pretzizponderingplace

Pomp and panic

2006-05-18T18:58:00.000-04:00

Today I pulled my 18 year old high school senior out of school early (after he completed the last of his final exams) to give him an opportunity to start finalizing arrangements for his forthcoming college enrollment. In the intervening hours between lunchtime and now, he has scheduled his orientation (TWO days worth of!) and has reconsidered trying to room with a friend from high school and Boy Scouts.

I'm dizzy just trying to keep up with it all and I know it's all going to work out fine, but right now I'm too tired & worn out with preparations for the "big" day next weekend to do anything to help him out! (Not like there's much I CAN do to help...)

Me again!

2006-05-11T18:02:00.000-04:00

Been very busy working, being the mother of four including an imminent high school graduate and Eagle Scout, and running amok with Easter and other events including my parents' 48th wedding anniversary. I'm also happy to note that I've been in e-mail contact with a gentleman who sang at our wedding nearly 20 years ago for the first time in, well, about forever!

My job duties remain the same, but the cast of characters I'm working with has altered a good bit in the past month or so. Two of the five oldest teens I served have now left my purview, and the other three will gradually do so over the next 2 1/2 years. Now the youngest child I work with is only 8, and the older ones who've left have been replaced by a ten year old, an eleven year old, and a twelve year old.

Off to a sorority meeting for the evening!

Here comes Easter

2006-04-07T06:00:00.000-04:00

Today should be fun. I get to help chaperone about 20 first graders on an Easter egg hunt and kite-flying excursion at a local park. My 7 year old is among them, and as if today won't be fun enough for her, we also have a hair appointment this afternoon and her birthday party tomorrow.

I'm going to be exhausted by the time Easter dawns. My brood (including hubby) is on spring break effective today or tomorrow (he has to work tomorrow; after school today the kids are off) through the Monday after Easter. So that means I'll either have half as much or triple the amount of cleaning to do in preparation for company on Easter, depending upon which chores hubby decides to corral the kids into doing while I'm stuck at the office next week!

CS Lewis and late suppers

2006-04-05T21:46:00.000-04:00

Been participating in a Wednesday night study at our parish (the local Episcopal church). Wednesday night church attendance is pretty much a standard in Dixie, especially among the Baptists and other more Protestant denominations who gather for about an hour and a half each week beginning at 7:00 p.m. My parish tends to limit it to Lent and October-November working into Advent. Normally I'm not a big mid-week church fan, because of my already overbooked schedule between my day job and my four children, but when the subject matter really piques my interest, I tend to have at it eagerly.

The subject this time was a book called, "Into the Shadowlands," which is a study of the works of C.S. Lewis, the Ulster-born (for Americans, Ulster is the British generic name for Northern Ireland) Anglican apologist who died the same day as President Kennedy's assassination. (Most people don't know that; I didn't until I took this course, and the main reason I remembered is it also happens to have been my husband's second birthday!) Now, for someone like me who never read any of the Chronicles of Narnia, nor The Screwtape Letters and only barely scratched the surface of Mere Christianity while taking a course in my own religion during my college days in Connecticut (and got far more out of it when we did it as a Sunday school course two years ago during Lent), it was very enlightening. It's been enough of an exposure to Lewis's tomes that I now find myself not only wanting to read more of his works, but I'm eagerly setting a personal goal to re-read Dante's Divine Comedy before my eldest graduates from high school at the end of May!

Almost neglected the "late supper" portion of this entry. Well, here I am finishing up my entry at 10:00 p.m., only about a half hour after finishing eating said late supper--lovingly prepared by my 18 year old son. We didn't end up arriving home until about 8:45 p.m., so the 7 year old and 10 year old daughters were summarily forced into immediate showers while the 18 year old cooked shells and Alfredo sauce and the 16 year old prepared the table for the meal. Hubby works late on Wednesdays, so he rarely figures into these plans. ;)

More tomorrow, when I've not had copious amounts of wine to wash down my pasta Alfredo... :D Ciao!

Mama's Musings

2006-04-03T20:53:00.000-04:00

Monday evening and I have now made it through both my work day and a Girl Scout meeting during which I reviewed requirements for badges & other awards with two girls other than my daughter. I anticipate reviewing a third girl's stuff next Monday, if she comes over to sleep over with the older daughter (the schools are out next week for spring break). My shoulder is far less achy than it was yesterday at this time, though I've not yet been able to contact my regular doctor for such injuries and hope by the time he IS available, I'll be recovered. ;) (Nothing like saving money if I can!)

Tomorrow my youngest turns 7. This is the longest I've gone since getting married without having another smaller one in the house, and I must admit it's heavenly to have that "gravid guppy" feeling of pregnancy behind me permanently. The oldest one came home with his cap & gown for graduation today, which hit me a little harder than I expected. This whole "fledgling" thing is really becoming real and I have mixed feelings about it! I know, he's 18 and I'm ready for him to go off to college...but am I really ready for him to be three hours away all the time instead of across the house?

Gimpy "finned"

2006-04-02T09:40:00.000-04:00

I feel like Nemo today. (The fish, not Captain Nemo--thought the orange font would clarify that!) I spent 12 hrs in the woods yesterday with my Girl Scout troop and both of my daughters, erecting tents, making a box oven, walking in the woods, and singing around the campfire. My left shoulder blade, which has been nagging me as if I slept on it wrong for over a month now, felt progressively worse throughout the day and ached unmercifully by the time I loaded four girls into my van to return them home around 9:00 p.m. I feel like it'll explode whenever I shift in my seat, sneeze, cough, or get up/sit down! Neither Ibuprofen nor Anaprox even remotely address the pain, and Icy Hot, while helpful at first, really isn't doing much either (except to lull me into a false sense of "at least now I can move--a little!"). Reaching my toes is absolutely impossible, even when bent at the waist, so forget tying or untying shoes.

A friend who was a medical corpsman while in the Navy was visiting with hubby and the boys when the girls and I finally got home and assessed it, pronouncing that there was some edema (swelling) and that I really ought to see a doctor. Then she asked a natural question: "How'd you do this to yourself?"

Beats me! :( And that's not good, for the physician will ALSO ask! Looking back, I think what happened sometime in late January or early February was that I worked out on one of those pull down machines for exercising one's shoulders, and I suspect I may have lifted a heavier weight than I should have. Reasonably, the YMCA weight room and I aren't on speaking terms at the moment. ;) (Though admittedly, we ought to be--and a personal trainer who could guide a 40-something ex-gymnast might not be a bad idea!)

One of these days I'll have something more like my pre-childbirth figure back. But it'll take me going on hikes and campouts with the family and the Scouts to make it happen if it's ever meant to.

Back after an absence

2006-03-29T21:29:00.000-05:00

I've been busy with the children, work, the children, hubby, the children... (Did I mention the children? LOL)
1) My eldest has earned his Eagle Scout rank, but not officially been told that by the national organization yet, so we can't yet schedule the award presentation. Plus there's all the paperwork to be turned in for his financial aid awards for college in the fall, the prom on 4/22 and a tux to be rented, plus his high school graduation Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.
2) This Saturday I will (in my capacity as assistant troop leader for the older daughter's Girl Scout troop) spend a 12 hour day in the woods mastering such skills as tent raising, cooking in a box oven, and savoring s'mores (that last I can do effortlessly!).
3) Tuesday is the youngest daughter's 7th birthday, so I'll be baking PURPLE (her request) cupcakes for her class & another cake for her party on April 8th.
4) Meanwhile, the younger son is considering dumping swimming as a competitive activity a year before he *has to* bail due to age & his departure for college. He's now wanting to concentrate on his music more than the splashing around, to the extent that, while he plans to major in Education, he's unsure if he'll be a P.E. or Music Ed major. (Not to mention the aforementioned prom on 4/22--our local high school is kind enough to do a joint junior-senior prom!)

Hubby has been busily keeping our cars and lawn mower running (in sunny Dixie, not only have we had "yellow snow" in the form of pollen on the breeze--and everything under it!--but we've cut the grass a time or two though March isn't over yet!), plus running amok with the Boy Scout troop for which he is the Scoutmaster (NOT our son's troop--the one at the boarding school where he teaches). And my caseload at work's been somewhat topsy turvy in that I've closed out one child, expect to close a second next week, and have a third whose case will close by Memorial Day, so I've got a few new ones I'm just getting to know. Mercifully, my farthest-afield work-related youngsters are now two hours away from my office, rather than my former monthly hauls of three hours or more to see several. And to ice this rather messy umpteen-layer cake, Easter is less than two weeks away and we have yet to confirm who (if anyone!) is coming for dinner that day (we usually cook for the six of us plus our respective extended family members living within a few hours of us--his mother & stepfather, my parents, my sister & her fiance).

More when I've returned from the Girl Scout all-day outing!

Valentine

2006-03-11T20:40:00.000-05:00

Red, pink, burgundy purple
Roses and myrtle cascading downwards
From their perch in my hands
How young I was;
Such a baby at 22
And yet so mature, so certain, so right.
Thank heaven I still feel so certain, so right.
Marrying my valentine
Was assuredly the right thing to do.

Copyright CSS 2001

Friday at last!

2006-03-10T15:32:00.000-05:00

Now maybe I can get some serious relaxation in? It's been a crazy week, in and out of my office like a yo yo due to the jury duty stuff. Hopefully I won't be called for anything else like that for a long time to come...and will be doing something different by then...

Bluster on a blustery night

2006-03-09T20:16:00.000-05:00

My daughters have, somehow, found a re-run of an ancient episode of The Twilight Zone and are raptly watching it. My dog, a chihuahua-miniature boxer mix, is snoring on my lap. My sons are out seeing a play featuring church friends who attend one of our several local private schools. And hubby's not home yet. At least I didn't have to cook this evening; dinner was a CiCi's Pizza affair that ended before 7:00 p.m.

The flow of my week was interrupted several times by my summons to jury duty. While I got a few things done in the office, more often than not I couldn't complete tasks because I'd have to leave imminently to go sit idly in one of the courtrooms and wait to see if I was selected for a jury. (I wasn't, which was a relief, knowing I have so much paperwork to get done by a week from Monday!) And yet again I feel like the Don Quixote of state employees, seeking the "ideal" job away from my current post (ideal meaning scads more of my creative writing being published and much less traveling all over Christendom, tilting at windmills). Wish me luck!

Recovering

2006-03-05T14:15:00.000-05:00

The entire household seems to have been zapped by the sinus misery that first got me a week ago. :-P So my schedule this weekend has revolved more around cleaning the place than anything else, and it's kept me indoors rather than outside enjoying the 50-something temperatures which may be our coolest days for some time to come. Hopefully I'll have more time to write about ponderous things in the next few days, when we all (myself included!) stop sniffling.

Saturday Chores

2006-03-04T12:39:00.000-05:00

If "cleanliness is next to Godliness," my house would rightly have been described as looking like Hell when I got home from work last night! I worked an extremely long day yesterday, not arriving home until about 8:00 p.m. (after pausing in my travels for a short visit with my in-laws, who live near where I went for work). It was a relief to finally reach home and hearth, where hubby and our two youngest children were watching The Incredibles. They were happy to see me and told me as much, which was very nice.

Then I went into the kitchen. OY! Anyone ever hear of a sponge? Paper towels? NEATNESS?! My kitchen looked like it had exploded in tomato sauce and two varieties of Italian sausage--as if my husband & children had made their own dinner, served it up in a rather sloppy fashion (as if the 6 year old did the serving!), and left the wreckage for me. I understand and greatly appreciate that they did this to allow me to eat supper without dredging it out of the refrigerator; furthermore, I realize I made a point of heading straight to bed after eating because the ol' sinuses are still whipping my tail. However, I spent the better part of two hours this morning washing all the pots and pans connected to the meal, plus scrubbing down the stove top thoroughly to remove bits of sausage, tomato sauce drippings, and far too many crumbs!

It's now nearly 1:00 p.m. and a basic cleaning of the house is nearly complete--I mustered the four kids with promises to be done around 11:00 a.m. if they helped (and most of it was; the oldest one had to do an oil change on his vehicle first and then did indoor chores). So maybe now I can relax and concentrate on such normal weekend activities as...laundry? ;)

Antibiotic Hell

2006-03-02T01:35:00.000-05:00

At the moment I'm being treated for a sinus infection. Now, I've always tended to be a fairly low-maintenance patient (barring my first serious health crisis as a newborn, which reqired administration of intravenous meds to clear up--and that was with Sulfa, which at the time was experimental & I've had several times since). Generally, you'd think you'd go to the doctor, he or she would write a prescription for a relatively inexpensive antibiotic like Amoxycillin or Erythromycin, plus in this case some sort of decongestant class of medicine and possibly nasal spray, and that'd be it.

Not this time! This time I'm on something "new;" so new, in fact, that there's no generic substitute for it. This, to me as a budget-conscious parent, is NOT a good piece of news. And, to boot, I was given a steroidal treatment for swelling. I had no idea I was such a severe case! To make matters worse, while the antibiotic is working to clear things up, it seems to be working at the pace of a lame snail--and draining me via my eyes almost more than via my nose. This is an odd thing to me, and it doesn't strike me as any more effective than the "usual" treatments I've had in the past as noted above.

One thing is certain: Medicine, while a wonderful thing, needs to get itself a reality check and understand that no fiscally responsible person can reasonably afford $100.00 worth of medicine per person for a family of three or more people.

Memories of Britain

2006-03-01T06:15:00.000-05:00

Having spent three years living in East Anglia, I have fond memories (& two blokes!) from there. Enjoy!

Cambridgeshire Morning

Squeaking brakes, clink of glass bottles in wire baskets, whirring electric engine putt-puttering by as the milk float makes its appointed rounds.
Distant crowing, soft lowing and mooing, far off human voices speaking to the residents of the nearby dairy farm at milking time.
Soft ticking of the clock, trickling water, nearly inaudible buzz of the radiators spilling over with heat in the pre-dawn chill.
Soft breeze, gentle rain, silent fog rolling in off the seas to hide the fenland roads from view, obscuring one's way with thick mist.
Water runs like Horseshoe Falls in the pipes, kettle on the stove whistles its song, radio airs popular songs as the aroma of eggs permeates the house.
Clumping, waddling, stairwell squeaking and groaning under the weight of two adults and an imminent infant.
Out to the car, drive off into the mists of Britannia at the not-yet-dawn hours of Guy Fawkes Day at 0700 and await the sun's late arrival at work.

British Weather

Legendary for perpetual dampness and drear,
A cold chill in the air even on warm days
Buildings of stone or brick hold the cold
Despite fervent work by the gas to radiate.
Such days visit me now on occasion
My wood-frame house better insulated
Against the damp chill of rainy days
Yet I feel compelled to kill cool drafts by baking.
Children seek umbrellas, boots, and slickers
To wear for warmth rather than wool knickers.

Copyright CSS 2001 (both)

Homage to the Full Figured

2006-02-28T02:15:00.000-05:00

Re-posted here from my Xanga site (from 4/01).

Full Figured Gal

Am I the only female 30-something who recalls
Television ads for brassieres featuring Jane Russell
Hawking "Cross Your Heart" for "Us full figured gals?"
As a voluptuous, large boned mother of four,
I take exception to anorexic waifs of 25-minus
Who are held up as the epitome of American beauty & sex appeal!
What ever happened to buxom, generously proportioned reality?
Even during the war, when everyone conserved everything,
Sex appeal manifested in motherly types of women!
Emaciated chicks were told they resembled refugees
(Which, I have to agree, they DO!)
So when does the pendulum of taste swing back?

Winter's Last Hurrah

2006-02-27T14:21:00.000-05:00

March is imminent, the grass isn't quite "riz" yet, and I've got a head cold I hope will dissipate as the Chinook comes in and blows out the Alberta Clipper that today is turning the Eastern Seaboard into one long icicle. I hate to feel yucky, and I always seem to catch one of these annoyances around the same time that the first of the "yellow snow" (no, not Frank Zappa's literal stuff; this is free falling pollen, mostly from the pine trees around here!) begins to settle thickly on everyone's cars like Tinkerbell's pixie dust run amok. C'mon spring!

Wondrous Woman

2006-02-26T10:17:00.000-05:00

Notice I didn't call myself "wonder woman." I do not now and never have had Lynda Carter's figure for that costume, didn't have it as a teenager (I was far too skinny and insufficiently endowed in spots), and don't want to try attaining it as a mother four times over. (Were I crazy enough to try, I'd need a personal trainer with the looks of George Clooney and the manner of Attila the Hun to even remotely succeed!) And, being married to a card who is not much older than I and from the same part of the universe, I'm afraid he'd cite a particular commercial we both recall for the action figure version of the character and constantly make me tell him, "Gotcha, Major!" (No thanks!)

I'm quite content being the marvel I am: wife, mother of four, daughter, aunt of seven (soon to be eight) children, niece, employed full time in a job I feel compelled to continue in despite complaints here and there, and all around wise woman with a world view that doesn't restrict itself to the borders of my home country. (OK, I'd like to be a tad slimmer--or at least to have others besides hubby dearest appreciate my Reubenesque maternal figure. What woman with multiple children and too much to do in the average day wouldn't?) Some know me as a swim mom, others as a Girl Scout leader, still others as a member of the church choir, and yet more others as a social worker. A shrinking cadre of folks (none of whom live nearer to me than a few hours' drive away) can claim memories of the child or adolescent me who had boundless energy before college. Precious few can claim to know me as intimately as my spouse (what a relief!), and I'd say I'm fortunate to be familiar with many in the community from my varied capacities as listed.

I am, as we all are, a product of my experiences. Mine, like yours, are uniquely mine and have distilled themselves to contribute to my personality and opinions. What are you "wondrous" for doing or being? God made each of us unique. Celebrate your individuality.

Purgatory is a Pool

2006-02-25T22:47:00.000-05:00

...or so it would seem after spending a day and a half sitting in the stands at one, yelling oneself hoarse while cheering for their child(ren) & his/her (their) teammates! (This weekend was our area's YMCA winter state championship meet--you'd have thought the fate of the universe hinged on the outcome the way some of these kids took their losses to peers by nanoseconds!)

Cheering my kids on is something I do with energetic gusto roughly 115+% of the time (give or take a bit!). That, coupled with the exponential expansion of our local Y's swim team since my 16 year old son began swimming ten years ago, is the fun part--lots of jolly socializing in the stands and rooting for each other's children. Generally, the mood starts out with an abundance of mutually supportive jocularity (to borrow a word from Father Mulcahy on M*A*S*H), but eventually everyone's tired and getting a mite irritated. The things that always seem to go "awry" (at least, for me!) and compound over the course of the events generally include:

a) I catch or arrive with a cold--usually compounded by inadequate clothing for outdoors (refer to item d below) and insufficient sleep in a hotel room with my competitive swimmer offspring (of which I now have three);

b) Huffing chlorine (the pools areas are amply ventilated, but still!) for hours on end;

c) Bleacher seats as hard as rocks--or camp chairs that mold themselves to your body. Not bad for an hour or so, but grossly uncomfortable after you've perched there for most of a day over the course of two;

d) Warm humidity sufficient to keep Kermit the Frog and all those wet swimmers comfortable (which means I often wear sandals or sneakers and shorts for these events, even when it's roughly freezing outdoors--hence contributing further to item a!);

e) Frayed nerves by the end of the event and people's eagerness to just go home to shower, relax, catch a chlorine-free breath (usually involves a drive of at least an hour).

One of my fellow swim parents and I discussed our visions of Hell some years ago. She said she had a recurring nightmare that she'd find herself cheering her son on in an interminable race like the 400 IM or 500 freestyle and his time would be measured not in minutes, seconds, or tenths of seconds, but in years! Not my vision, by any means, but I could ask the Almighty to spare me the humidity. After all, as a native Yankee, I'd prefer to ADD clothing as needed versus having nothing left to remove when it's so sticky outside you look like you just finished the Boston Marathon after getting the mail. Or, as was said in a film I've long since forgotten the title of, "I don't mind when it's hot, but I hate when it's sticky!"

Cover Letter to the Universe (and anyone else interested!)

2006-02-21T06:09:00.000-05:00

(reposted here from my Yahoo!360 blog - initially drafted in utter frustration on 10/15/05)

Dear Sir or Madam:

I am applying for your advertised position seeking a literate American to do your bidding and repair your punctuation errors. Look no further, for I am she for whom you seek. I am a true nit-picker in the fullest sense of the word as applied to the written word, and I vow to be as liberal with a blue pencil as my freshman Composition professor was with his "bleeding" red pen at Western Connecticut State University. In fact, Lynne Truss, the British authoress of the amusing grammar epic Eats, Shoots and Leaves is my heroine and I aspire to follow in her noble footprints. I hold a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English; my area of concentration, despite my fondness for all things medieval including literature was, not surprisingly, writing. My hobbies to this day include editing my local newspaper, which sadly appears to be copyedited by baboons fluent only in "Southern Drawl" rather than English--and this is before my first caffeine of the morning, so imagine my editorial proficiency at the day's zenith!

I also have nearly 15 years' experience working with the hard-luck cases of society who so often end up on the doorstep of local government seeking handouts. Since 1993 I have worked with my current employer in one capacity or another to serve the downtrodden. Nine of those years have been spent toiling in the foster care program as foster home licensing worker, caseworker, or service coordinator. However I may have been titled officially, the children sensed that "Mom" was the proper word, as I have a natural affinity for youngsters (being the mother of four myself). The biggest issue driving me out of my current field of endeavor is the adults (some parents, some not) whose sole mission seems to have been to prepare me for a reserved room at the asylum. Spare me the executive suite at our esteemed state institution and hire me to write and edit for publication PLEASE! At least words don't argue when I tell them they're unsuitable!

Gratefully yours,

2006-02-20T19:25:00.000-05:00

Twinkle, Twinkle Little...Shoes?

(re-posted from my Xanga page, original post date 12/26/05)

I remember my children wanting sneakers that flashed lights each time they took a step. Today, however, I read about a new twist on the phenomenon that only an inattentive parent wouldn't prevent: wearing them while serving in a very visible capacity during religious services. Imagine you have a child who somehow gets by you in the rush of being on time for the liturgy at the religious institution of your choice while wearing footwear that might've been helpful in the '65 NYC blackout. They get themselves into position at the church, mosque, or Temple, lights gaily flashing with every step as they blow the Shofar, pass communion elements to the priest, or in the course of lighting/extinguishing/processing while carrying candles. As an altar guild member at my church, I empathize with the "blue haired ladies" about things needing to be reverent & proper when one accepts such visible roles in worship services. But I'm also a parent and realize kids will be kids, so these things occasionally happen.

The most amusing treatment I've seen of this topic comes from an Orthodox Christian website called The Onion Dome.com: "...While we have always encouraged our acolytes to wear black or brown shoes when serving in the altar, we have never wanted to set any hard-and-fast rules about footwear. Based on our experience this past week, we would like to ask the parents’ help in enforcing the following footwear guidelines: Birkenstocks are acceptable, with or without socks. Bare feet and flip-flops are not. Athletic shoes with soles that light up when the wearer puts his weight on them are distracting in the candle-lit atmosphere of our evening services. Please do not send your sons into the altar wearing this type of shoe." (Credit to The Onion Dome.com's Marie Moffitt.)

Several Christmas seasons ago, we had a few youngsters attend rehearsal for their parts as "stars" (they held them aloft while singing a song about a star) wearing the offending shoes, prompting quite a few jokes about what might occur IF (heaven forbid!) they should be worn for the actual pageant. Could they get their shoes to twinkle in time to the music? One father suggested an odd take on a liturgical dance to let the kids' feet help illustrate the point, which left about a dozen moms (myself included) in fits of the giggles.

It's a festive time honoring the Light of God. If the kids can't honor that in their own way, how can we expect them to grow in their faith?

The Weekend Cometh (at last!)

2006-02-17T18:05:00.000-05:00

I'm trying very hard to enjoy taking a breather and planning to get back into the morning workout routine hubby and I started back in October (and dropped in December!) next week. I need to work out. I deserve it, nobody's going to deprive me of it, and I manage work-related stress a ton better when I'm allowed my hour or so of sweating every day. I've decided my first duties are to me and my own, and to hell with those who are merely my clientele at work. They do not rate, though they will get my best efforts on their behalf--and I do better if I'm in shape!

My professional aspirations include finding a job that hones my craft (writing, naturally!) more than what I'm doing now--and pays me more than I'm making now, and gives me a more predictable schedule than what I'm doing now offers! Not that I want to sit and watch the same four walls 40 hours every week, but to know fairly predictably what I'll be doing daily would be nice.

It's a nice night for a Nor'easter

2006-02-11T19:37:00.000-05:00

...but I'm glad I'm not going to be in it! It's quite windy here tonight after a rainy day in which I had to collect Girl Scout cookies for two children who each sold more than 70 boxes. I have yet to sort the cookies into deliverable orders; I'm too pooped for that right now. I need to check in on my youngest, who may spend the night with the daughter of her Brownie leader. My younger son is out with his girlfriend, my husband is out in the damp, windy woods with his Boy Scout troop, so I have my 18 year old and my 10 year old, who has a friend sleeping over. The house is warm and toasty, and bed is starting to beckon, as I've been up since about 5:30 a.m.

Hope all you lovely folks in Virginia and points north don't get buried in the white stuff!

Cold? Here's one suggestion on how to thaw!

2006-02-09T22:51:00.000-05:00

Tonight is one of those rare occasions when our nights here feel like early winter evenings up north. Fortunately, unlike most of our neighbors, we have a wood stove to fall back on so we don't have excessive electric bills between November and April. And my girls are learning it's a good idea to bake things on Saturdays when it's this cold outside to help warm up the house! This Saturday, however, may not be one of them. Girl Scout cookies are to be delivered on Saturday, so I'll probably spend a good bit of the day sorting those for delivery to the folks who ordered them. If all goes well, I may spend Saturday evening making and decorating a six-layer Red Velvet cake in honor of our wedding anniversary this coming Tuesday.

I need to lose myself in happy domesticity this weekend to counteract my work week. It's been busy between a couple of court dates, several home visits, a meeting with a therapist, and accompanying a youngster to a medical checkup and forensic interview. Make no mistake, child protection is a very trying business to be in, and the least appreciated of any job on earth. Plumbers, septic tank servicers, dustmen (the British term for garbage collectors), and anyone else requiring people with either very strong stomachs or no sense of smell get more respect (to borrow from Rodney Dangerfield) than my colleagues and I. I also plan to take a personal day to observe the anniversary without interruption from, well, folks whose concept of family ties is nothing like my experience of "normal."

Welcome

2006-02-08T21:38:00.000-05:00

Everyone needs somewhere to go so they can think uninterrupted. Winnie the Pooh had his "thoughtful spot" in the Hundred Acre Wood. Great gurus have their mountaintop aeries. Even Jesus would escape the multitudes and find isolated places to pray and fast, like many an ascetic hermit for centuries after him. And so it was with me. During my youth in a particularly rocky, hilly area of the northeastern United States, I had access to numerous isolated spots in the woods near our home which were mostly still owned by my paternal family. Some were atop of granite massifs nobody over the age of 25 would've dared climb. Others were in En Geddi-like green places where babbling brooks supported growths of white pine, white birch, or white oak (I sense a theme there...).

Now, however, I live more than 700 miles from that place. The land is no longer owned by family (and the miniscule plot that's left is expected to be sold by the end of the year). Thanks to the magic of marriage to a military officer (long since a veteran high school teacher), I live in a community I wouldn't have given you a penny slug for the first time I visited and which has, over the ensuing decade plus, grown on me as I've become active in it as citizen, parent, public servant, and frustrated activist. (Those last two allude to my day job: I work for the most misunderstood state agency, coordinating treatment for emotionally disturbed foster children.) So my version of Pooh's Thoughtful Spot is no longer readily accessible. But this, with its lovely greens and grays, reminds me sufficiently of living water coursing over granite and the sylvan glades the water feeds for me to imagine myself at, say, Kent Falls or Squantz Pond.

C'mon in and let me help you consider things anew! :)