We'll do anything to get out of work

Gees, there were only 3 of us that actually wore costumes to the office Halloween luncheon this year--bummer. Well, you can see who the fun people are at work, can't you? Angela is Little Hot Red Riding Hood (I added the "hot" part), Irene is a nun (hilarious!) and me (boring grab-something-out-of-the-closet-to-be-a-sport) as the graduate.

I came into work early on Friday, looked around the corner at Cube 2 and saw this--Irene dressed as a freaking NUN! Gees, that girl is hilarious. She even had the white gloves, bible, and tub-o-wafers to munch on. She was passing out the wafers as communion while we were waiting for our lunch to arrive. Yes, they were flavorless, but when you are starving it is amazing what you'll eat to survive. I'm not sure who came up with the term Jeez-its (instead of Cheeze-its), but we had a good I'm-going-to-hell chuckle over that one.
There she is, Sister Mary Irene in her full glory. You know, there are just some people who make things fun and Irene is one of them. Pair her up with me and Jim in the back office and work is a downright joyful place to be.

Hey, Happy Halloween, pallies. May you have not many trick-or-treaters to answer the door for and tons of candy left over. And may Sister Mary Irene remember you in her prayers.

2009 Marching Astros - "Carmen"

Hee! Haw! I found this on youtube last night. Okay, so there was ONE performance of the Marching Astros that didn't entail freezing temperatures and/or blustery rains. I hope you stick it out to watch the full show--I know, 10 minutes is a lot to give, but true marching fans will stick it out.

The music was fun this year. "Carmen" just reminds me of the original Bad News Bears movie.

Hey, Happy Weekend, pallies. Live good and breathe deep. I'm gonna be indoors and toasty--away from cold bleachers, freezing rain, and damp grass. Me and Hobbes can be found under a warm blankie next to the fireplace.

I Love Hobbes Thursday--The Worm Hunter

Gees, if it rains anymore......!

I caught Hobbes poking a worm this morning--like he was saving us from eminent doom. He sniffed it, poked it, stood back and then licked it. I guess he decided it wasn't something he was gonna eat, but he sure thought about it for a minute.

I'm tired of the endlessly gloomy and rainy days we've been having for the past month or two and apparently Hobbes is too. When you start looking to worms for entertainment, you know you are desperate.

Oh, on another note, Happy National Cat Day! Your Daily Cute informed me that there actually is a day to honor the fuzzy ones in your life. I'm gonna give Hobbes an extra smoochie for the holiday. I'm sure he's gonna love that.

I'm a Buzzkill

Okay, I'm a big meanie. I'm not making any friends these days as I won't allow my 14 year old daughter go trick-or-treating with her friends. Is it me or is that just a little too old? And what age is the cut-off that this is no longer cute for your kids to do?

Oh, I love the little ones with their costumes knocking on my door, too shy to say those magic words, but not shy enough that they don't hold out their little plastic pumpkin for some candy. I love to watch them trying to walk in their princess garb while the boys all try to be something tough like "Scream" or ninjas. I crack up at the moms and dads who walk slowly on the sidewalk, trying to give them some independence, but still keeping them safe by escorting them. I love the parents who dress their babies and walk them in strollers, excited to include their little ones with the "big" kids. It brings back many memories of my two in their hand-made costumes, hiking until their feet hurt or we were too cold to continue.

So, back to my grumpy teens. Col has a party to go to, so I was all up for helping him find a costume for that. I think a Halloween party is more than appropriate and tons of fun at his age, it's just the door-to-door trick-or-treating for kids older than 12 that bother me. Most don't even bother to dress up anymore and I think they sort of scare the little ones away. My rule is that if you are too old to dress or to say "Trick or Treat", then you are too old to be out mooching candy. Even if you are dressed like a bunch of grapes or something, just the mere fact that you are taller than most adults is just a point that should make you reconsider.

While I'm a big buzzkill for my daughter and her friends, I do have to say that I did offer to have her friends here for a small party if she wanted. Yes, I'd order pizzas and scary movies. Yes, there could be boys. And yes, I'd be home too. But no, there is no taller-than-me kids going out trick-or-treating and running the streets in the dark. I just think that the cops frown upon such groups and I think folks don't appreciate those loud knocks on their door only to meet a gang of "kids" holding pillow cases for their booty.

Gees, am I getting old or what? Don't kids get "too cool" for this sort of thing anymore? And when did I turn into the world's biggest party pooper?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year in my Laundry Room

The thrice weekly trip to the Walmart is a given around here. It seems the minute you get back from making one trip, somebody comes up with something else they needed and forgot to add to the list. Ugh. So, we just have a running list on the fridge for a Walmart run.

My one and only request this week was for refills for our plug-in air fresheners--one by the fish tank in the laundry room and the other for the kitchen. Those bad boys were pretty well dried up by the time that I realized that we needed some new ones, so I guess I was wasting electricity on some shriveled up, no-smell empty jar stuck into the socket. Okay, so I'm killing the Earth while the rest of you are saving it. Whatever.

I didn't even think about the darn refills until I notice the smell of pine trees coming from near the fish tank. Fish smell like lots of things, but never Christmas trees and so, I was a little confused. And then I smelled the same piney, who-cut-down-their-own-tree kinda smell in the kitchen. That's when it dawned on me.

"Joe? Uh, what kind of refills did you get for the plug-in thingies?"

"Holiday Warmth and Winter Evening. "he replies proudly. "And I saved a dollar" he adds.

"What???!"

"Yeah, the Walmart only had the 2 pack of refills in those flavors. But I saved a dollar" he says again. "They had our usual ones, but only in single packs. If I bought the stinky ones, they were cheaper. Saved a whole buck!"

So, yes, my house now smells like it's December 23rd, complete with the fresh cut balsam in the kitchen and laundry room. It's driving me nuts.

Don't get me wrong, I love that piney smell. I love the fresh boughs of Christmas trees and garland around the holidays--it's just that it is only October and my house should not smell like I should be wrapping presents and writing Christmas cards just yet. Honestly, the smell is giving me an ulcer--panicking that I haven't bought the mailman his gift card or got the kids stocking stuffers. There is that lingering feeling of not having enough time for all that needs to be done around the holidays, and I haven't realized until this week how much of that panic is triggered by the smell of Christmas trees. And yes, I have two rooms that reek of Christmas hysteria.

I'm torn between smelling that stinky fish tank or smelling the stressful holidays, and I think the fish are gonna win. At least they are easily ignored. I'm not ready to shovel snow or string popcorn and cranberries for the garland in October--it's just too early.

But then again, Joe saved a whole buck. Ugh.

What??! Monday already??!

Phew! What a weekend! You know it's been a crazy one when you are going to work to relax--geesh.

Friday night brought us yet another cold rainy football game, and yes, the band was playing too. It was Senior Night, which is when they announce each senior football player, cheerleader, band member, and dance team member. The parents walk their student on the field and get their picture taken. Gees, I was SAD! It seems like I'm going through Col's Senior year just fine, but then somebody's always got to remind me that this is the last time he's gonna do this or gonna do that. Sigh. Seems like yesterday it was all of his "firsts".

Friday night, after the game, also brought us to a local watering hole with about 20 other band parents to celebrate the season. Has anyone but me noticed that we do a lot of celebrating the season lately?? Yeah, but they are a great group and I laugh heartily with this bunch. We were boozin' and laughing it up for a few hours until broke up with lots of hugs and promises to do it again soon. I hope we stick to that promise--these are some fun folks.

Saturday night and Sunday morning found us in Mattoon meeting up with a true pally, Jo, who took some fab photos of the Kautz Family Singers. Oh gees, there are some GREAT shots, Jo is a fab photographer! We all had so much fun and Jo is incredible to work with--we all laughed and joked while she snapped away--it was just so easy and didn't feel "posed". She's posted photos here and here, so if you are up for some wackiness.

I was warm from our session together all day--I am just so blessed to have met the most incredible people through this blog and theirs. I encourage everyone to meet up with the pallies if possible and to sample what talents and products they offer on their site or etsy shop. My life has honestly been changed by my blog pallies and the blessings too numerous to count. It was worth the 3 hour drive to Jo's for these photos--she is a sweetheart of a gal and extremely talented in her skills as a photographer.

Okay, so I'm off to catch up what's going on over by your place. It's been some time since I've really sat down to just enjoy reading the blogs. I'm making that a priority this week, as I've realized how truly lucky I am to know each of you.

Fall!

Ooooh, has anyone else noticed the lovely colors this past week? Okay, I know not everyone gets the same weather we do here in the midwest, but I'll tell you, what we have paid for in cold and rain these past few weeks, we have earned in the brilliance of fall colors. Geesh, they are beautiful this week. Weirdville is in bloom and it is eye candy at every turn.

I'm hoping for some weather other than gloom and rain in order to take some photos of the 'hood. If not, imagine fiery red bushes and orange trees. Yellow and burnt reds are abundant and the ground is carpeted in those leaves who's brilliance has left them. The sweet smell of wet leaves is stifling and every so often you can catch a whiff of some illegal burning in the air.

Okay, so sunny Florida and Malaysia have us 50 weeks out of the year--but we've got some loveliness going on here for the other 2.

Livin' La Vida Hobos

My favorite scene from "Forest Gump" is when Forest hits a rough spot in the road of life and does what most of us would like to do--he starts running. And he doesn't stop--for years. He runs to one end of the country and then turns around and runs to the other end. And while he's running from whatever, life is going on and dude is getting scruffier.

Who hasn't felt like doing that at least once or twice in their life? Run away from it all, I mean--not the physical running part. I don't like to run anywhere, not even the mailbox anymore, so I doubt I'd make it to either coast. I just want to run away from everyone and everything that is my life at that moment.

I'm not sure running is quite the answer when things get hairy, but I sure am tempted when things at home or in my life get a little jumbled and hard to deal with. It's a dream of mine to just pack a duffle bag with a few things and head two blocks over where we have one of those Bus-to-the-Airport terminals. Escape would be quick, easy, and painless--I could even come up with a new name for myself in the two-block walk that it takes to get me to that bus.

When my dear pally, Petula, was going through a rough patch earlier this year, I told her of my plan and offered to take her with me. "We're gonna live like hobos," I tell her, "living off the land, traveling free and far." Needless to say, the lure of the road, beans out of a can, and one of those sticks with the kerchief on the end was a little more than enticing. "I'm IN!" was the reply. And so our dream of escaping has begun.

So, although we haven't quite packed the kerchief just yet, we have it stuck in our back pockets, waiting for just the right moment when we snap and cannot take one minute more of the lives we live. And somehow it makes it all a bit easier to bear knowing that we can ditch those family members who endlessly want from us, run away from the broken washing machine that refuses to drain, escape the mound of paperwork and chores that never seem to end. And when the pocket contains nothing more than lint, we can ride the rails and live like hobos--camping out under the stars, eating at the Dumpster Diner, and commiserating our lives with the likes of Trainwreck Willy or Choo Choo Charlie.

Okay, so don't go bummin' me out with warnings like "they're called homeless people now" or "you could get raped and killed" or "your family will find you" or even "you can get worms from eating out of a can"--that's just bursting the bubble. It's a dream, pallies, a dream. And when things are going horribly awry in my life, which they do sometimes, I have my pally, Petula, and my stick with the kerchief in my heart knowing that I have options--there is an escape hatch. It's a comforting feeling.

Happy weekend, pallies. May your time be spent off the clock, away from electronics, and doing the important things like examining the back of your eyelids or contemplating your navel. Remember to breathe deep and pack your own imaginary kerchief. Peace in your mind is vital for your survival.

And while you are at it, work on your hobo name.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

Yeah, Hobbes met the new neighbor too. I don't know why the rest of the world doesn't think he is as funny as we do.

Somebody's Gotta Wear the Pants

Amongst the cold weather joys, a nightly load of jeans in the washer is my life. Gone are the days when it took a days to fill the washing machine, now it takes the four of us undressing at the end of the day to fill the beast to the brim with denim dirtiness.

So, as I do my evening ritual, asking "Who's got darks?", and scooting the rolling hamper through to the laundry room, it never fails that Joe ends up being the hold up. While he's busy making lunches and catching up on sports scores, he ends up stripping right there in the kitchen amongst brown paper lunch bags and apple slices. And it isn't pretty.

The other night, I came around the corner to find him making lunches, standing in a sweatshirt, white socks, warm wooly slippers........ and his underpants. Nice look. After I got over my initial disgust, I nearly peed my pants laughing at the old guy standing in his undies in my kitchen like this was normal attire for lunch making.

I do what any other normal wife would do--I call the kids in to have a good chuckle with me. Col takes a look, shakes his head, and returns to his room. Em, well, she and I nearly died laughing at the sight. And there stood Joe, oblivious that anything could possibly be wrong with the scenario. He doesn't get it.

Switching gears--After literally months of cardboard being stacked up against my fence by my new neighbor, I finally blew last night. Okay, so I've been threatening for months to confront the dude, but I honestly didn't want to even meet the new guy, more or less start off on a bad foot by asking him not to trash my fence. It was either Joe went over and asked him nicely to not stack garbage against the fence or I was taking it down (the fence, I mean) , one board at a time.

I was out in the yard last evening with Stripey Goodness when my new neighbor comes home. Perfect opportunity!!

You'd be proud of me. Heck, I was proud of me.

I yelled a "yoo hoo" over the fence with the Gladys Kravitz wave and caught his attention. I introduced myself and apologized profusely for a certain orange somebody who is a tad obsessed with his yard and the mice in his garage. And then I smoothly, mentioned that we'd be staining the fence soon (lie) and asked if he would like us to stain the side that faced him too. I asked if he would mind if we went on his side of the fence to stain and by chance, uh, would he, uh, please move the stuff so we could reach the fence. Smooth, eh??

So, it went well I think. He seemed nice enough and agreed that he would let us stain on his side, and yes, he was going to get rid of the garbage by burning it in his fire pit soon. SCORE! And I don't think I even made him mad! Mark this as a first for me.

It's a win-win, I tell you. Dude thinks I'm semi-nice and I'm happy to have gently asked if can we stain the fence on his property AND to move his garbage off the fence. Who could ask for anything more.

And Joe didn't have to even put his pants on to go over and meet the new neighbor!

Long Lost Friends Week with Lin

Did I miss something? Was there a bat-signal in the sky that read "Call your pally, Lin"? These past few weeks have brought the strangest phone calls--calls from friends that I haven't seen or heard from in a long time. I'm not sure why the sudden influx of attention, but it's nice, and I'm not knocking it.

Life is busy and there isn't much time to call friends like I used to. Now that the kids are more involved, it seems that so are we. Friends from old baseball teams, quilting guilds, exercise class, or just dear pallies that we don't have as much time for, were apparently all thinking of me at once and the phone starting ringing.

Why is it that time and schedules don't allow for everyone and everything fun like it used to? Why do we keep ourselves so busy with work and everyday have-to's that our friendships get put on the back burner, sometimes forever? There are so many people that I would love to see, get together with, or perhaps just talk to, that I just don't make the time for. I feel bad about it, and downright guilty about some, but I don't have a single minute to spare for myself, more or less others right now. Call me in 3 years when my kids are both off at school--I'll have loads of time that will need to be filled.

I wonder what stars aligned these past few weeks that made everyone think of me? Was there a special episode in The Biggest Loser or something? Was there a Hallmark holiday regarding long lost friends that you haven't contacted in eons this week? It wasn't even my birthday or anything--everyone just remembered Lin at the same time. Isn't that strange?

It was a good feeling to see and hear from the old pallies. It made me realize that years go by without my seeing some really good people from my life. It also made me realize that I need to work a bit harder at keeping these friendships. I guess my life seems so full with the band, work, and the blog pallies, that my previous friendships take a back seat. Yes, that is good to constantly make new contacts and friends, but it is also important to keep up with the past.

I forgot how many good friends I actually had--it was a nice reminder.

Yes, it's over. Call it a day.....

Saturday marked the last Marching Band competition of the season at the University of Illinois. Yes, it was cold and we toughed it out, even when the frozen rain (hail? sleet?) pounded our tailgate party in the parking lot. Yes, I still have my fingers and toes, although this marching season has seriously tested my winter survival skills.

It was an odd year for competing--there weren't many bands in our category in a couple of contests and we were blown away by bands that were literally twice the size of ours at the U of I contest. They categorize by size of your school and not by the size of your band, which seems odd to me. So, although we won some major awards this season, it wasn't the gratifying season of the recent past where we kicked a lot of band butts.

Highlights of the season were:

1. Grand Champions of Western Illinois University, Large band division
2. First Place in all categories at the Wheeling contest
3. First Place Colorguard in the Parade division at U of I
4. First Place Drum Major (Ted!) in the Field Show division at U of I
5. Best Drum Major Overall (Ted!) at Wheeling
6. Meeting up at U of I with Diana, fellow blogger and custom blog designer of the Duck and Wheel
7. Hanging out with the Band Parents--volunteer organization extraordinaire
8. Watching both of my kids perform in the same band
   
9. Having to not drag any grumpy kids with us to contests and football games--priceless
10. Learning that Hand Warmers stuck to your butt really do keep you warm

It was a great season after all. Marching band has been by far the best thing my children have ever been a part of. We are very lucky to have an incredible band director, Mr. P, and a staff of personnel to make this a rewarding experience for everyone. I have been truly blessed by the friendship and laughter of the parents who join us in this endeavor--I can't imagine band without this wacky bunch.

As for the Marching Band Bloggers--I am amazed at how many of you came forward to share your love of Marching Band with me. It seems that every time I write about my band fun, there is another blogger who pops in to share their experiences. This morning, I found my link on Mystery Man's blog, writing about his marching contest on the weekend and Ann is a new pally who joins in with her comment about her band connection. A. Marie was supposed to meet up with us and Jo's son was there at U of I somewhere in the crowd. Diana was a hoot to hook up with in the chilly stands Saturday, and everyone cracked up when I told them we were blog buddies. We are a tight bunch, aren't we?? Funny how so many of us have marching connections as well.

So, life is gonna be sadly boring now with marching season over. I will spend the rest of the year humming "Carmen" in my head and sneaking a peek at the videos of the performance every so often to re-live the fun of the season.

But I will also be warm and bleacher free.

Recovery Mode

I'm off recovering from a hectic, rainy, and freezing cold marching season. Give me a day to regroup, okay?

And while we're reminiscing.....

Nothing like getting up close and snuggling with those you love. Baby Hobbes was quite the snuggler right from the start. Yeah, this was cute until you realized that he did this every two hours ALL night long. Now the more mature Hobbes does this only when I first wake up each morning--just add 45 pounds.

We're off to the University of Illinois for our last and greatest competition of the season. We're lucky, it's supposed to be 50 degrees this week--heck, I might only wear 3 layers of clothing this time. Wish us luck and warmth.

To all of you, I wish you a happy weekend. I'm hoping A. Marie's son is soon on his way to recovery from H1N1 and that by chance she might still be traveling to U of I with the band even if he can't go. I was so excited to see her and Diana at the big marching festival. It's good to meet up with the blog pallies every now and then to feel normal in what we do each day.

I wish you all quiet times and deep breathing. May you finish up all of your outside work, wave so-long to the annoying neighbors for now, put a log on the fire, and hunker down for the long winter ahead. Enjoy the season, pallies.

I used to be tall

I'm sitting dead center of "terrible teen" years and while I'm really having fun with my kids at this age, there are some drawbacks--serious drawbacks, like major eye-rolling, snide comments behind my back, bad attitudes, laziness, and general overall snottiness. There is hardly a day lately when I don't wonder who stole my sweet children and replaced them with these beastly teens. Just 6 months ago, Emma was actually nice to me. Sigh. Ah, the good 'ol days.

Veronica Lee's post today pushed me to the old photo albums to look for some memories. Seems time flies by and we don't even notice that the kids have suddenly grown taller than me. I was really good at filing the photos away in separate albums for everyone, so it's easy to stroll on memory lane with each child. Sigh. I don't know what I'm gonna do when I'm recording every moment of their lives anymore.

So, my little peek into what was brings me to the wackiness that was life all those years ago. As Casey is going through it now, I laugh when she posts her photos of Graham and Eliot--geesh, they remind me of my two at that age. The funny antics, the messes, the goofy faces, the drama, and the silliness that is raising your kids is sorely missed--and I tell her so often. One of these days, we are gonna mom swap and she's gonna come chill in Chicago with Hobbes while I sweat my hiney off squeezing those sweet little babies until they pop. Oh, I know I'm gonna tire of it quickly, so I'll give her a two week reprieve or something before those kids wear me out and I'm gonna have to return home to my crabby teens.

But just for today, I'll crack up at what was and know that someday they'll like me again. I miss hanging out in the jammies and singing along on the tape player. I miss those silly giggles and Barbies. I miss Hot Wheels and Raffi tunes. I even miss giving them baths at night and reading "Henry and Mudge" books with them in bed. And most of all, I miss nap time.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

Gives a new meaning to "flavored water", doesn't it?

Does Everyone Cry at the Fight Song?

As we are narrowing in on Col's college choice for next year, it seems fitting that we visited the alma mater this past weekend. Being around the 'ol stompin' grounds again brought back some great memories for both Joe and I. Like two sappy middle-agers, we walked the sidewalks and paths that we took over 20 years ago reminiscing about this person or that one, what we did and when, and how much fun it all was. Gees, those college years were great.

College choices now are a lot harder to make these days. You have such pressure to have a great GPA, high ACT score and class ranking. There are "personal statements" to write and applications to be filled out with all of your accomplishments of your very short life so far. We didn't have all of this back in the day--you pretty much picked a school and went there. No fuss, no muss. We didn't plan for college starting in kindergarten and our parents certainly didn't start saving for our schooling the minute we were born. We went to school and we figured out the finances. Today is very different.

Yes, community college is the smart way to go if you are the least bit wary of finances--I did it and survived. I transferred to WIU two years later and fit right in--it worked and my classes transferred. But there was always those two "missing" years of being away at college that I will always miss. It was incredible to be a part of a university and I get giddy when I talk of my time at Western.

As I stood there Saturday, misty-eyed at the sight and sound of the WIU Marching Leathernecks playing our fight song, I knew this is what I want for Colin. I want him to be a part of something grand--wherever that may be. I don't know how I'm going to fund 4 years at college, but I'm going to do my best to see that he goes.

Do I want him home with me? Yes. Do I want him to be safe here? Yes. Do I want to make sure he is studying and working hard at school? Yes. But I also want him to live too. I want him to make choices--good and bad and live with the consequences. I want him to meet some great and some not-so great people and know the difference. I want him to meet students from other cultures and be introduced to thinking that is outside his own. I want him to feel a part of a great institution, whichever that may be. I want him to become the person he was born to be--and to do it without my hovering.

Most of all, I want him to stand at his alma mater and grow melancholy at the mere sound of his old fight song.

Secondary Roads and Blue Highways

There is just something about escaping the city that I find comforting. All that wide open space, those flat cornfields of Illinois that spread out for miles, the gentle hills of contrasting crops that form the patchwork quilt of farm fields--it's all just so peaceful and serene. I could ride like that for hours, just looking out the windows at the farm houses, dilapidated barns, and bored cows until my eyes grow heavy and I feel the need to nap.

Joe and I waited for weeks for our WIU trip to come. We both love to travel those roads off the highway--the ones that take you up close to the farmers and their livestock. I love to see laundry drying on the line and chickens in the yard. And there is nothing more inviting to me than a roadside stand, chock full of fresh picked pumpkins and gourds just waiting for us to stop to ooh and ahh over. I love to peruse the crop, chat with the farmer, and breathe deep the country air. We don't have much of that in Chicago.

Last year on our trip out to WIU we nearly died from a horrific gnat attack at one of these roadside stands--and I still shudder when I think of that stop. But that doesn't stop me in watching for it when we were traveling that way on Friday. I wanted a pumpkin or two and buying it from a big bin at The Walmart just wasn't the ambiance I was looking for. I told Joe we were stopping there again whether he liked it or not, but so much for my stronghold--he was game too. I guess we both like pain.

We found our farm stand just past a clump of trees and got out in the pouring rain and mud. Yes, the neglected, burned out, old house still stood, but our old farmer friend was replaced by his much younger, hipper son. No barking dog was there to greet us this year, but the old farmer's worn tractor and rain-soaked pumpkin display awaited us still. No, the gnats weren't present to eat us alive, but yes, we did buy our honest-to-goodness, right-off-the-field pumpkins from the farmer himself.

There is just something to be said for talking to the farmer who grows your crops. The connection between man and the earth is sacred, the respect and love that he has for his work--admirable. The kind of passion that it takes to be a farmer, especially these days, is something to behold--I am jealous that I do not feel that for my work. How truly lucky they are to be able to continue doing what they love and know, while the rest of us fight traffic and paperwork trying to eek out a living we rarely enjoy.

So, as we pull away and we give our farmer friend a wave, I think how lucky he is. Sure, he's standing in the cold, rain, and mud--but he is standing amongst the fruits of his labors, and the gifts from the good green earth. He is able to see his hard work come to fruition and his family's heritage and land continue on. I like the secondary roads and blue highways--they are where life and peace truly begin.

I thought about that for a bit while I looked out the window a bit more. And then, exhausted from all that fresh air, I closed my eyes for a nap.

Which is worse--K2 or the WIU stadium?

I've finally thawed out from Saturday's Freeze Fest otherwise known as the Western Illinois University Marching Competition. Oh, they promised the rain would dispense on Friday and that Saturday would be sunny and cool with a high of 59 degrees, but they lied--it was cloudy with a high of a mere 39 degrees. That's a 20 degree lie--and when it's 20 degrees lower than they promised, that's a major problem in my book. Just ask my frozen solid appendages.

The winter-coat clad crowd looked none too pleased at the frigid conditions--everyone lugging blankets and winter apparel like we were off to cheer at an Iditarod check-point. Faces obscured by scarves and hats, the only way I could identify a fellow Astros band parent was by their obnoxious orange attire that is our school color. I'm not sure how our school colors stand out in those summer sports, but I'm telling you there aren't many folks sporting orange and brown in the cold weather sports outside of cross-bow hunting. We stood out needless to say in that sea of olive-drab wear that is warm winter coats.

Hand warmers, toe warmers and body warmers were the "hot" item amongst parents and we spend $50 + at the local Walmart buying boxes of the darned things to give to the kids to keep their hands from freezing. Yes, they do really work--even the one I applied to my butt kept my bottom warm for a bit. It is amazing what you do for entertainment when you are freezing to death. I don't even want to think about what Eskimos do to be funny.

It's a great group these parents, as laughs are never missing even in the worst of conditions. Maggie looking like a big orange Yeti climbing the stairs of the stadium had us all in stitches as she announced to the suddenly quiet crowd that she was "going to the bathroom". Wendy was still in shock from her chaperoning nightmare of a weekend and I think Willa was frozen solid. Mike got the truck stuck in 6 inches of mud and had to be towed out, and Ed BBQ'd endless hot dogs and hamburgers until the kids could move again. It was hard to believe that just last year we all had shorts on and couldn't get enough water or ice for the kids. Thank god for the laughs or I think we would have all cried.

Heading off to WIU for a weekend of marching competition, cooking out with the band parents, and re-visiting the haunts of my college years was incredibly fun and exhausting. We reclaimed our Grand Champion status which thrilled the kids, but the cold and rain sure put a damper on the whole thing. Sure, it is a thrill to win, but it is sort of a buzzkill hearing the crowd roar with a muffled glove clap barely loud enough to lamely assimilate applause.

By the time Joe and I drove home and grabbed the kids off the coach bus, it was 1:30 a.m. and we were all tired and hungry. The four of us sat eating sandwiches recapping the drama of the weekend while the cats ran around like fools--glad that we were finally home. It was a great trip--fun to get away from the everyday routine and just enjoy the wide open spaces of Western Illinois.

And I could once again feel my toes.

525, 600 Moments So Dear

Guess who's one today?! Yep, 47 pounds of stripey goodness, Hobbes. Wow! Where does the year go?

It's not really his birthday per se--he's a shelter kitty, so we don't celebrate his actual birth date, but the day that he came into our lives instead. It's a day that we all sort of share together, so it's extra special really. Who knew that the little guy poking my head through the bars on the cage would soon win over our hearts, as well as all of yours too, in that very short year? Sheesh, he's got some love factor going on there.

Hobbes came to us during a very difficult time of sadness after losing Henry. Folks said we shouldn't adopt quite so soon after losing Hen, but we were devastated by the loss and just couldn't cry anymore. We kept crying, of course, but Hobbes just made us laugh in between bouts. Love heals they say. Indeed it did.

So, here's the original posting of when we adopted him, go back and see mini-Hobbes--you know, when he was more like 2 pounds rather than 47. Awwwww. As the Irish proverb says "Such joy in a wee ball 'o fur". How very true.

Happy Birthday, Hobbes, you big orange ottoman. You are truly stripey goodness.

Marching Astros Plus Western Illinois University Equals FUN!

Who wants to be me??? Wait, before you all raise your eager hands (or not)........

We're off for a jaunt to Western Illinois University to reclaim our Grand Champion title that we won last year in the marching competition. Okay, so Joe and I are WIU alumni and we LOVE to go back and revisit our old college days, but it is going to be freezing. Literally. I think the day temps are in the 40's and night....well, I don't even want to think about how cold it is going to be. Ugh.

I have packed winter coats, gloves, sleeping bags (to put over us), snappy winter hats, bleacher seats, long underwear, turtlenecks, sweaters, and whatever else Eskimos wear to keep warm. It's crazy, the car is so jam packed we look like the Clampetts moving to California. We've even packed the screen house and our camping stove to fire up some warm coffee for the band parents. If there's room, I'm bringing my snow-block maker to whip up an igloo right there in Q Lot.

So, stay warm this weekend, pallies. Except for you, Veronica and Casey--I'm hoping there is a gentle breeze to cool you hot chickies off. Think of me when you are all warm and toasty in your homes and cuddled up with your loved ones by the fire. I'm gonna be busy breathing deep and hoping to make it out with all my fingers and toes.

Happy weekend, pallies.

The Fun Group

There are few people in this world that laugh at the same things I do. Okay, it takes very little to entertain me or make me laugh, I get that. Even Joe doesn't think I'm funny half the time, and the kids.....well, you know they don't think I'm funny at all. The only place I really get back-up is at work--my cube mate, Irene thinks I'm funny. Well, at least she pretends to. I like that about her.

Irene and I typically spend the day tossing a few cracks back and forth over the 6 foot cubicle wall. We laugh about weird Jesus emails that look like he's loving some dame (I mean really loving her like the cover of some Harlequin Romance novel), conspire to lock Samantha in the back room when she goes in there for supplies, and then proceed to institute things like Purple Tuesday and Chuck Taylor Fridays. Irene is always up for fun and I need this much encouragement to stir it up.

The room that we are in is sort of in the back and there are only 3 cubes currently occupied out of 5, so we are taking applications for residency. Okay, so there is also a strict interview process, but I don't think that is the reason nobody wants to sit with us. I think they don't get us, The Fun Group. Even Esra bailed on us for some swanky grand scale front office--"grand" only because it has an actual door and it lacks any obnoxious boo-hoo-ha-ha's during the day. Sigh. I think she secretly misses us and our wacky ways back in the cubes.

So, as in a typical day, Irene and I yucked it up a bit yesterday morning and then carried on with our very important jobs. Later in the day I reached into my purse for some lip gloss (must re-apply you know), I found them--two sample spray tubes of some hoity-toity perfume that I snagged from the Macy's cologne counter on the weekend.

"Hey, Irene!" I yell over the wall, "Guess what I've got?"

"Hmmm?" is the reply from Cube 2.

"I've got some snappy new cologne. You want one?" and I walk over by her.

"Sure!" she says and we two goofs start spraying our wrists with our new found excuse not to work.

"Mmmmmm. That's nice." she says, smelling her wrist.

"Mmmmm. I like that one." I say.

And then we stand there sniffing our wrists for a second or two.

"Uh, Irene? I think this is men's cologne" I'm sniffing more closely now.

"Yeah, I think you're right," she answers nonchalantly "but that's okay 'cuz I need a man in my life these days."

"Yeah, if you can't have one, you might as well smell like one." And we both lose it. "Are we not men, we are Devo" I say, but I think she's too young to get the reference. Either way, we think we are funny and continue laughing.

So, there we were standing there, sniffing our wrists over and over again, laughing and smelling like men when Eva walks in. Of course she asks what's so funny and suddenly realizes that we stink to high hell. She smells my wrist and comments on how nice it smells, but then quickly adds that it would be nicer on a man. She politely chuckles with us, shakes her head, and then high-tails it away from The Fun Group. Geesh, she didn't think we were funny I guess. And when I tell Joe and the family this story later, they don't think it's all that funny either.

I'm thinking those cubicles are gonna stay empty for awhile yet--if the humor doesn't turn off the applicants, the smell will. Sigh.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday with Grace

Living in the shadows of Hobbes is fine with Grace as she is content being unsociable. Routinely grumpy in nature, Grace would be fine with a morning chin scratch and a certain orange stripey somebody disappearing forever.

Grace is the epitome of a curmudgeon, loudly meowing to protest any hand that comes in her direction for a gentle pat on the head or touching of the fur. When she became like this, I don't know--she was adorable at the shelter when we picked her out as a kitten. That was the last time she was sweet and it has been 12 years of her reign as the "no pet" grumpy old woman. Sigh.

This is my Grumpy Grace, as I call her. And sometimes, if I'm lucky, she will allow me to love her.

Random Tuesday with Yugi

Random thoughts on a crazy Tuesday:

1. This is Hobbes' and my next door neighbor, Yugi. Much cuter and quieter than his counterpart, Yip Yap the Non-Stop Barking Dog, I happen to like Yugi. Okay, so he's got a googly-eyed wacky look on his face, it still makes me laugh when I see him.
2. Fitting the band kids with tuxedos for concert season WHILE the band plays next to us makes my head explode.
3. I'm pretty bummed that I had to buy winter coats for both kids for our weekend band contest. And no, they weren't on sale yet. Ugh.
   
4. I think summer has officially left the building. And it stole my wallet on the way out.
   
5. Hobbes refuses to drink water anywhere but out of the tub where I have the fish for the winter. I wonder if the water tastes like fish?
6. I'm thinking of starting an exercise program. I used to swim in high school on the team and I actually thought about swimming again, except that you have to get wet. That's the part I hate.
7. I don't like the rec center by my house--it is loaded with weird ass seniors who never change their exercise gear and wear K-Swiss gym shoes, which are really not gym shoes. I had one old guy who would get on the treadmill next to me and fart the whole time. I think I'm gonna have to re-think my new exercise program.
8. Gees, I'm really glad we are not getting the Olympics in Chicago--traffic is a white-knuckle bugger in the best of situations.
9. You know it is cold when you sit down and find a cat on your lap immediately.
   
10. I actually bought my first Christmas present the other day. Gasp!
11. And you know your life is crazy when you go to work to rest!
    

Homecoming???

This weekend was Homecoming--or rather more like Soakedcoming. It was cold and rainy the whole week, including for the Thursday night soccer game, Friday night football game, and quit just in time for the kids to leave for the dance. Whew!

Colin and Emma cleaned up well and headed off in two different directions forcing Joe and I to split up in order to take more photos than any one person needs. It's bittersweet to see them so grown up--they look great, but you know the days are numbered on these sorts of events. If only we could make time slow down just a bit for us parents to absorb it all.

Joe went with Em's group and I headed off with Colin. Colin's entourage was quite huge and the before-party rivaled any red carpet event--including click-happy paparazzi.

First there were the boy photos:


Then the girls:


Then everyone together:


And I couldn't resist snapping the snappers:


Light bulbs were popping and flashing non-stop as we all elbowed each other to get the "right" shot. Amazing the amount of glitter and love that was in that room--thank god, Steve and Wendy have such a large home to accommodate it all. How nice was it that all of those parents were there to share in the excitement?

After the kids left, we hung out and ate the rest of the food, sipped a few cocktails, and laughed until our sides hurt. These are the band parents that have become good friends in the past few years--amazing how something so simple as band could connect us all so deeply. I wondered if any other activity or sport at the school creates such a camaraderie amongst it's members or supporters. I don't think so.

As the evening wore on and we had laughed ourselves silly, I started to realize that these times are a treasure, that there are only so many band years ahead, and gees, they are going fast. One by one, we all started counting the years we have left with this group, sadly realizing that not only are the kids growing up, but also that our lives will sadly be dramatically different when they leave. It is bittersweet watching not only the kids having the time of their lives, but the parents as well.

Remembering Henry

".....a family cat is not replaceable like a worn-out coat or a set of tires. Each new kitten becomes his own cat, and none is repeated. I am four cats old, measuring out my life in friends that have succeeded, but not replaced one another"
----Irving Townsend

Henry passed one year ago today, and it was with his death that Hobbes came into our lives. Without Henry, there would be no Hobbes.

I am grateful for the short time we had together, my Sweet Prince.

When You Least Expect It

I planted this hydrangea next to the house, oh, about 10 years ago. It has never bloomed, ever, in those 10 years and it frustrated me so.

The conditions for this plant were supposedly ideal--sunny and hot part of the day, shade for another, moist soil, and lots of mulch. I clipped it's dried stalks each spring, making sure I wasn't clipping new growth that somehow might offer me a bloom. Year after year, it was the same--nothing. There was green leafy loveliness, but never a colorful mop-head to make me stop dead in my tracks for admiration.

Last week, as I walked around the side of the house, I was met by this beauty. I ran to get the camera and stood there oohing and ahhing over the one lovely bloom that this plant has offered. Why it chose this year, this month, this week to surprise me, I will never know. It just did and I fussed all over that silly plant--it was like pennies from heaven.

So, it got me thinking. There are so many times in life that we must wait for the plant to blossom, the tadpole to turn, the child to shine--and the hows and whys of when they come to fruition is completely left out of our hands. We tend to those under our care, prodding them along in their journey, wishing secretly we could do for them what they must do themselves. Things like watering, clipping, mulching, and urging new growth is just sustaining and nourishing the being--but the true blossoming is completely left within the host to decide for themselves.

There was nothing I could do to get this silly hydrangea to bloom. Why I didn't dig it up and move it is so out of character for me--why didn't I try to push this plant to do more, to succeed, to bloom faster or ditch it altogether? I don't know. I do know that I tended this plant, but I finally left it to its own accord and it came through in pink loveliness. And at the end of summer of all times.

I guess it's like my paddling theory--sometimes its best to just float on the river and not paddle. Perhaps some things do best with their own time and currents, like the river. The hydrangea and I laid back, eyes closed, warm sunshine on our faces, and waited for what was to come--and somehow it worked. I waited while it readied itself, and in the end, I was rewarded for my patience. Some things just take a bit longer to reach fruition, frustrating as that may be.

I wanted to clip this flower and dry it to remind me of the beauty of patience, but I thought it cruel on some level. I left it there for the plant to show it off. It wasn't mine to decide.

Happy weekend, pallies. May you find peace and patience in your life and those around you. Turn the computer off, go outside and watch the earth change--even if you are in sunny Malaysia or Florida. There are changes everywhere, we just have to still ourselves to notice. Breathe deep and wait patiently for the blossoms of your life.

Yes, Helene, There Are Orange Frogs

I said right from the start that if anyone would be likely to fall in the pond, it's gonna be Hobbes. He drinks from the pond, he paws at the frogs in the water, and he navigates around those flagstone like he's Jack B. Nimble. This past spring, he would walk across the waterfall like an Acapulco cliff diver. All of this adds up to one very confident kitten that would tempt his fate.

Sure enough, Sunday brought Hobbes into the watery world of fish and frogs--he fell in.

None of us saw it happen unfortunately, because you know I would have taken photos, but we sure had a good chuckle at his expense. Colin came running through the family room yelling "Hobbes fell in!" and we all went to see the watery mess on the floor that was my cat. There was a trail of water from the pond, all the way past the patio, through the kitty door, and into the family room. And there sat one very wet kitty cleaning himself with a flurried tongue.

I went to survey the pond, and I found the water plant on its side, dumped onto the shelf in the water. Apparently somebody was poking at the frogs who sit in that plant and he fell onto the shelf that is only about a foot deep.. I can imagine he jumped out pretty quick as his back was dry, but 2/3 of his body was soaking. I'm thankful that we dug the shelf so that he could get out safely, and he was safe--wet and embarrassed a bit, but safe.

So, I guess he learned his lesson the hard way about the frogs and the pond--they are not to be messed with. And it takes a very long time to remove all that water from stripey orange fur.