The Harvest

Driving out in the country this weekend, we saw many farmers working hard to harvest their crops before the weather turns. From the very little that I understand from the farm report each morning on WGN, the cold and rainy October has really put the farmers behind schedule and they are scrambling to finish. So, what may be a holiday weekend of shopping and eating too much for most of us, it is the last minutes of a small window of harvesting opportunity that is quickly closing for the farmers who hope to maximize their yield.

We spent the weekend with family--well, our adopted family. Weary of trying to explain how we've come to know and love the Ostler's, we now just tell everyone that they are our cousins. They aren't really--but it just stops the glassy-eyed reactions when we start telling everyone how this group all met by vacationing at the same place a long time ago.

The Ostler's are all that is good in this world. They are beyond friends to us, and are simply a touchstone of what is real and kind on this green Earth. Spending time with them centers me and reminds me to breathe deep. They are honest, hard-working, and a very loving family. They love unconditionally and forgive eternally. If they don't, you wouldn't know it--they are just the kindest people I know.

To explain the Ostler's isn't easy. How do you explain a phone call from the working combine in the field, telling you to come on down so that you and your family can actually ride along as they finish up on their last day of harvesting? How do tell city folk that your friends actually slowed on their deadline day to explain the harvesting process and show you how a combine works? How do you even begin to explain your tale of riding in a combine, riding above the corn, slowly working through the endless lines of corn and gentle slopes of earth with Jerry at the helm? Most folks wouldn't get it, but we do--and we came home beaming.

Spending time with the Ostler's makes your heart warm and your face hurt from smiling. We spent the weekend belly laughing and just hanging out without having to say too much. Just being together--whether it is running like fools playing lazer tag or blobbing on the couch--is always an adventure. And an adventure of the heart--which is the best kind of adventure.

I start the week relaxed and centered thanks to the Ostler Family. Hanging out at Angie's for a couple of days made us all forget the chaos that awaits us with holiday shopping and getting everything ready for Christmas. It made us realize how lucky we are to call these people "friend" and slow down a bit to get back to what is real and true. It made us remember that kindness rules and that love yields the greatest harvest.

And did I mention that I rode in a combine??!

Big Time Entertainment at the Duck and Wheel

There are few things in this life that I laugh harder at than Puppet Bike. I love Puppet Bike so much that I hoot and holler when I see it--much to the chagrin of my family and Fain, who does not think Puppet Bike is funny at all. (I think that she does not get it or she is secretly jealous that there is no Puppet Bike in her town.)

Located in the vicinity of either State Street or Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, Puppet Bike is a rare, but hilarious treat. An on-the-spot puppet show that features antique Steiff puppets, Puppet Bike offers some funky tunes and some unique puppet dancing. They typically draw a good sized crowd and some mean tips. To catch a performance is hit or miss, as this is definitely a part-time thing for the puppeteers who pedal this bad boy around the mean streets of Chicago.

Check out Puppet Bike in action and then smile yourself into the weekend, pallies. I'm taking the weekend off from dropping, commenting, posting, or anything else computer oriented. I'm just plain fried. See ya on Monday!

Coffee and Jammies

Ugh. The day after a holiday and we are moving slow.

Nothing like sleeping in, hanging out in the jams, drinking coffee and eating some of my Aunt Laurie's homemade bread. This is almost better than the holiday itself. And NO, I'm not going anywhere near a store today. Not even thinking about it.

I always love Thanksgiving. I love how it's a holiday with no stress. I like that we dress casually and just hang out, enjoying each others company and laughing. It's a no frills, not a lot of work, kinda day. It just seems like everyone is relaxed on that day because the only true work is just cooking some great food--and oh, eating a ton of it. That 's some work too.

We had a nice day, spending it with my aunt, cousins, and mom. We also had a wicked $100,000 Pyramid tournament which provided some chuckles. I think the choosing of the teams was probably more hilarious than the actual game because that's just my family. Each of us is not lacking in the opinion department and we all feel the need to discuss who we don't want as a partner and why. Who cares if that person is sitting right next to you? If you suck at The Pyramid, we're gonna tell you just that.

The teams actually seemed pretty fair--according to each of us, we were all stuck with a "human handicap" and so the competition was actually balanced. My cousin Heather got my mom, I got Nate, her husband, my other cousin Kelly got her mom, and her boyfriend, Ivan, got Joe. It was a tad awkward having the two guys who never met together, so they were quickly named Team Gay--that was a nice ice breaker. And it wasn't too weird until Ivan looked seriously into Joe's eyes and asked if he wanted to "give" or "receive".

In the end, I let Nate down going into the final round--completely saying the words written on the screen and getting disqualified. Heather and my mom held their own against the Home Team of Laurie and Kelly, but were killed in the final round. These two live together, so of course we accused them of practicing on the side.

Team Gay made it to the finals, high-fiving all the way, and narrowly missing the win. In the end, the Home Team reigned, to much of our disappointment. Of course, we had to have a huge discussion on how they cheated to wrap up the event.

It was a restful day, just hanging out and laughing. No F-bombs were dropped--but it wasn't for the lack of trying to push some buttons. We all went home tired, full, and happy.

So, for now, we are rested and calm, while anticipating the craziness that is the next holiday. I'm weary of the term "Black Friday" already and feeling guilty that I have nothing done for Christmas. And I'm sitting here wondering why we do this to ourselves, ruining a perfectly good holiday with stress. Thanksgiving shows us it can be done otherwise, so why do we let the media bog us down? I think every holiday should be Thanksgiving.

I-love-Hobbes Thursday

It took me a few days to figure out which one of the two knuckleheads was responsible for the paw prints going up AND down my windshield. There were hundreds of pawprints--almost as if someone was tap dancing the 'ol soft shoe just to annoy me.

Perhaps it was the incline of the windshield that made it so much fun, but someone found some fun that didn't require going outside into the cold rain. It wasn't the pawprints I minded, but the sliiiiiddde down that really smeared my view.

Poor Grace took the blame and the heat until I opened the garage door one night and found this. There was Hobbes, beaming proudly at his latest escapade, and it made me laugh. Criminy, I can't stay mad at him for anything.

Happy Thanksgiving, pallies. May you and your families enjoy your day, each other, and some yummy food.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

My family has a lot of quirkiness. "Give 'em the Turkey Sign" is just one of the many wacky things that we are known to do randomly and spontaneously. Okay, so folks look at us kinda strange, shake their heads, and roll their eyes--I think they are secretly jealous.

I pass this on to you to amaze your family and friends this Thanksgiving. Just be sure to give me full credit, okay?

Reflections

It's that time----time to reflect on what good is in our lives and what we are thankful for. I was saving this for my Thanksgiving post, but if the holiday is anything like the weekend, I doubt there will much activity on the blogs this Thursday. And criminy, what good is reflection if you can't announce to everyone what you are thankful for? Geesh.

Okay, so I'm thinking that listing 10 things I'm grateful for is gonna be a breeze, I may have to push the envelope a bit. My pally, Abby, once listed 100 things, but I think I'd nod off around #57 and I wouldn't make it. I'm going to dig deep on this one and really stretch the crinkles of my brain to examine the really odd things I'm grateful for. In other words, the "givens" are my family, our jobs, our health (unless you count GERD--then I'm not so thankful, I hate that), and the pallies. I'm going for the things most folks don't even think they are grateful for, but they are.

The funky things I'm grateful for are:

1. Having my very own washer and dryer at my disposal. At any hour. And I don't have to put quarters in or anything.
2. Bernice, the pigeon who comes to my house to make me laugh.
3. The reclining backseat of my van. No, you dirty minds--I like to nap when we drive anywhere. It literally takes me 7 minutes to start snoozing.
4. The good teachers my kids have had. Gees, they make the bad ones look really bad.
5. Mom Blakeman's pulled cremes
6. The remote control that turns on/off our fireplace
7. Oooh, my electric blanket that warms my bed before I get in
   
8. 47 pounds of Stripey Goodness
9. Goat soap from Patty (and Pricilla)
   
10. Honest to goodness cooked oatmeal
11. pajama pants
12. snow days
13. a good belly laugh
14. My hobo dream with Petula
15. The smell of a freshly painted room
16. The school bus that drives my kids to school every single morning
17. marching band season
18. the smell of burning leaves
19. Cumberland Falls and my "Falls" family
20. Raving Rabids for the Wii
21. frog smiles
22. Irene at work--she makes me laugh
23. Lemon drop martinis
24. the first snow of the year
25. A good fitting pair of underwear
26. Even better--a good fitting bra
27. Sirius radio--so I don't have to listen to inane banter or commercials
    
28. The blog pallies--Chuck, Lola, Veronica, A. Marie, Ann, JD, Kathy, Sherrie, Helene, Daily Cute, Beaded Tail, Jo, Vanilla, Vanilla 7, PJ, Pricilla, Anna, Buggys, DG, Cardiogirl, Stephanie, Karen, Jodi, Nancy, Paige, WillOaks, Fish, Daisy, Sharky, Merry, Chocolate, Roschelle, Violet, Ratty, Storm, Anne, Margo, Split Rock, Mare's Tales, The Bee, Jen, Margo, Diana, Stephanie. Who did I forget??? I hope nobody. And no, I'm not linking everyone.
    
29. Hot water on a cold morning
30. After I come home from a week of tent camping--indoor plumbing!
31. A good book
32. Oreck vacuum cleaners
33. those Christmas trees with the lights already on them
    
34. Wendy, my band pally who helps me with everything I volunteer for
35. lipstick

Okay, okay, I'll stop here. You got the idea, but I honestly think I could have made it to 100. I guess I'm thankful for a lot of things. I guess the point isn't how many or how odd the things are that we are thankful for--but that we are thankful. That's the point of this holiday--to remember and acknowledge how truly lucky we are and to be glad for what we have.

Now, let's break out the turkey and stuffing.

The Zen of Grace

Watching Grace lie in the warm sunshine by the door the other day, I realized that the key to surviving the holidays (well, any day, really) is to have some down time. Grace is the master of relishing the moment, turning her face to the sun, and breathing. When she's toasting the gray fur in the warmth, no amount of hustle or bustle, harried humans or stripey cats interfere with her zen. I admire that woman, she is peace. Okay, crabby peace, but it is peace all the same.

Following Grace's lead, we all took some time out for ourselves, to let down a bit, relax, and just breathe. We went to a fabulous party Saturday with the band parents--crawling in at 1:30 a.m. We had laughed ourselves silly with a R-rated game of charades, incredible food, and cocktails galore. It was a chance to regroup after a harried week, the opportunity to pocket the stress of everyday life, and just enjoy some great friends. Although we moved a tad slower on Sunday, it felt good to recharge the soul for a few hours.

Sunday night wrapped up the zen with a CYSO (Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra) concert downtown. It was great to wrap up the chores early, spruce ourselves up a bit, and sit for a couple of hours listening to some lovely music. Remember Dream Kid? He's the uber-talented, great kid in our band that plays like every instrument, is a fab student, and NICE on top of it all. Yeah, he was in the orchestra--FIRST chair in flutes and was a featured solo artist in the whole second half of the performance. Wow--we were speechless. Unbelievably talented these teens were--I sat there for two hours mesmerized by what was before me. Add to that how gracious he was by greeting us all with a warm hug and a thank-you after the concert. Gees, I think I sailed home.

In writing this early hour and thinking about the weekend, for once I can say we relaxed. I'm thinking more of how I felt just enjoying the weekend, rather than how little I got accomplished heading into yet another work week. My soul is warm and glowing this morning--a good start to what kicks off the madness of the holidays.

I'm grateful to Steve and Wendy for a hilarious party, Ted for an incredible evening of beautiful music, and Grace, for reminding me to take some time out every once in awhile.

Take time to breathe--it's gonna be my mantra to keep my head the next few weeks.

I've got an in with Santa

I kicked off my Christmas shopping season yesterday, which is really, really late for me, so I am not happy.

Typically, I am done and wrapped by Thanksgiving, not because I love it, but because I hate shopping so darned much. I love not having to go into a hot, crowded store and stand in line behind some Grandma who's gotta discuss every single price in her way overloaded cart. Or dodge creepy little kids who are running around while their comatose parents are deliberating over the shoestring display. Add in the most annoying Christmas song ever to be made (The Little Drummer Boy) cranked on crappy speakers, and I'm not a happy camper.

In past years when the kids were small, I'd head off in October to buy all of their gifts. Yes, they pretty much knew that early what they really wanted and I would buy it before the stores sold out of them. I'd wrap them, store them in the attic, and then spend the rest of the holiday season trash-talking all those "cool" toys they showed on the commercials, knowing that I was not buying one more thing. Okay, so I'm not the best mom ever.

Yesterday was no exception to my crabbiness. I initially headed out to buy a new outfit for a party I'm going to tonight ( just because I'm feeling dumpy and old) and I thought I'd knock out a few presents while I was out. Yeah, you know it is not a good shopping day when the only thing that fit was men's cologne. Not a good sign. Seems the 'ol bod agrees with my own self-perception--I am getting dumpy and old.

Without going into detail, let's just say the old mall that I used to go to is extremely "ethnic" now and it was grating on my nerves. What new inhabitants of the U.S. find reminds them of "home" is making me feel like a foreigner in my own land. I'm still confused on why they come here if they want to to change the US to be like the homeland. Without getting a ton of hate mail and comments, I'm just gonna go on record to say that it was not a nice experience at that mall and I will not return. Unless I want to feel like world traveler in a day.

So, I trudged along, trying on every piece of clothing possible--both affordable and not affordable, hoping to feel good about myself--with no success. I smelled every stinky candle in that candle place and offended the salesgirl when I winced at nearly every one she shoved under my nose. I dodged a toy helicopter some foreign dude was trying to seduce me with, and I was kind enough not to step on it as it crashed directly in front of my foot.

I sniffed and smelled a whole counter and a half of men's cologne, until finally I ended up with a few samples on me as well. I finally settled on some jeans with flaps on the back pocket to help my ass look just a bit larger--like I need that. And then, I was done after a bottled water, an Orange Julius, and some men's cologne. That was it--some flappy-pocketed jeans and cologne.

So, I racked up my losses, squeezed into my jacket, and headed for the door. I waddled (not really--I was just being dramatic about my weight) through the mall drinking my Orange Julius reward for not killing anyone and tried to remember where I came in at. I was almost to the farthest end of the mall when I saw Santa sitting in his "North Pole" waiting for someone, anyone, to come see him. I'm not sure how much action this dude sees as I don't think most of the folks at this mall even know who Santa is, and he was just sort of looking around.

I smiled a polite smile at Santa, gave him a wave, and yelled "Hi, Santa!" to him. I think I shocked the old dude to see a woman, by herself, waving and yelling to him. Ah, what the hell. I had to make some fun out of the day. Who cares what Santa or anyone else thinks--I needed a chuckle.

And you know what? It was then that I was finally happy.

Traveling Music

Last week, Colin and some classmates were inducted into the Tri-M, which is the Honor's Music Society at our school. It was a fabulous night of kids taking the stage, either solo or in small groups, to show their talents and perform for their parents, friends, and faculty. It was incredible how talented these kids are--I was very proud of not only my son, but also of the kids that I have known over the years.

As I sat there, I tried hard not to cry by thinking of how far some of these kids had come. Colin is shy and it took a bucketload of self-esteem to even get this group together. He was a kid who reluctantly continued his trumpet-playing into high school, but has learned to love playing over the years. Although he is still quiet, I see him gaining momentum a bit as he nears graduation.

I think we have him actually considering playing in college, although not in the uber-competitive and time-consuming marching band field. Instead, I see him in a more intimate setting, perhaps a concert or jazz band where playing isn't a chore, but a more creative outlet. His favorite venues are those where he is playing in the pit for the school musical or backing up the show choir--where he doesn't have to have pressure to play, but to just feel the music and enjoy.

But it isn't just my son that has grown and changed in the last couple of years. Sean, the tuba player on the left, was extremely quiet and shy. He has blossomed from a boy who's chin was eternally buried into his chest and couldn't utter a sound, into a witty, self-assured young man who looks me in the eye and announces a grand "Hello, Mrs. Kautz!" when I see him. I almost had to do a double-take the first time that happened. It's wonderful to see him to happy, self-confident, and funny--it's a nice change.

The trombone player, Mark, is in a category all on his own. I didn't know Mark before he came to the high school, but just watching him makes me cry. Mark, you see, is deaf. I haven't asked how much hearing he has, but he does have a Cochlear Implant and he has a sign language interpreter with him most of the time. He does however, talk and joke with everyone, never letting his lack of hearing impede him on any level.

It is nothing less of a miracle to see Mark in marching band every year, with Mary, his interpreter, on the sidelines marking the beat or signing instructions to him. There isn't a day when I think of this as routine or normal--he is incredible, with no other words to describe it. And his parents? Amazing and wonderful. I can't even imagine how they felt to see him inducted into the Tri-M that night--and I sat next to them. I would have been poppin' had I been his mom, but Julie just smiled and cheered on all of the kids along with her son.

There are others that shone that night. Linnea, who was so very quiet until 3 years ago when she joined band. To see her bloom from a quiet, soft-spoken girl to a beautiful, out-going, down-right silly young woman, right before my very eyes has been wonderful. I knew Linnea years ago in ballet class with Em--this is not the Linnea I remember. And I find myself watching her having so much fun, smiling in my heart to see her so happy.

There were others that night that I knew from the grade school, that grew up in those 4 very short years. They went from silly pre-teens into young men and women who could stand confidently on a stage and perform the most incredible music. The memories flooded back into my heart as I sat there smiling, cheering them on, remembering who they were and how far they have come.

And I didn't cry.

I am an Idiot

Don't even tell me it's Wednesday--I know, I know. Chuck's out-of-control-finger-that-hits-the-publish-button-willy-nilly must have paid a visit to the Duck and Wheel.

Let's all pretend I posted the following at 6 a.m. on THURSDAY, okay. Thanks for playing along.

I-love-Hobbes Thursday

Okay, so it's cold and gloomy. There is only one cure for those of us missing the sunshine....

Hobbes!

Before:


Now:


Uh oh, somebody's basket shrunk.

I'm-Never-Wordless Wednesday

As the cold rain came down sideways today, I realized that I missed summer and my garden. I just had to post some color other than orange stripes today, it was just so darned gloomy. The day was brightened by a nice lunch out of the office today with Irene and Esra, but I think we would have all had a bit more fun had the sun shone on our faces a bit. How many more months 'til spring? I'm not sure I'm gonna make it.

On another note, I've been passed along some awards. Typically, I do not post awards and although I am always thrilled to receive them, I'm just awful at using up the blog post for them. I've always got some story to share or some photo to post, so awards tend to fall by the wayside. My pally, DG, has non-awarded me numerous times because she knows of my disdain for doing these, so I'm giving her a shout out here to thank her for purposely passing me by. Thanks, DG.

My pally, Hot Rocks, wrote some kind words about the Duck and Wheel this week and bestowed this beast on me. It always makes me feel good when someone has something nice to say about me or the blog--it is a rare occurrence in real life, so I'm going with it. Thanks, pally.

A new pally, Ann, laid this bad boy on me earlier in the month, so I figured while I'm at it, I'm going to show off this award too. I'm not sure Duck and Wheel is the best blog, but I'd like to think the pallies tune in to humor me on most days. Thanks, Ann, for boosting the blog-esteem a notch.

If you think I'm gonna pass these on, you are wrong. Nope, I'm a rebel and I don't follow the rules very well. I'm not gonna list 10 things I love about my gym shoes or list all of my past pet hamsters in alphabetical order, but I am going to give a shout out to some pallies who are seeing some tough times these days. A little bit of this and a little bit of that has got them down and I think we need to pass some prayers in their direction that the winds of positive change are gonna blow their way.

Say a little extra prayer for:

1. Helene -- Orange Stripey love only goes so far, Helene needs a new job
2. Lola -- Lola and Anastasia need a BIG wind of change around their neck of the woods
   
3. Stephanie -- Another job order here. And while we're at it, say an extra prayer that Steph starts feeling better.
   

Things aren't so hot in this world just yet, so be sure to help one another and be kind to those we meet for we never know what load they bear.

More Office Fun with Irene

I was sitting at my desk when I noticed a little clicking noise at the cubicle next to mine. I looked over because nobody sits there and I was wondering what was making that odd little noise.

And then I heard it again. And again.

It was a little tip tapping sound in the ceiling, first over the cubicle in the corner, then next to mine, and soon, above me. It was a clickety click and then it would stop. Clickety click click click. Then silence. Click Click Clickety. It was an animal of some sort on the suspended ceiling of the office.

Okay, I'm a huge animal gal. You know, I dig the frogs, crack up at Bernice at the feeder, and have owned more hamsters in my day than I can count, but this guy was trying my patience. I didn't think some squirrel/rat/raccoon/opossum falling on my head at work was going to be any fun, so I did the natural thing....I called for Irene.

"Uh, Irene?" I say semi-quietly.

"Yeah?" I hear from the cube behind me.

"Do you hear what I hear?"

"Yep."

So, now I call for Jim, our office old guy who takes care of everything from the accounting to the water cooler, to the heat, to cracking me up with his war stories.

"Uh, Jim? Do you hear that noise? I think there is an animal in the ceiling" I'm semi-panicking.

"I don't hear anything" He says. "Maybe it's a leak."

So, after much discussion regarding the hippity hoppity sound and that it couldn't be a leak because leaks are more regular in their sound, Irene, Jim, Esra, and I head for the dock behind our office.

Our little office is an afterthought. It was a constructed room in a large dock area, so there is about 30 feet of building ceiling and the ceiling of our tiny office. There is also a door leading to a dock area where there is a giant overhead door. There is the availability of openings and animals that could enter this room, but I didn't want to think about what kind of animal was up there. The only thing separating our cubicles from the big room was a lame framework of thin metal stripping and suspended ceiling tiles. Nothing that would support a beastly raccoon or Sasquatch or something.

After much joking about National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Jim grabs a ladder and Irene starts climbing. Esra is terrified and is hiding behind the office door, while I'm holding the ladder. Irene is straining to see what is on the suspended ceiling over our cubicles.

"I see it!" Irene yells. "It's not a cat!"

"Great, Irene. What is it?" I'm hanging on to her so she doesn't fall off the ladder.

"I dunno, but it's not a cat. I can see it's head." Irene is not good at animal identification apparently.

"Let me see," and Jim takes over from where Irene fails. "It's a sparrow, Irene! You mean to tell me you can't tell a cat from a sparrow?!" And we start cracking up.

So, Jim climbs down and opens the doors to the the dock, lifts the giant overhead door, and I turn off the lights to the big room, hoping that our pally finds his way out. We were thinking that it would head to the light--literally, not figuratively. Well, we hoped not anyway.

We spent the next few hours, trying not to listen to the continued clickety click clicks of our sparrow/not-a-cat friend. And after awhile, the sound was no longer there. I guess it made it's escape.

It's never dull where I work. I swear I work there just for the stories alone.

Why are there no Thanksgiving songs?

The mere mention of "family" at the holidays is enough to send most folks to the liquor cabinet. Yeah, I get that, but I'm actually excited for Thanksgiving to come as we are spending our holiday weekend with the family of our choosing.

Thanksgiving Day will bring us to The Donahue Botanical Gardens (aka my aunt's house) where there is lots of good food, some flowing liquor, $100,000 Pyramid game play-offs, some wicked Wii contests between the adults, and if we are lucky, a repeat of last year's f-bomb dropping at the dinner table. Oh yeah, it's one of those times when your stomach hurts from laughing, not just from eating too much.

After a day of recovery, we are heading off to be with my Cumberland Falls family--The Ostler's in particular. We spent a couple of days together this summer and we are still laughing from that, so we thought it fun to pick up where we left off. It's one of those camp-out-on-the-living-room-floor-and-stay-up-until-the-wee-hours-cracking-up-about-everything-and-nothing kinda weekends. We cannot wait.

Holidays are always sort of stressful and we do what we can to avoid feeling that way. We slowly put up the decorations over a month's time, but I still get crabby putting everything away to make room for the holiday stuff. There never seems to be enough time or money during the month of December and I haven't figured out how to balance either of those out just yet. No matter how much I cut back, we end up spending way too much on everything. It's just that time of year.

So, I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving, when you have the fun without the work. When you can sit on the couch and laugh without thinking about having to take the lights down or if the cat is eating the village under the tree. There aren't holiday bills to pay or presents to wrap just yet. It is the chance to just relax without having to dig out some silly pilgrim decorations and Mayflower salt and pepper shakers.

I think Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. There is no real preparation, no obligations, no demands. It is just good food, laughs, and relaxing before it all goes nuts.

Where's the Kitty?

This is the only remaining lair in the yard as all of the other plants have been clipped back for the winter. Okay, so he looks pretty camouflaged, but somehow I think the birds and squirrels still know he's out there.

Put it in neutral

The last of the hydrangea blossoms is still hanging on. I love how it still has color in spite of its frost-bitten leaves and stems, like it is hopeful summer will somehow reappear. Geesh, I love the positive attitude of some plants. The mums and pansies in my yard are blooming like the dickens--digging all that is cold and frosty. I guess they love fall too.

The weekend brings us some quiet for a change. It will be nice not to have to run anywhere, as the fall activities are winding down like the garden. My life is like the pond these days--still and quiet. Well, as quiet as a house can be with two teens. We still run and have a lot to do, it's just not filled with over-scheduled weekends as well. We actually sat down to play a board game last night, which we hadn't done since summertime.

I wish you a peaceful weekend as well. May you visit with dear friends, call someone fun, go for a walk and kick some falling leaves. Take this breather before the holidays begin and we are all going nuts shopping and running ourselves ragged in the name of Christmas. Enjoy, pallies. That's what I'm gonna do.

I've got a long way to go

“We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves.”
--Dalai Lama


Perhaps it is the old school Catholic in me, but I feel the need to confess. As much as I preach about acceptance and forgiveness, I find the forgiveness the most difficult of all challenges that face me. What forgiveness is exactly is subjective. I find my kind of forgiveness is what others perceive as acceptance--I typically write someone off as being a jackass and move on. I know, not exactly forgiveness, eh?

Case in point, I went to a school concert last night and one of the acts was performed by a young man that has caused my family a lot of grief over the years. As he walked onto the stage, I said nothing, but Joe and I exchanged looks as if to say "Jackass" silently to each other.

This boy and his cohorts started bullying my son back in the third grade. The teacher at the time was probably the worst teacher my children have ever had, and she did nothing to nip the bullying in the bud. As a classroom volunteer, I witnessed the verbal abuse my child was taking and after a few weeks of seeing it and saying nothing, I finally said something right there in this idiot's classroom. Yeah, she asked me never to return--which is fine, I hated her and resented watching my child's education come to a complete halt under her care. These children in her classroom knew she'd do nothing in the way of discipline, and so this was the year Colin's self-esteem evaporated like the dew when the hot sun appears.

We spent the next nine years answering crank phone calls, getting pizzas delivered to our home, dealing with physical and emotional abuse, filing police reports, and getting phone calls traced. It was a nightmare that with the exception on one fabulous police women, no one would take seriously. "Boys will be boys" is the term I have grown to hate. No, bullying is not acceptable--boys or girls alike. And I'll just go on record by saying that no, the school did nothing to help--nobody "saw" anything.

This boy on the stage last night was the ring leader of this pack of boys, and although the bullying has ended, I still harbor anger at this young man. I could not look at him without feeling my blood boil for the damage that he has done to my son. I don't think forgiveness, or acceptance for that matter, is coming anytime soon.

The crowd of girls screamed as he took the stage and I wondered to myself how good he felt about himself at the moment. Did he remember how he took that away from Colin? Does he remember the awful things he did to my family? Can he ever look at me and remember the phone call about my underwear or the time that he called me a "cunt"? Is he so full of himself that he doesn't remember the time that he brought a knife to school, got expelled, and then his family ran to the news reporting that he was an honor student misunderstood? Really? How is it that all of this runs through my head when I see him and he seems relatively unscathed by his evil past? How does one block out the mean things they have done to others intentionally?

As he opened his mouth to sing, I heard not a confident booming voice, but a squeaky girly voice that harbored a lisp. The adult in me said, "So this is where his torment began", but I couldn't move past my anger. Instead, I turned to look at Joe, saying nothing--but he knew what I was thinking and I, him. I wanted to scream terrible mean things. I wanted to out this kid for being so mean to us. And I wanted everyone that was cheering for him to know what a jackass he is--or was. I wanted to do to him what he did to Colin--but I didn't. I held my comments for when I got home, behind closed doors. Well, and now.

So, as I tell everyone to breathe deep every Friday, I'm reminding myself of the same thought today. The utility pole of my mind is all scrambled and discombobulated, filled with jumbled conflicting thoughts of hatred, resentment, and forgiveness towards this kid.

As an adult, I'd like to say that he was a child--a result of a bad home life, an embarrassing lisp, and insecurities a mile long. But as a mother, I'm still resentful and angry at the damage he has done to my son, who stilled hasn't completely regained the self-esteem he once had.

I am like Bernice today, sitting alone on that wire, trying to make sense of that mess that is my mind and emotions. I'll enjoy the warm sunshine while I breathe deep and contemplate forgiveness, or at the very least......acceptance. The kid is a jackass. Let's move on.

He ain't heavy, he's my Ladybug

It seems the seasons are a tad mixed up here in the Midwest. What was supposed to be spring was really just winter continued. What was supposed to be summer was....well.....spring. Fall? Uh, no fall--we just went straight into winter. Now we have our fall. Naturally, after winter, right? Ugh. It's crazy and confusing for animals and humans alike.

With a sudden wave of sunny 70 degree temperatures, the frogs that are supposed to be hibernating are sitting on the edge of the pond warming themselves. I saw one little guy heading out to the grass to look for bugs until I corralled him back into the water. With temps dropping suddenly, they slow down and become easy prey for whoever is walking by. I actually picked up my pally and plopped him back into the water--something unheard of in summertime. My frogs are not pets--we shouldn't be able to catch them.

I'm digging this weather, wearing my jean jacket to work instead of the warm wooly one that I was wearing a month ago. Sweaters are packed back into the wardrobe, short-sleeved blouses are back in fashion at the workplace. I've actually turned the heat off for a week (in November!) and opened the windows for one last gasp at grabbing some fresh air.

Even the kitties are confused by the sudden emergence of fall weather. Hobbes, who a month ago was settled in by the fire preparing for winter hibernation, is now back on his schedule of spending the majority of the day in the yard. The kitty door is swinging like an Old West Saloon door and the squirrels are back on high alert for orange stripeyness. He's chasing the birds, leaves, bugs, and basically anything that moves.

Ladybugs seem to be a particular favorite of Hobbes. "Ladies" they are not, as these are the evil, biting kind of ladybugs that everyone hates. We were fooled into thinking that we avoided their visit this year with the sudden onset of cold weather, but we were sad to see them appear last week. As we swat and scoop those bad boys out of our house and cars, Hobbes seems to downright enjoy them whizzing past his head, crawling on the windowsill, and invading our lives.

As he sits in the warm grass with his ladybug pally on his back, Hobbes is my gentle reminder to live for the moment, enjoy what is happening for today without regard to what was or what should be. Look past the annoyances of those around you and to enjoy the moment if it is a good one. Seize the day and wallow in warm sunshine, even if it's gonna snow tomorrow. Take folks for what they are worth and forgive. I've got to learn to laugh with the ladybug that does not bite me (yet) and giggle at the dotty armor that deceives.

He's a smart kitty, that Hobbes. Sort of the Dalai Lama of the yard.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

Colin's Tri-M recital Quartet rehearsing.

Emmett Otter's Jugband rehearsing.


Only a mom can see the connection.

I'm bringing sexy back with my band magnet

I had a bunch of errands to run on my way home from work yesterday and I was determined to get them done as quickly as possible and not get crabby doing them. All spiffed up in the work clothes, I drove nearly 2 hours stopping here and there, sitting in traffic, and taking care of returns and hurried needed purchases. Criminy, I hate doing this kind of stuff after work--but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

After one quick return, I decided to push my limited retail patience and head into the next store to face yet another customer service person to make a return. Surprisingly, the return went quickly and I was back flying through the parking lot to get into my car. I was happy as my heels clickety-clacked on the pavement and I hopped into the van to get to the next stop.

As I was backing up, I noticed 3 hooliganesque teens walking past my car, so I stopped to let them pass. I was watching in my mirror to see that they went safely by so I wouldn't get jail time for running the thugs over, when I noticed that one boy looked at the rear end of my car and pointed. The other two thugs looked at the back end as well, and soon all 3 were yelling and cheering, hootin' and hollerin'. What for, I don't know. I must have had a terrified/confused look on my face because they were pointing at me, at the back end of the mini-van, and screaming.

Okaaayyyy. So, now I'm wondering what on earth do I have on the back of my car that would warrant such a response from some gangstas. Was there a "I'm an idiot" sticker on the bumper? Did I run someone's dog over? I don't think I've got any naked pictures on the back end of my car. Hmmmmmm? My mind was racing.

I drove onto the next stop and the whole time I'm wondering what I've got back there. Then I realize that it's one of two things:

1) My very cool, snappy orange band magnet that boasts my affiliation with The Marching Astros or,
2) My very cool, snappy Lietuva sticker that boasts my affiliation with the homeland of Lithuania.

Somehow, I'm thinking it wasn't the Lietuva sticker, but you never know. Maybe it's cool to be Lithuanian now. I personally think it's always been cool to be Lithuanian, but maybe the rest of the world is catching up. You know, those waders are catching on too, so who's to say what's "cool"?

I'm going with the band magnet. Apparently they must have some knowledge of the band--perhaps they are former band students gone gangsta or maybe they are groupies, who knows? All I know is for one brief shining moment, I was cool. Frightening, isn't it?

I'm bringing sexy back with paint in my hair

Phew! The painting of Col's room is complete and he's back in his "new" pad as of last night. I love painting-- the instant gratification of a whole new look with just a gallon of color. And the smell? Love it. It screams fresh and new while reminding me of my Grandpa who was a painter by trade. If it wasn't for the cost and clean-up, I'd repaint the place once a year.

There are many things that Joe and I bicker about, but home improvement projects are not one. He and I will tackle just about anything--although major projects are left to the professionals. We've learned that things like drywall and carpentry are better done by those with the experience, and it just saves us a lot of headaches. But we have been known to do siding, laying a wood floor, tiling, as well as the painting, staining, and wood trim. We've learned a lot by doing these projects together over 21 years, and most of all, how to work together.

As Joe was rolling the walls yesterday, I trimmed, and we both cracked up as Dave Mathews' "You and Me" came on the I-pod. Dave was singing about how "we" could do anything and I laughed how I didn't think painting was on his mind when he wrote that. Somehow home improvements don't seem very romantic, but I think it speaks volumes about who you are as a couple if you can complete some projects together. It takes teamwork, collaboration, and a little bit of give and take.

Twenty plus years of being together, Joe and I have learned the pasa doble of home ownership--trying to paint a small room without killing each other. It still amazes me that while he's maneuvering the pan of paint around, I'm wrestling the ladder, and neither collides. I trim high while he rolls low, and vice versa. Put us on the Amazing Race and we'd kill each other, but stick us in a 10 x 15 room to paint in an hour and watch us go. When I'm goobing up the ceiling, he's wiping the dropped paint off the floor. While I'm cleaning the brushes, he tossing the rollers. What is a huge task for one, isn't so bad when you've got a partner who knows what brush you need and when.

So, our project turned out great and the room is put back together again--albeit it a snappy shade of mustard yellow. The weather worked in our favor as the kitties were more interested in going outside to chase leaves instead of bothering us. There were no mustard yellow paw prints or playing of "Where's the Kitty?" amongst the stacked furniture and belongs in the garage. Even the kids were busy, so we didn't have to yell and scream about nobody helping around the house. And yes, there was a dance break at one point as Justin Timberlake's "Sexy back" came on the I-pod.

I'm thinking that instead of pre-marriage counseling or Pre-Cana, the requirement for marriage should be a home improvement project. How you go about planning and executing a project speaks volumes of who you are as a couple. I always love those bickering dating couples on the Amazing Race--forget traveling together--try holding a piece of plywood over your head while the other person nails it. Now that is the true test of love and patience.

Blog Off

Hey, what are you doing here??! Reading? Laughing at Hobbes? Looking for hibernating frogs?

It's Sunday--you are supposed to be relaxing, taking a nap, or annoying your family members by spending some quality time with them. Go on, turn that computer off and chill, pallies. Have a life away from electronics for a day. Take Hobbes' cue and take the day off. That's what I'm doing.

Painting stories on Monday.

Home Improvement Day

Sorry, no exciting tails of worms invading the patio or rat butts in planters today, pallies. As off season as it is for me, I'm doing a little home improvement work in Col's room today. Yep, I've got the painting overalls ready for the wearing and my trusty assistant, Joe, hopping today.

If I could wear my waders for painting I would. Nothing makes a project more fun than waders.

Or a orange stripey ottoman "helping" us. Ugh.

The Magic of Sunshine

I saw an old friend the other day that I hadn't seen for quite awhile. You might remember that friend--the SUN. Oh gees, it's been hiding for so long, I forgot how just it's mere presence makes your mood improve and your heart sing.

While I was driving home from work I just felt the need to go for a nice walk, so I quickly changed, tied on the 'ol jimmies and hiked Weirdville--and I did it all I-pod free. It was just so darned lovely not to be freezing or getting wet, I didn't want to dampen or dilute the moment by drowning it out with tunes. I wanted to hear the birds sing and the leaves crunch under my feet.

Hiking Weirdville is just that--weird. There are folks leaf-blowing to Metallica cranked out of their car stereos. There are odd lawn ornaments and scaffolding permanently set up to do I don't know what. There are houses with strange additions that couldn't possibly be code in any other town and overgrown bushes the size of Manhattan. There is some odd stuff going on here in Weirdville and nothing surprises me anymore when I'm walking the 'hood checking out the other houses. Typically, walking around here just makes me crazy--this time was different, it was making me laugh. I credit the sunshine.

Joe came home later and we compared our sunshine stories of the day. He went out for a walk at lunch and enjoyed downtown Chicago while I was strolling Weirdville. I told him of my ability to laugh at the wackiness that surrounded me and look beyond it all to see what a lovely day it was, and he shared his own story.

Apparently, Joe, like me, was digging the sun and smiling at the sight of squirrels bustling around the planters in Daley Plaza. Due to budget cuts, the city of Chicago cut down on the huge amounts of fall planters and decorations they typically display, but the Plaza was still tastefully dolled up to impress visitors.

As he walked by one planter, a small furry body had his little bottom up in the air, sniffing about for something yummy to eat. Joe spied the little guy and made a step closer to see the squirrel amongst the mums. It was then that he realized that this was no squirrel--it was a RAT. There was a rat digging around in the fall spectacle that was Daley Plaza! Joe, needless to say, was creeped out, changed course, and skeedaddled to the train station a little less joyfully.

It's amazing on how much the sunshine improves our mood--how it can make even the ugly look good in it's rays. Both Weirdville and the rat were somehow transformed into Cinderella for a short time thanks to the golden twinkle that is sunshine sorely missed.

I love sunshine and it's magical powers. I hope I see it again soon.

Happy Weekend, pallies. Remember to take some time out for you and to breathe deep. I hope the sun shines on you and brightens your day.

I Love Hobbes Thursday --Feelin' Groovy

On the long 4 hour ride home from Western Illinois University a few weeks ago, Joe found some oldies channel on the radio and we cranked it. Now, I'm not typically a fan of oldies, but they were playing stuff from the 60's and 70's, which I don't consider "oldies" per se--that's more classic rock, but whatever. I think I was actually sort of miffed that they considered these tunes oldies--this is from when I was a kid for god's sake! Either way, I stayed tuned and sang along.

So, we're riding along, listening, when the old Simon & Garfunkel "Feelin' Groovy" comes on. Gees, I love singing that song--what a happy tune that is. You absolutely cannot sing that song and be bummin'--it just doesn't work.

Hobbes reminded me of that song with his pose this week. Look at him chillin' by the fireplace in his basket, warming his goodies. You just cannot be sad and look at his orange tummy--it just isn't possible.

Why doesn't anyone use the word "groovy" anymore? I think I'm gonna start a new trend. Groovy, eh?



Uh, can somebody tell me what the hell kinda instruments these people are playing???!

Semi-Wordless Wednesday -- Family Portrait

"Lean your butts on the pole" Jo said, so we did--literally and obnoxiously.

I love this photo of the family that Jo took a few weeks back. She truly captured our family--from the wacky parents to the solemn teen son who didn't think we were quite as funny as we did.

Is it the Christmas card photo? Nah, but it sure would represent who we are at the moment--just having fun trying to keep our sanity with two teens in the house. I love how she saved this moment for us, when our family is too quickly changing and time together under one roof is fleeting.

It's goofy, yet sweet in so many ways.

Settin' and Thinkin'

It's just one of those days when I'm doing more thinking about a ton of little stuff rather than fixating on one giant issue. I guess it's a good thing when there is nothing major going on in our lives to write about, so instead I'll just spread the chaos of my mind out on the blog table for all to see. Feel free to dive in and stir up the mess that is the snow globe of my mind.

Things I'm thinking about:

1. There are literally 24 days before they start playing Christmas music on that radio station here in Chicago. It's all Christmas, all the time until December 26--then it's GONE! I actually have Christmas song withdrawal after that. I'm already singing some Spanish song that goes "Mommasita, donde esta Santa Claus..." I just like the beat and the fact that Joe has no idea what I'm singing.
2. We spend last evening at the band meeting and then searching the entire high school for Em's biology notebook. In her locker? No. In the band room? No. In the band locker? Uh, no. Three phone calls later, we find it in the biology room on the desk. Thank you, Mr. P for walking us through the whole school to let us in to look for it. Is murder too strong a punishment?
3. Can someone tell me how the frogs are still getting into the skimmer? And is there some way to communicate to them that they will DIE if they overwinter in there? Is there some frog sign language or something that I don't know about? Sigh. I'm tired of looking for them each day and scooping their sleepy butts back into the pond.
   
4. I'm actually desensitized to our new Forever Christmas pine smell air fresheners that Joe bought last week. Finally. I wonder what our visitors are thinking when they come in? Where's the tree?
   
5. Who's up for Thanksgiving? ME! I love turkey and some wacky relatives that make me laugh until my stomach hurts. Nothing like kicking off the holiday season with a heated discussion at the table or a little F-bomb dropping. Can't wait!
6. I was picking out Christmas cards last night online. I think I'm gonna get them pre-printed this year--I hate writing "Merry Christmas, Love The Kautz Family Singers" four billion times. I wonder if they'll address them and put the stamps on for me too?
   
7. Speaking of Christmas cards--my friend, Judy, knows the folks who's kid fell into the gorilla pit at the Brookfield Zoo like 15 years ago. I go over to look at her Christmas cards every year to stare at monkey boy. No, he doesn't remember the incident--just in case you were wondering like I did.
8. Joe thinks he's cool 'cuz he got a new car this week. Okay, so Mr. I'm Old has a snappy new vehicle that includes a cool moon roof AND Sirius radio. It takes so little to make him happy. And me jealous.
   
9. I lost a follower yesterday--why does this bother me? Does anyone else worry about this? It's just so.....so.....middle school. Ugh.
10. I don't like the time change. I nearly fell asleep at my desk yesterday and it was only 2:00 p.m. Why do we do this every year??!

Oh, there's more, but I didn't want to bore you. Gees, I need something to worry about like college costs or what everyone wants for Christmas. My head is spinning!

The Humble Beginnings.....

My pally, Chuck, wrote the other day about his bloggy beginnings and it made me think of my own. I wrote my 500th post this past week and I didn't even realize that I had done it--it has just sort of become my life all this writing and taking of photos. I never even knew what a blog was 2 years ago, nor did I ever read one--well, I don't think I did anyway. I'd heard the word before, but like so many others, I just pretended to know what it was and hoped the conversation shifted to something like butterflies and rainbows.

After years of being a stay-at-home-mom, I was slowly becoming obsolete at home. Everyone was growing up and didn't need me anymore--well, not until around 2:30 or so when someone needed a ride home from school. I had tried some silly retail jobs, but I was quickly bored and sick of idiot customers--retail was not for me. I was sad a lot and felt that I was lost--I was needed by the kids, but not really. I wanted to work, but not full-time. It was a sort of mid-life crisis, I guess.

Always a creative person, I dabbled in sewing, quilting, knitting, scrapbooking, stenciling--anything that was tactile and artsy. I have always had the need to create and when that isn't a part of my life, I am miserable. After years of neglecting my writing, I ventured into a creative writing class and continued a love that I had since I was a child. My class was a very powerful experience, both meeting some new creative friends and opening a part of me that had been shut for a very long time, and it made me happy again.

My class facilitator opened a blog that was for our class to post their stories, poems, and photos on. It was meant to be a place to "publish" our works, to find positive reinforcement, and to overcome the fear of having others read our work. It took guts to make those first few posts--but once I did, I was addicted. You can find this blog on my profile--it is sort of stagnant now, and I don't post there anymore, but it is interesting to see my feeble blog beginnings there.

So, the Reader's Digest version is that I learned very quickly how to blog by this group of people, helped a ton by the ease of Blogger, and progressed as I went along. I have met the most incredible people along the way and have made friendships from one end of the good green Earth to the other. I feel loved, encouraged, creative, and most of all, happy again. My writing soul came alive with that first blog and the fire continues here--as puny as it may be.

My blog began in early April 2008 albeit very tentatively. Those first posts were things that I wrote for my writing class. They were well thought out, written in Word, edited, modified and proofed before ever being copied and pasted onto the blog format. I was afraid of being hated, debated, or possibly told that I couldn't write very well. It was me and so putting "me" out there was quite a frightening thing.

There were two major factors that have changed my writing and blogging: 1) NaBloPoMo and 2) author Jon Katz.

NaBloPoMo is a blogger site that encourages daily posting and has a monthly challenge of posting every single day. I never wrote every day until last November when I took the challenge. That was incredible for me and it forced me to make my writing a discipline. Okay, some days are better than others, but I do it everyday. I may not post due to logistics here at home with the family, but I do write. And because of this, I have earned a fab part-time job where I write constantly, edit, and publish a corporate monthly newsletter for a nationwide company.

Author Jon Katz, through his writing, his blog, and some truly inspiring emails to me, encouraged me to make that leap and blog freely. I save his emails that pushed me to climb on that rickety limb of doom and to expose myself and my heart to the world--or whoever is listening that day. Have you ever heard that there are people that you are just supposed to meet? Jon was my writing angel at the time--I believe I was being given a very important message and he was the vessel.

I love how Chuck made me think of my blog beginnings and how I got where I am today. I'd be curious to hear your stories as well---either in my comments or on your own blog. What makes us do this? How does it begin?

Oh! The name??? Go here for the true story behind Duck and Wheel with String.

As for the photo--Nancy sent me a Major Award for being a dedicated commentor (commentator??) at her place. Gees, this little coin purse is cool--a colorful hand-knitted dream with a snappy 3-button accent. The lining is hand-sewn with the most incredible tiny stitches. Go on over and check her out--she's one of the great blog pallies of the Duck and Wheel. Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be a blogger??