Invisible Friends and Secret Boyfriends

The coolest thing about getting a comment on your blog is following the link back to the commenter's blog and getting to know them. Its really interesting how much I actually have in common with all of my new invisible friends! Take Mrs. G for instance. I followed the link from her comment and read her profile and thought, wow, she's someone I could probably get along with in real life. After reading her October 26th post I am convinced that we are sisters separated at birth! She's secretly in love with Jon Stewart too! Go on, follow the link, drool over the black and white high school yearbook photo, watch over the span of the several photos she's posted, as his hair gradually turns to the silver edged yamulke I imagine him to be wearing. Ahhhh.

Short post I know, but it's 9:57 and even though The Daily Show is in reruns this week, I really have to get this done and go watch.

Uppity Bee-otch

I really should apologize for yesterday's uppity-bee-otch post. Not to you, my invisible friends, but to Downtown Dad (because eventually he's gonna read this). Women get it when they hear uppity-bee-otchiness and respond with things like "OMG! I know, right?" 0r, "We had the exact same conversation!" And then women move on. Men don't. Men take things very personally.

This past week Downtown Dad really has been a fabulous example of why my friends call him an "evolved male." Well not only this week, because he truly is probably the most perfect husband ever, but especially so since I've been sick, and grumpy and stressed and lazy.

He got the laundry done, and while it's all still sitting in piles on the basement couch - he did get it all folded too! He vacuumed, he did the dishes, he made a fabulous chicken tortilla soup - from scratch, and he also mowed the lawn, raked the leaves and got the kids where they were supposed to go. He brought me Ny-Quil when I was dying fer God's sake!

He really is like this mostly all the time. I only really get uppity-bee-otchy when I don't hold up what I consider to be my end of the duties, then I feel guilty and get all defensive for really no reason, and the devil on my shoulder slips the angel on my other shoulder a Mickey and while she's passed out, starts whispering all kinds of uppity-bee-otch trash in my ear, which I spew out unfiltered.

But then, that's what Blogs are for... I know, right?!

WTF

BACKSTORY: My BFF and I have our birthdays 20 days apart and religiously try to celebrate them together or at least call each other to commemorate the day. This was all well and good when it started 'back in the day' when we were 15 and counting the years 'til we were 21. 35 years later, lame-os that we are, we still try to do something special as we cross the threshold into each new year sortakinda together.

Downtown Dad calls me at work, asks for my BFF's phone number. I figure… ”oh, how cute, he’s got a secret birthday surprize going on with my BFF...” I gave him aforementioned BFF's number…

Fast forward to home. Downtown Dad’s phone rings – he looks at it, leaves the room and answers it (BTW it’s BFF). I pretend that I didn’t see that it was BFF calling – sensing that there is some secret planning going on, based on the above request for number and the leaving of the room to answer the phone call from BFF.

He comes back in the room and I POINTEDLY ignore him. He makes some overt comments about me being in the room, and I’m totally confused by this point so I make an even greater effort to ignore him, busying myself in … I don’t know, an engrossing email or something. Remember, I’m still assuming that he is secretly planning something with BFF.

He hangs up.

He looks at me strangely – like “why were you so engrossed in that email while I had your best friend on the phone?”

I get out the sock puppets and try to explain to him how I have arrived at this con-fuse-ed state.

He throws up his hands and stomps off.

I shake my head and email my best friend to see wherethehell I went wrong.

MEN!

WTF?

Nyquil and Animal Planet Hangover

I woke up on Friday perfectly fine, but by Friday afternoon I was sure that I was about to die. At the height of my infirmity, I remember asking Downtown Dad to run to the store and get me some Nyquil. He did, and I slipped in and out of a Nyquil coma for the next 48 hours, the TV tuned to Animal Planet which was running a Meerkat Manor Marathon. When I finally awoke, I had a splitting headache and the strangest memories of little furry people with names like Zaphod, Kinkajou and Rocket Dog, fighting over scorpions....

On Life In General...

So, in the "on-again, off-again" relationship of Beez, they are now off-again. This is the biggest news, since I went and told the whole Internet about my secret desire to be a grandmother and now, here I sit, grandkid-less. Ok, so life is no different now than it was when they were on-again, so really there's nothing to change, except my plan to buy a cast iron skillet. Only grandmas have really good seasoned cast iron skillets. Maybe I didn't want to be a grandmas so much as I wanted that dang skillet...

My professional life in Relocation World is ramping up. I'm really busy, and the day literally flies by. I'm organizing, and categorizing and streamlining - something I absolutely LOVE doing, but I'm also beginning to understand the terms "old dog" and "new tricks." It is as if my broker wanted me to perform brain surgery, or build a rocket from scratch - I would feel just about as clueless. But slowly - (and probably not really because of my advanced age) I'm catching on, and I also get the added benefit of making new friends and new enemies. The friends thing is OK, and as for the enemies, I've heard that if you don't piss someone off, you aren't working hard enough!

As Theatre Mom I'm still struggling with my mistrust of the HS drama director. First for casting one kid from my family and not the other. Secondly because this director, for what she lacks in team building skills, she makes up in dividing-people-into-exclusive-caste-system-levels-skills. No matter how hard we try within our family unit to communicate and treat each other fairly, this production has introduced a stress level that we are having a hard time dealing with. Thirdly, the High School production's fund raising efforts are going to have an effect on my fund raising efforts for Gooseberry Park Players. I'm not sure I am fully behind the production they are taking to Scotland, I know I am not fully behind the casting process, and their production policies (which I hate) are diametrically opposed to Gooseberry's policies (which I love). Stay tuned... for the drama I have alluded to...

My van is a mess. My checkbook is a mess. My laundry and ironing is not done, nor will it be done in the next week or so. These signs, I have come to know, indicate that my psyche is a mess. I need to just concentrate on one area and clean it up, then move on to another... slow and steady. In the past, I have seen that literally if I physically clean up the areas of my life that are are sufferring from deferred maintenance, the other areas that seem to be crowding in, clamboring for attention, seem to magically line themselves up and appear less threatening.

Tomorrow is my company's annual costume party. Three years ago at this party, I tried to move my van from the parking lot that was closing to another parking lot around the block, having to cross an angular railroad track in the process. The wheels of my van got stuck in the tracks. A train was coming. I had been drinking. Long story short, I was arrested for drunk driving along with my broker who tried to help me disengage my van. That year I was a beatnik/hippie, with blue eye shadow and a long brown wig. They made me take off the wig, but the blue eye shadow is still intact in the mug shot.

Blog Action Day

Today is Blog Action Day. On this day, bloggers around the web are supposed to unite to put a single important issue on everyone’s mind - the environment. It says in the organizer's overview of the event that every blogger should post something about the environment relating to their own topic, theoretically getting everyone talking towards a better future.

In thinking about what to post, I looked for something Real Estate related, since thats what I do to earn a living. Its also what I do that sadly causes a larger carbon footprint than I'd like since I have to drive - alot! But I was pleasantly surprised to learn that even with our car driven professions, Downtown Dad and I have actually been professing a "Green" lifestyle all along!

I went to Wikipedia's List of Environmental Issues and scrolled down until I saw a term that has been mouthed with disdain for a long time in our household - Urban Sprawl. In reading this, I was surprised to learn that quite unintentionally, Downtown Dad's soapbox, and my personal Realtor ethics have not only been going along the same paths, but are actually quite environmentally conscious!

For example, what we consider to be adverse developments of urban sprawl, things like housing subdivisions full of McMansions with three and four car garages; strip malls, with their sea of pavement and concrete; and fast food chains with more and more drive thru service, cater almost exclusively to the car centered society. In our house we've come to resist that kind of thinking for several reasons, a few of which include: The lack of diversity this fosters, culturally and economically; the erosion of old fashioned walkable neighborhood quality of life, the increase this causes in infrastructure costs, and the decreases we are starting to see in natural resource quality and quantity.

I'm no public orator and I try not to preach, so if this interests you, click on the Wiki link and read more about it.

Maybe I'm Just Old Fashioned... but

Since Downtown Dad and Tessie went to Iowa on a genealogical road trip for the weekend, Bear and I decided to go Halloween costume shopping.

There are two "Halloween Headquarters" depots, temporarily housed in the cavernous remains of a couple of failed "big box" stores by the mall. Bear and I, both being huge fans of becoming someone we're not at least once a year, scurried around each store, our eyes wide with amazement at the sheer tonnage of costumes and accessories displayed. But after leaving the second shop, having bought nothing at either one, we both had the same reaction: "Now that we are filled with ideas and inspiration, lets hit the thrift stores and Savers to actually BUY the stuff we need to make our costumes!"

It seems dumb to me, to spend upwards of 30 bucks to purchase an ill-fitting rendition of a pop-cultural icon, made up of mostly petroleum based materials, that you'll wear once, when the chances are that at least 3 or 4 other people are going to show up wearing the exact same thing! Sure, it's easy, just pick up the "pirate-in-a-bag" and voila! You ARE Johnny Depp. Yawn.

To me, the real fun is using your imagination to figure out how to make something work, and then scouting out the odd things you'll need to construct your alter-ego-for-a-day. I can honestly say that I have never purchased a pre-packaged costume - and until about a year or two ago, neither had any of my family. I've made, from scratch, some fabulous creations such as He-Man, a Smurf, a Teenage-Mutant-Ninja-Turtle (Michaelangelo to be specific!), Scarlett O'Hara (picnic dress), Mammy from Gone With The Wind, a ringmaster, a serving wench, a gypsy fortune teller, The Flying Nun, a wizard, several hippies, witches, dead things, and other stuff I can't even remember!

My original motivation was to keep my little ones from wearing vision obstructing masks while trick or treating - but the sheer fun of taking an idea, no matter how absurd, or impossible it sounds, and making it work has become a family tradition for us. Sure, if you add up the yards of material, the fiberfill batting, the velcro, duct tape, dowels, tights, Rit-dye, makeup, foam-core board, papier mache, spray paint and other assorted accessories - I may spend more than 30 some bucks on a costume. But in the end, the coolness factor totally wins out!

What?

I skipped a day....

Forgive me, Oh Internet Goddess of Nablopomo... it is yet early, and I have not yet perfected the art of saving up posts for those days where there is nary a moment to pee, let alone post something of literary significance on my blog.

I offer up this not yet fully formed snippet as an offering to appease thee:

...

Beez: "Hi Mom, what are you doing?"

Me: "Hi sweetie, Um... (driving, texting, dropping off a contract, stopping to tell a client something they don't want to hear...) Nothing,..."

Beez: "I need your help to buy Marci a coat."

Me: (A coat? Doesn't she have a coat? What the hell does an independent North Dakota single mom need with a coat?) "OK, where, and when?"

Beez: "Well, not for another 30 minutes."

Me: (Phew, I can handle this...) "Cool, call me when you want to leave... oh, hey? By the way, What does Marci need with a coat?"

Beez: "We'll talk about that later ...K?"

Me: (...Later?!? Whadya mean Later? What can't you tell me now? What does later mean? What do you mean 'we'll talk about THAT later...what is THAT?) "K, Bye."

Oh dear, I'm already digging for filler and it's not even November yet! Well, my brain is fried from last night's tax exertions, so forgive me but I found this on Coffespaz's site and it looked like fun:

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) ...Edith Minivan

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) ...Mint Chip Peanut Butta

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of last name) ...L-And

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color +y, favorite animal) ...Pinky Monkey

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) ...Louise Escondido

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first) ...Andli

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink) ...The Purple Martini

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) ...Richard Robert - or Dicky Bobby

9. STRIPPER NAME: (name of your favorite perfume, favorite candy) ...Lutece Chocolate

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ) ...Louise Louis

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 6th grade teacher’s last name, major city starting with that letter) ...Medley Manchester

12. SPY NAME/BOND GIRL: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) ...Summer Hybiscus

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”) ...Apple Jammies

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) ...Oatmeal Palm

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: ("The" + hobby, fave weather element + “Tour”) ...The Crosstitch Rain Tour

At Least Its Not Death

...no...its that other certain thing... taxes. Ugh. Downtown Dad and I always defer our tax return and file at the last possible moment which is in October. This really only means that I have to reconcile my business expenses at the last possible moment... also meaning I'm down to my last possible nerve and my last possible memory fragment. Why? Because even though I'm a wonderful Realtor, and absolutely organized in all other aspects of my life, when it comes to finances - I suck.

But, the good news is that I'm done in time to post on my blog for today! Yippee!

Happy Columbus Day!

Scotland Bound

I just looked back through my post archives and I can't believe that I've never written a post about Auchtermuchty! What is Auchtermuchty - you ask? Click here for the spark that ignited my interest in this tiny Scottish Burgh.

This past year we were excited to learn that Moorhead High School Theatre has been invited for the second time in five years to perform their fall musical at the Fringe Festival in Scotland. I've only been a "theatre parent" for two years, so I'm not fully indoctrinated into the cool theatre parent lingo yet, therefore, not quite sure what this festival is, and even less sure whether or not I want my high school child to attend. What I do know though, is that the Fringe Festival is held in Edinburgh, and Edinburgh is roughly 30 miles from Auchtermuchty!

I post this now because I sense an ensueing drama, separate from what will be performed onstage that will make for interesting future blog posts. Drama, because we theatre parents are currently embroiled in furious fundraising for the cast and crew that will be travelling to Scotland for an 18 day trip in August of 2008. Drama, because I have one child in the production, and one child who is not. Drama, because I also have philosophical problems with the director who cast one of my kids and not the other, and the juiciest drama of all - I have a growing dislike for a couple of the blatant "theatre moms" with whom I must closely work on this project. Stay tuned for some delicious catty-ass bitchery!

Selfishly, I just want to go to Auchtermuchty and wear the fox hat! Maybe I'll book my flight separately, and take an 18 day job at a local hostelrie like the Cycle Tavern . Parking looks easy and, lets face it, they guys are HOT!

Stuff In My Shower

Three years ago, before my two youngest children turned into Two Teenagers, we bought a house with three bedrooms and FOUR bathrooms. We believed this would be sufficient. We were wrong.

To be fair, the basement bathroom is really just an extension of the laundry room with a toilet, a laundry sink, and what looks like a plastic disposable shower... (if there can be such a thing)... useful only for dog bathing and hosing off sports equipment. The main floor bathroom is just a powder room - so now, we're down to two. There is, on the second floor, a full bath, nestled between two large bedrooms - perfect - we thought, for our two kids. And lastly, there is a large master suite on the main floor with what is MY idea of a perfect master bath - a standup walk in shower with glass doors and a toilet with a separate sink and a large counter. A sliding door separates the naked activities from the mirror and sink related activities. The best part being that it's the "Master Bathroom." It's lone shower rack a study in the minimalistic, carefully chosen (slightly expensive, but I'm worth it) products shared by Downtown Dad and me. One bar of my almond goat's milk soap, one bottle of my Aveda Blue Malva shampoo and conditioner and two shavers - my pink Daisy and his green Bic.

For the first two years Downtown Dad and I with our morning routine, happily coexisted with Bear and Tessie during the morning preparation hour, moving about our separate toilettes in an orderly dance. Tessie taking her showers at night, which included at a bare minimum; exfoliation, deep conditioning, shaving and moisturizing. Bear, rising early to fit in his 35 minute showers followed by what I can only imagine were 15 minute naps in the hot steamy tub.

This all came to a screeching halt when we discovered "The Leak." Which lead us to discover "The Cracks" which ultimately lead to "The Dreaded Mold!"

The tile in the upstairs kids' bathroom, amaturishly installed at best when we moved in, had begun to discolor, and the faucet, caulked and grouted within an inch of it's functionality had begun to droop. These things escaped my notice in the general jumble of towels, body wash, facial scrub, razors, shower puffs, and assorted vials of creams, potions and liquids piled and stacked on every ledge. We suspected the bathroom would eventually need some work, we did not expect to have to rip everything out down to the studs! But we did, and it was really appalling to see what can grow in the dark moist spaces between the walls!

So - now we are down to effectively one bathroom in which to shower. So far, we have done rather well with scheduling our bathing times... there's just one thing that bothers me... It's the Stuff. Pictured here, one representative corner showing: A headband, a used bandaid, three bottles of questionably scented body wash, assorted bottles of acne facial scrub, several conditioners, a piece of chewed chewing gum, and this is the part above and beyond the bandaid and the gum that just makes me shake my head: 7 shavers! Seven. Oh, and the other mystery item barely visible there next to the Irish Spring and the Axe body wash - the hot pink thing to the left... those are my eye protectors from when I used to go tanning. Hell I haven't even been to a tanning booth in four years - much less seen those things! I assumed they were lost.... but what, I wonder, are they doing in my shower? The elastic is missing on them, so they can't stay on unless you are in a laying down position.... Oh well, just like with the bandaid and gum... I'm not even going to ask.

None of this seems to bother Downtown Dad. He takes his glasses off in the shower, so maybe he just doesn't see it. I'll try to be patient and savor my 6 1/2 minutes before the hot water runs out. Actually, once the winter sets in, maybe a full bathroom remodel will be just the thing to keep everyone busy upstairs - while I'm downstairs in the shower!

Grandma Wannabe

During a conversation with friends about my oldest son dating a single mom, one of my wisest friends said "don't fall in love with your son's girlfriend until after the wedding." She failed to mention not falling in love with the son of your son's girlfriend... I laughed, not anticipating the on-again, off-again roller coaster we'd be on, and certainly not taking into consideration the effect that a baby, biologically connected or not, has on a menopausal woman! Oh, do I wanna be a Grandma!

The on-again, off-again relationship between Beez and Marci has currently been on-again for two months, during which time I am embarassingly giddy when they bring Aiden over for dinner or any time I get to spend time with them. I have the urge to bake cookies, I want to change diapers, I read the ToysRUs ads with rabid interest.

This past weekend they came over, and even though they resist posing for pictures, some candid shots were captured... how can you not fall in love with this?

Mexico on a Whim

My son Beez walks into a bar....

...and that's where the cliche ends. He happened to sit down next to guy he didn't know - and in this small town, that is rare. He finds out in the course of the conversation that this guy, Charlie, is preparing to drive with his dog, Beethoven, down to the tip of Mexico for a two week trip during which he will scout out locations for a restaurant. Charlie has done this before, and knows the people and the cultures of the small mexican villages along the way. His only problem, he tells Beez, is that he really needs someone to watch over and take care of his dog so he doesn't have to leave him unattended in the car while he is doing business. This intrigues Bobby, and on a whim, he offers to go along and be the dog nanny, as it were. Charlie not only agrees, but offers to pay him for his services.

A week later, Beez packed a bag, and threw in his camera which he hadn't picked up for three years due to 'photographer's block' along with 17 rolls of film, got into a broken down van with a relative stranger and his slobbering dog, and journeyed to a Mexico that few outsiders get to experience.

What he came back with were 500 pictures out of which 17 became his first photography exhibit at a local art gallery - titled Mexico on a Whim. The exhibit ended yesterday, but it received great reviews and a write up in our local free artsy paper, The High Plains Reader.

Already, with the catching up...

Well, if you know me, and you know that I'm a Realtor (with the Capital R) then you know that I pretty much sleep all day and work for two hours in the evening then go out with friends/clients until the bars close, then start all over again.

** SADLY, REALITY INTERVENES HERE **

Oh, I forgot to say that I also have a family, other interests, and (hello?) a life...

The interesting thing about this blog is when all of the aforementioned things COLLIDE! .... as in this past week. Allow me to elaborate:

A few weeks ago I agreed to take over for the Relocation Director at our brokerage while she was on maternity leave. The due date in mid-October would allow us sufficient training time, and, the agent who had previously held the job was also available to help out and answer questions. Not really a problem... I do have a trip to New York scheduled, and my kids are heavily involved in the high school musical, but I should be able to fit that in... no problem.

** Once again, allow Reality to intervene....**

According to preapproved plan, I go to New York... and then.... The cast list goes up - one of my kids makes it, the other doesn't. The pregnant relocation director, suffering from horribly high blood pressure goes into early labor and delivers a premature baby three weeks early. The previously trained agent decides to leave the brokerage that same week. The biggest national referrer of clients has a web overhaul and the anticipated connection problems do indeed ensue. The wireless Internet connection for our office which has the occasional hiccup, develops a chronic case of hiccups. The most expensive listing in my career gets some actual interest.... I have actual customers who want to write viable offers on houses.

(Heroic laugh) Never Fear! Super Linda Is Here!

I just wanted to make a very dramatic excuse for why I missed that last couple of days posting. The resolution of the above will obviously make for very good blog post fodder! Nya haa haa!

Homecoming and going

So.... back in the 70s, if you were a girl, you didn't go to Homecoming, or any dance for that matter, if a guy didn't ask you. Heck, you didn't even buy a dress unless you had a date. Yeah, it wasn't fair, coz the guys went stag anyway, and who really knew if you had a date or not if you were standing in the wallflower section?

So fast forward to today. I dropped off my 16 year old daughter who CAN date, at a friends house so they could start off with a potluck, then go as a group to the homecoming dance. My 14 year old son, who technically can't date yet, gets picked up by a sophomore girl who has her driver's license, to take him to a group dinner at one of the other kid's houses and then they'll all go together to the dance.

I paid $25 bucks to get three tiny corsage/buttoniers for my two and the girl who was picking up my son... they all turned them down. It's all so casual now. And so now what am I supposed to do with the three roses all trussed up with ribbon and baby's breath that are sitting in my refrigerator next to the leftover chile chicken enchiladas?

It's all so different these days.

Giving It Another Go

So, it's been several months since I've posted. Oddly enough, the last post deals with my recovery from foot surgery. Oddly, because today I just had the two screws that held my bone graft together - removed! So on the good side, I have another supply of pain pills... on the bad side... oh who am I kidding there's no bad side to that!

As a result of a long overdue one-on-one dinner date with Downtown Dad, and as the recipient of his amazing faith in my abilities as a writer, I am renewing my conviction to write. And I'm going to do it here - in front of Howard and everyone-(I'm looking at you Kimmisue) without filtering what I say (I'm looking at you Mom, and Mom) hoping for comments whether you know me or not.

I just signed up for the NABLOPOMO which means that I just committed to writing a post every day for the month of October. I'm starting now though, because I'm an overachiever. You got a link to this either because you know me and I always annoy you with links to my posts, or because you clicked on this site and wondered who the cartoon chick was. OK, enough with the explanatory crap, it's late and I have to save something for future posts. You may leave a comment now... (I'm looking at you Vicki!)

Prudent Choices in Ambulatory Recovery Process

Note To Self... regarding appropriate timing of crawling as a choice in ambulatory process: While 'crutching' has been proven effective yet tiresome, and 'hopping' has been proven to cause leaks, crawling has emerged as the form of transportation of choice. Having said that, there are times and situations where it may be prudent to use one of the remaining other options... such as when the UPS man delivers a package - (one must know at this point that I have a completely clear glass front door.) Never mind the embarassing encounter as the UPS guy tries to open my front door with his muscular forearm as I try to pull myself to a standing position, lose hold of the bannister and basically fall at his feet. Rather, focus solely on the fact that my son arrives home at around the same time and has this day, decided to bring with him, three of his friends, whom, upon seeing said brown shorts clad man apparently molesting his mother at the front door, run screaming adolescent obscenities at aforementioned male, who then, in self defense, turns on my pack of defenders with his apparently patented karate moves.

You can't make this shit up!

Still Recovering

When I told friends that I was having foot surgery, they all had the same reaction: 'Oh the PAIN!' When my husband brought me home and lovingly arranged me and my pillows, he also made sure I took the prescribed pills, because of the PAIN! Well, I'll tell you, the worst thing about this ordeal has NOT been the PAIN - it has been trying to get around! Yeah, I've got crutches - new fangled crutches - the stainless steel kind, with the bands for your arms instead of those armpit centered ones. But my 'good' leg gets really tired, and you can't do anything without leaning the crutches up against something to do it, and they always fall, oh, and try going to the bathroom in a small bathroom accompanied by two crutches - good luck! And you certainly can't carry anything on crutches! The other alternative is hopping. I've gotten pretty good at the hopping thing, heck I can even carry a few things (if they have lids, and if I don't have to go too far). The only drawback with the hopping thing is... well, it's the fact that I'm an almost 50 year old woman with an almost 50 year old bladder, which, when shaken, tends to leak. That's when I discovered - Crawling! It's brilliant actually. I can get anywhere, I mean look at babies! I can carry anything because I don't actually need the front two hands for abulatory purposes. I can even carry things AND push other things along in front of me. The only drawback of this method, so far, seems to be the knees. There's not much padding on the old kneecap. But then who says my soft pink padded piggy scuff slippers need to be used solely for feet?

Day Two of Recuperation

I can choose to either have my brain and pain in my foot, or take my pills and have no pain and no brain.

I dozed and watched TV all day yesterday until night time. At that point I chose to not take the pain pills and see how much my foot hurt. Surprizingly, it didn't hurt that much so I hobbled around on my crutches for a while. This only serves to make the other leg hurt.

I actually went all night without taking the pain meds and slept better than I did the night before. This morning, I got up and down a couple of times and didn't take any pain pills untill late morning. It was much nicer without the pills, since I was clear headed, but my foot started throbbing so I gave in and took two.

I'm thinking that I'll just take one from now on, because the two seems to make me feel like it's hard to breathe. Plus it takes so long to wear off. And it's not even a fun high. It does sedate me though and keeps me from trying to get up and do something, which I guess is the point.

Downtown Dad and both the kids have been just great! They are doing laundry, and making meals and they even got groceries.

Tessie has an assignment that involves making her own soundtrack for Romeo and Juliet. They just rented the 1968 version which I probably haven't seen since I was Tessie's age. She's asked me to help but, my brain is so mushy, I don't know how much help I'll be!

I'm so glad I had this done! And the timing seems to be just great for the recuperation process.

Day One of Toe Surgery Recuperation

What could be better I ask you, than doing nothing but sitting with my feet up, with my laptop, my cell phone, the TV remote and my family to wait on me?

Well, it would be better if pain wasn't involved, but then there are the drugs! And it would be better if there was a better selection of movies on TV.

Yesterday was the actual surgery. I actually don't remember much of it... again the drugs! We left at 7:30 a.m. and were done and home by 5:30 p.m. My foot was numb until about 2:30 today when I started to feel some real pain.

I can't put any weight on it at all, but so far all I've had to do is make the 5 foot journey to the bathroom.

Well, the oxycodone has taken, along with the pain, any ability to think creatively. Maybe I can think of more to write tomorrow.

Highly Recommended!

The whole family has post play depression! Just So was a fabulous success! Maybe it was because we were all involved in some way from me sewing costumes, and carpooling, to Tessie being a backstage assistant, to Downtown Dad building sets - and Bearly's singing and dancing debut as Rhino, but it was a great way to spend those winter doldrums!

Just So, is Rudyard Kipling's take on how all of the animals in the jungle got their unique shapes and colors after starting out all the same. It starts with all of the animals being fed up with the giant crab who rules the tides, alternately causing droughts and flooding. The Eldest magician, meets an elephants child, who ceaselessly asks questions. The magician pairs him up with a flightless kolokolo bird who knows everything. After learning that the giant crab favors the mouth of the great gray green greasy limpopo river as his feeding spot, the magician sends the two sailing off to politely ask the crab to stop playing with the sea. Along the way, they meet several animals who are in the process of becoming themselves. A giraffe and zebra, are tired of living with boring wildebeasts and running from a lascivious Leopard and Jaguire, who just want to take the ladies out to dinner. The girls pick up their hooves and trot from the high velt to the jungle, and in the process the jungle light changes their skin so they can better blend in. Unfortunately, the Leopard and Jaguire follow them and their skin is also changed, so the chase continues. In their travels, the Elephant's Child, who does not yet have a trunk, and the flightless Kolokolo Bird, who has not yet learned to fly, come upon a deserted island, inhabited by a reclusive Parsee Man and his beloved Cooking Stove. The Parsee man is sad because due to the unpredictable tides, he has no ingredients with which to bake a cake in his marvelous cooking stove. Also on this deserted island lives a very bad mannered Rhino who's skin, while thick, is very smooth. Rhino, a combination of Elvis and Jackie Gleason, accompanied by his posse of birds wonders if anyone can think of something nice that they can say about a Rhino. While fully aware of his lack of manners, he is very proud of his thick skin. He laments the lack of cakes, and the Parsee Man's stingy nature. The Koloko Bird and the Elephant's Child pursuade the Parsee Man to bake one of his world famous cakes using his emergency rations. The rations sing and dance as the Parsee Man teaches everyone to walk the Parsee cake cake walk walk. In the midst of this, the Rhino smells a cake being baked and returns. Just as the cake is finished baking - he steals it - thus angering the Parsee Man. Another creature they encounter is the Kangaroo who tells them both the story of how he once had a shape like all the other animals until two yellow dingo dogs chased him all over Austrailia, causing his legs to grow in leaps and bounds. The journey progresses, and the Kolokolo bird tires of the Elephant Child's questions, so she goes off on her own, only to be taken captive by the Jaguire and the Leopard. The Elephant's Child saves her, but again she runs off. This time she sees other birds flying and we learn that behind her know-it-all attitude, she is very afraid - mostly of flying. While she is away from the Elephant's Child, he again encounters the Parsee Man, The Cooking Stove and the Rhino who are still fighting. Now the Rhino's smooth skin is baggy and wrinkled. The Elephant's Child being curious, asks how that happened. The Rhino tearfully relates the story of how on one fearsome hot day he took off his skin to take a dip in the river. As he was cooling off, The Parsee Man, filled the Rhino's empty skin with cake crumbs, all that was left of the cake that was stolen - so that when he put his skin back on it tickled and itched so that he stretched and scratched and pulled his beautiful skin all out of shape. Despite this tragedy, the Elephant's Child and the Cooking Stove are able to mediate a truce between the Parsee Man and Rhino and they become best friends. The Elephant Child realizes that he has found the great gray green greasy limpopo river at last! He asks the first creature he sees to help him find the crab. That creature is a giant crocodile who tries to eat the Elephant's child. His head stuck in the crocodile's jaws, the Elephant's Child cries out for the Kolokolo Bird to help him. The Kolokolo Bird, having at last learned how to fly swoops in and pulls the Elephant's child out of the Crocodile's mouth, stretching his nose into a trunk.

All of the animals gather and help the Elephant's Child convince the crab - who is not giant after all - to quit playing with the sea, and everyone lives happily ever after.

COLD

60 Degrees Above Zero

• Californians turn on the heat.
• People in North Dakota plant gardens.

50 Degrees Above Zero

• Californians shiver uncontrollably.
• People in Fargo sunbathe.

40 Degrees Above Zero

• Italian and English made cars won't start.
• People in Minnesota drive with the windows down.

32 Degrees Above Zero

• Distilled water freezes.
• The water in Fargo/Moorhead gets thicker.

20 Degrees Above Zero

• Californians don coats, thermal underwear, gloves, and wool hats.
• People in Minnesota throw on a flannel shirt.

15 Degrees Above Zero

• New York landlords finally turn up the heat.
• People in North Dakota have the last cookout before it gets cold.

Zero

• People in Miami all die.
• Iowans close the windows.

5 Degrees BELOW Zero

• Californians fly away to Mexico.
• People in Minnesota get out their winter coats.

10 Degrees BELOW Zero

• Hollywood disintegrates.
• The Girl Scouts in North Dakota are selling cookies door to door.

20 Degrees BELOW Zero

• Washington DC runs out of hot air.
• People in Minnesota let the dogs sleep indoors.

30 Degrees BELOW Zero

• Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
• People in Fargo get upset because they can't start the minivan.

40 Degrees BELOW Zero

• Atomic motion slows down.
• People in Fargo/Moorhead start saying "So, is it cold enough for ya?"

50 Degrees BELOW... (Bee FREAKIN' LOW) ZERO!

• Hell freezes over.
• Fargo Public Schools open 2 hours late. (maybe)

Farewell to the Fishes

The fish project is finally finished, and I had to send my four fishy friends off to "school."

They are just costumes, hats really, and only for four non-speaking roles, but to me they are stars! The level of patience it took to re-learn how to sew on a machine I'd never even used before was good lesson in slowing down and focusing.

Ask Me About My Neighborhood

We're - we're FAMOUS! In a good way this time! I turned on my computer this morning and the first thing I see is this:

Way to go Fargo!

Not only is the unemployment rate a mere 1.5% here, and the annual mean income is 32K, but you can also buy a home - a real home - not a 'fixer-upper' for an average mean price of $165,000!

OK, sure, it gets cold here; and it's flatter than a pancake...er, lefsa; and ya shure -we do talk funny sometimes; but jeez it's nice. Its nice to have great neighbors, that talk to you (ok that can be a good thing or a bad thing); schools where your kids don't have to fear gangs (except the occasional roving Lutherans pushing their lutefisk); and I don't care who you are - you gotta love an average commute time of 20 minutes - and that's during rush hour!

I grew up in sunny Southern California nestled at the feet of the Sierra Madres and a stone's throw from sparkling beaches. I transplanted to the midwest over 15 years ago, and I've lived in the Red River Valley for 7. I consider myself a 'transplant survivor.' The way I see it, you can take a vacation to get warmer or see palm trees, and you can drive less than an hour east and practically get a nosebleed from the elevation changes, and if the locals start to bug ya... well, you cover your mouth and snicker politely to yourself... and, if you look around, you might just see one or two other transplant survivors snickering too.... one of them can even sell you a house!

Deja Vu Meme

I saw this Deja Vu Meme on Meeta's site saying she'd assign a letter to whoever wanted to play and since I apparently have nothing better to write about, I asked for a letter. She gave me the letter T.

Here’s how it works: Write ten words that start with the letter you are assigned and a brief description of why you chose that particular word.

If you too have writer's block and want to play along just say so in the comments. I’ll assign you a letter in my comments and there ya go!

The letter T

1. Thomas. Which is my maiden name - a pretty common one - especially when paired with my first name Linda. I'm married to a Dave and we know another Linda and Dave couple - turns out the other Linda's maiden name is Thomas too. Weird.
2. Train-wreck. Which is probably what this post will turn into.
3. Telepathy. The ability to tell what someone else is feeling or thinking. I totally believe in this, especially between people who care about each other.
4. Taboo. Off limits, or forbidden. Also a fun game to test your vocabulary skills. This used to be a very popular perfume, of course they misspelled it TABU. Why would you want a perfume name that meant off limits?
5. Technorati Tags. A clever way to boost hits on your site.
6. Tape. One of the two things in our house that will disappear if not hidden from the kids. The other being scissors.
7. Tara. The hill of kings in Ireland, but perhaps a better description would be Gerald O'Hara's words from Gone With The Wind: "Do you mean to tell me, Katie Scarlett O'Hara, that Tara, that land doesn't mean anything to you? Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin' for, worth fightin' for, worth dyin' for, because it's the only thing that lasts."
8. Thrifty. Not the cheap, frugal, stingy kind of thrifty - I'm talking Thrify Drug Stores which always brings to mind the one in my home town of Goleta where a dime could get you two scoops of cylindrically shaped ice cream stacked on top of each other.
9. Tigger. "Tee-eye-double-guh-RRRR" My absolute favorite cartoon character, voiced by the very cool Paul Winchell, who also was the voice of the Scrubbing Bubbles.
10. Through. Done. Complete. Finished. Ta Dah!
    

Delurking Week

I admit it, I am a lurker myself. I click on the comments of the blogs I regularly check in on and then I click on the link to the commenter's blog. You can really find some amazing personalities this way! I laugh, or I cry, or I agree, or shake my head in absolute disbelief, and sometimes I add them to my favorites, but most times I don't comment. I guess I let my insecurity get the best of me - figuring 'they don't know me' or 'other's have already commented better than I could' or worse yet - 'they don't care what I have to say.' But that is totally wrong! I know I'd love to know who the hundred and some people are who've clicked here since I put in the counter! I'd love to know where you clicked from, and why!

I'm commenting on every blog I read today - if only to say hi. Will you?

Bio-Freakin'-Identicals Baby!

Ok, so there's a link on the homepage of MSN today to an article on Hormone Replacement Therapy. I read it, and even now, in my bioidentical hormonally induced state of perfectness, I got steamed! There are so many of us smart and savvy 50-something women out there, who will click on that article hoping to find some insight into our symptoms - only to find what turns out to be a reprint of an article from May of 2006!

In my humble opinion, this was a poorly researched article in the first place, if only for the reason that it never even mentions bioidenticals. Not to mention that it reads like a dashed off rephrasing of the AP news articles of a couple of weeks ago.

The callus attitude of that article is, if not the main reason, at least one of the reasons why I started this blog. I felt myself descending into some alien world of sleeplessness, crankyness, and worst of all what I thought was creeping insanity. Flashes of paranoia, tempered by brazen bitchiness, confusion, lethargy - oh and not to mention the hot flashes. I went to the doctor for some of the symptoms, but fretted and fumed over the ones I thought were a slow progression to the funny farm. All the while of course, tending to my family, doing my job and - as women do - making sure everyone else felt good, even if I didn't. And worst of all, I felt like I was all alone.

There is a lot of information out there - lots of blogs, lots of websites, all claiming to know what's right. I do not claim to have the answer for everyone. Its just that once I started reading about other women who were experiencing the same things I was, and when I started researching the many ways they dealt with it - I felt better. At least, even if I was going insane, I wasn't the only one.

The thing is, I wasn't going insane. I was just experiencing a very normal phase of life, but in an age where everything is talked about more, and information shared more freely, I found out I didn't have to suffer in silence like my mother and older sisters. I read about alternatives, I went to my doctor and even asked her to refer me to a specialist. After what turned into about a year of trial and error, and more error, and friends trying to be helpful, I returned to my female nurse practitioner whom I trust, and who will work with me to make me and keep me healthy. She prescribed bioidentical (plant based) progesterone capsules, taken once at night 6 days a week. The difference is nothing short of amazing. I've been taking them for a little more than a month now, and what I notice most is that I'm more energetic and less bitchy. I still get a couple of hot flashes a day and I still wake at 3 a.m., but I'm just happier about it now.

My hope is that if just one person reads this and because of it, can look at this stage of life a little differently, then I've made a difference.

To Do List for tomorrow...

1. Be at the office no later than 7:30 a.m.; Bring the following...
a. Bearly's waders and wear his ripped jeans,
b. Hat and bandana
c. Crisco - in case Randy forgets to deliver the beard
d. Pie pans
e. Shovel and axe (if I can find it)

2. 9:30 a.m. Perform skit to 'kick-off' Education Committee's Prospecting Contest

3. 10:05 a.m. Resign from Education Committee

4. 11:30 a.m. Meet girls at Seasons, order tee martoonies - drink, rinse, repeat.

I believe in magic

Sometimes magic comes in the form of luck, sometimes as a result of hard work and perserverance. Sometimes, magic is just a state of mind - or a great sewing machine.

The four fish costumes I've been sewing are just about done. Every time I or my family look at the finished product we are amazed - it's like magic! I would place this effort in the 'hard work' magic category, since I've been laboring on this for the entire Christmas break. But still, I have always thought of sewing as a state of mind too - a sort of zen meditation. You pin and you cut, and you sew, and you rip out, and you pin and you cut and so on and ...sew on. The time my family has given me to pursue this project has been priceless and...yes, magic. Especially in the eyes of my sometimes jaded teenagers. I must be a magician if I can take that pile of material in varying shades of grey, and some spools of thread and a sack of some notions from the fabric store and turn them into four gleaming personality filled piscaforms - I think they must believe in magic too!

Once I actually got frustrated enough to take the time to focus and read the instructions for the machine, which by the way, are in German, French, Italian and English - I finally figured out how to adjust the tension in the thread and the presser foot! Turns out this "fancy schmancy Pfaff" has adjustments for just about anything - including sewing through two layers of foam, two layers of slippery shiny material, and two layers of lining. Knowing how to use the said 'fancy schmancy' equipment in the right way, makes a lot of difference in the ease of having a 'fancy schmancy' - dare I say magic... outcome.

It reminds me of the wizards of old, practicing incatations or healing with herbs. Over and over again, they must have tried and failed tried and improved and finally, after reading the directions, or focusing their concentration, come up with something that actually worked - something that looked like magic!

Happy New Year!

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Here are Downtown Dad and me celebrating 2007 at Monte's Downtown. It was a lovely evening just the two of us amongst a throng of revelers and a 3 person jazz combo. We had a fabulous dinner that was elegantly presented and timed perfectly to the 10 second countdown. It was a culinary adventure for both of us, as we had to sneak peeks at other diners to see how, and many times, what to eat on our plates! The 5 courses included:

Eggplant battered shrimp with caper berry relish with 3 aioli blend red pepper black pepper and lemon thyme - served with a small pour Fume Blanc. Osetra Caviar stuffed quail eggs - served with a shot of Stoli. Carpaccio of Kobe beef with seared fois gras - with a lovely Syrah followed by a palate cleansing Champagne sorbet.

We chose to have 1 of each and share the entrees which were: Filet Mignon with roasted garlic cream and pomegranate demi-glaze with a cabernet; and Cold Water Lobster Tail with artichoke heart and pancetta stuffing with a dijon-tarragon vinaigrette and proscuitto wrapped asparagus and a glass of chardonnay. For dessert there was black forest cake served with a chocolate infused port.

And last of all - a glass of champagne to toast the new year! Pretty darn uptown spiffy for downtown Fargo!

Sewing Fish

Most of this peaceful day was spent constructing this fish - modeled here by Tessie. One down, three more to go....

Happy

Snow is softly falling as the eastern sky brightens. About an inch so far, upholsters the bare surfaces in my back yard. This is the reason I fell in love with this house.

I'm so darn happy and thankful lately. It's weird. Maybe it's the 'bioidentical hormones,' maybe my horoscope is right - I'm just going to have to get used to this silly grin - I'm going to have a good year.

Progress and Projects

The day has begun, finally. I'm starting to see orange tinted light peek up over the horizon. I've been up for a couple of hours - writing. Nothing cohesive, or even useful - yet - just setting out some words and stacking them, turning them, seeing what they will turn into. It's good to get up early - before the light. I always feel like I've accomplished more if I get it done before everyone else is awake. I'm accomplishing so much these past couple of days, and with at least two pretty big projects that need to be finished before the first week in January, the progress is welcome!

I accepted a part time position as Campaign Coordinator for the Plains Art Museum starting January 3. This will be in addition to my Realtor work. As Downtown Dad says, real estate is the best part time job I've ever had. I'm still not used to the commissioned aspect of sales though, and I am fiscally very happy to fill in 20 hours a week by doing something that I'll actually get paid for!

I also volunteered to sew costumes for the Middle School play. I got my first project last week. Four fish costumes. It's embarrassing how excited I am about this project! I cleared off two tables in the 'craft room' part of the basement and dragged out the sewing machine that Tessie brought home from grandma's last summer. After setting it up and reading the booklet - I realized this isn't some cast off sewing machine - this is a fancy schmancy Pfaff! It does embroidery, and fancy stitches! It has extra feet for things like button holes and zippers! It has adjustable tensions and needle heights! It does everything but cut out the material for you - which is what I spent the better part of yesterday doing.

The other project looming over my head is a Prospecting Contest that I, as part of the Education Committee came up with. Darn my creativity :). It's a really cool idea though; we are comparing modern day prospecting for clients to the 1849ers prospecting for gold. OK, so growing up in California, gold rush history is ingrained in my psyche... not so much for these upper Midwesterners. Turns out I needed to write a skit giving a background of the California gold rush while explaining the relationship between a grungy old gold miner and a modern day Realtor. I did it though, and if I do say so myself - it's brilliant! I still have to make a couple of the props before our meeting tomorrow, but I think that's doable!

So, now that the sun has asserted its presence and the rest of the family will be rising, I should get on to accomplishing other tasks. In addition to the rest of the tasks, I am still determined to write and BLOG! I'm not putting any horrible 'resolution' type demands on it, but my aim is to get to it every day. Hopefully it will become easier, and more habit than horrible.

Sisters

An older sister helps one remain half child, half woman. ~Author Unknown

In the flickering recesses of my memory, back when I was an 8mm black and white four year old, I fell in love with my big sisters. Both of them, tall and movie-star glamorous, Channel #5 styled and sprayed, with smiling red lips, and high heels. They were nearly 20 years old when I came into their world, yet they graciously accepted me and took me with them to movies, and out for ice cream cones. What little girl wouldn’t feel special and lucky just to be around them?

We grew up separated by distance as well as age, so those early perceptions of my sisters never got the chance to ripen in the day to day details of tearful midnight talks or giggled whispers. They remained static icons of perfection, and became two pillars in the foundation of what I envisioned would someday be the grownup me.

One sisterly pillar, so traditional, so devoutly determined and scripturally secure in her one and only marriage with six children. She was always there with a sorghum sweetened “bless your heart” regardless if it was fabulous news or a heart wrenching failure. The second, standing just as staunchly, almost the antithesis of the other - a divorced career woman with an only child, headstrong and strong willed, with the audacity to rebel against the traditional. Her car, as she urgently whispered to me, was at the ready in the church parking lot, in case I decided to take her advice and flee the altar.

Though we are still twenty some years apart in age, we are much closer in life experience, but I must admit I still harbor a little hero-worship for these amazing women. Now though, those feelings are based on a very real respect for the lives they have led, the battles they have fought, and the impact that they as real people have had on me. In my sisters’ eyes, I will probably always be a black and white four year old, but that just gives me the freedom to fall in love with them all over again.

The Year Ahead

According to my horoscope, I have just entered the first month of the luckiest year of my life! The endeavors I have been working on will all come to fruition... Sounds cool! Especially the fact that I can use endeavors, and fruition in the same sentence!

My endeavors have been all pointed to clearing the decks in my personal space so I can spend time writing - trying to write, and trying to rewrite. As of today, I actually accomplished part of that - not the writing part, but the deck clearing part was a real milestone. Laundry done. Dishes done. Vacuuming and dusting done. Groceries for the week pretty much done. Tasks that have been floating around on my daily task list for weeks, nay months - done! YAY.

So, that would mean I would have time for that writing thing then, right? Oy! I guess that would be right. Now I have no excuses. No tasks to putter at. No impending deadline to take my eye off of the goal. So did I write today? You're looking at it. Actually, the deck clearing part did take me until late afternoon, when I had to make dinner for the family and do the dishes, and watch a little bit of a movie... but here I am writing.

The thing is that while I didn't get the plot line down for the great American novel today - I might tomorrow. And while I didn't finish the writing assignment for the online class I'm taking - I might tomorrow. What I mean is in a sense, that horoscope thing just might be true. I've been aiming at getting all of this stuff in line and I did it. I've been aiming at getting a part time job, and last week I got a call out of the blue from a friend who referred me to someone looking for what I do. (OK, not writing) I'm interviewing tomorrow. Things is beginnin' to look up!

Writing Sucks

I hate the way my writing sounds lately.

There was a time when I could spend an hour or two on a paragraph, a story, or poem or something; then give up for a while, but I always saved it. That way in case I had more inspiration a little later I could finish it. Not lately. I spent two hours this afternoon on a 'short creative piece' that was an assignment for an online class I'm taking. I reread it and then promptly hit delete and shut down the program.

I think my muse is pissed at me. Since I've been making an effort to drink less alcohol and more water, I'm guessing she is going through withdrawals.

Hard to find time

I'm not sure if it's age, or it could be that I don't eat right, and I don't exercise enough, but damn, I'm just lazy all the time. I find myself looking so forward to 10:00 and then absolutely coveting my sleep time. Today I've walked a mile and a half on the treadmill, and I did yoga along with a DVD since I missed last night's class. I had breakfast and I balanced the checkbook and I got my to do list going. I have the details of the offer I wrote last night all worked out and now I've got to go get signatures after lunch and then get it turned in. I have two things to do while I'm out, and then I've got the afternoon until about 6 to get the house cleaned. Dang, this house is an absolute pit, but I just can't seem to motivate myself to do what needs to be done! It's not like I don't have time, I just spend so much of that time doing what amounts to nothing! I'm kind of a mess, but actually today I feel better. Wallowing, that's what I'm doing. I sincerely hope that I can look back on these posts and see some kind of pattern, or sense. It certainly isn't apparent now! Oh yeah, Beezer is a problem again. With his DUI he seems to have sunk into a deeper depression. I'm not sure what to do about him. I'm thinking of telling his dad about the DUI. I'd hoped he'd tell him himself, but that's not happening.

A scattered being...

Yes, I've already missed a day. Get over it. This is a post that I'm just writing for that aformentioned reason that I just want to get the back story down... There is absolutely no point to this at all.

On Sundays, I like to stay in bed, reading the newspaper, sipping nummy coffee and watching the CBS morning show. I want that cocoon-y feeling to last all day. Alas, I'm a Realtor and Sundays are our busiest day, and this Sunday was just that.

I knew I was going to show one client three houses that her husband had already seen. This was to be a cursory second showing just to make sure they were both on the same page. I forgot that not only are this couple not on the same page ever.... they are really not even reading the same book! So, what I thought would be 45 minutes turned into an hour and a half. This started to crush into the time I had set aside for my next showings of three houses to a young couple just starting their home search... but not seriously - that is until my ex-husband, the father of my oldest and most perplexing child Beezer called. A call from your ex, no matter how even keeled your relationship has become, can be stressful. Add to that, the fact that he's calling because your mutual son hasn't returned any of his calls... since MAY!

I've always tried to keep the whole split family thing to a minimum. I apply heavily the old addage 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.' Which does work, most of the time. I'm fairly pleased with the outcome of our 45 minute conversation, after which I called the call-delinquent son. "Please call your dad" I begged. "OK, but I'm just going into a meeting." he said, none too convincingly. I cajoled, he demurred, I repeated, he begged off. So, 4 hours later, I have no idea where things stand.

Like I said, there's no point whatsoever to this post.

I come up empty

I'm enrolled in a creative writing course... I pledged to the all knowing unseen Internet gods that I'd post once daily...which by the way was my reasoning for creating a blog in the first place. So you'd think that I'd have this, these, committments topmost on my mind - but noooooo! Having said that you'd think I'd blame the oftimes aforementioned hormonal fluctuations, or at the very least, blame the on-call-ness of being a Realtor (with a capital R), no that's not it either. Perhaps the fact that a well-loved person from my office just succumbed to the swift yet painful death sentence of ovarian cancer - and still, I can't even claim that as reason for my lack of post. No, it's more mercurial than that, and yet, not worthy of a word like mercurial. I'm afraid it is the force I dare not name and yet.... I must name. Alas it is - Laziness.

Oh, I had to sign up to blog every day...

OK, well, it's been one of those Realtor/Mommy/Wife/Oh-yeah-i'm-also-a-person-in-here-somewhere Days!

The house is a pit, and I woke up this morning with what I thought was a clear day. So thinking I had no committments, I started picking up. Ooops, I've got a meeting at 9:30... yikes, it's 8:30 now... OK, I can shower and get there... don't forget dog food and bird seed! After the meeting, dealt with customer issues until 12:30. Downtown Dad calls, 'wanna go to lunch?' 'sure' phone calls through lunch, finally resolve issues, kids call, 'mom, where are you?' go home, dole out money, help with homework, check to see if all the ingredients are there for dinner.... run back out to yoga... back home, fix dinner, sit down to eat it and have a glass of wine - aw man, I didn't get the dog food and bird seed....Yikes, I have to post a blog a day! Whew.

Tada!

The Veil Between the Worlds

In the ancient Celtic world, time as they knew it, was divided into two halves. A dark half and a light half, expressing the cycle of life and death. The light half of the year was that of the people and the living and growing, the dark half belonged to the earth and to the spirit world and sleep. Samhain was celebrated as the beginning of a new year in the Celtic calendar. For the Celts, the dark always preceded the light instead of following it. Day began at dusk, not dawn. On this the last evening of the month of October, a seasonal feast marked the end of the "light half" of the year and the beginning of the "dark half" when it was believed that the veil between the world of the living and the spirit world was the thinnest. This season was thought to be the ideal time to contact and receive wisdom from deceased ancestors, and therefore a time for solitary introspection and reflection, a time to stretch the worldly boundaries by assuming a different identity to welcome the supernatural.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Saliva:

It is a clear liquid that's made in your mouth 24 hours a day, every day. It's made up mostly of water, with a few other chemicals. The slippery stuff is produced by the salivary glands. These glands are found on the inside of each cheek, on the bottom of the mouth, and under the jaw at the very front of the mouth. They secrete, or ooze, about 2 to 4 pints (or about 1 to 2 liters) of spit into your mouth every day!

Yay for saliva! 2 to 4 pints a day? Well, maybe. I had to fill 4 one-ounce vials at specified times on Sunday for a hormone test and I'd have never thought we made that much! This test was news to me. I'm used to peeing in bottles, or having blood tests, but spit tests? Who knew? No wonder the whole french kissing thing - mixing the hormones... starts to make sense doesn't it?

The really interesting thing to me, besides the fact that they test your spit, was that in preparation for this test, you can't put on face cream, and you have to sleep on a clean pillowcase and use clean towels. I had no idea that so many things were apsorbed through your skin! That really makes you think twice about deodorants, lotions, cleaning products!

Anyway, so at 7:30 a.m approximately 1 hour after I normally awaken (per the instructions) I took out my purple vial and the purple straw and before I brushed my teeth (ewww) and before my first cup of coffee... I started spitting. Ew.

So, you should know, I'm kind of shy about bodily functions. I ALWAYS close the door when I use the potty. I (used to, when I had one) reluctantly admit if I had my period and couldn't participate in some activity (hmmm... what would that be? Swimming? Sex? Yeah whatever.) I say that because, Downtown Dad got up about 7:20 and went into the kitchen to make coffee. I took advantage of this absense to get down to spittin' but he came back in - There I sat with a blue straw and matching vial. What could I do but explain? He left the room shaking his head.

So at 11 a.m. approximately 1 hour after breakfast... OK, so we sat around for a couple hours watching TV! I filled the green vial. I had an open house from 1 p.m. to 2:30, so that worked out perfectly with spitting in the blue vial at about 5:00. In case you are interested, my highly educated waiter-son Beezer came over for dinner - I made bacon wrapped scallops and green beans with parmesan cheese. So after socializing, I had to excuse myself around 10 to go spit into the orange vial.

All of the vials fit neatly back into the ziplock bag conveniently provided, and with the questionairre filled out, the authorization signed and the box closed and sealed with the enclosed sticker, I stored it in the refrigerator overnight, ready to pop in the mail with the prepaid postage sticker affixed.

There is really no point to this post other than to record this event. Another embarassing milestone.

My Writing Candle

The match hisses alight, and gutters as it always does when it melds with the stub of wick on my favorite candle. I am patient, and await the leap of flame when it finds ignition and the small orange bud wavers to life in its violet wax canyon. I close my eyes and breath in the familiar fragrance of patchouli and lavender, inhaling the warmth of its light, letting it fill my soul. This stout candle came to me, heavy with hope and expectation on my 45th birthday, a gift from an encouraging spouse and bright-eyed children. Attached to it, along with a weighty pen and sturdy paper, a note in gaily lettered script was their insistent wish: Write. Above all. Write. So I light my candle and I try. Those wishes echo through my mind as with each inhalation I prospect for ideas, and those same wishes reverberate disappointment with each empty exhalation. But with each breath I discipline my thinking to move with that breath, and sometimes, an idea hisses in the darkness, guttering as it always does when it melds with the stub of my weighty pen on sturdy paper.

Waiting to Expectorate

This morning's doctor visit was helpful, and informative, but frustrating too - in the fact that once again, I must accept that there is no Quick-Fix or Magic-Pill to make me feel normal again. And really, if I think about it, that's ok. I have to remember that things I have to actually work at, end up working out better for me.

I like my women doctors and nurses. They patiently listen to my answers when they ask about symptoms as if I'm the only one who this has ever happened to; they cluck and chuckle sympathetically when I return to them for help after false assumptions of toughing this out, or trying something different; they nod wisely - yet non-judgementally as they once again set me on the path I know is necessary but will be full of ups and downs. The path began this time, with a visit to our Compounding Pharmacy to get a saliva test kit.

I didn't think the downs would begin so quickly though.... After my appointment, it was almost noon. I was on my way home to take Bear to lunch at an ecclectic restaurant which is only open from 11 til 2, and since the kids were off school this week, this would work out perfectly.

......when CRASH!

I'd been about 400 feet from an intersection, merging from my lane into the far left side of the two left turn lanes and Some Jerk who was behind me, took the opportunity to scoot by me on my right, before I'd completed my lane change - and skinned his car against mine. Even travelling at low speed, (at least I was) some of his cream colored Audi got on my maroon minivan, and vice-versa, and there we stood, in the middle of the intersection in the classic hands on hips stance, looking at the damage. We exchanged insurance cards and then decided to move to a nearby parking lot to call the police to make a report. Not that this makes any difference to me, but Some Jerk was a young man of middle eastern descent with a thick accent and an apparent disdain for women who weren't like him. Once the cop came, (in a town of 98% scandahoovians, one shouldn't be surprised at the fact that she was) a young fair haired woman, Some Jerk not only answered the questions she asked me, but took over the conversation. Can't people learn from the examples on Judge Judy and answer calmly, in turn and always with a deferential "ma'am" tacked on the end? His behavior earned him zero points in her book and she made that quite plain with her repeated curt reply of "sir, I'm not asking you." In the end, no citations were issued. We both got cards with each other's information on it to give to our insurance companys and we were free to go. As Some Jerk was getting into his car, the cop asked me to wait a moment and got out a diagram of the intersection to draw what actually happened. It was clear to me then that while she made no acknowledgement of guilt on either part, she believed my version as the true and correct one.

As this accident was occurring I'd been on my cell phone (OK, I didn't mention that in the report) leaving a voicemail for Downtown Dad. As Some Jerk hit me I'd yelled "Jeezuzkryst" and dropped my cell phone - voice mail still recording. So by the time we were done and I was safely parking my battered van in my driveway, about 45 minutes later, an understandably frantic Downtown Dad rang my cell again. After relating the whole tale to him, and assuring him I was alive, and not in jail, or in the hospital - I realized that I still had time to take Bear to lunch. It was after lunch that I started to feel a little - what I refer to as Wonky about driving. Every car was WAY too close to me; every turn was a set up for disaster; every time I backed up I was anticipating something going crunch. Hormones or just delayed stress? You be the judge.

Wanting only to stay home, I knew I still had to get over to the Compounding Pharmacy (which, by the way, is across the street from my accident site) to pick up the saliva test kit. This process is another learning experience for me. Apparently my hormone levels show up in my spit. This spit needs to be collected at a certain time in my cycle, and at specific times of the day and then mailed to the testing facility. So.... I'll end this post for today and go drink a lot of water, coz on Sunday, I got a lot of spittin' to do! Euuuu.

Just Another Thursday

I did FINALLY call my doctor to get me set up on the hormone replacement therapy. I go tomorrow and frankly, I can't wait. I thought I had hot flashes last year! Pshaw! They weren't nuthin' compared to the last couple of days. It's like someone is messing with my internal thermostat. First I am chilled, and I put on a sweatshirt, then two minutes later I am literally sweating, so I take it off... then it starts all over again. The weird thing is that it's mostly at night and in the morning. Poor Downtown Dad, he loves to cuddle, but it only lasts about 15 seconds before I'm throwing the covers off. I'm really hoping this can be fixed!

I also joined an online writing class. I always feel bouyed by their feedback - the imaginary people who populate my online world are always so nice. Jeez, there have to be at least 40 people in this class. I started out commenting on each of their introductions, but a person can only be just so friendly and after a while I had to stop. In other online classes the attrition rate is pretty high, so maybe a few will fall by the wayside.

The kids have had the week off, and while the house started out clean on Monday, we are just about at full on pig stye and it's only Thursday. The good thing is that they are getting along, so I really hate to nag. It's really been nice for me to have this time to write. You'd think with all this time I'd be able to come up with something entertaining, but nope. Maybe tomorrow.

So You Wanna Try Bioidentical Hormones

Last night my son Bear, who has always been very scientific, and who now has this wild hair idea that he wants to learn to fly a plane... at 13... finally plumbed the depths of Downtown Dad's knowledge with his questions, and had to go online to find his answers. He went directly to a site called www.soyouwanna.com, and printed out an 8 page narrative with indepth information, hot links and steps to accomplish the task. In my naieve optimistic way, I visited the site, and searched hopefully for something on menopause, hormones, bioidentical. Nothin! I felt a little like Dorothy when the wizard has finished handing out hearts and diplomas and testimonials... there was nothing in the 'soyouwanna' bag for me.

But this only strenthens my notion that there's a great need for blogs like this, chronicaling women's journeys through this crazy time of life. Truly, after reading Ageless, I realize that the feelings, symptoms or thoughts I have are little signposts along the road. They may not make sense at the time, but maybe viewed in retrospect or from a different perspective, a pattern may emerge. At least thats what I hope.

Today I had a cheese sandwich

So I tried to make a new blog on MSN's spaces. Heck I can't even figure out how to post to it! That stuff is nonsense.

So, since every day I whack myself upside the head and say 'why didn't you just write down your feelings yesterday, then you'd have something to build on?' I figured I'd just go ahead and write down my feelings from today.

I'm reading Suzanne Sommers newest tome, Ageless. Not that I'd really ever seek out the knowledge of Chrissy from Three's a Crowd, but having seen her talk about her book on one of the morning news programs, what she had to say really struck a chord in me. It's all about hormone replacement, and it makes a lot of sense. Last year at this time, I was going through major mondo stress because we had two mortgages and one house was not selling! This stress, coupled with the beginning stages of perimenopause caused me to think that I was headed for the looney bin. Well, once the house sold, and I got some sleep and exercise and fresh air and drank water once in a while instead of vodka, things started to look a little better. But here we are in October again, and darned if I'm not feeling the hot flashes, the glowering resentment of practically anyone who dares interrupt what I'm doing - even if its vacuuming - and the loss of interest in anything! Its starting to look like a cycle. So I'm really interested in the bioidentical hormone replacement therapy she talks about. The only thing that bothers me is - well two things... this looks expensive, and it looks like this is a long term committment.

OK, that's backdrop number one - two be built on in later posts. And now for backdrop number two....

I really think I want to write. A story, a really truly novel. I get dumb fragments of ideas and they are starting to bug me. Like little imaginary salesmen knocking on my door when I'm doing really important stuff,... like vacuuming (see backdrop number one). I MUST MUST MUST start writing these little fragment salesmen down.... and, as usual, when my fingers area firmly engaged in the asdf jkl; my mind is a blank. BUT! With this post as a backdrop, I can post ideas and not have to delve into the tedious pre-story I always feel obligated to divulge before the idea germ can be born.

Backdrop number two - done. Backdrop number three... ah yes, like the third ghost in A Christmas Carol, more mercurial and harder to pin down....

I think that it may be a combination of the previous two - this need in me to write down what happens in my life and feel like it's private, but yet there's the chance that some anonymous person may read this and comment and yes, I have to admit its the feedback that I simultaneously crave and fear.

OK - so thats it for now.