Glad to be off the train

Here it is the last day of NABLOPOMO and I am FINALLY in a non moving room with Internet access! No cell service, but Internet access - go figure!

I would hate to quickly summarize the train trip and ensuing hilarity... it just wouldn't do the trip justice. But I just don't have the time right now. Suffice it to say that we have arrived at our destination. The Izaak Walton Lodge "a place where time stands still" says their brochure. Reasons why that phrase may just be another way to say boredom, to follow!

Uhg! more typing... :o( hee hee

Tessie again.
Even though my mom is not typing, she is still here in spirit (I am her daughter after all)
So, off to do some homework!
Later!

Hola! Tessie here!

This Kelsie (aka Tessie) I am posting a blog for my mom tonight because she is off on a train somewhere. Since I have never done this before I am just going to make this short and sweet. Well... I guess that's about it... I'm off to bed so I can be rested up for school tomorrow.

Adios!
Tessie

Tada

No Time - Gotta Pack!

I only have a couple of minutes to write this. I'm trying to clean house, and get my wardrobe in order to pack for our train trip! I'm really looking forward to this as a source of relaxation and some much needed 'grown up' time. I am worried though about Internet connection for my laptop along the route. I've tried posting from my web enabled phone but so far no luck... well, we shall see.

Show's Over

Well, tonight was the final show of Moorhead High School's "High School Musical." It really was a great show. We had two cameras video taping the last two shows and those tapes will be edited into the master "file" video. That's the one that the kids are supposed to watch and critique then give back to the Director... but if some copies get made, and kept, well none's the wiser! We had a little extra drama today since the boy who played Troy Bolton, the lead, started loosing his voice. It was starting to crack at the end of the matinee, and by the end of tonight's show he sounded like Bobby Brady when he hit puberty! The girl that played the female lead, Gabriella, stepped in and sang with him, covering up the notes he couldn't hit tonight. It seems a little romance has cropped up over the run of the show and by this time they aren't just playing boyfriend and girlfriend - they are living the part - making her heroic vocal rescue tonight all the more poignant.

I'm just amazed at the parents that pitch in to help and actually run everything that goes on besides the show! We do have a pretty sophisticated parent group though, since we are running year long fundraisers to defray the costs for our trip to the Scotland Fringe Festival next summer. Yeah, there are some "theatre moms" in the mix that raise my hackles every now and then, but there are also some very cool parents there too that even things out - rolling their eyes right along with me, or smiling and nodding when I know they'd really like to smack some of these people upside the head, V8 style.

Poor Bear is feeling the let-down that is so common at the end of a show. It's tougher for him this time because some of the parts have to be recast since some of the cast aren't going to Scotland. He loved playing a yell leader, and is feeling a little trepidation at relearning a new part. Ah, but such is life in the theatre!

Well, once again, I'm posting at 11:30, scrambling to write something before the day is over. I love this NABLOPOMO thing for keeping me on task, but man does it kill creativity! I had this great inspiration this morning - once again - in the shower - about the fact that this show is a Disney show and I've always wanted to work for Disney, and the fact that I wear my show-tee-shirt that has the Disney logo on it makes me sort of a Disney representative, right? I had some connection between me being able to tolerate the "theatre-moms" because I was beholden to the Disney creed, and something or other... and thats where it all fell apart. Anyway, that's blog fodder for another day..... Gnite!

Misspent Youth

Inspired by a prompt from Sunday Scribblings

Misspent Youth. It implies a youth wasted, or worthless.

Well, even though I may have spent (or misspent as it were) a part of my youth getting wasted, I wouldn’t say all of those experiences were worthless. I learned from them and I always say (despite the dangling participle) a bad example is the best example to learn from. For example, despite all my best efforts at not going to class, I did actually learn some stuff, stuff I actually remember – like conjugating verbs in Spanish, and the definition of an isosceles triangle, and the capitals of all 50 states. Not stuff you need to know every day, but hey, I do pretty well at Trivial Pursuit.

Misspent. That word sounds to me like if you could go back and do it all again, you’d do it differently. Well I wouldn’t. I took some wrong turns, and I burnt some bridges, and I hardly ever answered the door when Ol’ Mr. Opportunity was knocking. But then some of those wrong turns led to other roads that turned out OK, and when the bridge is out, you go around, and even Ol’ Mr. Opportunity eventually came calling at my door again.

I tell my kids that nothing is a mistake if you learn from it… well, OK, nothing that doesn’t involve spilled blood, or broken bones, or the next door neighbor’s cat… but pretty much anything you live through you can learn from (except dangling participles). I lived through my youth, and I learned some valuable lessons. I hope my kids don’t have to learn the hard way like I did, but part of me knows they will – they’ll have to, if they’re going to be a bad example for my grandkids!

Thankful For Friday and Leftovers and MJ!

Of the nearly 50 Thanksgiving turkey's I have had the pleasure of sampling in my life, there are exactly three that I remember....

The first was in the late 1980s when my parents first purchased a Weber Grill. The novelty of barbecuing a turkey was part of it, but it did have a wonderful flavor.

The second was years later when Downtown Dad and I purchased a deep fryer, along with the gallons of peanut oil, a turkey syringe, and the cajun spices required so that we could take our life in our fireproof mitted hands, and hope to God our fire insurance was up to date, in order to deep fry a turkey - in the snow. Quick, and tasty, but IMHO, not worth the trouble.

The third one, was yesterday when we used an old roasting pan, handed down from one of our grandmas, and the syringe from the back of the utensil drawer, and a recipe from our friend MJ. We mixed a cup of boiling water with a cup of lemon juice, 1/4 cup of salt, 2 Tablespoons of liquid garlic, 1 1/2 Tablespoons of liquid smoke, and 2 Tablespoons of Tabasco sauce, injecting that into our humble store brand 12 pounder the night before. Mmmmmmmm Mmmmmmm! That was THE yummiest, most moist - even the white meat - turkey ever! Even today's leftovers are still great!

Omigod You Guys!

While we cooked, we watched Legally Blonde-The Musical, and if you haven't seen it, you really can't know the perky goodness of the really clever songs and the freakishly sweet way they worm thier way into your brain and never leave! Anyway, and so, the fabulous food that took all day to create was devoured as usual, in 17.8 minutes. Then, since we do not have a functioning dishwasher - the automatic kind - we worked off some calories by cleaning up, and then collapsed into a heap on the couch in an L-Tryptophan induced coma... and since everyone was too sleepy to reach the remote, guess what we watched again? Legally Blonde-The Musical for the second time ... Omigod You Guys!

Who's Your Candidate?

Are you as confused as I am about the whole Presidential campaign? Are the issues really blurry, and the candidates' stand on the issues even blurrier? Well, this may help. Here's a link to a survey I found on the Minnesota Public Radio site. By answering a series of questions about major issues, you can quickly learn which candidates are most closely aligned with your views. You'll be able to learn more about each candidate, hear his/her positions on many issues, and find out how your results compare with those of others who take the survey. And heck, if it doesn't help, at least you may learn something!

The Collector

This is dedicated to my genealogist husband:

At family gatherings you collect them,
Names, dates, distant memories, pictures of people long passed,
Quickly, carefully - before they scatter with the winds of time.
Dried leaves, rattling across the roads that once were farms.

Collected and catalogued, they accumulate, almost palpable,
Percolating, like coffee on an ancient cookstove.
Just beneath the motes and swirls of day to day dust,
as fertile as compost in a long forgotten cornfield

Finally, the congregation is assembled, drawn together
Once again with the places that gave them life.
To anyone else, just old photos, dates and maps.
To you, the family – gathering.


Inspired by #77 Sunday Scribblings - Collector Personality

Pachelbel - Who Knew?

Because I'm not really smart enough to figure out how to post this video right on my site, I'm going to put in a link because if you haven't seen this guy, you really must! This is such a great example of really intellegent humor! Enjoy Pachelbel's Canon in D - for the first time - all over again!

*EDIT* OK so it turns out that it really is very simple to imbed the video, and I have now done so based on the kindness of Mary Alice of From The Frontlines

Blue Sunday

It's Sunday evening, I can't think of anything to write about so once again, I dip into my endless stash of pictures from 1967. This was taken I'm quite sure on a Sunday, Easter Sunday quite probably. My sister and I are modeling our matching coats - made, as most of our clothes were at the time, by my mother. I'm quite sure there were very few occasions that occured before I reached the age of 12 that did not include matching outfits for my sister and me. That's me, on the left, holding the lovely aqua purse that matches my lovely aqua coat, which coincidentally matches my sisters lovely aqua coat. I can't imagine what I would have had in the purse - quite possibly white gloves, or maybe two more inches of fabric so the sleeves would reach my wrists.

Notice the lady-like stance my mother, my grandmother and I have assumed - my little sister just has to go to the bathroom - she always had to go to the bathroom.

Daughters

One of the most fabulous things about having a teenaged daughter is hearing her laugh.

There is a stage in female adolescent development that causes her mouth muscles to pull downward quite often and her eyes tend to roll at the slightest hint of a parental opinion. Almost all communication on her part whithers to a grunt or, if you're lucky, a tirade in which you, or parents as a species, bear the brunt of anything non-Fall Out Boy that has ever happened in the fullness of civilisation. Her apparal of choice is the absolute opposite of anything you'd choose now, or would have chosen when you were that age, (God forbid you should ever mention the words: "when I was your age"), and food, must be once again in the orange category that was so popular in her toddler years (i.e. macaroni and cheese, carrots, orange juice or Orange Crush). During this time, the female hormones - so prone to coordinate cycles in earlier years, tend to ebb in the opposite direction now, causing even the most transcendental mom to pop off a few well aimed verbal whallops, while the teenaged girl explores her newfound world of expletives.

All of this becomes blissfully insignificant, when quite by chance, you walk by an open door where she is watching an old favorite Disney movie and you are lucky enough to hear a beautifully matured version of that three-year old giggle.

La la la...something And Noodles With String...

Mrs. G, over at Derfwad Manor sent out an invitation for we NABLOPOMO-ites to post our "Favorite Things" today. A welcome inspiration, I must say, for those of us who are 15 days into this daily post challenge with nary a clue as to what we will write the next day!

Today also marks the day that The Sound of Music opened on Broadway 48 years ago. Amazing then, don't you think, that Mrs. G should orchestrate a group post based on the hit song from that musical? ... something tells me this ISN'T a coincidence!

So, now without further ado - well... one ado (what is an ado anyway?) These are My Favorite Things, based on sensory experiences, the things that give me chills, or make me smile at the thought - or some things that are irreplaceable, mine alone. It goes without saying that Downtown Dad and my family are absolutely my favorite things. They already know they are irreplaceable, and just because they are not in the list doesn't mean they don't give me chills or make me smile!

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

The cherry red hood of my ’67 Firebird at 65 miles an hour
A Summer cloudburst on the tin roof outside my window
The first whiff of the tire department at Sears
Ice cold milk, first thing in the morning
Putting on warm jeans right out of the dryer
The lavender Santa Ynez mountains against blue sky
Cobalt blue and white willow patterned porcelain
Apricot colored Hibiscus blooms
The tang of salt sea spray
Incense burning
Spanish guitar music
Colm Wilkerson as Jean ValJean in Les Miserables
Jim Croce’s Photographs and Memories
Flaky, salty, sweet pie crust
Cool sheets on a hot night
Warm sun on skin
Green tea Frappaccinos
A Taco Bell Enchirito
Freshly shampooed hair
Wind in the trees and waves on the sand
Deep backrubs
20 minute hot showers
Eucalyptus bark
Red canyons and rocky creeks
My first pair of high heels
Jafra’s Almond Oil
Reeses Peanut Butter Cups
My 10-speed Motobecane bicycle
My hammered silver unicorn necklace
My ninth grade journals
My Inheritance poem
My Captain Kitty book
Palm trees
A full moon
1973

Lost in the past....

Tessie and I got lost in looking at old photo albums tonight and all of a sudden it got to be 11:35! I'm working on the list of My Favorite Things to be posted tomorrow!

I Am From...

I read this over at Dyane's Words of a Witchy Woman and just had to try it out. There is a form to guide you in creating your own version here. I think this is still a work in progress, but I've run out of time to work on it tonight!

I am from The Church in Cove, from Crayola Crayons and California.
I am from the identical tract house 6th from the corner with it’s back to the mountains, and my hand print in the patio cement.
I am from the bougainvilla, the hibiscus and the palm tree, the iceplant, the eucalyptus and oak.
I am from devout believers and hard workers and coffee drinkers, from Richards and Roberts and Lania.
I am from the winsome smilers and the long goodbye-ers.
From people who don’t divorce and people who are silent while daddy naps.
I am from my mother who taught me to sew and a father who took us to church on Sunday. White gloves to hide the dirty fingernails – turn the pages, mouth the words.
I'm from Escondido and County Cork – Tuna Casserole and Tacos.
From the child who could recite John 3:16 at two and a half, the girl who hitchhiked to school, and the same one who married the wrong man for the wrong reasons.
I am from the cedar chest Grandma’s brother made, the stories Uncle David told, from the hummingbird’s nest in the kumquat tree outside Mungio’s window and the lessons that hang like choir robes.

November 13, 1981

Twenty six years ago today, my firstborn came into this world. Without the aid of prenatal classes, Lamaze, or any drugs or sugical aid. I was 23. He changed my life. Happy Birthday Beez.

Driving to See The Snow

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, (1967) in a land far far away (from here), there were two little girls who lived on the beach and had never seen snow. One day, they looked up from their sunny patio toward the Sierra Madres behind their house and saw that the tip tops were white. "Mommy," they said, "why are the mountains all dusty?" Their mother, who had spent most of her life on the west coast also, told them about a magical substance that once in a while came down from the clouds called snow. The girls were very excited and begged their mother to let them go see this wonderous sight. Their mother bundled them up in their warmest plastic rain galoshes, and knee high socks, piled them into the Chevy station wagon, along with the camera and a 1.5 pound bag of rock salt she bought for making ice cream (because she'd heard you needed to salt the roads if they were icy), and drove them 35 minutes up the pass to the frigid snowline, where minutes earlier a torrent of snow had left giant drifts of up to an inch in places. The girls begged to get out of the car to make snowmen and snow angels like they'd seen in foreign travelogs, but their mother kept driving. Past the Jeeps, and Pickup trucks that had brought their own rambunctious children to experience this rare delight. Their mother wanted to find a private patch of pristine snow so she could record this moment for the family album, which was otherwise filled with sandy, splashy, shorts clad people. Finally, as the sun sank low in the sky and the temperature dropped to a frigid 45 degrees, their mother told the girls they could get out of the car and stand under that pine tree - 'be careful not to mess up the snow before I take this snapshot!' Once the picture was taken, the girls piled handfulls of the white stuff together, but dirt and leaves mixed in, and it didn't stick together, and they didn't have mittens, just some old white sunday school gloves that were instantly soaked. They lay down in the snow and waved their arms and legs, but they just ended up sweeping the snow off of the dirt and rocks underneath, giving their snow angels a sadly tarnished look. After 5 long minutes of frolicking, the girls were wet and cold and tired and ready to go home. Once safely back to sea-level, the girls ran shivvering into the house, ready for some hot chocolate! The End.

Introvert Behaving Badly

Two posts ago I said that I felt like an introvert pretenting to be an extrovert. I decided to retake the Myers Briggs Personality test to see if it would reveal, as Urban Pedestrian suggested, that I was perhaps harboring two personalities. She made me think I should create a name for this alter-ego so my posts don't get confusing. I actually gave it some thought, but then decided, no, that would just be enabling the questionably existant other personality, and an enabler I am NOT!

Now, while I don't think Myers Briggs is really meant to uncover dissociative identity disorders, I did find that I am still an ENFJ (see results in the left sidebar). Extrovert. Not Introvert. One Linda. Not Two. Whew.

So why all the retreating to dark corners, and my new preference for the fetal position? According to some of the explanations of the ENFJ Type, under extreme stress, or fatigue - which I totally kind of am right now - the "shadow" or opposite of what I am may appear. Uh, duh, isn't that like Newton's third law or something? But it is interesting to read that, and sort of understand those feelings as a natural reaction of my personality to stress.

So, cool. I want to embrace this newfound *permission* to go to the dark side. I want it to be like a built-in excuse for bad behavior. But, how would an introvert exhibit bad behavior? What would be the Hyde to my Jekyll? Would I think my honest opinion about someone, rather than blurting it out to their face as I normally do? Would I actually consider the consequences of telling someone the truth (for their own good of course) before I actually do it? Will I retreat so far into myself that I resort to self-psychoanalysis, based on free Internet tests and then hypothosize myself into oblivion? .... maybe...

No Time

Play went til ten. Exhausted parents are going to have a drink!
G'night!

True Confessions

The last couple of posts have been half-assed, citing my lack of energy. Well honestly, that's what I *thought* was the reason.

Turns out - I can trace it back to the fact that unbeknowst to anyone else, I'm basically a very shy introverted person with a serious lack of self esteem, stemming from my inability to get approval from my father, which manifested itself in thinking I'm not worthy of compliments or of anything good that happens in my life. This, caused me to compensate by putting on the outer facade of confident-woman/super-mom, thus giving others the false impression that I am a talented, outgoing, vivacious person who can accomplish anything, which, of course, manifested itself (a la The Secret) in me having a super fabulous year, accomplishing everything I wanted, since apparently my subconscious believed the impression I was projecting to everyone else.

So, here I am with an embarrassment of accomplishments and opportunities, and with what feels like an endless number of things to blog about - something akin to the old addage "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it!" At the same time though, the shy introvert in me just wants to crawl under the covers and dissapear into a book because I'm overwhelmed by the endless number of things to blog about!

Tired...Again.

Today was friends and family night for High School Musical - or dress rehearsal. WOW! None of us has seen it all the way through before - and it was AMAZING! We are all pretty tired, so this is the extent of my post. I haven't even had the energy to read anyone elses posts either. Tomorrow should be a little less hectic.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste...

It is the middle of *Hell Week* as the High School Musical is set to start it's 11 show run on Friday. We, the parents, serve potluck dinners to our actors during their rehearsals which last till 10:30 or 11, we do their... er, um, help them with their homework into the wee hours, and coax, drag, and cajole them off to school again in the morning.

It is the first really cold day we've had. Probably in the low 30s. We were all happy to have a night off from late rehearsals, and to get home to our cozy house after our busy day... but for some reason, it wasn't so cozy - in fact it was downright cold! Ah yes, it's 8:40 p.m and the furnace is not working!

And all is as it should be.

Kids!

I'm out of creativity today and Blogger has a scheduled outage at 11 p.m., so I need to post something quick. Here is a series of pics of my kids that took 13 years to stage....

The first one was really Beez taking his best friend, AG Bear for a ride, on his preferred mode of transportation, wearing his favorite article of clothing, his cowboy boots!

For the next one, I noticed that Tessie's hood fur matched a bear she had, and, remembering the now 10 year old picture of her big brother, I suggested she take the bear for a ride, which she did posing, and flashing her smile, once she noticed I had the camera in my hand.

The last one, took a bit more cajoling, and several shots to find one that did not have Bearly scowling, or throwing the bear... once I convinced him to actually sit on the trike - which he hated.


Beez 3 1/2 years old 1984


Tessie 3 1/2 years old 1994


Bearly 3 1/2 years old 1997

Warrior Woman: Vera Vedrasna

A couple of years ago, several of the women in my office and I put together an after work yoga class once a week. We *tried out* a few teachers before we found our ideal mix of someone who was a certified instructor, who could lead us through our practice with enough authenticity to make it worthwhile, but at the same time, someone who would not have us chanting and ohming or worse, offend the Lutherans! We finally found a fabulous female. (Nice alliteration!) One of those elf-like people who look ageless, even with her naturally gray hair. Just her presence speaks volumes about the benefits of yoga! And the things she can do with her body - all the while, talking us through our *asanas* or poses with the quiet, mindful voice of someone who's words seem to come from another time.

I especially like it when she uses the pose's proper or Sanskrit name, like Tadasana for Mountain Pose, or the lyrical Adho Mukha Svanasana instead of the awkward sounding Downward Facing Dog. For the longest time I thought the Sanskrit word for my favorite pose - Warrior Pose - was the name of a mythological woman warrior - Vera Vedrasna....

Until I looked it up for this post!

Sure it sounds like Vera Vedrasna, toned, tanned, flexible ancient desert warrior, but look how it is spelled: Virabhadrasana. Oy, that looks like something you'd see under a 10th Grade Biology microscope!

Well, no matter - after not going for almost 6 months because of my toe surgery, I've started up again - and its amazing what a little stretching and twisting, will do for you! There's a little Vera Vedrasna in me after all!

Absolutely Nothing

I held two open houses today. One in a freezing house where only three people showed up, the other house had so many people I lost count after 30! If you've never tried to be nice to 30+ strangers for two hours, let me tell you, it takes a lot outta ya! Just as the last open was almost over, and I was looking forward to the relative peace and quiet of home, one of my fellow Realtor girlfriends called to remind me that tonight was a girls only dinner at her house celebrating my 50th birthday.

Wheee.

The 50th birthday is a cover for one of the girls who recently left our brokerage for another one. We haven't gotten together for a while and this was pretty much the only day all 5 of us could get together. She lives in a rural town some miles away and her husband literally screens the events she can go to... no, really, he does.

There's really no point to this post except to say that I'm just tired and I need to get it posted before midnight.

Gnight!

Hello, My Name Is Linda And...

Alright! I'll admit it! I'm a Cleanaholic!

"Hello Linda."

Mind you that doesn't mean I clean well. After all, an alcoholic doesn't necessarily drink the finest, most expensive wine. But I do THINK about cleaning pretty much all the time! I was thinking about cleaning today as a matter of fact, but I got distracted by this and this. I even found myself a themesong.

It's just that there's always so MUCH to clean and usually so LITTLE time! And even though they offer to help clean, the family doesn't do it the *right* way, the way I want it done, so if I don't do it, it doesn't get done. Thankfully, the household, knowing my addiction, usually can provide enough enablement for me. A typical week looks like this; The dogs track in leaves, and small tumbleweeds and deposit fur on every sitting surface; The birds - on purpose - have a secret birdcathalon where they throw seed hulls and feathers as far as they can from behind their bars; The dirty clothes, thown down the laundry chute, multiply, spilling out into the TV room; The dirty dishes teeter and balance in the sink, overflowing onto every counter and table within view of a TV; Food purchased from the Eyes-Bigger-Than-Your-Stomach-All-Night-Drive-Thru festers and furrs itself in the fridge, aided by the light always on because there is too much stuff in there for the door to close!

Thank goodness there is enough time in my day to post this blog!

A Teacher Appears

As I have mentioned previously, I am very involved in a non profit local youth theatre group.

Recently, the girl who wrote grants for this group decided that now - she wont.

As a result of this, a couple of other board members and I have decided that we will take this on.... 'cause, how hard can it be? Just the filling in of some forms......

ah, no....

Apparently you need training to write grants.

Also, apparently, quite a lot of time is involved in the writing of these grants.

Oh, and somewhere, there are lists of grant giving individuals.

Who knew?

So now three otherwise employed people are currenly searching the Web to find any and everything to do with grant writing and those who give grants ... which by the way if you look, you'll get about 1.5 million hits on Google. Why isn't there someone out there who can help us?!!?

This literally put me over the edge.

I went back to my safe Real Estate world, setting the grant writing notion aside in my mind, and I went on with my day, which involved a YWCA luncheon.

Arriving late, I sat in the only remaining seat at a table of 8. During the meal I chatted with the rest of the people seated there, and over the passing of salad dressing, I heard the girl seated next to me mention what she did for a living.

NO WAY!

She was the director of an organization that helped small non-profits learn how to write grants and find grant giving institutions!

I told her my story and we both were speechless for a couple of seconds, realizing the mangnatude of the situation! She gave me her card and I immediately emailed my cohorts.

But how amazing is that!?!

The Countdown Begins

In 35 days I turn the big 5 - 0.

Naturally with the impending milestone birthday like this breathing down my neck, my thoughts turn to things like Retirement, Social Security, and AARP. Mine and about 250,000,000 other aging baby boomers. It was ironic then this morning that two out of the three rotating screens on MSN greeted me with headlines of: 8 Money Moves To Make at 50! ... and Grey and Georgous! I can't even get old without falling into a pre-examined demographic!

At least this year I am going to celebrate by doing something I hope is unique. Kimisue, my BFF from a previous post, who also turns 5 - 0, will do so 20 days before me. She and her hubby, who live in Seattle will board the Empire Builder Amtrack train there, while Downtown dad and I, will board the same line here in Fargo, on November 25th - exactly midway between our birthdays. We we will simultaneously ride the train to our weekend destination, Glacier Park, Montana - more or less smack dab between our homes!

Nablopomo starts today! What a good excuse to chronicle the final remaining days of my first 1/2 century!