Wrap Rap

Current mood: Wrapped up

That time has come. We must make our Christmas presents pretty for under the tree. Have I mentioned before that sometimes I really hate wrapping? Sometimes I think it is very fun. Other times I develop PTSD.

When I was about my daughter's age, 15, my mother was working full-time and hated having to wrap gifts. So, she came up with a solution. I was very good at wrapping gifts. I was great at wrapping gifts AND I liked doing it. I was pretty anal about how they were to look and how they would be placed and one year, I wrapped everything under the tree which was being given from someone in our house to someone in our house. Yes, even my own stuff- the stuff being given to me. She would secure it in a box and then I would wrap the box. I wrapped a lotta crap. And, the tradition continued for about three years or so, as best I remember.

I was young. I had fun. I enjoyed it. I was stupid.

So now, here I sit at home, procrastinating the baking I need to do for the kids' activities, procrastinating the presents I really need to wrap. I did about six or seven yesterday. Sure, that's not that much, but I am sick of it already.

Just. Don't. Want. To. Wrap.

Last year, I devised a plan to throw off the snoops. I drew a shape on the bottom of each gift which designated who would be receiving said gift. I thought I was clever, until several of the gifts were unwrapped in some fashion. I about blew my top, but they're kids and that's what they do.

This year, I think we are snoop proof. First, no gift is being wrapped in its true form. It is being boxed. No matter what, no matter how simple the container containing the gift, it will be contained yet again in another box to disguise the orginal packaging. Some of those items, prior to being contained in containers, are being wrapped in newspaper first and sealed with box tape. Yes, I said it, box tape and newspaper. It makes for ugly fingerprints, but ain't nobody knowing what they gettin' til they get. Once contained in different containers, they are being sealed with box tape. I went through almost a roll on the seven I did yesterday. Snoop now, Snoopy McSnoopersons!

The final step is the wrapping paper. They are being wrapped just as any other traditional present would be wrapped in commercial wrapping paper from the store. Some is new, some is old and they are coded. They are not marked, there are no name tags, but they are marked and I dare them to decode my system! They tried really hard yesterday when they came home from school. They failed and failed miserably! They tried everything- animals for one, trees for the other, shapes, bow color, shiny vs. matte finish bows, two-tone bows, living things, non-living things, box shape, box size. Haha! They don't know.

Oh, I also threw in this little tidbit- any package with damaged wrapping paper from the Snooptastics will be unwrapped and returned to the store for a full cash refund and the refunded cash will be used by me on me and no one else. It will be a charitable contribution to the Me Fund. I like it, don't you?

So, let's see if this works. I will not eventually be posting the code I used. I may need to recycle
it for future years.

Currently listening : Under Wraps By Jethro Tull Release date: 2005-04-26

What the?

Current mood: confused

I headed out this morning on errands. You know, the usual stuff- bill paying, stuff to use while making holiday goodies for every class my kids ever had, getting gas, the quest for Skinny Christmas fabulosity (thanks, Kimora). I took the kids to school, Andre too, went to the bank to deposit a check, ran to the gas station for a quick drop of gas to do me until I got to post (where gas is .03 cheaper than anywhere else in town, .06 if you use your Star card), popped my debit card in, pulled it out, entered my PIN, got $4 worth and headed to the far east side. I got done there, went to the central area, got done there, hit post, got gas with the Star card, made one more stop and then went to WalMart.

At WalMart I just needed a few things. I had three gift cards in my wallet, each with a few cents on them. I think their collective total was somewhere around $2.20. So, I only needed to put about $9.00 or so on my debit card. When I got to the cashier and started digging in my purse for it, I couldn't find it. Yes, it has a place to live in my wallet, but when I am in go-mode, I just go and worry about precision later.

Stupid move.

I took almost everything out of my purse and eventually gave the dude a check. I haven't written a check in a store for around two or three years, but I had to today. I kept looking as I left the store and tore the truck apart looking for the stupid thing. No luck. I didn't find it anywhere.

I called the bank on the way home to cancel it and order a new one, but this is a heck of a week to be without a debit card. Grr. Jeeze man, could I be more stupid? The lady at the bank I spoke with was very nice about the whole thing and went through what I had spent this morning to ensure that there were no fraudulent charges, but CRAP! I hate when stuff like this happens.
Now I am at home sulking and making dog food.

CRAP!!!

Currently listening : Lost in the Sound of Separation By Underoath Release date: 2008-09-02

Blah-dee-blah blah!

Current mood: blah

Busy, busy, busy!

Yes, Christmas is next week and the kids are driving me absolutely insane about it. We are having Christmas, but as I keep reminding them, this will be a skinny Christmas. We just can't do it in the same grand fashion as has been our tradition since forever. Skinny or not, I think they'll be at least part-way satisfied.

Yes, still no buyer. I went to transportation this morning for the briefing and they put our move on "hold" status. Great. Just like everything else from marital relations to selling the house to everyfargingthing, "hold." I am sure it could be worse, so no need to remind me. Blessings do abound, but I am blogging (i.e.-venting), so I get it out and then I move on. Or at least that's the plan. I will add, however, that I am just about ready to start acosting peeps at the grocery store asking them, "Do you want to buy a big, cheap house?" Surely, someone somewhere wants to buy a big, cheap house.

It seems that the teenaged drama has faded a bit. Taking the bull, or some other entity of your choosing, by the horns has been effective. Well, at least for now it has been. I'll keep you posted.

Travis will be here by this time next week. He is leaving SC Saturday morning. He is driving straight through. He said he doesn't want to stop at a hotel. He's just going to take breaks at rest stops and nap if he needs it. I hope he stops and naps. Dear Lord, please make him stop and nap. Please. Amen.

I have been in a non-Christmas mood. I am not even sure we should put out our gifts, since there is always a possibility that someone could stop by to see the house. No, not a probability, but an absolute possibility. The experts (yes, the ones who told us to wait until fall to list our house) say that we shouldn't leave any valuables out. Do Christmas gifts count? How bad will it suck for my kids to see nothing under the tree until Christmas. Depressing, if you ask me. Whatcha think?

So, along those lines, how do we keep the Snooptastics from snooping? Last year there were a large number of presents which had been unwrapped and clumsily (and crappily) re-wrapped, if they even bothered to cover the snoopage up. I've grown quite accustomed to the newest reply in my house, "I don't know. It wasn't me." I really hate that phrase. This year, I have a couple of new techniques. I will not list them here as news tends to travel fast. However, one could depend on the use of shipping tape and sealed seams, among other things. I love a challenge. I will be triumphant. If not, no gifts go out until Christmas morning. Still, depressing, wouldn't you agree?

I am sitting here in my room quietly sneaking Pepperidge Farms cookies while one of the kids is sleeping (or at least he better be faking it real, real good) and the other is watching TV. I never used to use the TV as a babysitter when the kids were little, but now that they're older, I just turn it on and they leave me alone for a while. Until they get hungry or have some tragic dilema I have to solve. Pepperidge Farms makes cookies just for me (you knew that, right?). I got lucky, they didn't hear me unwrapping the celophane from the inner box. Normally celophane crinkling is to my kids as the triangle bell clanging is to cowboys needing chow. Ms. Austin, Mrs. Bryan, Mrs. Wheatley and Mr. Krznarich taught me how to use similies correctly. Thanks gang!

So, I am sleepy, but not sleepy enough to go to bed. I am thirsty, but there is no ice in the house right now and the thought of drinking something which is not frosty cold is ick-nasty to me. So, I guess I am not thirsty enough to either drink it warm or go get ice. I am cold, but not cold enough to turn up the heater (because that would mean I would need to turn down my finances next month). I am cranky. I am nervous. I am stressed. I am eating cookies quietly in my room. I don't have any clean jeans for tomorrow.

Hmph. I guess I'll just go play Mafia Wars.

Currently listening : Sesame Street - Cookie Monster's Best Bites Release date: 2004-01-27

Miscellaneousosity

Current mood: lazy

It snowed today. Well, it was a snow/ice/rain mix, but it snowed nonetheless. It was cold and blustery and damp and brrr! and it made me not want to do anyfrigginthing except lay under the covers. I only did that for about a half an hour. I forced myself to be a member of the living, sorta. I wanted a fire in the fireplace, but that would mean I would have to have some firewood, which I have purposely not purchased to this point, and I would have to not be in my bedroom, which I have come to flipping love. Ultimately, the fire wasn't worth either effort.

I am planning the menu for the next three days. Cody and Cindy are coming and bringing the babies. I am excited! He has a race in Alamogordo Saturday so they are coming early to visit us. I am looking forward to their being here, but have no idea how I should entertain them.

Travis is at Ft. Lee for his Platoon Sergeant course. I think he blew out his shoulder. Apparently it is a pretty common injury amongst the Soldierly types. Great. So, Kelly's husband just had a shoulder surgery in Qatar, while deployed (nope, didn't send him home). Travis' former First Sergeant had a shoulder surgery a while back. I have no idea if they had the same procedure. Big Tommy was convalescing for a couple of weeks, maybe? I don't know how long Mark took off. I know better than to hope, but it would be grand if they would send him here to have surgery and convalesce... Nope, not even gonna hope for it. He'll be home in a little over two weeks and that is going to have to be enough.

The house is still on the market. I could lament. I will not. I have a Transportation briefing Monday. Technically (because the convoluted Army system required it) I have pack-out dates of the 22nd and 23rd and pick-up on the 26th. If I schedule them too far out, then we can't move the dates up. But, we can always call and delay the stuff, so delay we will! However, there is an Army family interested in seeing the house and looking for a fast close once they get the ball rolling. There's more to it, but if they wanna close quick, we gonna close quick. I need to get the hell outta here.

The teenaged drama continues. I could go into it, but I wont, at least not too much. At this point. It has gotten even deeper and worse since the last time I spoke of it (really, since I last spoke of it at like, 9 this morning). We are talking stalker-crazy. Seriously. One more and I take it to the school admin. I don't know if she'll read this or not or if she reads at all, or if anyone else does. But, it will stop soon.

Wrestling has begun. Just as I hoped it wouldn't be, it is. Amanda didn't wrestle on Saturday becuase there was no one in her division and class so she scored an automatic win, medal and all. Nolan's bracket was seriously competetive. He lost both his matches and it sucked for him. As much as I am trying to teach them about being good winners, I am having to teach them about being good losers too. Sometimes gracious doesn't happen all that easily with either outcome. It was an odd drive home.

The 15th birthday party was Saturday night. It was a bumpy start, thanks to wrestling. That's a long story, but suffice it to say that I have good friends. Good enough to come sit at my house and welcome teenagers in when I am not yet home. Thank you. The kids were awesome AND I had enough food and drink and no one was hungry or cranky and as every mother can tell you, not hungry kids makes for not cranky kids so it was a great start to a fun night. Low key, enjoyable for all, including the little brother, with very little pouting on the big sister front. Yay us!

Amanda saw a doc last week for her wrist pain. Doc is worried about ligament damage and the possibility of nerve damage. Joy. Ice, brace, wrapping and physical therapy to start soon. The repetetive motion and position of violin, coupled with basing for cheer (holding the foot of a flyer [the girls who get lifted up]), coupled with the strain of wrestling may be making things worse. Maybe that isn't coupled. Is it tripled? Doc mentioned to her that it might be time to make choices about which activities she could pursue into adulthood and which she might not be able to, and the possibility that the decision may have to come quite soon. She didn't cry, but I think she wanted to. I did a little for her after I dropped her back at school. The physical therapist called today and I am to call back tomorrow to schedule.

I want to move. I want to go as soon as I can. It is SO time to go. It is time to move on and start fresh and have my family together again. I am not complaining. I am stating a fact. Gotta go and go soon. Listlessness and apathy are setting in.

Kitchen is calling with her dirty dishes and unswept floor. I tired and it cold outside. I want me sweats and fuzzy socks and to watch my favorite TV shows all night on the 'puter.

Not gonna happen, my friends, but I can dream...

Currently listening:MopeBy The Bloodhound GangRelease date: 2000-09-05

Say It or Shut Up

Current mood: apathetic

Interesting the way things work. No matter what I've gone through, human nature still astounds me constantly. That is both good and bad and that's just that.

So, I don't want to get specific. I never know who reads this and who doesn't and I don't want to make some of my peeps uncomfortable. So, I'll be cryptic and vague and beat around the bush and everyone will think me wack and that's just fine and I don't so much care.

A while back I had a life issue which took a bunch of steam and focus to get through. From an entity, from whom I should have heard, I heard nothing. Just the usual crickets and coyote howls. Lucky for me I had plenty of settlers willing to circle the wagons. I got through. We got through. I and we are all stronger now. Yay us.

Now, that entity has contacted me. They seek from me wisdom gleaned during my life issue. Can I help the entity? Hmm, maybe. Then again, maybe not. I don't know. Honestly, I don't. But, this particular issue is of no great mystery on the grand scale. There's bunches of stuff to learn and it is easy to find. So, why me?

Pardon my cynicism, but I've been down this road with the entity before. There are still scars on my ass from getting burned. I sometimes wonder if the entity thinks I am like Windows and that I can be reset to a particular restore point without my knowledge, so I can be used/abused/left for dead until the next time the entity finds use for me.

Well, I overrode the system. I made clear to the Governess (and also HeMan) that a crap I did not give. The Governess agreed that it was the best possible route to take. HeMan told me to keep it to myself. From Yoda, have I learned to myself protect. Protect I shall.

I haven't the energy. I haven't the will to force myself to be nice. And, its truly taken me a lifetime to get to this point, but frankly, I just don't shive a git any farging more.
I, too, have a life. Regardless of whether the entity chooses to acknowledge my life and my shizzle with which I cope and deal and muddle through on a daily basis, life and shizzle continue and I do too. I ain't got the time to write up a dissertation for someone who has no use for me until they find a reason to find a use for me. I used to try and I used to want to but those days are over.

Lemme repeat.

Ooooh-vah!


Currently listening:On My OwnBy Crunchy BlackRelease date: 2006-09-19

Current mood: Kinda sad

I'm not the biggest fan of gingerbread. Sometimes the flavor is just too overwhelming for me. It is ok if you like it. Sometimes I do too.

After being sick like crazy all last week, and desperately trying to recover now, I'm needing comfort. I've actually taken to baking practically every other night lately. I guess I am trying to compensate. We better sell this house soon or my ass is gonna be HUGE!

Last week I stayed busy baking-before the sick part. Almost all of it was orders I took for Thanksgiving. No, I did not make much money, although I should have because my baked goods were fabulous and beautiful. That helped keep me busy.

Tonight was for me and the kids' breakfast. Of course, I sampled. I also had to substitute a few things because this was not a planned baking event. I made notations.

APPLE GINGERBREAD MUFFINS

2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice (I had none, so I added 1/8 pumpkin pie spice and 1/8 ground cloves- worked just fine!)
1/2 cup mild molasses (had none, used dark corn syrup- worked fine!)
1/4 cup milk
4 tablespoons butter or margarine, melted (just use the butter, it tastes better)
1 large egg
2 medium Golden Delicious or Rome apples peeled and finely chopped (about 2 cups, I only had Granny Smith and they were awesome! I love that they retained some of their crunch even though they were chopped so small)
1/3 cup walnuts, chopped (had pecans)

Preheat oven to 400 and grease 12 muffin cups. In a large bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, salt and allspice. In small bowl, beat together with a fork, molasses, milk, butter, and egg until blended. Add molasses mixture to flour mixture and stir just until flour is moistened (batter will remain lumpy). Gently stir in apples and nuts. Spoon into muffin cups and bake until toothpick inserted comes out clean- about 25 minutes. Remove immediately and serve warm.

Happy fall!

Currently listening : Peanuts: A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Release date:

Ironman

He made it! 14:36!!!

Grit

Current mood: Joyful

This morning, in Tempe, Arizona, gazillions (I guess) of athletes converged for the running of the Ironman Arizona. This is a full Iron-distance triathlon. 2.5 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run. Yes, all of that. And, here's the catch- the race starts at 7 am (for age groupers) and must be completed by midnight.

Cody Hanson, my nephew, has been chasing his Ironman dreams for five and a half years. When he began following triathlon, he weighed in somewhere around 300 pounds. Yes, he's a big guy. He's a corrections officer at the New Mexico State Pen in Santa Fe. He's worked with the worst our world has to offer and yet somehow, he is a light-hearted, fun, childlike, man's man. He played football. He is a martial arts expert. He's wrestled. He was on the SWAT team. So, umm, yeah, he's done a lot. He's also competed in two other Ironman races. He was unable to meet the time requirements set up along the route at those races and was pulled from the course (as is the rule when a competetor has not met time standards along the route). Last year, when he raced in Nevada, he was pulled off during the bike portion of the race and was devastated.

The last year has brought tons of transition to him. He began to slim down (way, way down) after his DNF in Nevada. He got as low as 188 pounds. It was around that time when Bob, his step-father (and yet very much, his Dad), died. The loss was awful for him. This was a father who chose him. My sister had health scares and all the while, he continued working, racing and taking care of his wife and his kids. He doesn't weight 188 any more. And I hope he realizes that number isn't near as important to the rest of us as it is to him. I can't imagine what a roller coaster the last twelve months have been for him.

He had high hopes for today. He and Cindy headed out to Arizona, along with some close friends, Thursday. Both Friday and Saturday there were events relating to the race. Last night, they invited my mother to have dinner with them, their friends, and Cody's triathlon coach. Mom said she had a wonderful time with them all. I know it meant the world to Cody too.
I've been tracking him today in between my day's insanity (which I will blog about later). He made it through the swim. He swam two and a half miles. And, after he was finished with that, he changed what clothing he needed to change, hopped on a bike and decided he STILL wanted to ride it for 112 miles. And he made it all the way through the bike course. And when he did, he decided once again, he wanted to do something hard. He wanted, after all that, to put on running shoes and a different pair of socks (because the socks you bike in and the socks you run in are apparently quite different), to resist the urge to take a break, and to run. For 26.2 miles.

He's running now. As I type, he is running. His tracker online says he is in the second segment of the run. I can't check often enough. I keep coming back to the computer every five minutes to track him. He has already completed the 3.5 mile segment. I am in awe.

When he finishes tonight, and I believe he will, he will cross the finish line with hoards of people there clapping and cheering for him. At that moment, all the hooplah will be about him. Because he made it.

I have no aspirations to run even the shortest triathlon. I don't want chapped nipples (sorry, fact of life for runners), I like having my toenails stay on my feet, I do not want to bonk out on a segment, suffer countless hours of training, spend unknown amounts (yes, someone knows, but not me) of cash on equipment and training and supplements and everything else, and I have no desire to cross THAT finish line.

But, from Cody I have learned. Sometimes, there are some things in this world which are worth the pursuit. Pain, injuries, self-doubt and other things of that ilk simply must be overcome.
He could have quit. He could have said, somewhere along the line, "I am done." And absolutely every one of his friends and family (at least those of us who do not race) would have understood. But, for Cody, the elusive became his target.

He took aim again today.


I encourage you to track him with me. www.ironmanlive.com

Click on the "track an athlete" link and then type in the last name Hanson. You will see his times there. He wont mind you visiting him online.

I am very proud of Cody today. I am very proud of Cody every day, but today, even moreso.

I love you, Cody!

Currently listening : Iron Man Release date: 2008

Big Bird and Whorin' Around

Yes, they do go together. Read on...

We've all, by this point, read about the pothead boy, right? Well, Miss Smarty Pants, aka my daughter, thought she was two things: smart enough to change his ways and smart enough to get away with something she clearly understood she was not supposed to do. And, drumroll please, she got caught and she did not change his ways. He had told her about his use of pot and that it was his first time using it. He also told her he wanted her to be his, a-hem, first. Yup, you read right.

I told her not only was his experience with pot and Chronic likely to have not been his first go 'round with doobage, that there was a very healthy chance that were she to be one of his conquests, it would likely not be his first. Dunno, something just told me so.

Anyway, she decided to go out with him believing she would get away with it. She did not. Therefore, she was grounded for six weeks and she had to break up with him. We told her she could still talk to him at school and be his friend but that she could never spend time with him outside school because it was obvious that the two of them had damaged the parent/child trust code. She did break up with him.

Upon the breakup, her very best pal at school, whom I will not call a mean name, mentioned to Amanda that she liked the pothead. She is also a cheerleader and is in the same French class as Amanda and the pothead. Amanda told her, "Please don't go out with him, that would be hard for me if you did." Guess where this is going- BINGO! She started seeing the boy right after Amanda broke it off with him. They snuck around for a while but Amanda caught on and confronted Pal and told her not to lie in addition to hurting her feelings, just to tell the truth. So, Pal came clean and fessed up. Amanda got over it and remained friends with the boy. They would text and would talk at school, but nothing more. Pal started to freak out telling Amanda she better stay away from him and even going so far as to call Amanda a whore when she mentioned that a different boy was looking at her. She yelled across a courtyard that Amanda was a whore and a bitch. And Amanda forgave. She also told Pal that she had no control over her friendships with other people and she would continue to talk to whomever she chose. Pal continued to be jealous and immature.

About a week, or maybe a little longer, after the two got together, there was a Varsity game at the school the JV squad did not cheer at (the last Friday in Oct. which was not Halloween). Amanda was still grounded from social activities and I told her that she would have to sit with me at the game (because I like going to the games too). She reluctantly agreed, but I wound up sending her and coming later because Nolan had a conflicting football practice. As soon as it was over, we got to the high school. When we got there, things seemed strange but I kept it to myself. The most obvious thing is that Amanda was not with the best friend, Pal. When I asked where she was, Amanda said she didn't know. We had fun anyway, me, Nolan, Amanda and a couple of her other friends who weren't mortified to be seen in my presence.

The following Monday (I found this out last week) Pal told Amanda that she and Pothead had sex at the baseball field during the football game. Even better- unprotected sex. Amanda freaked out on both of them and told him she would slap him if he ever had unprotected sex with her or anyone else again. Then Amanda went on a condom-finding expedition amongst her friends so Pal would have the neccessary supplies. She also hid all of this from me.

Three days after that, Pothead and Amanda were talking and he told her he wanted to break up with Pal because things had changed between them. Amanda said to him, "Yeah, funny how sex changes things, huh?" He agreed and then they split up a couple of days after that.

Then there was a JV game at which the ladies cheered. Pal was distraught and gloomy (as is her normal response when the world is not starstruck by her) during the whole game, and on the verge of tears. Pal's psycho mohter (yes, I knew she was long before this event) went up to the girls as they were leaving the track that night and shook her finger in the faces of the girls and told them, "You all had better figure out what is going on with Pal because I went through all this with her over the summer when Abe broke up with her and I am not going through it again." The girls all kind of looked at each other and went about their business. Again, I was not privvy to the intel.

I guess everything got better for a couple of days, except that Pal was still being bossy to Amanda, telling her she better lay off and not talk to him because she was acting like a whore and he wasn't her boyfriend and didn't want her (remember, Amanda went out with him first) and she would back off if she knew what was good for her. Amanda still talked to him. Pal and she, however, did not remain quite as friendly.

Then, Pal thought she was pregnant. Ah, isn't that fun? And, even though the waters between them were rough at the time, Amanda told her that she would remain her friend and stand by her side if she were. Then she was going to get her a pregnancy test at the nurse's office. Pal chickened out of that one, but still, that is what my kid was willing to do for her.

Pal, after that, then began to continue calling Amanda a whore and a bitch. She said Amanda was fat (which really pisses me off, especially since Twiggy would look fat next to the 5'10" 103 pound Pal). She said she was a crappy cheerleader. She said she was a liar. She said she was a horrible friend and that she was stupid (interesting since Amanda is one of the only six cheerleaders to maintain academic eligibility throughout the semester, but not Pal). She said it all to anyone that would listen. She talked about Amanda behind her back to everyone, including the rest of the cheer team. And Amanda, after those things being said, told her that she would help her all she could if she were pregnant.

Then Pal started, thankfully. She texted Amanda to tell her.

Then, a week and a half ago I started to notice that things weren't right with Amanda. I let it go and figured it was all just teenage angst. Yeah, it was.

So, last Friday I saw that Pal was avoiding Amanda like the plauge. So, I asked what was up and she told me all the sorted details. I had to do some serious work trying to restore her spirit, but she really was fine, without knowing it. She realized that most of the team thought what Pal had said was all crap. Yay, small victory for my kid!

I told her that she needed to take it to the cheer coach because it would affect the team dynamic. So, she did. She was very calm and poised and maintained her emotions quite well and said what she needed to to the coach. I was there and saw it. Then, I told the coach about the sex buisness. Maybe I shouldn't have, but my hands were bound. It was my hope that someone would tell Psycho Mom so she could get her the health services she needed. I wasn't ratting her out. I wasn't tattling. It was all out of concern and there was no way I could tell her mother without her flipping out on me.

Then, I found out that a week ago, at Parent-Teacher night at the school, Pal and Psycho Mom saw the Tomster (the ex-boyfriend who is now like her big brother/best friend) and confronted him. His mother told me this. They demanded to know what Amanda had said about Pal. He told them that she hadn't said anything except that Pal and she were fighting. Then Pal and Psycho Mom told the Tomster that Amanda was only using him for chips (because he always has a bag of chips in his backpack) and gum and that she was a dirty liar and not to be trusted and that he should never believe a thing Amanda says about anyone. Psycho Mom stuck her finger in his face and shook it at him and told him to not be Amanda's friend.

Last night there were basketball games starting at 4. Nolan and I went at about 5:30 and I brought him home at 7:15 to get ready for bed. He can handle that on his own so I ran back up to the school to watch Amanda finish out the night. When we were shuffling back and forth between the two gymnasiums I ran into Pal. I made eye contact with her and said, "Hi." She bowed her head and said it back and practically ran away.

When the girls were cheering their last game, Pal had no idea where I was. I was sitting in the stands right in front of Amanda and Pal. Pal had her new cohort next to her as well and she buddied up to her throughout the game. She was also trying to flirt with every guy there. There were two boys in front of me who were making fun of her. They were calling her Big Bird. They were taking cell phone pictures of my daughter. I was laughing on the inside because in a very sick way, it was incredibly satisfying. When we got home, Amanda told me that Pal was all excited about them looking at her and thought they wanted her. I told her what the boys were doing and she smiled and went to bed.

Some kids will always come out on top.

Egg Free and Loving It

Current mood: busy

OK, word is there's a cookie exchange in the works. I would host this year, but if you've followed the blog, you know that isn't likely to happen around my place. True to every year, before I even know the date of the cookie exchange, I'm hammering out my recipes.

Today I wanted to make something simple because I got started late and am running low on baking staples like eggs and vanilla. I know Albertson's has some baking items on ad, but not eggs. Two weeks ago they were a dollar a dozen and I didn't stock up. Alas, not an egg in the joint.

I Googled simple cookie recipes and came up with this one.

Simple Shortbread

3/4 cup all purpose flour, sifted
1/4 cup superfine sugar (didn't have any super-fine so I sifted that too)
1/2 cup unsalted butter (good quality), at room temperature
pinch salt (I omitted because I had no sweet butter)

Combine flour and sugar until well blended, then using pastry cutter or two knives, cut butter into dry ingredients until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead until smooth, then cover and refrigerate at least two hours or overnight. Once chilled, divide the dough into four portions for large cookies or eight for smaller cookies and form into rounds. Place the rounds on a baking sheet and press them down with the bottom of a glass to about 1/4 inch thickness, then prick with fork tines. Bake at 350 for 20-30 minutes until lightly browned. Allow the cookies to cool on the cookie sheet.

As you see, this is a small-batch recipe, which is perfect when it is just the kids and I, but I am sure this will double or triple well. Can you imagine how awesome this would be with chocolate drizzled over and sprinkled with some finely chopped walnuts or pecans?

My dough is chilling now and will be baked soon, if it makes it that far. Since it has no eggs, it is safe to eat the raw dough! Woo-hoo!

Currently listening : Talk Is Cheap / Short Stuff By Short Stuff

Purdy Good

Current mood: cantankerous
OK, since things have been tight lately I decided that instead of buying pizza, I would make it for the kids last night. I had some leftover spaghetti sauce from a month or so ago in the freezer, so that was the base of one. On that I put some sliced red onion, mushrooms, olives and a few spinach leaves. It was good, but the other one was fantastic!

BBQ Chicken Pizza
1 pouch pizza dough mix (it was .44 at WalMart for the store brand)
Your favorite barbeque sauce, about 3/4 cup or so, more or less based on what you like
1 large chicken breast (cooked- I had just boiiled chicken for dog food for the week, so I just grabbed one of those and diced it up)
Shredded sharp cheddar cheese
French fried onions

Prepare and bake the pizza crust for about half the time recommended on the directions (I use a little corn meal under the crust to keep it from sticking and for texture), pull it out and spread with barbeque sauce (try to keep it under a cup because too much sauce will make the crust mushy). Layer on the cubed cooked chicken and top that with cheese. Then top the entire pizza with French fried onions and return to bake until the crust is done.

Overall, chopping, defrosting, mixing the two crusts and everything, we had two awesome pizzas in about a half an hour. My overall cost was way less than $10. No more bought pizza for a while, now that I know how cheap I can make it!

Currently listening : That's Amore: Italian American Favorites By Various Artists Release date: 2008-09-30

Updating

Current mood: bummed

1) I still own a house, much to my chagrin.

2) I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $1200 on my truck. Then I went somewhere else to have the alternator done. It did need doing. It also needed a bunch more. It cost me $1205.98.

3) Next week I will return for the rest of the work my truck needs. Part of it ($400) is paid for already. The rest of the work will cost me $1010.

4) My vacuum cleaner broke. The very vacuum my husband repaired when he was home in September.

5) I have a house on the market which needs vacuuming regularly. God bless Kori. I've been driving a mile and half to her house to pick up her vacuum, vacuuming my house, then driving a mile and a half back to drop the vacuum off. Sure, I could buy a new one. That would mean I had some type of cash flow working, here (see s 2 and 3 above).

6) I have lost two of my three contracts in the last three weeks.

7) I figured out to turn on one of my heaters today. I don't like doing stuff like that.

8) I still need to turn on the other heater. I know how to light that one because the guy who put the new heater in a year ago made me learn because, "No woman should not know how to light her own furnace, just in case." I don't like doing stuff like that.

9) I needed to turn off my two coolers today because I turned on one of the heaters. I hate doing stuff like that.

10) I got the dampers for the vents for the coolers, the new cooler covers and the duct tape to secure the covers on the coolers and went outside. I hate doing stuff like I was about to do.

11) I went to grab the ladder. The ladder was gone. Some stupid crack-head stole my freaking ladder. People suck. Keith said he stole it. I should kick Keith's ass some day.

12) The ladder was actually not mine. I bought it for Travis as a flirty gift. Someone stole Travis'/my ladder. If it was Keith, he better hope he can outrun me, just as soon as I figure out where he lives... in Glendale.

13) How sad is it that I bought a ladder as a flirty gift for Travis?

14) The dude who wanted to see the house last weekend never showed. Bummer. My house is still for sale.

15) Someone is supposed to come see the house this weekend. That's good because it will likely still be for sale at that point.

16) My checking account is looking anorexic these days.

17) Travis' place is freezing. Literally, his house is like 55 inside. He could run the heat all day while he is at work for 14-16 hours, but that doesn't seem eco-friendly.

18) It also doesn't seem checkbook friendly.

19) Dr. Erica Hahn is no longer going to be on Grey's, and although I was kinda thrown by the girl on girl action, I was intrigued by the storyline. Bummer.

20) Nolan's closet door broke Sunday. It is dry-rotted inside. It looks like toothpics. It. fell. completely. off.

21) I am just tired.

22) Amanda cut off all her hair again. Even shorter.

23) The school had nothing better to do today, a teacher work day and early release day, than to call me five minutes before the bell rang to tell me my kid stuck an orange seed in some kid's ear and now has a referral and detention for two days.

24) Yes, an orange seed.

25) Stop laughing, a-hole.

Fun, huh?

Currently listening : Lie Low By New Flash Release date: 2002-08-26

Yummylicious

Current mood: listless

QUICK SWEET CINNAMON BREAD

.. -->-->.. -->QUICK SWEET CINNAMON BREAD-->
2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 c. sugar
2 lg. eggs, beaten
1 c. buttermilk
1/3 c. vegetable oil
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tsp. butter, softened

Combine first 5 ingredients in a mixing bowl. Combine eggs and next 3 ingredients; add to dry ingredients. Beat at medium speed with electric mixer 3 minutes.

Grease bottom of a 9 x 5 x 3 inch loaf pan. Combine 2 tablespoons sugar, cinnamon and butter in a small bowl until crumbly. Spoon evenly over batter and top with remaining batter. Gently swirl batter with a knife to create a marble effect. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Remove from pan and completely cool on wire rack...

Totally yummy. We've had a cold snap lately and nothing says warm like baking. This one is awesome and so easy! Make sure when you make this you put half the batter in the pan and then the crumbled butter mixture and then top that with the rest of the batter. I missed that part, but I did the rest so some of the mix was swirled in the batter. Still, this is just about the easiest, cheapest and best cinnamon bread I've made. Oh, I also didn't have any buttermilk, so I subbed 3/4 cup of sour cream and 1/4 cup skim milk. I sift my dry ingredients and I thouroughly beat all the liquids together before I mixed them into the dry and made sure to mix by hand. Happy baking!

Currently listening : Cinnamon / This Is My Story By Derek

I'm Not Sleeping

Current mood: drained

I've said that for the last eight months and meant it every time. Tonight I'm not even trying. There's too much stuff on my bed for me to try. I've got the washer and dryer going. The dishwasher is on. There's a sink of dishes in hot water that's too hot for me to put my hands in. My lungs are being burned by the bleach fumes wafting from the bathroom showers. I am light-headed from the Carpet Fresh which I have liberally sprinkled from room to room. I have ass-loads of stuff on the dining room table- packing. I need to fix a spot on the wall in the kids' bathroom with spackle and paint, but I can't- lung burning fumes. Craig Furgeson is on TV right now and I've not lifted my head once, and he's my FAVORITE!!! I've got a laundry room in need of organizing and sweeping. My vacuum cleaner needs to be cleaned out but it is too freaking cold to go outside right now to empty it in the big dumpster. By the way, it is too freaking cold in the house right now too because just like always, El Paso's weather was bee-you-tea-ful and we went to sleep and the next morning Jack Frost completely skipped the nipping at the nose part and just kicked my ass.

Yes, the responsible person with a house on the market would just keep her house in show-order at all times. Whatevah. Kids, dogs, work, stuff, living, all that and more kinda get in the way of spot-checking every fifteen minutes for a stray dust-mite. Plus, news flash, no one's been looking at anything, anywhere.

Now someone is coming tomorrow. I don't know if it is a couple or a single guy, just that at least one of the parties is a guy. I just hope he or they see something in this house the way we did. I don't care if he/they want it to be their forever house. I would be elated if he/they made it their right now house. That's what we did, but right now ended eight months ago and I gotta hit the road soon.

A lot of my friends who read my blog don't believe what I believe, and that's for you to decide. I pretty much adore everyone here and hope the feeling's the same on your end. But I'm going to talk here about stuff you might not agree with and that's for me to decide.

I've really struggled lately moreso than I ever have with trying to hold myself together. Things just don't seem to make sense with me here and Travis there and a long road in between for no other reason than I wanted to give my kid a chance to experience something wonderful. That's it. Sure, there were Realtors with their forecasts (which all failed to come true) which did carry some weight in the decision, but it was for the kid. We've gone through separations before. A lot of them. I've never once complained about that. I've mentioned being lonely. I've mentioned wishing he were here to fix things and the longing I've felt with him not home, but this is just asinine. I can't argue with a deployment or hardship. They just are and that's that. This was a choice I spearheaded. During deployments there are always the FRG gals (which have ALL moved away [jealous, jealous me]) who are going through exactly the same thing as me with the same deployment and all. Right now I have Kori and Kelly, and they do rock. There are others too, and I'm truly glad for all of them meaning something special to me. But, I ache right now like I've never known before.

Financially, we are more than strapped right now. The same thing which has happened to so many others is happening to us. Sure, we knew that we might be overextending ourselves, but we thought we had it. We were in great shape before he left. Two households and a tanking economy have sucked for us. It is hard to be excited about much when you know there is so much looming around you. If things do go our way soon, we'll be in great shape. Hoping, hoping.

It is great to have a plan. I have a plan and a timeline, aren't I lucky? I thought I knew exactly what was going to transpire in my little corner of the world between March and December. Now I know that I am just a moron. I just hope we can get out of here before the Army wont pay to move our house. That would be March.

I just don't have it in me anymore. I've handed it all over before. I've handed it all over now too. I've been handing for a while now. I know God hears all prayers. I've had prayers answered- you know, cancer and all. Truly. And still, I sometimes wonder if God knows I need Him, if He's heard my pleas and seen the tears, and if His plan for me is the same as mine. As long as God's plan has Travis and I with the kids all in one house here in the next little while, I'm good. I know He will work on His own timeline and that things will work out the way He wants them to, so no one has to remind me. I have to remind me. It doesn't do much good for someone else to do that for me. Like most of us, I'm burning up the prayer hotline when things aren't too much going my way. My current situation is no exception. Today I opened an email response from my Craigs List posting on the house. I emailed and then called my Realtor. After I talked to Gina, without even thinking, I hit my knees. Right there in the spare room, as soon as I ended the call, I prayed. I thanked God for the guy that's coming. I told God that I knew He had His plan for us and that I would be patient, as much as I could, until we knew.

God knows that I can't even tie my shoes these days without tearing up a little because running shoes remind me of runners and runners remind me of triathlons which remind me of Travis. I find myself daydreaming about what my life is going to be like when we are all living in one house again. Doing so just makes me feel like I am some stupid teenager with stars in her eyes over some dude from school.

So, God, you know. And that's OK. This is yours now and I will do what I am able. I just can't wait to make him something stupid like spaghetti and fall asleep, drooling, on his leg while we watch a move.

*Dear God, please let me drool on Travis' leg soon. Amen.

Currently listening : Here Without You By 3 Doors Down Release date: 2004-04-13

Quick and Frenzied

Current mood: frenzied

Even though our home is now listed at just slightly over $50 a square foot, we've only actually had one couple see it. That has had me losing my mind since September 13. Out of desperation, I visited Craigs List and listed the house there. Praise be! A guy wants to see it tomorrow. Praise be! Because it is not today, because Phoenix got sick last night for the first time in forever in her bed and I am washing dog beds like crazy. I have bathed her, brushed her once (she needs it two or three more times), rearranged my entire bedroom and cleaned it (but it still needs more), done umpteen loads of laundry, and am now sufficiently losing my mind in an entirely different manner at this point. Kori has agreed to let me take the pooches to her house tomorrow so they'll have someplace to chill while the house is shown (thanks, Kori). Amanda has been sufficiently warned that any and all free time between getting home and leaving for cheer at the varsity game tonight will be spent in constructive home maintennance and cleaning. The endorphins have arrived. Clean it shall be. Smelling lovely it shall be. Uncluttered it shall be.
Please let this be the buyer.

Currently listening : Cool Bananas: Best of Frenzy By Frenzy Release date: 2004-04-05

Cha-Ching

Current mood: uncomfortable

Blah, blah, blah, economics, blah, 401k, blah, blah, blah, housing futures, blah, blah, gas prices.

Let me tell you 'bout my vehicles.

Travis took the Durango to SC when he moved. He wanted to keep it so he could transport his tri-bike (his mistress) without exposing it to the elements. I wanted to keep the Durango because it was so much easier for me to take the elderly dog to the vet in it. He won.

When the kids and I went to SC in June, we took the Ford truck and towed a trailer full of our stuff, like some furniture and personal things, to store at Travis' place. When I was driving somewhere in Alabama or Georgia I heard a noise coming from the back end of the truck, but figured it had something to do with towing the trailer. I'd never towed before so I didn't know. The truck still felt like it was handling the same way so I thought I was good.

Yeah, nope! When we got there and dropped the trailer off at the U-Haul, Travis heard the noise and told me he thought it was the rear-end. He decided we would drive back to Texas in the Durango and he would keep the truck. He did Band-Aid services to the truck until September, when he came here. He dropped it at the shop when he was leaving to have the rear-end done. That was $1900. Now he thinks there is soemthing going on with the fuel system. Crap.

Tuesday, the Durango wouldn't start. I have known there was a problem with the ignition system and I had narrowed it down to the starter or the alternator. I at least knew that much. We haven't really had much liquid cash flow these days so I decided to wait and hoped it might last us longer. Nope! So, I had it towed to the shop. When they got the starter off, they saw leaks and rust in the freeze plugs, so those had to be done. $641 later, my truck was going.

Yesterday, as I was leaving to pick the kids up, the truck started very sluggishly, almost as if the starter were going out. I put it in the back of my mind and went on about my business. A short time later, I saw Kelly and stopped to talk to her. While standing outside the high school I saw a leak under my truck. I called the shop and inquired. They told me to bring it in and they would check it whenever it was convenient for me. I went home, got the kids together for football practice, went to practice and had to run an errand when I dropped Nolan off. Then, the truck wouldn't start. Seriously, just like Tuesday.

I called the shop, which was literally two minutes from closing and they sent out the shop owner and a mechanic. They checked it out, gave it a couple of good whacks on the starter, told me the new starter was bad and that they would replace it the next day, free of charge. That would be today.

The truck started just fine this morning and after I got the kids delivered, I dropped the truck off. Kelly picked me up and let me borrow her car again. I ran to WalMart for eggs and bread and came home. I got here, started laundry, made dinner and then the stupid phone rang. It was the shop and I thought they might be telling me the truck was ready. Nope! They told me the starter was on and working well but that the water pump was what was leaking and that it was bad. $297.

Mind you, all of these maladies with the Durango are things Travis is capable of fixing himself, so long as he had the correct tools. And, he does. But, he is seven freaking states away making baby Soldiers cry.

E-FREAKING-NUFF.

Currently listening : Start Me up / No Use Crying By The Rolling Stones

Unhappy Cows

Current mood: content

I'm just totally confused tonight. I am not going to complain. Well, at least, that is not my intention, so if it happens to happen, I apologize in advance.

While out and about today on my endeavours I had the chance to sit and talk to someone for the better part of 45 minutes. She was a very nice lady. She was a very nice lady who is very different from me. She is from another country (one which is far, far away from my own). She is older than I. She has very young children. She has been married for a few years, and from what I gathered from her she's been married less than half the time I have. I guess I am so surprised because from the little I know of her culture, it was shocking to hear what she had to say.

As we talked we mainly focused on small-talk business. You know the type- polite and pleasant and not neccessarily profound. Eventually we came upon the topic of our move and living situation. I told her I was ready to leave El Paso. She was blown away by my wanting to move first because we've been here for so long and I want to go, and second because of what I said after she asked her next question. She asked my why I wanted to move so much. I told her that El Paso isn't my home anymore. Then she wanted to know why. I told her I missed taking care of Travis. I told her it was my job to cook and do his laundry and just be there for him. Then she nearly dropped her teeth.

She told me she hadn't heard an American woman say anything like that. Heh? She also said that women from her country were becoming like American girls too. She said most of the women she comes across in her line of work are too caught up in being what sounded like she said, "dissatisfied and about me." So I guess that means that at least a small percentage of foreign women think that us American chicas (and some of their own) are grouchy cows who only focus on themselves. I wasn't offended. Mainly because she made it clear that I was somehow different from my national sisterhood.

I would like to think that I am the right blend of modern woman and the girl next door and a traditionalist in the marital arena. I relish in caring for Travis. I love my kids and would do anything for them, but my life is really about Travis. Because of him, I have our kids. He works hard every day (and there are so many more every days these days and his every days seem to keep getting longer) and it is my job, and always has been my job, to make his life with us at home a respite from the insanity of his career. I want the house quiet and the family room clean when he comes home. I want dinner to be ready not long after he gets home, if I can't have it done before he arrives. I want him to come home and walk in the house and know that he has a sanctuary at his disposal for at least the next several hours. Why is that such an oddity in our culture?

Have we removed ourselves from the past and progressed to the point that our traditional roles, as women, have become so completely cumbersome to us that we leave them in the dust behind us? That just makes me sad.

I am sure there are those who would say that part of my June Cleaver factor is that I am a Christian. I could agree with them, I guess, were it not for the fact that I have always felt this way. I have always known that making my husband's life easier, and richer, and more comfortable would be one of my greatest accomplishments. And by always, I mean before I even had one, or before I had one in mind.

What is the problem we "progressive" women have with taking joy in being responsible for the enrichment of another's life, particularly if that another was a man? What's with the man-hating? I just don't get it.

I am sure it's gonna tick someone, somewhere off, but I am going to say it anyway, cuz that's how I roll. We can be the corporate raider. We can be the ultra power-hungry attorney. We can be a divine baker or a fabulous dog walker or a tenured professor. But, none of that can bring us satisfaction unless we choose to allow it to do so. Maybe just being a housewife can make us complete- if we choose to allow it do do so. Maybe we can be the banker and let the drive home serve as the buffer between what we do and who we are, so we can jump into our jammies and cook an awesome three course dinner or just chuck a frozen lasagne in the nuker and grab a glass of iced tea and chill.

Who's to say that women who have stayed home to grow their families rather than their investment accounts have it wrong? See, I had the career. I had a great career. I had a crappy couple of bosses, but I had a great career and I loved it. I was good at it, I was highly respected and I loved it. And then I left it. My husband was gone to Iraq, my kids needed to be able to have afternoons for their stuff, I wasn't serving my career or my family well simultaneously, so I quit. I thought Travis was going to have a stroke, but I did it anyhow.

The outcome? I lowerd my expectations of myself and began to accept that I was doing what I had to in order to grow happy healthy people (including me). I took the focus off me and took my joy from doing for my family. And that was the best decision I ever made. Leaving my job prepared me to be fulfilled by living.

Currently listening : Leave It To Beaver: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack By Randy Edelman Release date: 1997-08-12

But on the Content of Their Character

Current mood: argumentative

Can anyone tell me who said that? Anyone? My guess is that there are tons of people who can and at least an equal amount of folks who cannot. What inspires me to write this is all the pre-election bullcrap going on. It is equally bi-partisan. I mentioned before I didn't want my vote to be based upon who was the lesser asshole, but so far, that's how it is looking.

Both candidates have their backs up against the closet door trying desperately to shove the bones back in before some photog comes along and captures a still to rock the foundation of modern politics for the foreseeable future. Trust me, I see both sides. Yeah, I tend to be quite conservative, but I NEVER vote a straight ticket unless that's where my heart leads me. Mi corazon has never done so.

Keating Five. Rev. Wright. Big business. Ayers. We can play this kind of ping pong all night if we so choose and we'll still be in the same position as the moment it all began.

I prefer to state the following: I am sick to death of hearing about how, "Its about time we put a black man in the White House." I've heard it stated so many different ways and it is still the same message every single time. Vote Obama because he is black. Well, yes, he is. He is an equal amount white, just to drive home a moot point.

What spurred me to this level of aggrivation is the quote I heard about a week ago. I was watching one of the cable news channels (I honestly don't remember which one and that has less to do with it than anything) when I saw a man (whose race is unimportant) in an interview. He declared the following (sorry if I paraphrase it incorrectly, but the meat of it is the same, I swear), "I am voting for Barak Obama based on the historical significance of his candidacy." What? Are you friggin' serious?

Vote for Obama because he organized and rallied a community. Vote for him because you like his global view. Let Barry be your man because he opposes troop presence in Iraq. Vote for him because you hate McCain. Vote for Barak because you like his policies.

Do not vote for Barak Obama because he is black. Or African American. Or any other derivative of racial description. To do so is stupid.

Voting for Barak Obama because he is black is horrible. If one were to vote for Hilary Clinton because she is a woman is equally as assinine. It equates to voting for McCain because he is old or Palin because she is a babe. USELESS!

To vote for Barak Obama based on the historical significance of his "blackness" completely negates any political work or community work or education or any measure of who Barak Obama really is. How is his race or ethnicity in any way validation or proof of what kind of President this man will be?

People have been throwing around a lot of familiar names these days with regard to the civil rights movement of the 50's and 60's. Most notably for people around the world is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Do you know what he said? Do you know the words he spoke? Do you realize the value in his vision?

Read on, if you will:

From the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, August 28, 1963. (I didn't know the August 28 part, but I knew the rest)

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But 100 years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men - yes, black men as well as white men - would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check that has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and security of justice. We have also come to his hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end but a beginning. Those who hoped that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "for whites only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today my friends - so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification - one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my father's died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi - from every mountainside.

Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring - when we let it ring
from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children - black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics - will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

My favorite part? I HAVE A DREAM THAT MY FOUR LITTLE CHILDREN WILL ONE DAY LIVE IN A NATION WHERE THEY WILL NOT BE JUDGED BY THE COLOR OF THEIR SKIN BUT BY THE CONTENT OF THEIR CHARACTER.

Yes, it is about time "we" put a black man in the White House. Truth be told, having a black man as the leader of the world's agruably most powerful nation should have happened long ago. That is correct. But, to put someone there simply because he is black is not correct. It is corrupt.

If you intend to vote for Barak Obama, please do so. Just, please, do so based on his accomplishments or how he has inspired you. Vote for Obama because you see the leader within who surely must evolve. Listen to him speak, research his legislative history, study what it is that he stands for and then vote.

Should you vote for Barak Obama because he is black you will set American Race relations back by decades.

Currently listening : Black by Popular Demand By Guerilla Black Release date: 2004-12-14

So, Ummm, Yeah

Current mood: aggravated

Today I drove a client to an appointment for herself and her son. Not a big deal, but we got on this topic and I ain't done with it yet.

Last week, I was in line at Big 5. That is a grocery store near our house here in El Paso. I was standing there with three items, all of which I needed. I would have paid less for them, were I shopping at the commissary, but that requires me to drive much further, thusly using more gas. So, saving and conserving one way bites me in the butt the other. Between our home (for which we are still paying the mortgage note) and the grocery store is a low-income government housing complex. I don't have a problem with that. This is the problem- As I drive by the neighborhood, I see several newer and quite fancy cars and trucks. I know the price tag on many of them, as I am window shopping for a new-ish vehicle now. So, some of these folks can't afford housing at the current going rate and need low-income housing, but they can afford cars that cost well over $30k? OK.

And, I guess that sent me into a tailspin which drug me far from the prior point. Back to the line at the store. I had three things, all of which I had a real need for. I had bread, eggs, and some nanners. I was standing there in a pair of older jeans, a nice t-shirt (which I have had for at least a year), and tennies, my wedding band, toting my WalMart purse while wearing my nerdy prescription sunglasses. I was tired and had worked all three of my contracts that day. The woman in front of me had two cartloads full of groceries- mostly stuff from the frozen foods department and the cereal aisle, but a healthy supply of meats and soda as well. She was wearing some hooker shoes, a pair of Baby Phat jeans (those are the ones with the cat embroidered on the back pockets, right?), she had enough makeup to make Tammy Faye (Lord rest her Maybellene soul) shudder and enough perfume to gag Queen Elizabeth I, a super-flashy top, about five gold chains around her neck, each with its own gleaming medallion (to include a Cadillac symbol, a Virgin Mary, some other religious medal, her name, and a cross), about five inches of bangle bracelets up each arm and a ring (or two) on each of her fingers, with a dye job that was about a week old (yeah, that obvious), and a huge Coach bag (fake or not, still- Coach?). Her bill was giganticus. I think it was somewhere in the area of about $350. She pulled out her LoneStar (Texas food stamps) card and paid. She did not pay with any cash, a check or a debit/credit card. The LoneStar paid it all.

Does anyone else see a problem with this? I do understand that goverment assistance is in place to help people get on their feet so they can build a life for themselves. I take no issue with that.

I think it is a good thing, as long as it leads a person down the path to real independence. Something tells me this woman was happy with the status quo.

So, are we really helping? Are we doing what we should? Are we making sure that the money we are putting out to lend aid to those who need it is really winding up in the hands of those with true need? When can I expect social responsibility and common sense to merge?

That just gripes me to no end.


Currently listening : Will Work for Food Stamps By American Gothic

Mascara and Lipstick

Current mood: determined

Things just haven't been going my way lately and most of us know it. In our entryway, immediately across from the front door there are mirrored closet doors. Most people have to take a step back when they enter because they are met with a full-on reflection of themself upon entry. They weren't our choice, they were here when we moved in and have stayed for any number of reasons. They really aren't important except that they are important to my story here.

Tuesday night Nolan took an odd hit at football. It was kind of a freak accident. Yes, one of the ideas behind football is to knock the fire out of your opponent. And, no, I am not one of those football mommies who thinks my angel is about to begin hemmoraging after every practice, including the ones with no pads and hitting. I pretty much have the idea that if you want to play sports like football and wrestling, you kinda gotta take your lickin's and all. So, the hit did concern me. In four years of contact football we've never had a real injury but Coach actually had Nolan sit out a few plays (and eventually made him lay down as well). As a play was wrapping up a boy's helmet hit Nolan's chin, under and inside the facemask, knocking his jaw in a very odd fashion. I figured once we got home and he got dinner and a shower he'd feel better. Not so much. At 8:45 we left for the ER. No big deal, the doc agreed with me and told me he'd be sore and a bit swollen for a day or two, but I was smart to bring him in to get checked because it was above the shoulders. We left just before 1:00, which was pretty much what I expected. I didn't mind.

I was very sleepy at the ER but I would not allow myself to doze. Once we got home and Nolan went to bed, I did as well. Then, I couldn't sleep. That's normal for me these days. I think I finally drifted off around 2:45, but had to wake up at around 4:00 for a potty call from the dogs. I got up, put them out, brought them in, went back to bed and got up for the day at 5:45. I went all day full-steam with work and the house and errands, then came football again. That was fine too, but I was in a totally bad moooood.

When we got home, I walked and and flipped on the hall light and caught a glimpse of myself in my ginormous mirrors. I looked like death. Seriously. No makeup, hair a mess, sweats, worn out and looking it. I made a decision at that point. "Tomorrow, I will wear makeup."

I always wear makeup. I at least have on foundation or powder at all times. My health stuff has caused me to have some serious issues with my skin and the foundation and powder help cover that and even things out a bit. The rest of the makeup aisle might or might not be visited on any given day. Today I was to put everything on.

When I got ready I realized I was out of powder and mascara. My budget has been in ICU for a while now but I had to run to Kmart for birthday stuff for the daughter (yep, 15) so I grabbed powder and mascara as well. Prolly shouldn't'a, but I did anyway. I needed it. I really, really needed it.

I've always been a girlie girl. I love shoes and purses and makeup and clothes and pedicures and fake nails (which I gave up) and its been that way since the dawn of time. I guess I've just been absorbed in everything else so I let myself go.

You know, the mascara and new powder and lipstick actually helped me feel better. I felt put together and just like I was me again. Well, me with an incredibly uncomfortable living arrangement.

Sure, it seems shallow and I would really like to think there is more to me than just the superficial, but something about getting back to looking more polished made me feel more polished. I kinda think I might have been a little happy. Sorta.

So, tomorrow, I am putting on my makeup again. Even if I don't have anything to do or anywhere to go.

Just cause.

Who knew a little makeup would save me from wallowing in self-pity?

Currently listening : Skin Deep By Lipstick Magazine Release date: 2008-08-05

For Crying Out Loud... No, Really

Current mood: disappointed

Yesterday was a crap day. It was a total crap day. We have been on the go, almost non-stop since we put the house on the market on the 12th of September. Sure, we've watched TV a time or two or sat around in our jammies for a while, but otherwise, we've been cleaning, packing, painting, cleaning, footballing, cheerleading, schooling, cleaning, and ummm- cleaning.

Last weekend was our first open house. It was attended by one couple who expressed interest in the house and asked to meet with the Realtor who administered the open house regarding our house. Our Realtor was tied up at another open house (which, incidentally, went completely unattended. I have been assured that is the norm these days. Peeps just ain't lookin'.) so she had another person from her office handle ours. He was to represent the buying couple. Apparently they just aren't buying ours. Maybe they will, but I refuse to go crazy over it because I can't control it.

Yesterday, crap day, we didn't even go to church. We stayed home, Amanda and I slept late, we did laundry (which was laid out in the spare room and the halls by load), we cooked, we played checkers and backgammon and chess all day, we cleaned the kitchen and that was about it. Until the freaking doorbell rang. There was a Realtor and a couple who wanted to see the house. Ummm, I told her no.

See, our MLS information states clearly that the showing Realtor is to call the homeowner (that would be me) an hour prior to arrival. My phone never rang. NEVAH. I thought that since no one had called, we were safe to be lazy and slovenly. Shah, not.

So, I said no and then called my Realtor. She called me back and said that she clearly told the showing Realtor to call us before they came. She also told me I was completely right to tell them they could not see the house. Somehow, I feel like we may have lost out since we've had A whopping couple see the house in the last three weeks.

Also, while speaking to Gina (our Realtor), she told me she had two other couples she intended to show the house to next week. Yay. Let us hope and pray that something comes of this.

There are many reasons for this. See, I miss my man. I could go into it, but there's no sense in making everyone sad along with me. Let's just say this (skip it if you've heard me say it before), this is harder than any deployment because there is no arguing or second-guessing a deployment. They go. That's that. They just have to go. So they do. This was a choice for us. I don't want to regret the choice made primarily by me and agreed upon by him. Selling will be the first next step in my getting us there.

Also, we have two abodes. Two sets of bills. Two sets of operating expenses. It was OK for a while, but it ain't now. This crappy economy and the gas prices of the last eight months and all the travel costs have all but killed us. Selling will cut our family living expenses substantially, give us enough to seriously work on our ever-growing bills and put some in something for the kids' educations. There was a reasonable something there before. There isn't now. There are lots of reasons, but our economic nose-dive is a factor. Big factor. FREAKING HUGE. But, now we have to figure out what kind of something we inted on trusting this time around. Trust is interesting.

So, since yesterday at about 4:00, I've been upset. I have cried. Actually, I've sobbed until I nearly puked, but who's noticing. I keep wondering if this was THE client to buy this house. I have got to sell this thing. I have doubted my choice to take a real mental health day for the kids and I and wished I had just gotten up at 7:30 to get ready for church and cleaned. But, at the end of the day (just prior to the ringing of the doorbell), I felt really good. I took a greedy me day and did stuff that only serves the three of us. I even got a real jump on three nights' dinners. And it got squashed. Return to Crapville.

I know this house will sell. I know there is a buyer out there. I know I do everything I can as much as possible to facilitate that buyer who will buy this place. But, am I not allowed to take care of us at the same time?

I really want to unfurl a litany of bad words.

And I'd like to cry some more.

Currently listening : Cry Like a Rainstorm, Howl Like the Wind By Linda Ronstadt Release date: 1989-09-25

Can I Sleep it Off?

Current mood: uncomfortable

Wish I could, and this is going to be one of those times when cogent typing falls by the wayside and pure emotion spills out all over. I could write about the ills of our economy or the fact that my checking account looks ever-sicker each month of this separation or more on cancer or more on my wacky family or the fact that I turned down a dog which needs a home out of respect for my family's needs (totally against my usual response to dogs needing homes), but no. I revert to being the mother of a kid in high school.

I think most of the time that Travis and I have done a relatively good job on the kids. Nolan's had his rough spots, but as he matures, I see the issues shrinking and fading. He sometimes struggles for his successes, but they do come and we appreciate his efforts. We tell him, as we tell his sister, that we are proud of them. We tell them that we love them unconditionally, and in Nolan's case, it was important for him to be told that no matter what, he could never make us un-love him. I think he gets that now. Praise the superior being of your choice (A. The Lord. B. Allah. C. Buddah. D. Hale-Bop. E. ________________).

Conversely, it is important to us as parents to make sure that when warranted, we tell our children we are disappointed in their actions. Not in them, rather, in what they do. My child is not disappointing, but the fact that her sports bras are all missing disappoints me to no end. My child is not disappointing, but the continual disappearance of his socks due to his not picking them up from the floor disappoints me and makes me break out in hives a little. You see? I hate having those conversations. They suck. They make me feel like doody. Before. During. After. Just. Plain. Doody. ***BUT*** I see a huge decline in the number of people who were raised with a sense of what is and is not disappointing to their parental unit(s). I guess that's what the ol' folks used to call, "Shame on you!" I, personally, don't think a little shame ever killed someone. If you do, stop reading because this is my blog and I'll say what I want. The way we learn that shame sucks is to feel shame for an action and learn from it how to avoid shamefulness. Or disappointment, or whatever prettier word you want to give it.

My kid is in high school now. Yes, high school. Hold on, gotta dab the corners of my eyes. Ahem, where was I, ah, high school.

This is a whole new world. I thought I might have some type of advantage here, being one of the younger moms of a high schooler. I am 35, dude. I graduated high school just 18 years ago. Dude, I thought I was young until my kid went to high school in El Paso. I think the median age for mothers of new Freshman has got to be somewhere around 30? Maybe 28? Not kidding. I guess I am old. Dude, that blows. Oh Menopause, is that you creeping through the shadows of my room?

Remember, if you will, to date we have dealt with bisexuality, homosexuality, teen pregnancy (more than one acquaintance of La Princessa is currently expecting), homelessness ('nuther story for 'nuther time), mental illness, promiscuity, all within four weeks, and now this- read on.

So, last night I went into Amanda's room around 10-ish. I wanted to talk to her. I wasn't trying to catch her in the act of anything, but that's usually how it happens. Regardless of the good decisions/bad decisions discussions, regardless of the consequences for our actions discussions, regardless of the presence of very cut and dried rules in our home, she still leans. She was leaning. She actually was texting after 9 pm. I can deal with the texting. I have learned to cope without the help of such agencies as Text-annon. My two requirements- no texting/calling during school and no texting/calling after 9 pm. Fair enough? Yeah, but occasionally when the mood strikes her, she simply must text. Last night she was texting with two people.

One is a friend from an activity and one (who shall remain as annonymous as possible because that person is a minor- I'll call them LL) is someone with whom my Precious Darling wants to spend more time. I was previously involved in the more time decision as was the father. Leery and acutely aware of newness and unfamiliarity, we reluctantly agreed. F*&^! We are so stupid.

So, the one wanted info. And to gossip. Typical. The other wanted to laugh about their choice to do some illegal things. Ah, which illegal things? LL got loaded and high. Chronic and pot. And was laughing about it, while telling my kid that they were flirting with the third person in the texting triad while loaded and high. At least they're honest, eh?

That's when the fun began. I took the phone and began to assume my kid's identity. Oh, yes, I violated the sanctity of the text. After several texts back and forth, I told LL I was THE MOM. I think I heard LL crap a little in los pantalones. So, we then shared a dialogue and I explained that pot was totally not cool with me. LL tried to get me to believe that it was a one time/first time mistake. Yo momma may buy that crap, but I wont. LL tried really hard. LL called me dude several times, dude. LL told me that they were a good kid because their progress reports was all As, cept two Bs, dude. LL even pinkie promised me. Yes, seriously. Unwavered, I didn't back down. But I wasn't a total cow to LL either. I discussed openly for an hour and a half and told LL I expected better decision making from my kid because she was taught better. When I asked LL if they had told their parents about their first timeyness, LL instantly became so tired that LL required immediate rest and bid me a pleasant evening. Not really, it was more like, "I really have to go to sleep. I need my rest. Goodnight mam."

So, now we have lied, broken at least two laws, flirted with a friend (while loaded and high and blaming it on that [which might just be another lie, no?]), and tried to manipulate someone's mom into changing her thinking that it was just a "one time thing and that everyone makes mistakes."

I told her she couldn't spend time outside school with LL. And then she tried for another half an hour, after the hour and a half I was texting LL and talking to her at the same time, to make me change my mind into believing that LL was a good person with whom she could spend extra time. I told her I do believe in second chances but LL used them up in one night and that my kid deserves more than to compromise what she knows is right for someone who thinks it is all a fun ride. I told her if she also needed to discuss it with her father. When she talked to him he said pretty much the same thing as me.

I really love that man.

Currently listening : Fast Times At Ridgemont High: Music From The Motion Picture By Various
Artists Release date: 1995-03-14