Weiner Dog Weekend!

Nothing says fun like Weiner Dog Weekend!  And sure enough, when Sammy comes to stay, things definitely get stirred up around the old homestead. But in a good way.

He seems a whole lot less stressed than last year, but we have to watch and make sure he doesn't get those pearly whites wrapped around anything he isn't supposed to. When he was here last summer, Sam had a little anxiety and chewed up a rug, the wood on the door frame, and a seatbelt for the car.  Yeah, it was an expensive anxiety attack.  We think it was because one of the boys was going off to college, so there was lots of turmoil at home before he came here. Then there were more boxes here as Col was leaving as well.  Too many boxes = stress for Sammy. 

So, we are box and stress free and Sammy is a calmer dog friend.  But we still have to crate him when we aren't watching him.....just in case.

Everyone enjoys Sammy's visit in different ways and it is odd on who handles it the worst.  You'd think Grace would hate him, but she doesn't.  She walks around like he isn't even here. Hobbes is totally freaked out and spends the week with a raccoony tail.  He also spends a LOT of time outside, escaping the dog. Joe gets all nervous and says "Where's Sammy?" all the time.  Em takes him for walks and I just have to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to get him off the bed and take him outside.(Apparently his family gets up at 5.)  But it's a good diversion from everyday life and we all sort of like having a dog for the week.

And I will spend the next 5 days singing "Weeeeee. Weiner dog...."

Hey! Keep it Down!

Has anyone besides me noticed how "loud" Spring is? Criminy, I've got to shut my windows--not for the cool air, but for all the noises the world is making these days. I know Winter is quiet because of the natural insulator--snow, (Well, that and all of my idiot neighbors are in their houses doing weird stuff inside for all those glorious months.)  but every year, I marvel at how the earth wakes-up and makes all sorts of noises to announce it's return to life. 

There are very specific sounds that I don't hear the rest of the year--sounds that just scream "Spring" to me:

1. Red-wing blackbirds singing --they are the true sign of Spring. Forget those robins.
2. Small-engine airplanes buzzin' the sky on a clear, cool Spring day (Why don't I hear these any other time of the year?)
3. Lawn mowers and weed-whackers....back in action
4. The water sounds of the pond
5. Frogs croakin'--calling the gals
6. Traffic sounds at night when you are falling asleep. (Traffic is there all year, why don't I hear it?)
7. Motorcycles 
8. Dogs barking--I don't miss this in the winter when my windows are closed
9. People traffic in the 'hood--kids on bikes riding by, folks on their cell phones, people walking by the house
10. Robins at dusk or early morning--Dang, these birdies love to sing at the oddest of times, don't they?

I'm sure your Spring noises are different than mine because of where you live and how you live.  Mine are very suburban and scream of congestion. But those are sounds I grew up with and they remind me of falling asleep with my windows open as a kid.  You know--when your mom made you go to bed and you would just lay there.....listening.....and waiting for sleep to come.

Don't know what I'm talking about?  Open your window or go outside and sit a spell.  Just still yourself.....and listen.  Listen to the world whispering that it is awake again. 

And you wonder why I call it "Weirdville"

Because we have ridiculous stuff like this:

 Wild Monk Parakeets flying around and hanging out at my feeder

You think you are losing it when they first appear,

but no,

they really are wild parakeets. You should see their nest over by the park.

Wow.

And then your kid yells "Hey! Look at the ducks on the neighbor's roof!"

And you are all  like "Whaaaaa???"

And sure enough, there they are....

On the ROOF.

It's just ridiculous.

There they were, hanging out with the sparrows and the wild parakeets....

like it was normal or something. 

Welcome to Weirdville.  

Calling all haters

It's a hot look AND absorbent!

You know, there are just some weeks when you need to stay in bed. Or at the very least, at home with the lights off and the curtains drawn.

This was one of those weeks for me. But I didn't take my own advice and hunker down.Sigh.

Here's the deal:  I pride myself on saying what I think, standing up for what I believe in and looking out for my kids.  I am outspoken and passionate. I expect a lot from those around me--especially those who are involved in my kids' lives.  I am strong in my beliefs and I don't take much crap.  And sometimes (most times)  I make too much noise about things that annoy or aggravate me. 

BUT....

I am also very involved and contribute in any way I can to whatever we are involved in.  I am conscious of those around me and am active in my community and school.  I attend meetings and participate. I try to stay abreast of things that are happening and get involved when there needs to be change.  When everyone else is afraid to say what needs to be said, I am the one they look to when the voice needs to be heard. I am the voice. And everyone loves that about me when I'm on their side. Not so much when I'm not.

That voice gets me in trouble a lot.  And it got me in trouble again this week. It is these times that I need to just dig a hole and hold out until the smoke clears.

It's hard to be the voice because with it,  you also get the "label"--you are a pain, a troublemaker, intimidating, unlikeable. There are folks out there who don't want to be told what is wrong and that we need to fix it.  They don't want to hear what my thoughts are. They don't want you to do anything other than tell them that their world is rainbows, butterflies, and unicorns--and I'm not that sorta gal. 

So, this week brought me jilted stars and wonky vibes, bringing all those who light torches on my behalf marching towards my door.  Oh, it was ugly.  I swear there was a call on Facebook to line up if you hate Lin Kautz.  Wow. It was not a good week.  And all those who smiled quietly as I rampaged on, quickly found their voices.....all at the same time. And used them. On me. This week.

Yeah, it was great.

As I'm digging my hole, laying low, and keeping my head out of the line of fire, I find myself clinging to good friends and trying to maintain my sense of humor.  I'm trying to remember to laugh hard, ignore the haters, and know that there will be another day when more than just Joe likes me again. 

Well, unless I have too many Bloody Mary's and stuff a paper towel roll in my shirt again--that's sure to win folks back again, right? 

Sorry, it's my only flower joke.....

You know it's "Spring" when you've got flowers in your crack.

I sorta miss the "wintery" March

Okay, Spring,  I'm exhausted. Can we please slow down a bit?  Sheesh.

While all this warm, sunny weather is lovely, it's crazy trying to keep up with the yard which was abruptly awakened from its winter slumber.   The grass is thick and green--like carpeting.  After fertilizing a week or so ago, you can almost hear it growing.  I'm not joking when I tell you that we've had to cut it THREE times this week. 

The plants are all popping green shoots and then....leaves--in a matter of minutes, it seems.  The redbud tree is blooming--an entire month early.  The snowdrops and crocus came and went in hours.  I moved the pond heater to find 3 lily pads battling for surface space.  Mother Nature must be chug-a-luggin' 5 Hour Energy--girlfriend is on high speed.

We did a small water change on the pond yesterday and fired up the pump and waterfall.  While that sounds easy enough, it isn't.  This ended up being a half-day affair as we replaced hoses and raised the skimmer.  These both required digging and moving plants, shuffling flagstone, and laying mulch. Needless to say, both Joe and I are a tad stiff today.  The frogs---well, they found the whole adventure amusing, popping up their heads periodically to see if we were finished.

The temps are supposed to drop this week, somewhat back to "normal", but I'm not sad.  I need a break.  Mother Nature is wearing us out.  I'm just really hoping I won't have to the cut the grass......again.

Thank Ja, it's Friday

Ahhhh, the weekend. 

Rats, the house needs to be cleaned, the laundry done, grass needs to be cut (again!), and I need to pay the bills or they're gonna shut the lights off.

These past two weeks of warm weather is killing me--seems like time flies by and nothing is getting done, although, I have no idea what I'm accomplishing.

Oh yeah--I'm watching the lily pads reach for the sunshine from the bottom of the murky pond.  I spend too much time counting frogs and watching to see if they are eating.  I lay with Hobbes and Grace in the grass--which is like thick, green carpeting, in case you were wondering.  And then I just go out and look at all the plants coming up in the garden.

Yep, this is what I love about Spring and Summer--being outside and killing time..........just breathing.

Enjoy your weekend, my friends. 

This is stabbin' weather!

You gotta love Chicago. Every year, when the warm weather comes along and the temperatures spike--so does the murder rate. This past weekend was no exception--we broke all records for high temps and....well...murders.

I love the afternoon guy on the radio, he was talking about how ridiculous it was that people kill each other when it's warm. And while I can't do his bit justice, I'll just tell you that he was right on when he said "This is stabbin' weather!" Yep. Like knives don't go in as easy when it's cold? Sheesh. People are idiots, aren't they?

So, now I start my day with that thought...."This is stabbin' weather!" And it makes me laugh. And a little bit nervous.

Along with all those stabbin's, I've got the frogs on my mind this week. While it's all lovely-like outside, it's just a bit too early for the frogs. I think they are all warmed up and looking for food--and I'm really hoping the bugs have warmed up and come out of hiding too. If we are gonna do this Spring thing so early, then, let's get on with it!

This whole frog death thing has got me in a tizzy too. After I was all sad and had a nice funeral for the frog friend the other day, I went out later to find all 4 of my frogs sitting there looking at me like "What the hell was that?" Yeah,well, I don't know.

So, there I was, all boo-hooing and looking some icky 'ole frog over to figure out how and why it died.....and it's not even my frog??? Criminy. I still don't know what the heck killed the thing.

There is lots I don't know about frogs, because apparently folks don't do a lot of research on LIVE frogs--they just dissect them in grade school to see their insides. But why don't we study how they live and die?? I can't find much info on this stuff, so I'm left to my own accord on this.

With what little I do know, I know that they don't typically die, bloat, and float at the surface of the water. Frogs sink and die. Period. You don't find them floating...ever.

Well...until this weekend.

So, now I'm left with a bloated frog with his tongue out--and no cause of death. No wounds, no marks, no frog blood. I'm left with two conclusions: 1) This was a visiting male and there was an all-out frog battle for territory or 2) This guy came along and tried to eat a bird and died in the process. (There were feathers in the water). I have a third theory that my neighbor tossed a dead frog in my pond, but I don't think she throws that well.

So, I dunno. My frogs are all accounted for--including my big male who croaks me to sleep each night. I have absolutely no idea who the carcass was or how he died. I have all kinds of theories....

but, remember.....it's stabbin' weather.

It ain't so far from crazy

Em got involved in Youth In Government this year, which is an organization that walks them through the process of creating a bill and passing it into law.  It's great because while we talk about such things in the classroom, the actual process is a slow one--bogged down by personalities, lobbyists, and show-boatin' politicians.  It was a great experience for them to see first-hand how it works.....or not.

800 high school students/faux legislators transcended upon the state capitol this past weekend to roll up their sleeves and put some bills into action.  We went along too--1) to see Emma in action and 2) to see the Capitol building in Springfield, IL, which is LOVELY. 

Built in 1869, this is the tallest of non-skyscraper capitols--even larger than the United States Capitol in Washington D.C.  It's just lovely, though.  There is just something about those old buildings--all that marble and old-fashioned glory.  It was a feast for the eyeballs.

Em was in the Senate--which wasn't nearly as impressive as the House of Representatives room for some reason. But aesthetics aside, it was very exciting to sit in on the event and watch the kids replicate what happens in our government.  Em loved sitting in the seats that the Senators use, but they were not allowed to even touch the desks. What's with that??

Here is Em, our Senator, in action.  We missed her introducing her bill, but she said it didn't pass.  She was late in the day on Sunday and the kids were goofy and tired by then. Some knucklehead wanted to table her bill because he wanted to "go outside and enjoy the nice weather".  Somehow, I think he's probably more representative of what is going on in that room than not. 

And being that the State of Illinois currently has two former Governors in prison as of last week, I think these kids were probably doing a better job than most of these goofs we elect. 

Well, I think it's funny....

This is what's crackin' me and Em up these days:

For some reason, it makes us laugh and laugh, but Joe doesn't think it's quite as funny as we do. He is not fun.

We had a great weekend as a family. Em was off in the state capital with Youth In Government--an event that involves 800 high school students who learn the law-making process while sitting in the actual seats of our elected officials. It's quite the event and experience. We went along to see her in action--along with driving Col back to campus after spring break. He just happens to go to school in Springfield as well--which worked out well.

Colin and I spent the day at the Museum of Science and Industry on Friday--mainly at the MythBusters display. It was fun going just he and I, and we took the time to play with every interactive display there was. I like to take a day with Colin alone, it just gives us time to talk. Or not. It's just good to be with him because I really miss him when he's at school.

I like to take photos of our times together--he does not:

I think he's having a blast, don't you?

It was a nice end to having Colin home for the week--the four of us traveling out of town and hanging out.  I really like when we do this lately because I know these days are quickly ending.  I grasp at every moment of family time I can, while being careful of not clutching too hard.  I'm lucky the kids still want to hang out, but I also appreciate that they have their own things to do and I don't make these times mandatory. I think the more we laugh, the more they want to be and laugh with us.

And that includes blowing Joe up if we have to.

Weight of the world.......

I'm grateful that going to work on this Monday morning just means I'll have a few minutes of rest.  Sheesh. What a weekend!

We walked in late in the day on Sunday only to find the grass almost knee high and needing to be cut and my big male bullfrog bloated and floating in the pond--needing immediate funeral services.  Add to this fun, I have one load of laundry in the washer, one in the dryer, and one more waiting for its turn as I type this.  Sometimes going away for the weekend is more work than fun--don't you think?

So, while I'm full of great memories from the weekend, I'm feeling like the squirrel right about now--surrounded by loveliness, but feeling a bit overwhelmed--like there is a big, giant cement column overhead.

I've got a few stories, but I need a day for mourning.  (Well, that and to get all this crap from the weekend put away.)  It's always sad when I lose a frog--especially a croaking male.   I really hate it when the pond is silent, you know? 

Life is Good

The warm weather enticed Grace outside to help me wash the winter grime off the windows and to clip back the butterfly bush yesterday.  She doesn't go outside alone much anymore--she is getting older and she's feeling vulnerable outside these days.  With a bit of coaxing, I can convince my girlie that it's safe with me out in the yard, so out she came to keep me company.

As I lifted the old Christmas tree branches off the perennial garden, I noticed the catnip plant was making a comeback.  Grace loves nothing better than to eat a few leaves of catnip, so I called her over.  To heck with nibbling one or two leaves, girlfriend stuck her whole face into the new shoots sprouting up.  My little friend was in hog heaven.

I'm taking a clue from Grace and gonna just enjoy life for the next couple of days.  I suggest you join us--not actually with us because that would just be mayhem.  I mean, just go find your own personal stash of catnip and jump right in. Stick your face smack-dab into happy.  Roll in the good of your life.  Take some time to just enjoy. Close your eyes and wallow in what is your personal heaven.


And then we'll all meet back on Monday with smiley faces and good stories to tell.

Criminy, my cat is a tree hugger

It was 80 degrees here yesterday and there isn't a soul who was happier with that fact than Hobbes.  Guess where he was all day?   Outside.  All. Day.  He's also very glad that Colin was home for Spring Break to keep the kitty door open for him.

"I love you, Tree"

For some reason, Hobbes has decided that he loves the redbud tree this year.  He lays by it.  He sits next to it. He sharpens his claws on it.  And then he rubs his face on it--marking it as his own. 

And every so often, he gives it a little squeeze. 

It's kinda weird. Cute, but weird.

When you're a Fish, you're a Fish all the way....

I was busy minding my own business and swimming my laps yesterday, when I noticed one of the "standees" leading a revolt in the non-swimming lanes. She was all arms-a-waving and pointing to the lane markers. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was definitely miffed at the lap swimmers. I knew what it was because I distinctly heard "AND they splash us!"

Uh oh. Storms-a-brewin' at the Golden Acres Swimming Pool....



I swear I heard their noodles snapping the surface of the water.

Warm Waters

It seems to be the theme of my life lately--between the pond, the pool, and what I get myself into, warm water is all around me.

It's downright balmy here in Chicago this week. Temps are hovering in the upper 60's, possibly hitting 78 degrees on Wednesday.  Between the warm and the rain, the frogs have been officially awakened from hibernation.

Always a scary time for me, I peered out my window with the flashlight this morning to see how many sets of beady eyes I could find.  With the rain, the frogs were lured onto the rocks outside of the pond--they just love the rain on their skin.  It was great to see my old friends lined up, eyes a-shimmering, reflecting back 4 sets of little eyeballs staring back at me.  4 frogs made it through the winter--which isn't a bad lot.  Not bad at all. From what I can figure, I only lost one frog....and we already knew about that.

After nearly sweating to death in the pool at the rec center, I finally located the thermometer and rubbed my goggles to make sure what I was reading was correct--the water is 88 degrees.  I think hot tubs are normally set at 90 so that explains why all the seniors are moving really, really slow.  I don't really know what hot tubs are set at--but I do know that it is NOT a good sign to jump into the lap lanes to find the water too warm.  It isn't conducive to actual "swimming".  Not kidding--after jumping in, I just have this urge to grab a noodle and float.

I made a friend yesterday--we shared a lap lane together.  She came up to me complaining about the walkers in the lanes and the predominance of people just standing and talking.  I almost hugged her.  It was frustrating, but at least I have someone else who realizes that the pool is for working out--not just the Bob and Blab. It was nice to meet an actual "fish"--not just another "duck".

I was aghast to see that in the local paper, one of the worst teachers my kid has ever had is being nominated by another knucklehead for some award.  I nearly fell off my chair.  So, I do what any idiot would do--I make a comment on the story and now my name is attached to the comment for all to see.  Yeah, me. Like I said, I'm an idiot. That ought to go over big at parent-teacher conferences this week.

Apparently I'm used to warm (if not hot) water. Ugh.

Thank goodness for failing memories

We hung out with friends Saturday night and laughed ourselves silly.  This particular bunch is hilarious because the 3 gals all went to grade school together--so we usually bring up funny stuff from those years together, which makes the guys roll their eyes and laugh at us even more than they usually do.

I met Jan in 2nd grade and Cheryl in 6th--but it seems like yesterday. Until we drag out the photos and the yearbooks--then we remember that it was more than a few years ago that we first hung out. Oh, those old photos are fodder for snickers.

So, there we sat, telling stories about ourselves and our former classmates, dishing on who's up to what these days and.....well.....who got chubby.  Or bald. Or chubby and bald. At one point, Cheryl said to me "I don't even remember you in middle school, Lin" to which I replied "Oh, thank god."  I was a hot mess in middle school, but who wasn't, right?

I found it enlightening that in my absolute worst years of my life, when you think everyone in the world is judging you and focusing on what a slobbering idiot you were.......pretty much nobody was noticing.  Gees, I just wish I knew that back then.  And I wish I could make this happy feeling of inconsequence last forever--it sure is liberating.  Oh, to think nobody remembered (or they were too polite to say it) what a dork I was! 

I've posted a photo of 8th grade me on the night of my middle school graduation.  I'm standing with a friend who probably doesn't remember who I am, or was.  The reason why I post this is because he has since gone on to greater things,  things that I never expected of him.  We remained friendly in high school and he was involved in theater like I was, but I can't say I ever thought of him as a great talent or anything.  He was just in the plays and so was I.  I don't even remember him having a starring role or anything.  He was just a nice guy I remember knowing a long time ago.

It's funny how those years are sort of a wash in remembering what anybody else did in those awkward years.  Oh, I can tell you handfuls of silly, foolish things that I did to embarrass myself, but I can't tell you for the life of me, what Jan, Cheryl, or Bill did back in those days.  I just remember thinking that everyone else was so put together while I was a mess. 

I wish I knew that none of it matters 30 years later and that my mother was right when she said that everyone was more concerned with themselves and wouldn't notice what I was doing.  Inconsequential is good, you know?

Spring Break continues.......

I was late in posting on Friday, which is unusual for me because I typically post the evening before.  I got distracted because I was preparing for Colin's visit home and then........... well,...........I just got lazy.  "Aw, I'll do it in the morning, " I thought, but I woke up late and laid in bed just petting the kitties until I absolutely had to get out of bed in order to make my doctor's appointment.  It's a rare day when that happens.

I find myself taking more time to chill lately. Whether it is the pool that is draining me (no pun intended) or that I'm just easing up on my old self a bit--I've been making some time in the evenings to just sit and relax.  And I have to admit to enjoying it.  No phone calls, no computer, no running errands--I plop myself on the couch and relax.

Unlike the rest of the world, we will not be traveling to some exotic warm spot for Spring Break.  Colin has one week for break and Em has another, which is not conducive to packing up the family and flying to Florida.  Instead, I'm going to take a few days off of work to just spend time with each kid individually. Maybe cram in some whole family time in there as well.  Either way, I'm going to make the time to just breathe a bit.

So, if in the midst of this there are no stories of Stripey Goodness or Life in the Lap Lane, please just enjoy the 2 minutes of freedom that I have given you as well.  It's one less blog you have to visit, one less comment to make, and 2 minutes completely to yourself to close your eyes, take a mini-daydream, or maybe just sit and do nothing. It's my new Spring Break from Blogging idea. Feel free to join me if you wish--it might be good for your soul as well.

Oh, I'm a big talker--I will probably be posting anyway, but I just like the option of not having to.  

The "new" Spring Break

Was it really 27 years ago that we, wacky college kids, piled a cooler and ourselves into a smelly Ford Torino and drove for 20 hours straight to get to Florida for Spring Break?  Criminy, feels like yesterday. Seriously.

Do you remember when Fort Lauderdale was THE place to be for Spring Break?  Yeah, me too.  Gees, it was fun.  There were college kids everywhere.  I think it was probably one of the best trips of my life--to just pack up our stuff and drive until it got warm and sunny.

"Relax," Frankie said. And that we did.  (And a wee bit of partying too.)

Here's our foursome--Me (taking the photo), Joe (you can see only the back of his head), Todd (Joe's friend), and my friend, Marnie.  This was at our first pit stop on the way to Lauderdale--we stopped in Daytona to visit our friend, Curt (in the leather jacket with his shorts--?????).  Curt won a trip to Daytona with some fraternity--it was hilarious because he just didn't fit with that crowd, but he went anyway. We spent a night there before moving on to Lauderdale--where you didn't need to wear your leather jacket on the beach.

There are lots of stories about that stop in Daytona, but I can't share them because I have teenage children and I can't admit that I had fun back in the day.  We don't want to give approval to such things, you know?

OMG--look at how freaking skinny Joe was!  The boom box was nearly bigger than he was.  Just looking at this photo, you can see why I fell for him.  Or not.  (hee! hee!)

This is my Spring Break nowadays--I'm cleaning house and all but killing the fatted calf because Col is coming home for the week. 

Gone is the beer on the beach, throngs of college kids very far from home and the sounds of puking outside our hotel room door.  Now it's me Fabreezing his room, fluffing his pillows and lecturing  the cats about letting Colin pet them when he comes home. 

I can't wait.  He'll be in at 7:51 p.m.

Not that I'm counting down the seconds or anything. 

Aw, gees. Let's get on with it already.

Let's face it--Spring is here.

Heck, we never really had a winter--we went from Fall to Spring. It did more raining this winter than it did snow.  So, let's quit with the formal announcement of Spring--it's already here.  Not that I'm complaining or anything. 

I've been going out to look at the garden the past few days.  The snowdrops and crocus are all blooming--telling me that it is time.  Every where I look, there are little green sprouts breaking the surface of the mulch telling me that nature is done sleeping.

The frogs are ready for Spring too.  With 60 degree weather the past few days, I made note of 3 sets of eyeballs peering over the leafy debris on the water.  Even they are tired of slumbering, I guess. And if the algae in the pond is any indicator, the sun has been shining a whole lot more, waking up not only the frogs, but Mr. Snuggles and his fellow fish friends as well.  The pond is quickly coming to life!

You know what I miss most during winter?  Color.  Just color of any kind in our olive drab and muddy world.  I miss flowers and the green of our lawn.  I miss the pink of the hydrangeas and the yellow of the goldfinches who peep at me.  My eyeballs are just bored with the colors of winter, they are ready for iridescent green frogs and planters of a mixed bouquet.

This year is different than most because I'm typically just tired of cold and snow and I'm ready for a change to nice weather. We've had nice weather, but I'm just ready for "life" again.  It's good to see the awakening beginning.

Who lives in a blobular vessel?

Am I am the only person in the entire universe who can work out 3 or 4 days a week and not lose weight?  What gives??

Okay, I eat pretty healthy because of the GERD. There are lots of fresh fruits and veggies in my diet.  I eat oatmeal with Silk on it for breakfast....every freaking day.  We don't eat fried or fast foods.  We eat healthy--mainly baked chicken breast with no skin and veggies for dinner.

And yet......no weight loss.

I drink only water--with a few glasses of wine every now and then (unless it is the Jazz Band Dinner Dance). There are no soft drinks or juices.  There is no dessert--in fact I don't like ice cream or cookies. I eat yogurt, people. Every. Single. Day. for lunch.

I will credit my new metabolism gratis menopause, but really?  NO weight loss after working out 4 times a week?  Really??!

Criminy.  Almost makes me want to grab a noodle and join the old gals in the shallow end.

Sigh.

The problem with photographing snowdrops

.....is that my orange stripey likes them too.

I know he's out of focus, but he insisted on walking into every shot of my beloved snowdrops. Sigh.  He's a ham--not a snowdrop.




So, here is my kid's brilliant comment from the baby shower on Sunday as we were all commenting on the lack of baby clothes given as presents:

"Don't they sell trans-gender clothes for babies?"

Yeah, Em. But they are called "gender-neutral" or "uni-sex".   That kid scares me sometimes. At least she is good for a laugh.

I want to reclaim this time on my deathbed

I have this theory that showers were invented by men.

I think some wise-acre pioneer guy got sick of having the little woman around the house nagging him to do stuff, so he created wedding/baby showers just to get her out of his hair periodically.  This made her think she was having fun AND he got some free time to himself to do whatever guys do when they are home alone.

I think I've got something here with this theory--they seem awfully happy to send us off to these things, don't you think? If you are wondering, just look at his face while you open that invitation to the next wedding/baby shower you get invited to.  Go on. Watch his face light up as he says all fake-like "Ohhhh, I know how much you hate those" --and all the while he is secretly planning his free day.  I'm telling you, it's a conspiracy. A man conspiracy.  They are all secretly high-fiving themselves and the pioneer guy who came up with this "shower" idea.

I'm just gonna go on record in stating that we women DO NOT find these events fun--in any way, shape or form.  We do not enjoy watching brides unwrap toasters and blenders or even sheets.  We get tired of oohing and ahhing over onesies and pacifiers.  We don't like unspiked punch and we certainly don't like getting all dressed up on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon to sit around playing bad shower games on the day that just happens to be the loveliest of  Spring days.  It is not fun. It is a time suck.  But we do it for all the gals before us that have sat in on our showers. And we grumble all the way.

I think we gals ought to fight back and make these events a couples event.  Chuck says that this is commonplace for the Hispanic community.  Right on, gals! At least some of us have woken up.  Now, we just have to band together and make the guys in our lives suffer with us--I'm guessing that cocktails will suddenly be commonplace at these things. Uh huh.

Years ago, when our friends and family were all getting married about the same time, my sister-in-law and I would make a casual stop at the bar on our way back from the restroom at these showers.  While all the other gals were talking casserole dishes, Kathy and I were downing Seven-Sevens.  And I'm telling you, it made the whole thing a whole lot more fun. We were like shower rebels, giggling and making some fun where there wasn't any. 

Finally, some grumpy old aunt busted us, called us "alcoholics" and then it wasn't so much fun anymore.  So, we found other ways to make things more exciting--like wrapping up gifts like edible panties and such for the bride-to-be. That aunt never really liked me anyway--she said I was a troublemaker. On the contrary, I was a FUNmaker. Whatever.

I ran into Kathy at a shower yesterday. Yeah, we laughed about our antics from years ago, but neither of us stopped at the bar at the venue we were at, but I did notice the bartender was working--just in case. We all giggled on how much we hated these things, but we all sat and smiled, and well.....suffered together.

It's our destiny, these things--to sit for hours eating chicken salad and sipping punch while we make actual conversation about diaper genies and "Goodnight Moon".  It's official, it's great to be a woman.

Yeah/no.

Weekend lazy

Yea! It's the weekend.

No swimming.  No snarky stories about the pool,

and no having to squeeze into my suit.

No rushing. No waking up early, 

and no driving in traffic.

I'm gonna rest from the week past,

and for the week ahead.

I'm gonna rest from the weary world

and everyone who wants something from me.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast

Dread fills me every single time I grab the door that leads into the pool area from the locker room.  I never know what awaits on the other side of the door--are the lap lanes free or do I have to bully some old water-walker to the bob-and-blab area?  Sigh.  I hate the anticipation of the battle, I really do.

I'm not sure why there is ownership of those lanes for non-swimmers, but there is. And snagging a lane for lap swimming can be intense on some days--some of those old guys don't want to let go of their lane.....not even to share it. 

The pool is divided--3 lanes for lap swimmers, 2 or 3 are open for what I call the "bob-and-blab"--which is the old ladies floating on noodles and yakking.  They think they are "working out", but in essence, they are really just bobbin' and blabbin'--hence the name.

And while that is a very nice social outing for the senior gals, they sorta plug up that part of the pool for the water-walkers--the people who don their gym shoes in the pool and walk back and forth. Or do weird things like jumping jacks in the pool or other mysterious under-water-limb-thingies. 

I think that makes the old guys nuts, so they gravitate to the lap lanes, which are reserved for lap swimming, but they like to do their "laps" all floaty-like or with made-up swim strokes--strokes that I call "survival swimming". 

Survival swimming is just that--it's when you are stranded out in the ocean because you fell off a cruise ship or your snokeling cruise left you stranded.  So, you do what you have to keep afloat--like lying on your back, kicking your feet a bit and waving your arms every now and then--but not too much, or it will attract sharks. This type of swimming also includes the sidestroke, elementary backstroke, and the ever-popular dead-man's float.  (Which is not a good idea when you are 87 because people think you are really dead in Lane 3.) I'm not sure why, but there is a lot of "survival swimming" going on over at the Golden Acres Rec Center. Maybe there is a message there...

I sigh deeply (and probably loudly) when I grab my kickboard and pull-buoy and stand at the end of one of those lanes and try to figure out how best to move in.  It's never easy and never quick because you have to wait until the old guy gets to the shallow end to say "Hey, mind if I share your lane?" They are usually really, really slow floaters/swimmers, and I have found that the majority of them can't hear me--or they don't want to. Ugh.  And I don't want to just jump in--they get really mad at that.

It's a fine line I walk--do I just jump in and share? Or do I gently slink into the water and ask my new lane buddy to share?  Either way, they always get miffy because I actually "swim" and then they skeedaddle out of the pool altogether--which makes me feel guilty.  It's a no-win, I tell you.  I feel like an old-guy bully--which I'm not. Really.  Why can't we all just get along??

I tried the "ask" approach yesterday--to which I was completely ignored. I asked again--no answer. I finally did the "slink-in" and swim--which is the "okay, I asked nicely, you big wienie, now I'm gonna just swim in your lane anyway" approach.  On my return trip, I noticed my pal had in ear plugs.  Sigh. 

They don't fight fair, these senior swimmers.



**If you ever wonder if the cats fall into the pond ......yes. But only once. (see photo)

I'm still a believer

Okay, I will admit to being really, really sad at the news that Davy Jones died yesterday.  Dang, that was a blow.  While I didn't know him personally, I knew him as a part of my childhood--along with David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman, and Donny Osmond. Remember them?  There are some who don't--I actually had to explain who Davy Jones was to a few office mates. Sigh.

It's weird when your childhood stars die--it's just a brutal reminder that they, and me, are getting older. And that hurts--a lot.  In my mind's eye, I'm eternally that kid singing along with my Partridge Family albums and staring at my David Cassidy poster. Seems like yesterday I was hanging in the basement with my cousins, roller skating and debating who's cuter--David Cassidy or Bobby Sherman. My cousin, Mary, was gaga over Bobby--he didn't do much for me. 

I still see myself as that kid.  And it feels like yesterday--although my body tells me otherwise.

I sat in traffic, listening to Davy belting out "Daydream Believer" on the car radio and I felt bad. Really bad.  It's hard to let go of your youth, you know?  It's hard to hear that he was gone at 66--"old" to the kid in me, "young" to the adult that I am.  See, I'm closer to 66 than I am to 8, unfortunately, and that is the difficult part of the news.

You had to see me trying to coax the memories of my younger co-workers when they stared at me with blank eyes at the news that Davy Jones had died.  "You know, The Monkees?" "Daydream Believer??" "Hey, hey, we're the Monkees??"  Sigh.  "Oh, I know! Remember when he went to the dance with Marcia Brady???!"  (cricket. cricket.)

Nope. Nothin'.

Nobody had a clue.

And it's that quick that our teeny-bopper crushes disappear and you suddenly feel very, very old.  You'd swear I was talking about Lawrence Welk. Sheesh. 

I guess I just need to mourn Davy Jones for a bit.  And along with that, I'm gonna mourn those memories of skating on the concrete floor of my cousin's basement.  I'm gonna mourn my old record player and my Patridge Family albums that are all scratchy.  And my old metal roller skates with the lost skate key. I mourn the Donny Osmond of back-in-the-day and David Cassidy who rocked a velvet pant suit. 

And I mourn little me.  Young me.  And the days and era I cannot recapture.

Goodbye, Davy. Thanks for the daydreams.