Fly-by November!

Does anyone else feel like November just appeared and disappeared while they were blinking?  Honestly, this month has flown by! 

Thanksgiving here was wonderful.  It's wonderful because my mother is willing to manipulate a 25 lb naked, dead, headless turkey early in the morning.  Well, that's part of it anyway.  Mostly, it's wonderful because my mom makes her house so welcoming and beautiful (and I suck and never get pictures) and fun.  It really was a terrific and delicious day.  I gave the camera to the boys and the pictures are not pretty or reflective of the day, so I'm going to skip them. 

Dan got his first taste of having to work on a holiday.  By the time he got home at 2 pm and we were heading off for dinner at Bing's, he was already exhausted.  I have to say he's been working his non-existent butt off this past semester.  He has A's in all of his classes at the community college and A's at his two other classes.  He's been working about 30 hours a week in addition.  Downside, he got a letter saying that Senator LeMieux would not be giving him a nomination for the Naval Academy (this would be Senator LeMieux of the "Do you feel you're socially awkward since you've been homeschooled?" panel).  Not a surprise, but still disappointing.  I might send a letter to incoming Senator Rubio (who is replacing Senator LeMieux) with some basic homeschooling info for his service academy panels.  We're still waiting to hear from Senator Nelson.  Quick!  Someone send him a fruit basket!!!!

In the meantime, Dan has been applying for Navy-ROTC scholarships.  Can I just say that I have absolutely NO idea where this man/child came from (s'cuze my grammar)?  Seriously, I'm the biggest flip-flopper, second-self-guesser of all time and I have this supremely confident son.  How? He's applying to five schools and we're crossing our fingers he gets  the full scholarship and admission to one of the schools.  Academically, he should get into all of the schools, but he wants the ROTC scholarship. 

With all of the boys we've been stressing the importance of higher education while extra-emphasizing the NO DEBT side of things.  Did you all know that ONE YEAR at Notre Dame costs over $54,000?  This is undergrad.  Four years and you still basically have NO skills (and I don't care how smart you are).  You could possibly graduate $200,000+++++ in debt and have nothing to make someone want to hire you.  

We're going the no-debt route here as much as possible.  It might get interesting.  Dan has always leaned toward the military.  Ian and Tim?  Not so much.  Heck, not at all.  Stay tuned for their adventures this coming spring and next fall. 

And, today is the end of November!  It amazes me how even when things feel out of my control, they still stay interesting.  And, more and more, things will be out of "MY" control - much as I hate it.  Slowly, though, I'm growing into this.  (And, I'm clinging to Andy like a tick.)

And, for all of this and so much more, I am beyond grateful.  How lucky am I to have the life I have? 

Soaps! Gifts! Affordable Gifts!

I don't know about you, but we're keeping it simple this year.  These gifts are affordable, one-of-a- kind and thoughtful!  Any questions?  Ask in the comments or email me.  Share with your friends and neighbors if you think they'd like it.  AFFORDABLE GIFTS!!!!!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Because I think it's funny, funny, funny every time I see it, here is the obligatory, WRKP Turkey Drop video.  To top it off, I was introduced to the "real thing" via Facebook.  Oh my.  If you have a great love of turkeys, you might want skip it.  I found it to be "train wreck" fascinating.  I have family in R-Kan-Zass, I might have to get them to check this out.

Happy Thanksgiving - WKRP Turkey Drop - kewego

http://www.sharkhost.com Happy Thanksgiving from Sharkhost.com! This is a blast from the past, WKRP in Cincinnati Famous Turkey Drop. Sharkhost does not own any copyright to this material. Web host, web design, marketing and promotion.

And, here is the real-live version via Yellville Arkansas (watch through the credits, if you watch!):

 

I've decided . . . I think

The hardest thing about being a parent is letting your kids do things for themselves.  It would all be so much simpler and cleaner and quieter if I just did it for them.  This is true when you first let your child start feeding himself, when you take off the training wheels, and when you are watching them write essays for college applications.

Seriously, it just gets harder and none, I repeat NONE, of this is ever mentioned in the baby and toddler books I used to read and ignore.  No one tells you any of this.   Sitting on my hands (so I don't rip the duct tape from my mouth) and watching is painful and frustrating some days.  

That's all.  Just thought I'd let you all know I've reached this decision and am trying to accept that I have my own life to live and that it's better for all of us if I don't do everything.  It might just kill me, but I'm sticking to it.  

(Going back to my corner to rock and not mutter aloud "Just let me write the essay.  Just let me write the essay." )

Why not? Go ahead, write on your walls!

Someone on Facebook asked me about the writing on my walls.  Since I did such a crappy job of moving pictures to this blog from "that" blog . . . here are some new pictures of my "oldish" walls.  Funny, I just had the wall paint matched.  Some time after New Year's, I'm going to paint over the current walls and write some new stuff.

In the meantime, if this is something you've been thinking about, do it!  And, if you're going to do it, vary your quotes between funny, profound, simply stupid and things that make people "go hmmm."  We have had more great conversations with friends, family, strangers and even people who visit here sometimes who don't like us all that much based on the words on the walls.  It's worth the effort.  Really.  I promise.  (The picture here says Stultus est sicut stultus facit.  In other words, Stupid is as stupid does.  See how much fun you can have?)

Some of our quotes are classic and profound. Some are family jokes.  Song lyrics are good.  We are nerds, so there's nothing like a modern phrase turned Latin.  Others are things we picked up while I was in the midst of painting.  The older boys were watching Anthony Bourdain one night as I was working on the words when  an old surfer said "Everything's OK, until it isn't."  Really?  How could I not write that on the wall???  It's true.  It's succinct.  And it fit (grin). Really, though, you're the one living with these words.  If they don't make you smile in theory, they're not going to make you smile when they're 48 Pts high on your wall. 

How do I do it???  I find a font I like, in a size I like (go big for walls), and I set up my printer to go landscape (rather than portrait).  Print out your quotes.  Then, on the "bad" side of what you've printed, outline your letters with a (frequently sharpened) charcoal pencil.  Place the charcoal side of the paper against the wall where you want it and rub it with the side of your hand or the spine of a sturdy book.  You should end up with an outline of the words.

This time I used a stencil brush and stencil paint to fill in the words.  In the past, I've used acrylic paint and a thin brush with good results.   When the paint is dry, just wash over it with a wet paper towel to remove any charcoal.   (This picture is what is right above my computer screen.  I love the quote "A boy's best friend is his mother."  It's from Psycho.)

I hope someone finds this useful.  If not, I have it all written down here for when I start with new quotes in 2011!

This picture is my favorite quote ever, courtesy of my friend, Julie.  "I'm not much but I'm all I think about."  It's so true, all the time, for all of us.  Like my entryway quote of "There's no place like home."  "I'm not much but I'm all I think about" will always be on one of my walls.

Loved it!

Tonight was Harry Potter!!!!  We've been waiting for what feels like forever and it was worth the wait.  I won't spoil it here for any of you who are planning to see it.  

I will say, I would not take anyone younger than a very tough 9 to see this movie.  It has a much more adult feel to it than any of the other HP movies.  I've read the book 2-3 times and listened to the audio as many times as well and I was still caught off-guard at a couple of points.  (Ask Bing - she has the bruises on her arm from where I kept grabbing her!) 

I don't know if this is my favorite Harry Potter movie yet.  It just might be, though.  The acting was great - it's amazing to see how far the kids in the movie have come. The casting was also well done - it was fun to see some new characters.  Actually, I can't wait to see it again, although we'll probably wait for the dollar theater to see it a second time.

I love my older boys for being excited about the movie AND about seeing it with me and Bing.  Dan bought candy ahead of time (on sale and with his Winn Dixie discount lol!) and mixed up little bags for each of us.  Bing bought the popcorn.  We were already making plans for seeing part two as we left the theater. (A major part of seeing part two will involve us nagging my sister to death until she caves and brings her whole family down to come see it with us! But, shhhh . . . we're being subtle about it.) Harry Potter, the books and the movies and the audio, have been a huge part of some of my best times with the kids and with my mom.  (Talk amongst yourselves.  I'll be back in a minute, I have something in my eye.)

I'm up now because Mike gets up in about 45 minutes and if I try to climb in bed, he'll wake up and his day will be endless.  I figure I'll sit with him while he eats his oatmeal and finish my glass of wine.  He can go to work and I'll climb into the still warm bed.  Win-win.  

I'm also up because Andy was complaining of a stomach ache when we got home.  I'm pretty sure it's exhaustion weighted down by a giant soda, 4 lbs of popcorn and the monster ziploc of movie candy, but I'm waiting to be completely sure.  I don't want to be sound asleep and suddenly wakened by a miserable sick kid.  It's easier to stay awake an extra hour and be certain he's just going to sleep it off.  

That's my report.  All of you hurry up and see the movie so we can talk about it!! Have a great Friday morning.  I'll see you sometime after lunch.

THE Interview . . .

Like most things in life, I worried this to death.  The house is as clean as it's ever been.  I even hid the nasty toaster because, well, it was on the counter and it was nasty.  My mom called to give me a pep talk around 3:30 pm.  Yay for mom!!!  After talking to my mom, I headed to the shower and then on a last minute, manic shopping trip.  It's weird what you get used to living with and only really think about RIGHT before you want to "impress."  Drinking glasses do not last long here.  Sure, the obvious solution is to go to plastic, but I HATE drinking out of plastic when I'm home or not by a pool.  

Then, after the boys had scrubbed their bathroom into submission, it became obvious how nasty our towels were, so I added towels to the list.  THEN, I started thinking if the interviewer did not want dinner, I should have snacks.  Most of my serving thingies are HUGE because we usually have 20 or so people over, not just one.  Added serving thingie to my list.  Then I added things to put ON the serving thingie.  :::sigh::: 

I am guilty of encouraging my student driver (Ian) to speed.  We hit Big Lots and I picked up a nice cutting board, four bath towels (should interviewer use our bathroom and wash his hands and want to dry those hands on something less grungy than our old towels and slightly more socially acceptable than his own pants), and a set of 15 18 oz glass tumblers that seemed fairly sturdy.  And, then I saw the red bowls that would go perfectly with my Blue Willow china and the soup would look so nice in the bowls and we are close to having to eat in shifts for lack of bowls.  So I bought 12 bowls.  

We raced out of Big Lots and hit the grocery store.  A block of colby jack, a block of NY sharp cheddar, some olive oil/cracked pepper triscuits and a box of fancy crackers and we should have been set.  But, indecisiveness set in.  I had iced tea at home, but it was unsweetened.  What if he was a southerner, I thought?  Those crazy southerners love their sweet tea and I didn't have time to make a batch.  I bought sweet tea.  Then I tossed in a thing of "pure" lemonade.  Then . . . I thought, what if he does stay for dinner?  I didn't think this was a likely possibility, but I figured I should pick up a six pack of beer just in case.  I'm a cheap date, I like cheap beer.  Picking something decent was agonizing.  Finally, I let Ian pick.  We got home 40 minutes after we'd left.  This was turning out to be one expensive interview.  

We got home.  I set up cheese and crackers and grapes.  I hung the new towels.  I washed the new glasses and then the bowls.  I tried really hard to make my hair look normal, but, alas.  Meanwhile,  Dan was doing his physics homework alternating with playing his ukulele in his own manic way.  I could tell he was as nervous as I was and I just left him in his room.  Mike got home and he was wound pretty tight.  Woohoo, time for the guest to arrive.  

Dan's Blue and Gold Officer is a retired Commander who actually lives very close to us.  He was friendly and easily at home - no wonder the Navy uses him for these interviews.  Dan introduced him to all of us.  We went into the kitchen to sit at the big table and he cracked up seeing the benches we have on the long sides of the table.  He said he'd grown up in a family of six with lots of extra people coming in and out for meals.  The officer explained to Andy how to grease up the benches with Pledge, particularly on the ends, so that it was easy to make a brother slip off the bench mid-bite during dinner.  I'm starting to think all boys are the same.  

He talked to Dan, me and Mike for about an hour.  We watched a 10 minute video that made ME want to go to the USNA, even though I hate shouting and loud noises and group activities.  Then, he and Dan went out on the porch to talk about things.  For over an hour.  Mike held onto my arm.  I wanted to sneak around to the back of the house in the dark and listen in on their conversation.  Mike seemed to think this was wrong.  Stoopid Mike.  What we could hear was muffled animated conversation and quite a bit of laughter.  

Overall, I feel like it was a good experience.  I don't know what to expect.  So much is still in other people's hands.  Dan needs the senators' thumbs up if he's even to move on at all. (And, even those are not a guarantee of an appointment)  He needs a good report from the commander we met tonight - aside from Scout-the-dog being slightly psycho, I think we were all okay.  We learned that 20,000 young people are applying this year for 1400 open slots.  The odds are slim.  :::sigh::: But, we talked at length about other options as Plan B and I think we all feel a little more confident.  

No.  He did not see the towels.  No. He did not eat dinner.  Yes. He drank out of the new cups.  I did notice, as Mike, Dan and I watched the dvd, the commander, who had clearly seen the dvd more than 10 times, was reading the words on the border of our ceiling And, whew!  I'm glad it's over.  Now we wait and wait and wait.  From what we learned tonight, we should hear from the senators within the next 2-3 weeks.  

I just talked to Dan (he took off from work for the interview and had to go back to work as soon as it was over - thank you guy that covered Danny's missed hours!) about how he felt.  He is feeling up and down and all over, but he felt pretty good about tonight.  I don't envy being Dan.  It was hard to be 18 the first time. It's hard to watch being 18 through one of your kids for a second time (for you lol).  (Wahoo, I get to do this three more times - I hope it's not like dog years where I will end up being 282 when it's all over.)

I thank all of you for your good thoughts, prayers and references for Dan.  If you could keep them coming for a few more weeks that would be amazing.  I'll keep you posted. 

Oh, the hair-manity!

Spent the morning with Tim driving us from place to place so we could fill out paperwork that will allow him to run track next semester.  I get that they don't want people abusing homeschooling so that monster-talented athletes are not taken advantage of in their pursuit of their sport.  But, really? I would say 97% of the homeschool athletes running through Florida are not Tim Tebows.  It's a LOT of jumping through hoops and a lot depends on how the administrator receiving the documents feels about homeschooling.  We already know the administrator at our local high school is not a fan of homeschooling.  I don't know why and I don't care why.  I just want for Tim to be able to run track.  Heck, if you're 16 and you want to chase girls, that's the bst way to do it, in my opinion. 

We are nearly, nearly done.  Once again the Board of Education has no one in the homeschool coordinator job so I had to hand that part of the paperwork over to a woman who swore she could figure it out.  I'm not holding my breath.  I'm kind of confounded by the entire school system.  Is it not all one system?  Why cannot a person in the high school put a name in and figure out that kid's educational history?  Why can a person who works for the Board of Education not pull up ANYTHING if a kid is in the system?  Why have I been paying for and submitting reports every single year since Danny was in third grade if no one is keeping track?  It makes my head explode.  I'm willing to bear the burden of proof since we've opted to be weird, but none of my boxes of proof with letters to accompany them are sufficient!  GAHHHH!

After having Tim drive us around for nearly five hours of documentation nonsense, I had him drive to Walmart, you know, because the day had not been fun enough already.  Tim and Andy walked across the plaza to Ross in search of giant sneakers for  each of them.  I got a wild hair when I walked into Walmart.  I'm so tired of feeling old and stuck and blah.  I wandered into the haircut place.  A woman asked me if I wanted a haircut. 

She was adorable and my age and so put together.  Her hair was beautiful, shiny and black - my hair is never going to do that.  I told her I was feeling blah and old and ugly and old.  I wandered around and saw a picture of a girl with a haircut I had (really, truly) when I was about 23.  I said "I love that haircut."  Donna, the woman who was bored until I arrived and guiding me through the store said "Girl, everyone loves that haircut.  I'm sorry.  You can't have that haircut.  Look how damn curly your hair is."  That's when I caved.  I turned my head over to Donna.

I'm not talkative as a rule.  Donna was a talker.  Turned out we both have all boys of the exact ages  (no twins for her, she only has three boys) and we were off and rolling.  I told Donna I liked her hair as well.  I asked if she could do something Diana Ross/Amelia Aerheart/Trixie Belden for me.  And she did, but first, she laughed and offered to sell me her wig. 

This picture is the cut left to dry on its own.  Donna showed me how to blow it out so it might be straight for part of the day and I could look kind of cool-ish. 

Cool or not, my hair feels so nice and healthy and, I guess I look not too different than how I normally look.  It took Dan, Ian and Mike (Tim and Andy were with me so knew about the cut and HAD to say, "It looks great, Mom," or some variation!) about 20 minutes to figure out I had lost 6" off of my head.  My neighbor, on a mercy mission giving me her garage for the day/evening tomorrow (to hide stuff for Dan's Navy interview), and I talked for about five minutes, she didn't notice.  I think I'm just one of those people who always looks the same and every 10 years or so you think, "Huh, she looks way older than I remember." 

Half Full/Half Empty?

I have been thinking about this a lot lately.  I am by no stretch of the imagination what you could call an optimist.  My way of coping with life is to jump to the worst case scenario, live it out in my mind and then work back to other, happier possibilities.  If it's a long drawn out worry, I do what I just said and then after reviewing short-term happy possibilities, I let my mind wander further into the future with even worse scenarios.  For me it works (like you didn't know I was weird).  Imagining the worst helps me get it out of my system and lets me sleep at night and allows me to function during the day.  

Mike is a true optimist.  He fascinates me.  He imagines the best out of every situation and that's it.  It's an amazing gift to think his way.  I guess it's good we ended up together - balance, you know?  I love throwing what-if's in his direction just to see how differently his first response is compared to mine.  Strangely, he doesn't seem to enjoy my doomsday scenarios as much, so we don't do this often.

I'm curious about you all - what are you - optimist/pessimist/future tripper?  While I spend a lot of time imagining the worst, I do actively try to spend my days being happy with what we DO have.  I read something once years ago about anxiety and the advice was to focus on the immediate.  Do you have enough for today?  It stuck with me and I think that everyday when I start to future trip and panic.  I remember that, yes, we have enough for today.  And then I think, heck, we have enough for everyone we know for today.  That makes me calm and relatively happy and the day can proceed.  Once it's dark and quiet, I can proceed with my nightmare scenarios.  (Really, I'm not insane, though reading through this, I might come across that way.)

I know everyone worries and everyone gets panicky about things.  What are your coping mechanisms? 

Struggling

The whole life with four kids, a husband, a crazy-assed-old-dog and all that goes along with that has been getting in the way of my writing my annual bad novel.  In fact, I'm using them as an excuse - I've been avoiding the novel (because it's as bad as any of them) and I've been using my family, who are now comprised of fairly self-sufficient people, as a way to avoid the work.

Nanowrimo, once you've signed up, sends out encouraging emails from published authors once or twice a week throughout November.  I appreciate them, but I have to say the one I've copied below has been cracking me up all night - and it rings so, so, so true.  So, I'm going back to my big bowl of suck to "get 'er done."  8)

Today's encouraging email:  

Dear NaNoWriMo Author,

Way down deep in the dark archives of my hard drive, I have a folder called Follies, which contains an impressive collection of abandoned stories: There's the zombie apocalypse novel about corn genetics, the sequel, the one about the Kuwaiti American bowling prodigy, the desert island novel, and many more. These stories have only one thing in common: They're all about 25,000 words.
Why do I quit halfway in? I get tired. It's not fun anymore. The story kind of sucks, and it's hard to sit down every day and spend several hours eating from a giant bowl of suck. And most of all, like the kid who spends hours preparing plastic armies for war, I enjoy setting things up more than I enjoy the battle itself. To finish something is to be disappointed. By definition, abandoned novels are more promising than completed ones.
You have likely reached the moment in this insane endeavor when you need a rock-solid answer to the question of why, precisely, you are trying to write a novel in a month. You have likely realized that your novel is not very good, at least not yet, and that finishing it will be a hell of a lot less fun than starting it was.
So quit. Quit now, or if you're among the many of us who've already quit, stay quit. Look, we are all going to die. The whole species will cease to exist at some point, and there will be no one left to remember that any of us ever did anything: Our creations, all of them, will crumble, and the entire experiment of human consciousness will be filed away, unread, in the Follies folder of the great interstellar hard drive. So why write another word?
Sorry. I reached the halfway point of this pep talk and tumbled, as one does, into inconsolable despair.
Here's my answer to the very real existential crisis that grips me midway through everything I've ever tried to do: I think stories help us fight the nihilistic urges that constantly threaten to consume us.
At this point, you've probably realized that it's nearly impossible to write a good book in a month. I've been at this a while and have yet to write a book in less than three years. All of us harbor secret hopes that a magnificent novel will tumble out of the sky and appear on our screens, but almost universally, writing is hard, slow, and totally unglamorous. So why finish what you've started? Because in two weeks, when you are done, you will be grateful for the experience. Also, you will have learned a lot about writing and humanness and the inestimable value of tilting at windmills.
Something else about my Follies folder: It contains the final drafts of my novels Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns. They are follies, too—finished ones. Whether you're reading or writing, there is nothing magical about how you get from the middle of a book to the end of one. As Robert Frost put it, “The only way out is through.”
So here's the pep part of my pep talk: Go spit in the face of our inevitable obsolescence and finish your @#$&ng novel.
Best wishes,
John Green
John Green is the New York Times bestselling author of Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns.

Higher education? Really?

The boys have been taking classes as dual-enrolled students at the local community college. Dual-enrolled high school students do not pay for their classes, only their books.  Today, I'm triply grateful I'm not paying for their Sociology class.  If I were a paying student, I would be questioning the value of the class and I would probably be pretty ticked off.  

I had no illusions about this class being a heavy-weight academic challenge.  The boys have to take a range of classes and they all agreed this class would be interesting.  I was thrilled about this because they can all share a book, they are all in the same class, cutting down on the need to drive back and forth needlessly.  So, in some ways, the class has been great.  

Challenging?  Not really.  There is little work, spoon-fed quizzes and test and one "big" assignment.  The boys are out now doing their big assignment.  ::::sigh::::: They were asked to create a stain on a shirt and go out "among the great unwashed" and take note of people's reactions to their stains.  I'm not making this up.  So the boys spent an hour ruining perfectly good t-shirts and are now out wandering our community.  What a waste of time and resources!  Has this instructor been out in public lately?  Why not just do a class field trip to WalMart.  What about the kids' classmates with multiple tattoos and/or piercings.  Do you really think people are going to notice a stain on the t-shirt of a kid with 3" discs in his ear lobes?  

So . . . :::sigh:::

How to tittle . . .errr . . . title this

So, back in late April I bought a couple of bras.  At Walmart.  They fit well and the price was right.  I've never been wildly endowed and I'm not quite old enough to have National Geographic issues.  I just need a basic bra.  

The bras have been great.  They've served their purpose and throughout the summer, I did not give them a second thought.  But, now it's November.  These bras have been washed and washed and washed.  Who knew?  They have a special feature.  I had to revisit Walmart to see what exactly it was. Who knew?  My bras have modesty flowers set dead-center in each cup.  Yes, that's right, I said modesty flowers.  

OK - once you pass a certain age, pointy nipples (and let's be honest here, past one or two kids we all know those nipples are not pointing in entirely the same direction) are not something desirable. I live in Florida.  It's hardly ever cold here, it's just not something I've ever spent time thinking about.  But, OK, why not?  Modestly flowers, sure.  It's not like I can just run around and ask my neighbors about their bras and how they feel about these things.  That would pretty much guarantee me never having another neighbor wave at me.  

But, now it's November.  My cheap bras have been washed and washed and washed.  AND, it's actually kind of cold here (you know, if you're from Jamaica).  As a rule, I don't wear tight t-shirts (not so much modesty as stomach goo) but I do wear tight t-shirts when I layer my clothes.  My current problem?  Under the tight t-shirts, I have goofy flower-power things on each boob.  My nipples are safe and hidden but I feel like Ariel from the Little Mermaid or something. Mike thinks it's a riot.

Guess it's time to go bra shopping.  Consider yourselves warned - hold your bras up to the light before you buy!

Home again, home again . . .

The convention is over (Ian got to meet and talk to the guy in the picture,Marc Wilson, who is now 81.  Ian thought he was great - funny, smart and very knowledgable).  


Those of you on Facebook know that I lost about 4000 words of my novel  on Saturday due to my own stupidity (save, save, save, stupid) and a blip with my power source.  I went to bed Friday night with 6200 words.  I wrote another 2200 or so that morning.  GAH. The set back was  frustrating.  The upside was, it was frustrating and I was on my own.  Ian was happily occupied.  I had no one to feed, no laundry to do, no dog to take care of  ... it was just me and my frustration.  I bundled up - this is so sad, there were people on the beach in their bikinis - in a long sleeved t-shirt, my giant fleecy sweatshirt, jeans, sturdy shoes and even socks (I never wear socks) and hit the beach for a long, long walk.  It was a wonderful thing to be able to do.  I put my hood up and marched to the pier and back.  Maybe 4-6 miles. In the freezing sand.  Uphill both ways. 


When I reached the hotel I was fuh-reezing, but happy.  I'm sure the people I passed on the beach thought I was nuts as I indulged in my aloneness and held my usual mental conversations aloud as I walked, but oh well.  It helped me and gave them fodder for dinner conversation I'm sure.  When I got back to the hotel, I fixed some hot chocolate, a snack, climbed into my big comfy bed and turned on a stupid movie and was promptly asleep.  Ian arrived about an hour later to check in and grab something to eat.  


I got up and got back to writing until dinner.  Ian and I went to Steak and Shake for dinner, I dropped him at the arts center where there was a giant magic show going on and headed back to the hotel for a few hours.  Picked Ian up.  It is so beyond rare that I have ever spent this kind of time one-on-one with any of my kids.  We headed back to the hotel and Ian filled me in on the show.  It was about 10 pm.  Ian went back to the dealer's suite - tons of magic stuff for sale and everyone hanging out.  I went back to typing and writing.  Around midnight, Ian came back to the room for good.  


We talked magic (more I listened magic), we talked about my novel and Ian gave me some interesting plot solutions/ideas.  Then he went to read the books he'd picked up over the weekend and I went back to writing.  We turned the clocks back around 1 am.  Ian went to bed.  I'm easily fooled so I stayed up and wrote some more thinking to myself, it's an hour earlier.  Sheesh - some day I am going to pick up on this trick.  


I've been fighting off a cold for about 7 days now.  Today my body caved. Ian left the room early, early.  I crawled out of bed feeling like I'd been hit by a great big sinus/sore throat stick.  I was so happy to realize there were only two of us and picking up the room and packing up the car was a breeze.  I'm used to the six of us going places and we usually just get a valet cart to haul all of our stuff.  We drove home, only about an hour, and I crashed on the couch.  Colds are stupid.  It's not like you're sick-sick, you're just a little sick and that's not enough to allow you to skip life.  Well, only for a little bit.  


What a great weekend.  I'm so proud of Ian - who won second place in the Junior stage competition - the kid who won used his baby brother as a prop - who can compete against a baby????  I'm so happy to have had this time to spend with him.  Happy and weepy - not many more magic conventions in our future - well, I guess there could be, I'm just talking about conventions we'll go to together before it gets creepy..  


And, to top it off, I surpassed my goal getting 10,000 words written this weekend.  If I hadn't lost the 4000 words (and the time that cost me) I would have been closer to 20,000.  But 10,000 puts me in the running for making 50,000 by the end of the month.  And, with Ian's astute suggestions, the book might actually make sense when it's done.  We'll see.

Weird, weird, weird

So here I am.  Alone.  In a hotel.  Ian is downstairs, with others of his kind, magicking.  I'm sore confused.  I nearly followed a family with three little kids to offer to clean up their hotel room.  I'm not used to this alone thing.  It's weird.


Ian drove us out to Daytona this morning.  On the back roads.  I did not scream even once, though a couple of times I really, really wanted to.  I left him at the hotel at 11.  I couldn't check in until 3:00, so there I was alone.  I drove over to a shopping plaza and picked up a bottle of wine, a notepad and some pens.  Then I walked over to a little restaurant and ate lunch while I mapped out my Nano Novel.  No one bothered me, the waiter kept me full of Diet Coke and I scribbled and eavesdropped on other tables.  It's nice to know everyone else is weird too.  


After lunch, I went to a little park on the beach and parked myself on a bench and wrote some more and watched insane tourists running around in bathing suits while I sat huddled in my fleece hooded sweatshirt.  It's cold here, high about 61 with a lot of wind.  I went back to the hotel and checked in, let Ian know where the room was.  I was still alone.  Ian and I unloaded the car - 1 trip!  It's so easy with just one kid.  Ian ate a sandwich and went back to his magic folk.  


The hotel is nice.  Last year all six of us stayed here and we had a mini-suite right on the ocean.  This year we have something called "riverview."  I keep looking, but so far, no river, only the endless rows of strip malls.  But, we got an awesome rate, there's a mini kitchen and a fridge.  My only issue with the room is the lighting. It's all flourescent.  Note to hotel-owners:  your customers are more likely to return if they think they look really good in your hotel room.  If they keep screaming when they catch a glimpse of themselves in the mirror because they think they've aged 40 years, you might have a problem.  


So far, I have colored my hair, painted my toenails and taken a little nap. Now I'm up, I have little work station set up, a giant mug of tea and really bad hair color.  I'm going to start my "novel-of-the-year." Alone.  This is so insane.  Kind of fun.  But very strange.  

Vanity, Insanity and Humanity

Let's start with vanity.  I've never been a high maintenance kind of gal.  Mostly, I'm lazy. I don't particularly enjoy getting older, but it's not been a horrific journey thus far.  Every now and then I read or see or hear something that sticks in my craw and I cannot let it go.  

A couple of weeks ago, I was visiting with my neighbors and one mentioned that her son told her she had a mustache.  Umm ... nope.  She doesn't.  Not even a little bit.  But we all started talking about the "stray" 8" hairs we suddenly find growing out of our chins.  We also talked about hairy people we had met in our lives and on and on - funny what wine will make you talk about.  

For some reason I could not get this conversation out of my head.  I'm blonde, always have been even if my old-lady hair is light-brown with gray highlights.  But, I started noticing a bit of hair on my upper lip.  Honestly, I don't know when it appeared or if had always been there.  No one has ever mentioned it to me and until the above conversation I'd never given it a thought.  But, I started studying magazine pictures (you know, because magazines give you a look at life how it truly is) and no one in magazines has any facial hair.  NONE.  Still, I just wondered about it.

Yesterday I got a wild hair (get it?) and bought something called Sally Hansen's Facial Hair Remover.  I waited until everyone was asleep and I brushed it lavishly on the skin over my lips and then under my lips, for good measure dontcha know.  I awoke this morning to Charo lips!  The whole area around my lips was so puffy and bright.  Crazy.  Sure, there was not a hair to be found but what a price to pay.  I could see our librarian checking my new look out this afternoon and not in a good way.  Send prayers for healing and an end to my stupidity.  You think I would learn, but I never do.  

Insanity.  Ah, so much to talk about here, where do we begin?  Lately the insanity has been over who gets the car and who needs to be where. I had a stellar "mom moment" this afternoon when I thought I had the car all to myself and Dan called to remind me that he had a Physics class this evening.  I didn't have grand plans - I wanted to hit the grocery store, get gas and maybe stop by the fabric store.  Instead, I burst into tears and told Dan I'd be home in time.  Of course, Dan had no clue what my problem was but he was nice about it anyway.  Tomorrow, Ian and I leave for the magic convention in Daytona.  Ian will be fully occupied all day for 2 1/2 days.  I'll have a car and a laptop and no one else ... I'll get my fix of freedom there.  

Humanity.  Last Friday, Ian, Tim, Andy and I went to the zoo.  We did this because we had my mom's car (she and my dad were visiting my sister and her family) and we let Andy pick our activity.  To think the place that used to engage Ian and Tim for hours on end before we'd even reached reptile land is such a different place with two 16-year-olds and a 10-year-old is astounding to me.  Still, we had a great time.  

You know how when you go to places like a zoo or a theme park and you find yourself with the same group of people over and over?  We kept running into evil-mom-with-a-stroller-and-a-three-year-old.  In the reptile house, the 3-yr-old ran up to the gecko display and said "Mom, it's a chameleon!!!"  He was so excited and I was kind of impressed he knew chameleon.  The mom did not even look at him and said "Are you KIDDING me?  That's a gecko."  The little boy just shrunk.  Evil woman.  We met up with them again at the panther display.  

It was mid-afternoon and about 85 degrees and most of the animals slow WAY down during this part of the day.  We were looking at the panther, who was napping, when the 3 yr-old walked up.  Just as he arrived, the panther stood up and walked off to get a drink of water.  Again, the little boy was so excited.  His mom blindly pushed the stroller up while staring at her cellphone as the boy shouted "Look Mom, he can walk!"  I could have punched this kid's mom when she glanced up and said to him "Duh!  Of course he can walk he has legs doesn't he?"  Hateful, horrible woman.  I made sure she saw me glaring at her for a long time before we moved on.  On our way past her, Ian sarcastically said "Who knew it was 'Bring your stupid kid to the zoo' day?"  I was proud of him.  

OK - off to the beach with Ian tomorrow.  Send lots of writing vibes my way - I have an idea, I have the time, I have no excuse for not writing something.   

Fun!

Over the past two weeks I have had several people comment, in real life, not here, that I have fun - not too much or too little, just fun.  I've been thinking about this and the truth is yes.  There is stress in my life but it is far outweighed by fun. 

Some of the fun is just the fun that comes from having kids and spending time with them (or not, depending on the kid).  Some of the fun comes from the fact that I am a firm believer in laughing before crying.  Even when things are really bad, there's usually something funny in the situation.  I'm lucky to have a husband who feels the same way. 

Today is a a good example.  I woke up with the sore throat and cough that has been plaguing Danny and Mike the past few days.  A few a minutes later, Tim woke up with the same symptoms.  It's not sick-sick, just grumpy, tired, I-have-a-cold sick.  Dan had to work today.  The plan was for him to ride his bike to work.  Sadly, for the first time EVER Dan overslept.  I told him to take the car.  The only thing I really wanted to do today was vote.

I drank tea, flopped on the couch and dragged Andy through a pretty lazy day of school.  It has not rained here for over a month.  But, today it was raining buckets all day long.  Finally, I had the kids dress for the rain - tricky when it's still in the 80's and your choice is get wet or sweat to death.  We put Scout on her leash and walked over the polling site.  As we trolled through the "woods" we all noticed the actual leaves on the ground (rare here) and their great fall colors.  With the kids, being slightly soggy and all, I announced how veddy British I felt.  (Voting thing aside)  It was a fun walk even with all the sniffles and coughing and puddles.

When we arrived at the polling station (in our case a little church with the nicest polling staff ever) I left Andy, Ian, Tim and Scout outside.  As I walked in, I was surprised to see Dan sending his ballot through the machine.  I got to see my Danny make his first vote!  I was so proud and felt soooo old.  I voted and headed back outside to make our trek back home.  I stopped to talk to the woman "guarding" the front of the building warning people, in her awesome NY accent, to have their ID ready.  She was reading a Kindle.  I've seen them online but never in person.  She let me look at hers.  Kind of cool.  I like paper books and I don't travel enough to justify a Kindle, but if I did travel, I would so own one of those things! 

We came home.  Scout was beyond exhausted and has been pretty much asleep since then.  We all had tea and/or hot chocolate and watched The Triplets of Belleville from Netflix.  It's weird, but clever and interesting.  If you're not ok with your kids watching a cartoon version of Josephine Baker, skip the dvd or at least the first couple of sections.  We do a lot of history here so Andy knew right away who it was and, let's face it, boobs can be funny.  Beyond that, the rest of the movie is odd, but funny in a quiet way. 

All in all it was a fun day.  I think I seem to be having fun all the time because my expectations are pretty low.  I still get a kick out of yeast making bread rise if that helps you understand my mindset. 

Anyway ... we had fun today.  A lot of fun.  And, we'll probably have some fun tomorrow.  I least I hope we will!

Happy Halloween!

Hope you all had a wonderful Halloween weekend.  Ours was  fairly tame.  Mike and Danny both have miserable colds and coughs.  The rest of us have been spending all of our time outside avoid them.  

Yesterday was Halloween.  We had a little neighborhood party, snacks and then costumes and trick or treating.  Ian and Tim stayed home and watched scary movies and handed out candy while the sickies slept.  Andy and I trooped around the neighborhood with our little mob.  And now there is candy - so so so much candy.  

Andy's costume was his idea - I can't believe we were able to find all the pieces.  I think he looks awesome.  My costume was a last minute Goodwill find.  I hacked the bottom of the dress off and attached that fabric to an old straw hat.  In hindsight, the shoes were not a good choice for trick or treating, but they were sure cute.  I was barefoot after about 15 minutes.  

I don't have the neighborhood Halloween picture yet, I'll put it here when I do.  The kids were: dracula, a redneck - complete with a surprisingly life-like mullet, Bart Simpson, a pimp (yes, I don't know what his dad was thinking either), a lifeguard, a sleepy housewife with curlers and a great robe, and a surfboarder.  The adults:  Disco Stu; Frankenstein, a bartender (he wasn't dressed up, he simply carried the cooler with adult beverages), an 80's Material Girl and an awesome tourist.  The kids are all getting older and I am guessing there won't be too many more Halloweens like this one.  

And, finally, this year's pumpkins.  The older boys carved them yesterday and they're already moldy today.  But, they looked awesome last night! Here's an up close shot of Ian's pumpkin - Alfred Hitchcock.