirt and the poor woman clasped in his big strong grasp. Bodice rippers is what my friend called them. We read those through high school, but let me tell you, I read them way earlier than I should have! We didn't have google back then, but I figured out what a blow job was through wily research. "DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A BLOW JOB IS?" I asked anyone around. Anyone. Finally Barb, the older sister of a friend, filled me in. I of course, did not believe her. First of all, did she not hear me, I said BLOW job. There was no blowing in her description, none at all. We discussed this enough to make her doubt her own knowledge! HAHAHAHA. Finally, she went out and asked her mother. She came back to the bedroom to report that she did have it right, and she was now grounded for the weekend.
Sorry, Barb. My life would have been ever so much easier with google!
Books can certainly have an impact on your life! I remember reading The Yearling. I was in junior high, and I know this because I was home alone with my brother and sister, theoretically babysitting them. But I was really in my bed, all cozied up, with my book. I was being interrupted, so I pulled out the trundle bed and had them curl up near me. My brother had our cat Chippy in bed with him. I had reached the part where the deer needs to be shot, and I was sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. At that moment, the cat started to dry heave and my brother tossed him at me. Just in time for it to expel a skull of a chipmunk all over my chest. You can't make this stuff up you know, it wouldn't make sense!
My parents came rushing upstairs and into the bedroom where I was still sobbing over both the deer and the trauma of having a skull first on me, and then in my bed.
And then there was Eric. By Doris Lund. This is not a very long book, but it just so happened to be the ONLY book I brought with me on a spontaneous trip to Newfoundland. That is how my parents traveled. They would keep it all a secret and then wake us up in the middle of the night and tell us we were going somewhere. I innocently grabbed the ONE book that I happened to be reading, and off we went. To the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. I of course, finished the book in no time, but not without sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. You see, Eric had leukemia and he died. And he died about 14 times for me, because it was the ONLY book I had so I just kept re-reading it. And re-living the traumatic end! Every person in that car remembers that book!
Right now I am reading on my iPad a novel, and a book about weather shamanism. And when I am in the car, I am listening to a Lisa Gardner detective/murder/mystery type series. Sometimes it is confusing to remember what is going on, but I have always had multiple books going. That trip taught me to keep any number of books in the car in the event of such a thing ever happening, and whenever I was in the car, I would read those books, while still reading another book before bed.
I have a tendency to devour an author and then criticize him or her after ten or so books. I will accuse then of being formulaic and repetitive, and I will wonder why I liked the earlier books so much! I know this is not fair, to the authors anyway, but I can't help myself. I am currently doing this with Lisa Gardner. I just downloaded a third book by her today. Even when I said to myself I should break it up with another author. Oh well.
What started this was the Kindle deal of the day. Apparently, this is how my brain works! I'll let you know if I am right!
It is called Brain Rules, and it is written by a doctor who is a molecular biologist who studies the brain. Why wouldn't that interest me? So, I decided that regardless of the topic, I am going to download the Kindle deal of the day, and read them. This one cost $1.49 and well. It would have to be pretty bad not to be worth that amount!
I don't know what my favorite genre is, not really. When I first started to read, you would get those things from school where you could order all of these books, and I would check ALL of them! They all seemed so fascinating! Since they were relatively cheap, my mother always said yes. To ALL of them! I would read with delicious delight the descriptions of the books, and I would add up the cost, get money from my mother, cut out the small order form, and then take it to school the next day. And then I would wait. Oh, those things took so long to come in! I used to drive the teacher nuts, is the book order coming in today?
When I was old enough to ride my bike to town, Tracy McDonald and I would walk into the young adult room at the library, and I swear, I would swoon! Such a sacred place. I can still picture the row of Happy Hollister books, in the bookshelf to the far left corner. Oh. There was nothing as exciting as that day the librarian led me to them. Tracy, who was older than me, had already read them, and had gone on and on about how much I would like them. Oh, and how! The only sad thing was that I went through them so quickly. And they were an old series, with a dead author. It was quite disappointing. I remember asking the librarian if there would be any more. And she shook her head. I am sorry, but no. But then I went on to Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew. And then when I was in sixth grade, I read a naughty book. I have always been a voracious reader, and one Sunday afternoon I was bored and in the downstairs TV room. There were bookshelves filled with "old people's" books, that I'd never really examined. I indiscriminately pulled one from the shelf and started to read. Soon, I had closed the door to the room, because I didn't want anyone to see me reading it. Then, when the babysitter started sleeping with the father, I hid behind the green chair! My greatest fear is that my mother or father would take THE BOOK AWAY FROM ME. And thus grew a new passion ... reading smut in the living room behind the green chair. Ahhhhh. But alas, my mother didn't have a lot of smut, just a small collection. So then, I started to read the classics, which my father had these old versions of, and we were told not to touch them. (I figured they had to have some serious stuff in there if I wasn't to go near them.) Well, let's face it, Mrs. Haversham rotting in her wedding dress was creepy. Not my great expectations of sex in a closet or whatever the hell I was reading. But interesting.
That led to a very early interest in romances. Danielle Steele, Kathleen Woodiweiis, anything that had a picture of a big strapping man with his muscles popping out of his shirt and the poor woman clasped in his big strong grasp. Bodice rippers is what my friend called them. We read those through high school, but let me tell you, I read them way earlier than I should have! We didn't have google back then, but I figured out what a blow job was through wily research. "DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A BLOW JOB IS?" I asked anyone around. Anyone. Finally Barb, the older sister of a friend, filled me in. I of course, did not believe her. First of all, did she not hear me, I said BLOW job. There was no blowing in her description, none at all. We discussed this enough to make her doubt her own knowledge! HAHAHAHA. Finally, she went out and asked her mother. She came back to the bedroom to report that she did have it right, and she was now grounded for the weekend.
Sorry, Barb. My life would have been ever so much easier with google!
Books can certainly have an impact on your life! I remember reading The Yearling. I was in junior high, and I know this because I was home alone with my brother and sister, theoretically babysitting them. But I was really in my bed, all cozied up, with my book. I was being interrupted, so I pulled out the trundle bed and had them curl up near me. My brother had our cat Chippy in bed with him. I had reached the part where the deer needs to be shot, and I was sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. At that moment, the cat started to dry heave and my brother tossed him at me. Just in time for it to expel a skull of a chipmunk all over my chest. You can't make this stuff up you know, it wouldn't make sense!
My parents came rushing upstairs and into the bedroom where I was still sobbing over both the deer and the trauma of having a skull first on me, and then in my bed.
And then there was Eric. By Doris Lund. This is not a very long book, but it just so happened to be the ONLY book I brought with me on a spontaneous trip to Newfoundland. That is how my parents traveled. They would keep it all a secret and then wake us up in the middle of the night and tell us we were going somewhere. I innocently grabbed the ONE book that I happened to be reading, and off we went. To the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. I of course, finished the book in no time, but not without sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. You see, Eric had leukemia and he died. And he died about 14 times for me, because it was the ONLY book I had so I just kept re-reading it. And re-living the traumatic end! Every person in that car remembers that book!
Right now I am reading on my iPad a novel, and a book about weather shamanism. And when I am in the car, I am listening to a Lisa Gardner detective/murder/mystery type series. Sometimes it is confusing to remember what is going on, but I have always had multiple books going. That trip taught me to keep any number of books in the car in the event of such a thing ever happening, and whenever I was in the car, I would read those books, while still reading another book before bed.
I have a tendency to devour an author and then criticize him or her after ten or so books. I will accuse then of being formulaic and repetitive, and I will wonder why I liked the earlier books so much! I know this is not fair, to the authors anyway, but I can't help myself. I am currently doing this with Lisa Gardner. I just downloaded a third book by her today. Even when I said to myself I should break it up with another author. Oh well.
What started this was the Kindle deal of the day. Apparently, this is how my brain works! I'll let you know if I am right!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
There is this place ...
When I drive to Charlie's school several times a day, I have to drive through a small Main Street of a town that is really failing. Not that it has ever been a burgeoning example of prosperity -- but it has gotten much, much worse in the few years I have been passing through on a regular basis. Gone are the small shops, replaced by soaped up windows and FOR RENT signs. On the main portion of the street, the only businesses that are actually in business are two banks, a donut shop, a furniture store and an auctioneers store front. Oh, and two gas stations, one a Cumberland Farms and the other that has the cheapest gas but the people that hang around it are too creepy to imagine ever stopping there. (I do stop from time to time at the Cumberland Farms, as their gas is the next cheapest, but let's just say I would rather not.)
I stopped at the grocery store that is at the edge of this town last night and because I had been noticing the decline overall, I was struck by the clientele in the store, and walking into it. There is a high percentage of teenage mothers and even teenage fathers, filling up their carts with the most disgusting junk food, with these unhealthy looking children kind of just there. They have no life, no spark. None of them do. It was hard to see.
Then as we were walking out, I saw this young mother and her little boy walking towards us. The mother had a cigarette and she was tugging the little boy along as she looked for a place to store the cigarette while she was in the store. As I was watching what she was doing, the little boy caught my eye and he just stared at me. He made me catch my breath. He was extremely pale with huge shadows underneath his big blue eyes. He too, was devoid of the life spark that so often fills small children, and it took all I could do not to scoop him up and take him home with me.
"Why do you look like that?" Charlie asked, as we continued towards the car.
"Like what?" I asked him.
"You look so sad."
I motioned toward the little boy, who was still watching me. "He just made me sad."
Charlie wondered if it was because he reminded me of him and if it made me sad that he was so grown up now. I had to laugh at that one. "No," I said with great vehemence, "that little boy did not remind me of you at all." And that was because my little boy had always been full of life. He may have been screaming and yelling and demanding my life's blood from me. But he never, ever, ever had those eyes.
That was yesterday evening, and I can't shake those eyes. That face. And I wondered. If I went up to that mother and said to her that I would help her -- that I would take that little boy and watch him so that she could go to school, would she accept it? Or is she too far gone, like the rest of that town, and committed to sitting on the stoop of their dilapidated apartment buildings, smoking and sitting next to their lifeless children?
Such hopelessness and decay, 15 minutes from my own house. Why do the rich people go to Africa? I don't get it. I don't mean to take away from the African people -- but what about our own? Born Americans, starving for hope in a small town, which has so many police cars that one only has to imagine how much trouble goes down there. (It was in fact on the news last year when a couple was arrested for cooking heroin in a building across from the high school.) It's not a good place.
But how do you get away from it? Every time I drive through I am treated with a snapshot of their lives that makes my heart ache. A young girl, walking towards the high school, covered in tattoos, earrings all over, no book in her hand. No backpack. She is just showing up. Going through the motions.
Or the woman in the doorway, obviously just out of bed, her hair all over the place, cigarette dangling from her lips, as her young daughter waits for the bus. And I look at this girl. Messy hair. Dirty clothes. That empty face.
The group of teenage boys who are clearly not going to school that day, riding around on their skateboards. Smoking. Their pants falling down to their knees, their dirty hair sticky in their faces. They are, of course, going to be magnetically attracted to their like, and they are going to have sex, and they are going to have babies who will carry those lifeless faces around until they too skip high school, because what is the point? WHAT IS THE POINT?
The town itself is addressing its problems by adding more cops. The cops are tough too. There are several stationed around and they stand with no smiles on their faces. As I often go by in a convertible jeep, I will smile or try to engage them into some type of human contact. Nope. This morning I wanted to yell WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO OFFICER FRIENDLY YOU DICKHEAD. But I thought that might not be smart. He was standing in front of the high school, lights on, in a stance of authority. I have no idea what he is supposed to be doing -- he pays no attention to traffic or human, for that matter. He just stands there. I guess he is supposed to be scary. Personally, I think he has it all wrong. I think he needs to be reaching out; putting on a face of humanity. Not being a dickhead.
But I am sure he spends his days and nights arresting young kids for drugs and what have you, and probably countless domestic disputes. He is hardened, as are the ones he polices.
It is a very sad place and makes me wonder how many other places around the country are in the same predicament. It is really too much, sometimes, to see the great disparity in wealth and lifestyle. From a small New England college where parents would do anything for their child; to a small New England town where the parents don't know what to do for their child, because nothing was ever done for them. It is too much, I tell you.
But if I ever see that boy again, I will reach out to his mother. There is no way I could walk away again. I am not even sure how I did it last night.
I stopped at the grocery store that is at the edge of this town last night and because I had been noticing the decline overall, I was struck by the clientele in the store, and walking into it. There is a high percentage of teenage mothers and even teenage fathers, filling up their carts with the most disgusting junk food, with these unhealthy looking children kind of just there. They have no life, no spark. None of them do. It was hard to see.
Then as we were walking out, I saw this young mother and her little boy walking towards us. The mother had a cigarette and she was tugging the little boy along as she looked for a place to store the cigarette while she was in the store. As I was watching what she was doing, the little boy caught my eye and he just stared at me. He made me catch my breath. He was extremely pale with huge shadows underneath his big blue eyes. He too, was devoid of the life spark that so often fills small children, and it took all I could do not to scoop him up and take him home with me.
"Why do you look like that?" Charlie asked, as we continued towards the car.
"Like what?" I asked him.
"You look so sad."
I motioned toward the little boy, who was still watching me. "He just made me sad."
Charlie wondered if it was because he reminded me of him and if it made me sad that he was so grown up now. I had to laugh at that one. "No," I said with great vehemence, "that little boy did not remind me of you at all." And that was because my little boy had always been full of life. He may have been screaming and yelling and demanding my life's blood from me. But he never, ever, ever had those eyes.
That was yesterday evening, and I can't shake those eyes. That face. And I wondered. If I went up to that mother and said to her that I would help her -- that I would take that little boy and watch him so that she could go to school, would she accept it? Or is she too far gone, like the rest of that town, and committed to sitting on the stoop of their dilapidated apartment buildings, smoking and sitting next to their lifeless children?
Such hopelessness and decay, 15 minutes from my own house. Why do the rich people go to Africa? I don't get it. I don't mean to take away from the African people -- but what about our own? Born Americans, starving for hope in a small town, which has so many police cars that one only has to imagine how much trouble goes down there. (It was in fact on the news last year when a couple was arrested for cooking heroin in a building across from the high school.) It's not a good place.
But how do you get away from it? Every time I drive through I am treated with a snapshot of their lives that makes my heart ache. A young girl, walking towards the high school, covered in tattoos, earrings all over, no book in her hand. No backpack. She is just showing up. Going through the motions.
Or the woman in the doorway, obviously just out of bed, her hair all over the place, cigarette dangling from her lips, as her young daughter waits for the bus. And I look at this girl. Messy hair. Dirty clothes. That empty face.
The group of teenage boys who are clearly not going to school that day, riding around on their skateboards. Smoking. Their pants falling down to their knees, their dirty hair sticky in their faces. They are, of course, going to be magnetically attracted to their like, and they are going to have sex, and they are going to have babies who will carry those lifeless faces around until they too skip high school, because what is the point? WHAT IS THE POINT?
The town itself is addressing its problems by adding more cops. The cops are tough too. There are several stationed around and they stand with no smiles on their faces. As I often go by in a convertible jeep, I will smile or try to engage them into some type of human contact. Nope. This morning I wanted to yell WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO OFFICER FRIENDLY YOU DICKHEAD. But I thought that might not be smart. He was standing in front of the high school, lights on, in a stance of authority. I have no idea what he is supposed to be doing -- he pays no attention to traffic or human, for that matter. He just stands there. I guess he is supposed to be scary. Personally, I think he has it all wrong. I think he needs to be reaching out; putting on a face of humanity. Not being a dickhead.
But I am sure he spends his days and nights arresting young kids for drugs and what have you, and probably countless domestic disputes. He is hardened, as are the ones he polices.
It is a very sad place and makes me wonder how many other places around the country are in the same predicament. It is really too much, sometimes, to see the great disparity in wealth and lifestyle. From a small New England college where parents would do anything for their child; to a small New England town where the parents don't know what to do for their child, because nothing was ever done for them. It is too much, I tell you.
But if I ever see that boy again, I will reach out to his mother. There is no way I could walk away again. I am not even sure how I did it last night.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Bounty and Loss
Everywhere I look there seems to be bounty. My garden is swelling with cucumbers, melons and tomatoes, basil plants are falling over in their abundance and the kale looks as though it is vying to be most beautiful vegetable in the garden!
There is a local farmstand I like to go to, where they have organic veggies, and their tomatoes are over the top beautiful. They lay them out upside down on a table, and they are just a palette to feast your eyes upon! I go everyday just to visit them! (Well, and to purchase ten pounds or so to add to my own supply for sauce.) This is harvest time and the veggies are littering gardens everywhere. I throw in fresh garlic, peppers and onions into the sauce and inhale deeply. Pure heaven. My goal is not to buy any sauce -- I am filling the freezer! I also have blanched and frozen a lot of green beans and will also do that with corn. Why suffer through the supermarket stuff when you can get it now? I think I am going to need a bigger freezer.
Or am I?
Maddie has gone off to college and there is one less mouth to feed. And Charlie claims that once he has his license he is going to stay at school all the time. So will it be sauce for two?
It has been a whirlwind week with summer coming to an abrupt halt with a cold rain that has settled into the area for days (the next tropical storm named Lee, I guess) and a drive to Beverly, Mass. on Sunday to drop off Maddie, and then off to Tilton the following day to get Charlie all set at his school, and then a trip a little further on into Belmont for his driver's ed. class. And then an unplanned trip to Beverly, Mass. yesterday to visit with Maddie, who has never really liked to be away from home, but who is bravely enduring the trials of being a freshman in a forced triple room with a potential bitch of a roommate (and one nice one, thank heavens!) and settling herself into a completely new life. She is trying very hard and I had told her from the start; if she needed me, I would be there.
So after six hours in the car yesterday, I had to drive 45 minutes in the rain and dark to pick up Charlie, and I thought, wow, this is a lot. This is tiring and I am not used to it. And yet, in a few months he will have his license and I will be free? (Yeah, something tells me not to break out the champagne yet!)
It is such a bone-gnawing tiredness that has settled in, and I am, as usual, trying to fight it. But it is well deserved (it is a lot of driving and big changes like seeing your daughter go to college are big emotional upheavals) and then back to the worry of a child with a new license driving around. I just want to climb into a cocoon and curl up for a few months!
I tried to catch up on sleep after I drove Charlie to school this morning, but then I remembered I had to pick up my CSA bounty -- and that of course led me to track down more food so I could cook. Because that is an excellent thing to do when you are tired, right?!!!! While I admit the smell of sauce simmering on the back burner is delightful, I still have to deal with the rest of the food. Shall I blanch and freeze the beans and corn, or have them for dinner (the latter would certainly be easier! But I am quite sick of both items, and there is still corn chowder in the fridge we could have for dinner.) The garden is also sodden with this rain and I noticed a few out of control cucumbers when I went out earlier to get some basil for the sauce. And I still have yet to master when a cantaloupe or watermelon are done ... so are they out there rotting or not? They still seem awfully heavy, but I just don't know. The last two watermelons were overdone, but the others out there don't seem ready either. There is nothing more disheartening than cutting into an under-ripe or over-ripe melon. And I have googled how to tell countless times. I think it is a learned thing. Which I haven't learned!
My brain is filled with what to do with all this food that has come to fruition at the same time while my body craves rest! But if I leave the kitchen for an hour it becomes infested with fruit flies. (I read in my never-ending reading that putting a tomato into the refrigerator was like killing it! ) Well, geesh, okay. But let me tell you, fruit flies love to hover around ripe fruit. Then I had a most wonderful cantaloupe on the counter and ate some, but it was filling, but then I thought, probably putting a ripe melon into the fridge is killing it too! So when I returned later, it had been taken over by those damn little bugs. There is no time to rest! The food rots as soon as you pick it. And my obsession with eating THIS food all year round is freaking me out.
I think I have conquered the cucumber dilemma -- by freezing cucumber juice! Then I can throw that into smoothies all year round. But those cucumbers mock me with their ability to grow overnight! I am not going to be sad when the last vine dies, because seriously, it is a full time job keeping up with those cukes. I can hear them out there giggling .... let's grow as big as we can and freak Lisa out.
I think sleep deprivation makes people lose their minds. Or perhaps I should put my mind in the fridge to preserve it. Or will it kill it?
There is a local farmstand I like to go to, where they have organic veggies, and their tomatoes are over the top beautiful. They lay them out upside down on a table, and they are just a palette to feast your eyes upon! I go everyday just to visit them! (Well, and to purchase ten pounds or so to add to my own supply for sauce.) This is harvest time and the veggies are littering gardens everywhere. I throw in fresh garlic, peppers and onions into the sauce and inhale deeply. Pure heaven. My goal is not to buy any sauce -- I am filling the freezer! I also have blanched and frozen a lot of green beans and will also do that with corn. Why suffer through the supermarket stuff when you can get it now? I think I am going to need a bigger freezer.
Or am I?
Maddie has gone off to college and there is one less mouth to feed. And Charlie claims that once he has his license he is going to stay at school all the time. So will it be sauce for two?
It has been a whirlwind week with summer coming to an abrupt halt with a cold rain that has settled into the area for days (the next tropical storm named Lee, I guess) and a drive to Beverly, Mass. on Sunday to drop off Maddie, and then off to Tilton the following day to get Charlie all set at his school, and then a trip a little further on into Belmont for his driver's ed. class. And then an unplanned trip to Beverly, Mass. yesterday to visit with Maddie, who has never really liked to be away from home, but who is bravely enduring the trials of being a freshman in a forced triple room with a potential bitch of a roommate (and one nice one, thank heavens!) and settling herself into a completely new life. She is trying very hard and I had told her from the start; if she needed me, I would be there.
So after six hours in the car yesterday, I had to drive 45 minutes in the rain and dark to pick up Charlie, and I thought, wow, this is a lot. This is tiring and I am not used to it. And yet, in a few months he will have his license and I will be free? (Yeah, something tells me not to break out the champagne yet!)
It is such a bone-gnawing tiredness that has settled in, and I am, as usual, trying to fight it. But it is well deserved (it is a lot of driving and big changes like seeing your daughter go to college are big emotional upheavals) and then back to the worry of a child with a new license driving around. I just want to climb into a cocoon and curl up for a few months!
I tried to catch up on sleep after I drove Charlie to school this morning, but then I remembered I had to pick up my CSA bounty -- and that of course led me to track down more food so I could cook. Because that is an excellent thing to do when you are tired, right?!!!! While I admit the smell of sauce simmering on the back burner is delightful, I still have to deal with the rest of the food. Shall I blanch and freeze the beans and corn, or have them for dinner (the latter would certainly be easier! But I am quite sick of both items, and there is still corn chowder in the fridge we could have for dinner.) The garden is also sodden with this rain and I noticed a few out of control cucumbers when I went out earlier to get some basil for the sauce. And I still have yet to master when a cantaloupe or watermelon are done ... so are they out there rotting or not? They still seem awfully heavy, but I just don't know. The last two watermelons were overdone, but the others out there don't seem ready either. There is nothing more disheartening than cutting into an under-ripe or over-ripe melon. And I have googled how to tell countless times. I think it is a learned thing. Which I haven't learned!
My brain is filled with what to do with all this food that has come to fruition at the same time while my body craves rest! But if I leave the kitchen for an hour it becomes infested with fruit flies. (I read in my never-ending reading that putting a tomato into the refrigerator was like killing it! ) Well, geesh, okay. But let me tell you, fruit flies love to hover around ripe fruit. Then I had a most wonderful cantaloupe on the counter and ate some, but it was filling, but then I thought, probably putting a ripe melon into the fridge is killing it too! So when I returned later, it had been taken over by those damn little bugs. There is no time to rest! The food rots as soon as you pick it. And my obsession with eating THIS food all year round is freaking me out.
I think I have conquered the cucumber dilemma -- by freezing cucumber juice! Then I can throw that into smoothies all year round. But those cucumbers mock me with their ability to grow overnight! I am not going to be sad when the last vine dies, because seriously, it is a full time job keeping up with those cukes. I can hear them out there giggling .... let's grow as big as we can and freak Lisa out.
I think sleep deprivation makes people lose their minds. Or perhaps I should put my mind in the fridge to preserve it. Or will it kill it?
Friday, September 2, 2011
Breathing just did not get easier
Okay, he did it. He finally made the move that caused me great disappointment.
No, no, I am not talking about my husband. I am talking about Obama.
He is now risking the health of American's in the name of looking the other way while corporations harm the environment. http://news.yahoo.com/obama-halts-controversial-epa-regulation-143731156.html
"A spokesman for House Speaker John Boehner, R-Ohio, had muted praise for the White House, saying that withdrawal of the smog regulation was a good first step toward removing obstacles that are blocking business growth."
It is also a bad step in removing smog from our air. Which is more important?
First off I understand that none of this is simple. And government regulations absolutely can be crippling to business. But on the other hand, giving carte blanche to businesses by not making them run their factories more energy-efficiently and cutting down on the pollution put into our air is also crippling ... to the planet. Which kinda sorta means....us.
What would happen in a perfect world is that greed would be removed from the equation and therefore companies wouldn't be concerned with making money, but instead, of making products that people need. And they would do that with regard to other things, like employees (you know, as in keeping them) and the environment. They wouldn't pollute, they wouldn't bury their cancer-causing aftershit into people's backyards and so on. But there is no perfect world, so therefore there has to be regulation. And that regulation comes from government. And the people who cry the loudest that they HATE and abhor regulation are the ones who are committing crimes of nature and don't want to be held responsible for it on ANY level.
So we ended up with a president who has been trying to master the art of compromise in order to get ANY thing done. Which of course is constantly met with cries of Obama sucks. I personally think that people, overall, suck. I certainly wouldn't be so hasty to blame the problems of the world on ONE single person. That is just ridiculous. And stupid. Which is what is basically the platform one must operate from in order to manage those that are. Both stupid and ridiculous.
So in essence, what happens is that government creates agencies to police certain sectors. The EPA is designated to regulate the environment. They then do their jobs, but then the government machine, which doesn't want to HEAR bad news, does everything in its power to avoid said bad news. So exactly how would this system EVER work, I ask. Presidents can overrule their agency recommendations, and that is what happens.
No, no, I am not talking about my husband. I am talking about Obama.
He is now risking the health of American's in the name of looking the other way while corporations harm the environment. http://news.yahoo.com/obama-halts-controversial-epa-regulation-143731156.html
"A spokesman for House Speaker John Boehner, R-Ohio, had muted praise for the White House, saying that withdrawal of the smog regulation was a good first step toward removing obstacles that are blocking business growth."
It is also a bad step in removing smog from our air. Which is more important?
First off I understand that none of this is simple. And government regulations absolutely can be crippling to business. But on the other hand, giving carte blanche to businesses by not making them run their factories more energy-efficiently and cutting down on the pollution put into our air is also crippling ... to the planet. Which kinda sorta means....us.
What would happen in a perfect world is that greed would be removed from the equation and therefore companies wouldn't be concerned with making money, but instead, of making products that people need. And they would do that with regard to other things, like employees (you know, as in keeping them) and the environment. They wouldn't pollute, they wouldn't bury their cancer-causing aftershit into people's backyards and so on. But there is no perfect world, so therefore there has to be regulation. And that regulation comes from government. And the people who cry the loudest that they HATE and abhor regulation are the ones who are committing crimes of nature and don't want to be held responsible for it on ANY level.
So we ended up with a president who has been trying to master the art of compromise in order to get ANY thing done. Which of course is constantly met with cries of Obama sucks. I personally think that people, overall, suck. I certainly wouldn't be so hasty to blame the problems of the world on ONE single person. That is just ridiculous. And stupid. Which is what is basically the platform one must operate from in order to manage those that are. Both stupid and ridiculous.
"The withdrawal of the proposed EPA rule comes three days after the White House identified seven such regulations that it said would cost private business at least $1 billion each. The proposed smog standard was estimated to cost anywhere between $19 billion and $90 billion, depending on how strict it would be.
"Republican lawmakers have blamed what they see as excessive regulations backed by the Obama administration for some of the country's economic woes, and House Republicans pledged this week to try to block four environmental regulations, including the one on some pollution standards, when they return after Labor Day.
"But perhaps more than some of the other regulations under attack, the ground-level ozone standard is most closely associated with public health — something the president said he wouldn't compromise in his regulatory review. Ozone is the main ingredient in smog, which is a powerful lung irritant that occasionally forces cancellation of school recesses, and causes asthma and other lung ailments.
Criticism from environmentalists, a core Obama constituency, was swift following the White House announcement.
"The Obama administration is caving to big polluters at the expense of protecting the air we breathe," said Gene Karpinski, the president of the League of Conservation Voters. "This is a huge win for corporate polluters and huge loss for public health."
"In his statement, the president said that withdrawing the regulation did not reflect a weakening of his commitment to protecting public health and the environment.
"I will continue to stand with the hardworking men and women at the EPA as they strive every day to hold polluters accountable and protect our families from harmful pollution," he said.
So in essence, what happens is that government creates agencies to police certain sectors. The EPA is designated to regulate the environment. They then do their jobs, but then the government machine, which doesn't want to HEAR bad news, does everything in its power to avoid said bad news. So exactly how would this system EVER work, I ask. Presidents can overrule their agency recommendations, and that is what happens.
The decision mirrors one made by Obama's predecessor, President George W. Bush. EPA scientists had recommended a stricter standard to better protect public health. Bush personally intervened after hearing complaints from electric utilities and other affected industries. His EPA set a standard of 75 parts per billion, stricter than one adopted in 1997, but not as strong as federal scientists said was needed to protect public health.
The EPA under Obama proposed in January 2010 a range for the concentration of ground-level ozone allowed in the air — from 60 parts per billion to 70 parts per billion. That's about equal to a single tennis ball in an Olympic-size swimming pool full of tennis balls.
Jackson, Obama's environmental chief, , said at the time that "using the best science to strengthen these standards is a long overdue action that will help millions of Americans breathe easier and live healthier."
So if the president said that withdrawing the regulation did not reflect a weakening of his commitment to protecting public health and the environment ... then what is it, exactly?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Beckoning journey
This morning I was driving home in the bright sunshine with my hair blowing all over the place (in the open Jeep) after completing one of my obligations at my CSA (Community Shared Agriculture), which means I pay a sum for a share of a garden, and then I work in the garden to help pay off that share as well. My obligation today consisted of cutting flowers and then later, kale.
After we were done with that, my friend and I went to breakfast. The weather was perfect -- sunny and yet breezy with big chunky clouds floating by in the sky. Just one of those days you are happy to be alive. But I was even happier, as I drove along, to not be working. It was quite difficult getting up at 7:00 this morning, I must admit! The kids and I have become quite lazy these past few weeks, getting up late and going to bed even later. To me, it is what summer is all about, and I love being able to go to bed and see that Charlie is watching TV and NOT having to say to him you have to go to sleep now. Because who cares! No one has to get up for anything, just do what you want to do. That freedom is really the primary focus of summer and why I have never pushed my kids to get jobs. (Though they do, because as those things work, if I WAS pushing them, they would be adverse. But since I don't really care whether or not you have a job unless you are 16 and can get yourself there, they seem to crave them, go figure!)
Anyway, I was just filled with sheer and total joy this morning that I do not work. And this from someone who loved to work. And yet, having to get up this morning reminded me how much I hate obligation of any kind right now! Freedom baby, it's all I want.
There is this workshop on advanced shamanism that popped up in my inbox yesterday. I would say out of all the things I have been drawn to -- shamanism feels right. In addition to being a lazy bones about getting up in the morning, I have also fallen off my daily angel card readings and shaman journeying. I was even given HUGE signs a few weeks ago, with first a big bear running across my path followed by a large blue heron squawking above my head moments later. My dense brain didn't pick up the connection (or the actual shove the universe or whatever you want to call it was giving me) until the heron went by. I mean, hello. Both of my power animals in all their glory, moments apart. No such thing as by accident there. OK. I got it. But then again, did I?
It changed my mood, but didn't shove me back into a journey. The last shamanic journey I took, my teacher within the upper world told me I needed to do more -- needed to make it a more regular practice. Me being me, once I am told to do something, I tend to back off! (Not to mention the whole thing freaks me out just a little bit, and I suppose if backing off is necessary, then so be it.)
So yesterday for no reason other than I thought it had been awhile, I did an angel card reading. Normally when I do this, one card will show itself, maybe two. This time six cards jumped out at me, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. I even intuitively knew which one to turn over when, and they were all over my desk. I have a tendency to draw the same cards, but this time they were ALL new cards. All new messages I'd never been given before. And so amazingly dead on I got chills. I even found myself talking to "the angels" or in my case the silent air around me, because I was so blown away. I ended up requesting information for the shamanic two-week intensive workshop. And today in my inbox, the information was there.
I read through it and then came to the cost of the program. Hmmmm. The doubts, the recriminations, the whole this is such a waste of time and we don't really have the money with two kids in school to be throwing away on mommy playing workshop get-away came flooding in, and I stopped myself and went for the cards. When I drew the Workshops and Seminars card, well I am sorry, but wouldn't YOU be a bit freaked out? This is a large deck of cards. The card reads: Attending and giving speeches is part of your spiritual path and purpose. Be open to teaching and learning.
There is no way to explain how emotional that made me feel.
"You are also guided to attend workshops to further your spiritual path and education. Enroll in classes that you feel drawn to, and ask Archangel Raphael to support everything in this endeavor, including tuition fees, transportation, lodging, time off from work, babysitting arrangements and so on. The way is clear for you to give and receive through the workshop process. Enjoy."
Alrighty then.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Forms suck
I am tired of filling out forms. The first year that they start a school, well fine. Obviously the school has no information and they have to start somewhere. So I dutifully fill out color coded forms (blue for the health forms, yellow for administrative, purple for whatever else and so on) and mail them back. Maddie is starting her first year of college, and so there were forms. Lots and lots and lots of forms. They were all filled out at the beginning of summer, and well, when Charlie's forms came in, I wasn't in the mood. So I put them aside.
When the second set of forms came in, I set those aside too. Then they started emailing them to me. Which I found confusing, because I didn't want to print out those forms when I already had the hard copies (twice) laying around. So I ignored those. Then they started contacting Charlie YOU NEED YOUR FORMS TURNED IN. And he started bugging me. So I actually went to the trouble of locating the parked and dusty forms and putting them on my desk. But I didn't want to deal.
This morning he actually filled out his own forms. Well, hallelulah. Glad he wants to go to school bad enough to make that happen. His comment was that I ALWAYS fill out the forms. Yeah, well, I'm sick of them. He is going into his junior year at the same school. They have all these forms. We haven't moved, our names, birthdates and occupations are all the same. I actually believed in the paperless society. Mostly because it could actually happen. It's just stupid procedures that no one ever thinks about changing that keep this paper game going. Obviously I am doing a silent protest. NO MORE (&)_%&#()$_*(#)_$*()#_*$ FORMS.
Send me a tweet, send me an email, facebook me and check out my status (I know a school has full access) but stop sending the damn colored forms to be filled out. I know what you are going to do with them. Someone is going to briefly scan them to make sure that all the information on the form matches the information that is ALREADY ON THE COMPUTER, and then the form will go into the folder that holds the same, matching form that I filled out two years ago and the year after that.
Ask me if I have anything to update on said forms. I will say no and it will all be over with. I won't have to put pen to paper and put down the same information, no one on the other end will have to look at it, and life will go on. I assure you, it will. I won't have to buy a stamp and put it on an envelope, so that it can take a trip across towns to arrive in the inbox of someone who can then put a check by my name and won't bother me for forms anymore!
For fun, I used to fill out the forms for public school with bogus information. No one ever caught it BECAUSE NO ONE CARES ABOUT THE FORMS. It is only about getting the forms back that matters. I hate stupidity. I always have and I really can't see that changing anytime soon. I recieved two texts and a voicemail from the dentist reminding me about appointments, AS WELL AS A CARD IN THE MAIL. Hello. If you have the technology to send an automated text and voicemail, then stop sending the cards! This whole technology thing is not in addition to, it is to REPLACE outdated ways and procedures.
Honestly, is this really that hard?
Schools can send me an email or text or whatever, with a simple request. Has any of the information that you filled out on the original forms changed? Show me a scan of my original info, I will check the box that says NO and send it back INSTANTLY! Yes, that is right. I won't let it collect dust all summer, I will return it pronto.
So there are some forms that this won't apply to. I can't think of any, but I can already hear people saying so. Okay then, then just send out those forms. Even the poor doctor has to fill out the same stupid form over and over and over. Why not just the things that have changed? Why everything? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH it makes me nuts. (Obviously!)
All of the forms were supposed to be in by July 15th. Charlie was horrified. He's afraid that he won't be allowed back to school because of his mother's lazy ways. Yeah, well, the bill has been paid. It's only the forms asking me for the information they already have that are still sitting here. And they always agree with me when I mention how ridiculous it is to fill out the same forms year after year. I know, right?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.
Now I have to go get the tape so I can adhere the copies of his insurance card to the &$*(P*$(@)_*#$(&# form. It's like being in nursery school, with all the rote work and cutting and pasting. It's like every little thing ... I am just so over it. I have been filling out forms for over 20 years and I am just plain tired of the nothingness of it. The fact that in all those years nothing has changed. N O T H I N G. Not one brain has persisted to the point of exclaiming, there must be a better way! It's just so demoralizing to realize that the world really is just stuck in a form filled rut. (Though to be fair, the different colored paper wasn't around in the first ten years of form filling out. So I shouldn't say that NO ONE came up with anything new.)
I am sorry, but it's pathetic. P A T H E T I C. And I have been railing against it forever. I remember filling out the forms at the doctor's office....can she hold a cup, blah blah blah. Then the next time I would get the same form. I finally said, how come you can't just give me a copy of the form I filled out last time so I don't have to keep trying to remember if she colors within the lines? (Cuz none of this shit matters unless there are big problems with said child, and that form isn't going to be the go-to document anyway). Maybe forms don't bother anyone else. Maybe it makes people feel good to write down their names and addresses and phone numbers and email addresses over and over and over.
Personally, I just think it is stupid!
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