I've Never Been Called For Jury Duty But...

Guess who spent 15 hours in a room without windows telling people where to put their ballots on Tuesday? Honestly, it was a fantastic experience. I was totally jazzed about being part of the voting process. (I single handedly saved at least one ballot from total obscurity. "Ma'am that's a trash can. If you want your vote counted you have to feed your ballot into that machine right over there. Yes. That one with the big sign. See the arrows? Yes. That one.") It was exciting to see folks I knew. More than a dozen people waved and called me by name as they came through. I could feel my tendrils unfurling as I let myself take root in this community. My fellow poll workers were an interesting mix: a rabbi, a blue-collar lesbian, a retired Coca-Cola Co. executive*, a 20 year-old college student studying to be an elementary school teacher, and a well-dressed woman in her fifties who seemed uptight at first but who turned out to be witty, organized, and quite kind. (Her two kids brought her coffee mid-morning. The two of them were tattooed, pierced, skinny in an 80's hair band kind of way, and when they walked in, she LIT UP. They gave her a big hug and she beamed for about 10 minutes after they left. It was pretty remarkable to see a complete stranger morph like that. I don't know if it was the coffee or the thoughtfulness of her kids (or the combo) but she was much more easy-going for the rest of the day.)

It was a long day. We were required to be there from the set up through the official poll closing/clean up procedures. We all brought our lunches and snacks and only left the room to go to the restroom. It was a busy day, as you'd expect given the democratic primary race thus far. I had expected clumps of voters, long lines at times and dull moments at others, but we were steady all day. The veteran poll workers assured me that we had an unusually high turnout, especially for a primary, and also that we'd worked out a good system to get folks through the process without big lines. Our precinct was very well run. I think the only people who had to wait at all were the 17 1/2 year olds (because we ran out of ballots for them!) or the few who had issues with their registration. The hundreds of others fairly sailed through. One woman even seemed miffed that she wouldn't have a chance to read her book while waiting! All in all, it was an incredible experience for me. And? I didn't know it when I signed up, but they pay you for it! I have no idea how much - probably not a lot - but maybe enough to take myself out to eat to make up for the lunch and dinner I missed. Peace.

*There's more! You find out all kinds of things about people when you sit and talk to them for 15 hours. This guy turns out to have played in the NFL!!! He played for the Chicago Bears in the early 60's. I was babbling excitedly to Linus about how this guy had played at Lambeau Field. Lambeau! I heard about the icy January game, the field like concrete, and how by the fourth quarter, everyone's pads were frozen solid. This guy described having to get in the showers fully dressed in order to thaw the gear enough to get it off. I recounted it all to Linus who smiled and nodded. Uh-huh. "Do you even know where Lambeau Field is?" I asked. "Texas?" he guessed. "TEXAS?!!!" Linus hugged me and said,"Maybe you should call your surrogate sports husband Duncan for this one, love." So I did. Duncan, at least, was properly impressed.

This same guy also mentioned (when I pulled out my Vanderbilt sweatshirt) that he was going to a family reunion in the Nashville area this summer. He said his nephew had 400 acres. "A farm?" I asked. "Well, kind of. It's over there...not in Brentwood. What's the area close by?" "Franklin?" I suggested dubiously. "Yes! Franklin." "Wow. Four hundred acres in Franklin? What is he, a country music star?" I joked. "Actually, yes," was the reply. "Anyone I've heard of?" "Maybe. You heard of Brad Paisley?" "Er, yeah. I have." But of course Linus hasn't. So I called Duncan again. There you have it - my very Amurican day, chock full of voting, football, and country music stars!

When Last We Blogged...

I was having a hard time keeping up my end of the posting regularly idea and it seems like not much has changed on that front! So sorry. Yet life here has been great even if I haven't been blogging about it! First - gratuitous cute dog pictures:

Tallulah is a social sleeper. She is happiest if she can find a person or two over which to drape herself. She's given up sleeping on Wasabi. He won't put up with it. She tries to skooch up to him but he scoots away.
Snuggling with her tennis ball as a last resort.

This is as close as he'll usually let her get. Although immediately after this picture Wasabi sat on Tallulah (who was still sleepy). He was looking at us taking his picture and I think he thought he was going to get a treat and assumed the "Good Dog Sit" position. (To make it clear, we are not in the habit of rewarding him for perching on his sister!) I wish we'd been able to get it on film, though. It was funny.
"Wait, take that one again. I blinked."


I would post some pictures of the kids but they won't hold still. Chaos is busy with his Warhammer 40K armies, Bug is kicking butt at school and leading some Tribal Wars, Mayhem has a new girlfriend (this one is also smart and cute - the boy has GOOD taste!), the Princessa is planning her 13th birthday, and Havoc has been busy playing the lead in his class play (Aladdin), baking, and talking people into playing Alhambra dice with him.

Linus and I celebrated our anniversary yesterday! We met at our friend Mat-a-tat's birthday party (which is fun because Mat met his now-wife at that very same party). We needed to go back up to IKEA to get more shelves for the boyos - so Linus and I made a little getaway of it and stayed the night in Virginia. It's been a pretty long time since he and I have had time just the two of us. It was great - although I talked his ear off about training. We laughed and caught up with each other, being silly and not on a time schedule. It was such a relaxing time! We did see a sign along the way that I wish I'd been able to take a picture of. It said (in large blue letters) GREEK HOUSE FAMILY ITALIAN RESTAURANT. (Maybe there's a whole trend of Greek Italian restaurants because Bet and I ate Tiramisu for dessert at the Casa Grecque outside of Montreal for my birthday a couple of years ago.) Anyway, that was one of the things besides the sheer pleasure of hanging out together that made us laugh.

Bet and I have been training. We have a mini-triathlon this weekend and we've added a half-marathon to our schedule for August in preparation for the oly tri in September. I'm pretty on fire about being athletic. I've met some really kind and encouraging triathletes. I'm also still writing - every day in fact - but there never seems to be enough time to get all the way into it. Strangely for a "stay home" mom - I'm out and about A LOT.

That's the fly by. Peace!

Listful

Biked for an hour then ran for 20 minutes yesterday. That's known as a "brick" in triathlon lingo. I think it's called a brick because that's what your legs feel like. Either that or it's short for B-ike, R-un, ICK! Bricks have sucked for me in the past but yesterday's was awesome. I biked on the trainer which is boring but makes the transition to running easier for me. If I've been riding through the world at 12-13 mph and then hop off to run about 5 mph, it's makes me feel even slower than I normally do running (which is saying something!!) Yesterday, my run was strong and fluid. I kicked ass on the finish. No legs of brick for me. So, yay for the first real week of training. Only twenty-three more to go.

I keep trying to tell y'all about mediation but it keeps coming out as unmitigated, toxic spew so we'll see if that post ever gets finished.

This afternoon Chaos starts driver's ed. He's ready for it. I am not. I should be. It's only because of convoluted state laws designed to prevent drop outs that Chaos couldn't start driving this past fall. Ready or not, I signed him up for the very first class I could. Ay yi yi. DRIVING.

Friday was a good day for Mayhem. No more restriction and he has a new girlfriend. (Good thing he got his cell phone back, eh?) Not so for the Ninja Princessa. While she is no longer "The Princess and the D" she is learning that three C's don't cut the mustard either. Poor Princessa. She started off being angry with her teachers for giving her such bad grades, managed to let that slide into being mad at us for enforcing the parameters that have long been set, to finally, finally admitting she was upset with herself. It took her a while to move from a whiny "but I'm trying really, really hard" to a more realistic understanding of how little she has been doing, even though that little bit is more than she was doing at first. If she'd turned in her homework every day, asked questions in class, and not gotten reprimanded for attitude and reading outside books during instruction - I would be ok with C's. But she has - so far - chosen not to do the work it takes and she's learning what happens. No fun all around. Being the bad guy is a drag. Do you know how much it SUCKS to have her still on restriction - especially now that she is all alone in misery? I don't like having to be the "mean" parents! I very much want her to get her act together so we can play a bit before she goes away for the whole summer. For starter's I'm dying to take her to see this movie!!!

I cheered the Lady Vols on to victory last night. What a nail biting finish - winning by one point in literally the last second!! Why, why, why do these things last until almost midnight? It would be much more civilized to play the games earlier in the evening. So I could get some sleep. Because I'm sure the NCAA is itching to switch their schedule around to accommodate my beauty rest needs. Oh well. That's what the Finals are all about, eh?

Sorry for yet another disjointed list-like post but I'm saving my limited ability to write coherent paragraphs for the fiction word count of the day. Love y'all! Mean it! Peace.

Understanding Chaos

Chaos came galumphing into my room making a weird chewing motion with his lips. I asked him what he was doing. He responded by asking me to pluck his eyebrows. (You may have previously noticed a pattern of weirdness in conversations with Chaos. This one is clearly not an exception.) I asked him what that had to do with the er, interesting way he was walking. He explained he was an evil giraffe. Now would I fix his unibrow?



I'm really not sure how to wrap this moment up for storage in the Rehearsal Dinner Box, but I'm going to assume that anyone brave enough to be Chaos' future bride will understand his context. It's the rest of us that need a primer. Peace.

Migraine Hangover

In the past seven years (since the divorce), I've gotten the migraines down to about two a year. Usually they're pretty explainable if I look at the contributing factors - storm fronts/barometric pressure, hormones, stress, caffeine or other food triggers, etc. Sometimes it takes only two of those factors to connect together just so and boom! January's migraine was pretty much a combination of every single identifiable factor - the perfect storm. Yesterday's migraine? Not one trigger that I know of! Weird, weird, and weird. Sunday night I had some of the symptoms - aura, heightened sense of smell, other vision issues - but no pain. No headache materialized. I'm ok with that! I had some breathing issues too and even some welts like hives. I thought I might be having an allergic reaction - but I hadn't eaten (or bathed with) anything new. Yesterday morning I was better but by last night I was down for the count. No fun! I don't know whether to be worried that my migraines are getting sneakier or relieved that I got this one out of the way BEFORE the proceedings with my ex next week. (<--We have mediation on Monday.) Maybe that's my two for the year? Anyway - sorry not to have more bloggy goodness this morning. Peace.

New Pace

With almost three weeks of training logged now - I can feel the new pace settling in. I'm more present with the kids in the morning and a little more wiped out with them at the end of the day. After school is still prime. I love being here when they get home. Writing has suffered some and benefitted some. The quilting has pretty much just stopped. I'll have time for quilting next winter - after the race. I feel stronger in body and in spirit - even in the face of the court crapola. (And on an update in that direction - we have mediation scheduled but not the depositions - which is FINE with me but weird! He pushed and pushed and pushed to schedule the depos BEFORE mediation - grrr - but when my attorney sent back a whole list of dates that would work we've gotten no response. Zero. For weeks. I don't get it. And he's still pulling his passive-aggressive stunts like calling the kids every night at five of six when he knows we sit down to supper at six. I've just moved supper time around (again) and tried not to think about him. Training helps.)

The kids have been a bit sick - not flu - but sinusy and queasy - this week. I maybe should have had them tough it out but with all the reports of how horribly sick people have been, I decided I'd rather they get a little behind in school rather than run their immune systems down and open themselves up to the last rounds of flu.

All in all - whether it's due to the pace of training, the downslope of the school year, the change in the light or weather, the diminished stress that comes of dealing with Mr. Tapioca Head less often, or some combination of all of that - we've got an even-keel, sweet rhythm going on here in Lilyville. It's not very exciting to write about, but it's wonderful to sink into and be a part of.
Peace my friends.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night (Again)

Taking it a little more seriously than perhaps North Carolina weather requires, we weren't comfortable having the kids sleep through the storm upstairs. Upstairs being where the wind and the trees were colliding violently and near where the roof that could get ripped off in a tornado was. Two kids slept in Linus' bed, two in the studio and one on the pallet beside me. The dogs enjoyed playing musical beds. They thought it exciting to have everyone up an hour after settling down. They were the only ones. We're all a bit tired and grumpy today.
The bright side? RAIN. We need rain. We like rain. And it's 65 degrees now. Makes it kinda hard to be tooooooo grumpy. (But we're trying.)
Peace.

Afterthoughts

Today is Linus' older sister's 12th birthday. Yep, a leap baby. I love how both logical and nonsensical it is to have leap year. I am all kinds of behind on my chores around the house, in getting ready for a weekend full of kid activities (b/c if you think the kids have forgotten about Sharpie tag - you are sadly mistaken), and in figuring out the bills/budget to be ready for March. Luckily for me March has been postponed a wee bit. Anyone else have a colorful weekend planned?
Peace.

PS - I keep wanting to write about how I came across as racist/elitist myself in the tv interview when what I was trying to point out were the layers of racism and what role they played in the investigation. It's hard to find an entry point into the conversation - even if it's mostly a conversation in my head. I am inclined to jump in justifying and clarifying what I meant but another part of me has to acknowledge that as a white, suburban, privileged girl, I am not likely to be incredibly perceptive of all the nuances of racism no matter how much I try or how "good" my intentions are. So. In the part that got on the air I said (seemingly out of the blue),

I just don't think that even then, things were like that. I think a black man in our neighborhood might have just as easily have been overlooked because he was clearly a handyman, a worker man. I don't think it would have been particularly noteworthy.

I don't know whether it's because they chopped it or because I didn't articulate it well in the first place, but I certainly didn't mean to come across in a "Let them eat cake" kind of way. Here is more of what I was trying to get to: Yes, it was a white neighborhood. Yes, it is true no one reported a black man in the area. But the police chain of "logic" that followed was disastrously flawed by racism. To them - that there was no report of an alarming black man meant there could have been no black man around at all and therefore their black suspect should not be scrutinized despite other indicators that he could very well be the perpetrator.

Do you see how insidious this way of thinking is? It seems obvious to me that it is as racist to exclude as it is to target a suspect based solely/predominantly on skin color, but it played out in twisty ways. There were any number of good, honest reasons a black man could have been been in an area where he couldn't, at the time, have lived. I believe my parents and neighbors would have (in the absence of suspicious behavior) given an unknown man the benefit of the doubt, no matter his skin tone. I don't believe - even given the level of segregation at the time - that black skin in and of itself would have triggered the fear and assumptions of criminality the police presumed. The kind of racism that was ascribed to the people in the area wasn't necessarily there, but nevertheless it became the basis for police action and non-action.

It seems probable now that over 30 years ago an unlikely, white boy was suspected and wrongly persecuted while a suspicious black man went unscrutinized again and again and again. It would ABSOLUTELY have been racist and terrible to have had it happen the other way around - which I'm sure it has time and again elsewhere, elsewhen. But I can only speak to the case I know.

I'd like to say, too, that I don't think this was a case of "reverse" racism - if such a term ever applies - even if in this instance, the one who benefitted was black and the one targeted, white. Racism is racism. It is prejudice+power. The white cops had the prejudice and the power and it distorted their investigation, blinded them to other possibilities, and robbed them of a needed clarity. I don't believe I am wrong, naive or alone in longing for a "colorblind" system of law and order.

The last piece of the interview juxtaposed two of my statements, that in conjunction made no sense. I am quoted as saying

The cynical part of me feels like they just picked somebody who was unprotected and they targeted him. … They really believed they knew who did it.

Here's the full ramble: one side of me believes that since the police had no suspects (that fit their filtered expectations), they targeted the most (socially, economically, and politically) vulnerable person they could find close by. And then they pushed and pushed trying to make that piece fit into the puzzle. My more compassionate side recognizes the tremendous limitations and pressures the police faced and I try to give them credit for believing they had the real criminal. Ambivalence doesn't come across well in a tiny sound clip. Lesson learned. One of many lessons I have learned in this process.

I don't know if the man in custody now, the one being scrutinized decades after he should have been, had anything to do with anything. It seems likely given the reports of his DNA at the crime scene, but I'll let a court of law decide that. His being white, black or green won't bring my friend back to life or allow a 40-something year old man to relive his teenage years, this time without everyone believing him to be a rapist/murderer. A clear conviction could be considered justice - but would even that have the power to bring peace with it? I have to hope that there could be peace found in solving the mystery of my childhood friend's disappearance. But I also have to believe that peace and redemption are possible no matter the revelations (or possible lack thereof) at this point. Thanks to all for the encouraging words and kind thoughts.

I should go back and make my PS the main post, but it'll have to stand as is. I'm getting on with my day now that I have all of that out of my head!
Peace, peace, peace.

One Is Silver And The Other Gold

Last night when Bet looked at the caller ID and answered the phone, "What up G Dog Homeslice Pickles?" I was pretty sure it was our buddy Rob calling. (Rob, the one we called to ask what a spleen looked like - that Rob.) The call turned out to be from his wife - but Bet would have answered the phone that way for any of the three of them (Rob, his wife, or their daughter) because as she put it, "They are all G Dog Homeslice Pickles to me."
These are the folks that let us steal share their Christmas Cookie Day tradition. These are the folks who came and ran the Country Music Half Marathon (in tutus) with us. These are the ones who offered more than a couch by letting Bet be the crazy aunt in the attic (or really in the spare room with the piano) for a school year when she was planning to move to TN to be with us and didn't want to get stuck in a lease. The G Dog Homeslice Pickles are friends, indeed.

Tonight Bet and I are driving to DC for a girls' weekend away with my Navy buddies. LT (the one who retired, broke her collarbone, and is still training for the triathlon with us) has come east and DC is the central gathering point. LT, Bren, Jen and I have been friends for 20+ years and have many inside jokes (<-- some of them in Russian, which marks us not only as spooks, but old spooks.) There will be some newer shipmates of LT's joining us. (One new friend works in the Capitol, hence the private tour tomorrow - sweet!) I can't wait to meet LT's new friends and have Bet meet my old ones. The bonus is that we also get to see a college pal of mine, meet his new wife, and give them congratulatory hugs for their baby-in-process.

Linus has to work the weekend but Unky Dunky (who is an uncle by choice, not by blood or marriage) is going to come hang out with the kids and play Warhammer. I'm missing our other two uncles of choice (Karl and Richard) - but we can hardly complain as they helped us move and warm our house. It's pretty cool to have this many uncles for my kids without having had to put up with (smelly) brothers all those years ago!

Not sure why I'm rambling about friends this morning. Friendship is just on my mind. Maybe it's because my best friend from high school turned 40 last week, but I don't have a way to get in touch with her. (The silly rabbit moved to Florida and left her comcast email behind. Hello! Yahoo, gmail? Work with me here people! Noelly - I can't find you!)

Maybe friendship is looming large in my mind because I'm totally proud of us for spending $97 and saving $90 at the grocery store last night. I'm bragging on us even though we're not yet in the same league as C is for Coffee and Salsa Man (who once spent $133 and saved $211) much less with Sandra and Grant - who once worked it so that they "bought" forty (40!) boxes of cereal and the store had to pay them a quarter a box. Minor leaguers that we are, we wouldn't have known how to shop like this without the coaching from our thrifty pals.

Maybe I'm thinking about friends because I've just finished making my morning blog rounds. I've been blogging long enough now to have old webfriends and new! While I've only recently met friends like Titan and Not, I've "known" DebR of Red Shoe Ramblings for two years now. (In computer years, that's somewhat akin to having known each other since kindergarten, right?) Also, I've been skulking around the ether long enough to have imaginary friends. Er, that doesn't sound right. They're real, it's the friendship that's all in my head. Erm, that doesn't sound much better does it? What I'm admitting here is that, while I can't think of anything intelligent to say in their comments, I obsessively harmlessly lurk around mimismartypants', Maxine Dangerous', and Miss Zoot's sites. (Well except for that one time I accosted Zoot in the airport!)

So here's to friends - far and wide, old and new, known and yet to be known. Hip hip hooray (x3)!! Peace.

Forget The Gold Star - Give Me A Sharpie

Have I mentioned that my children are Sharpie-mad? Chaos would rather be caught without underwear on than be Sharpie-less. (I kid you not.) It's handy on a regular basis: they label (and often decorate) the freezer bags when we're processing groceries into the deep freeze, they whip Sharpies out when I've forgotten a pen, and where do you think I got the red and black ink for the zombie-fest? I do have to remind them that PERMANENT marker bleeding through onto the tabletops and counters is not a good idea. (A couple of scrubbing sessions with clorox and wood cleaner and the threat of a new table coming out of their pocket has almost solved that issue.) When we found a multi-pack of Sharpies for half price this week, we decided to take a page out of Bet's book of teacher tricks and dole them out as a reward. Last night we presented the first family Sharpie award to Mayhem who has managed to stay out of homework lunch, get his planner signed, AND take the trash and recycling to the curb three weeks running without complaining (justifiably!) that it should be someone else's turn already. He got to choose his favorite color from the pack. Each week (or whenever we remember to) we're going to award a Sharpie to the kid who shows the best attitude (or whatever we want to encourage that week.) I was all kinds of pleased with myself - until there was an impromptu game of "Sharpie Tag" in the kitchen last night. I'd have fussed more, but I'm pretty sure that Bet started it. I know she's the one who agitated to set up an organized game of it for next weekend. Clorox anyone?
Peace.

Sad But True

Bumper sticker seen in Carrboro:

At least the war on the environment is going well.

Our New Thing

Thanks to our buddies C is for Coffee and Salsa Man - we are recession-proofing our pantry. (The nod also has to go to Grant and Sandra who tried unsuccessfully to infect us with the savings bug years ago!) I'm pretty sure I've already mentioned that we signed up for The Grocery Game last month. Our goal has been to save more than we spend. We did that once on a small run to the store where we saved $38 and paid $31. We're getting closer on the big, weekly shopping trips but we're not quite there yet. Still, looking at the receipt where we paid $153 and saved $110? Happiness making.

What are we doing with all that fabulous "extra" money? Err, paying the lawyers. Bleck.

It does feel a bit like no matter how much we save right now, we won't be able to get out of the hole. To counter that, I look at the pantry overflowing with food and I celebrate the abundance in our life. I am trying to get myself to the thrift store to donate the clothes we've been culling from the overflowing closets. I want to keep good things flowing to and and through our home. Getting kick ass bargains on food we eat anyway makes me feel powerful and responsible. Giving what we can no longer use to someone who needs it makes me feel connected and aware. Being intentional in one area gives me energy to stay open and intentional in other areas.

It's a little mysterious how using a $.75 (which doubles to $1.50) on a tube of toothpaste (which was 1/2 price already) can help me get to the post office (which if you know anything about me - you know I am, for all intents and purposes, permanently disabled in the postal department.) I cannot explain it. You'll have to take it on faith. (And maybe wait to believe it until you see the valentine I mailed you.) Peace!

Tongue Tied

Bet and I got to have lunch together yesterday. Since she is a school teacher this is highly unusual. It only happened because the "all day" training off campus turned out to be only "some of the day." Most times for lunch, Bet has to try to get a few bites in between answering math questions (on days she doesn't have lunch duty) and (on days she does) keeping the craziness of the seventh graders in the cafeteria to a minimum. Not only did we have a chance to spend some unexpected time together, but we found a fantastic sandwich place. All organic, natural, handmade yumminess. I had bacon, gruyere, and cremini mushrooms grilled on sourdough toast. We played our favorite game and talked. It felt sinful and decadent to have such fun in the middle of the day. And that was apparent because when I was trying to say something about avoiding the "lunch rush", what I said instead was "runch lush." It made us laugh. Instead of being part of the lunch rush, we were indeed part of the runch lush. Isn't "lush" a fantastic word? Lush - rich, abundant. (Not sure what to do with the nonsensical word "runch." It's fun to say and makes me laugh - even without a real meaning.) I treasure times like yesterday - stolen moments, thoroughly enjoyed. I'm looking forward to our next runch lush. Peace.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

Havoc is suffering from a migraine that had him puking last night. He is susceptible to pressure fronts and food triggers and surely some other, less easily defined factors, like stress. Because he was sick and we were all off schedule, I was taken aback when my ex called this morning to reassure the boys that he was ok. He didn't want the kids seeing or hearing the news and worrying (which was a right decent thing of him, really). But since I hadn't seen or heard the news, I had no idea what he was talking about. Now I know. Now I'm praying - gratitude for knowing that my friends and family are safe and solace for those who are not as fortunate and who are suffering this morning.
Peace.

In The Neighborhood

The other day our little corner store was swarming with police vehicles. We had the kids all piled in the car and were stopped at the light so there was time for much discussion and theorizing about what might be going on. One police car had clearly driven hurriedly up over the curb directly from the street. The other six were deployed all around the tiny market building. There was a piece of machinery in the middle of the parking lot which turned out to be a car jack. The flashing lights were on but most of the police were standing around in fairly relaxed groups talking. One knot was talking to someone who seemed agitated. Attempted robbery? Drug bust? Surely it was a bit of an overkill response for a gas and go. You want to know what it was? (Bet stopped in later and asked.) The manager said that the repo man had come for the car rims of one of his employees and that the employee had "taken exception to it". My first thought was "Holy crap - what kind of rims are expensive enough to qualify for being repossessed??" My second thought was that the guy must have caused a serious ruckus if they sent SEVEN squad cars to quell him. I don't know if I'm capable of being scary enough that someone would call in the big guns. It's pretty awesome to think about causing that much of a stir on a quiet Saturday morning. It's like zero to sixty in under 4 seconds on the crazy meter. (Not that I want to be that scary ever. I'm all about living in a drama free zone. It's just interesting to me to contemplate the alien thinking that must happen to create such a wacko situation.)

Another oddity (this time of the passive variety) in my neighborhood. There is a large metal sculpture in one of the yards around here. The yard and the house are pretty ordinary - average size, a little unkempt, close to a main road. And there is this huge, (sort of rusty in places), skeletal Rhinoceros. Life size. Placid. Completely weird. His pieces and parts look like they were scavenged from many different machines. And there he grazes rustily. Among some weeds.

At the Bolin Creek trail down by the community center there is some new graffiti. Someone has spray painted an anti-war message on the sidewalk. It's about the size of an index card, yet totally readable. It is tucked up into the corner on a sidewalk square. Very tidy. Someone else (well - I don't know that for sure - possibly it's the same person) has stenciled some scattered, red scarabs across a retaining wall. There are more painted in a wandering path on the sidewalk and there is one lone beetle decorating a road sign nearby. They are stylized and quite large. Metal mammoths, legible graffiti, stenciled bugs: it's a trifle strange, my neighborhood.

Aren't you dying to come visit and get the tour? "Here is where that guy's rims were repo'd. Look over there? See that? It's yard art. That? That's Chapel Hill's idea of graffiti. And did you know - here you can buy WINE in the grocery store? Swear! Oh, and I have us booked for Aveda at eleven."
Peace.

I have not managed to catch up yet - but here are a few things buzzing around:
1) Linus is traveling again. He called me from Nashville to say he was down safe. Then I turned on my computer and saw this news. He was on Southwest, but not on that flight or at that time. Still. For worry wart like me? Too close for comfort.
2) I will tell you all about the interview as soon as I can get my thoughts together about it.
3) Talking with Chaos (the fifteen year old red head in the goth kilt) is challenging. (Rewarding in many ways - but work.) A recent example:
(Our mail is often delivered with a rubber band around it. Chaos saw it and wanted the rubber band.)
Chaos: Oooh! Can I have that?! Please.
Me: Why? What are you going to do with it?
Chaos: You know I've never had scurvy.
Me (thinking WTF?)
Chaos: But I drink orange juice all the time.
Me (still thinking WTF?) : Errr, what does that have to do with anything??
Chaos: Mo-m. You gotta be pre-pared. All the time. Just in case. (Then he hugged me, snatched the rubber band out of my hand, and scampered up the stairs. Chains clanking.)
Me (calling up the stairwell): You are not allowed to shoot that at anyone! Do you hear me?
Chaos (distantly): Yes ma'am.

Later I found out the whole scurvy bit and being prepared came from a talk this guy gave at a school. (If you haven't read this book, you should. It's fascinating. Well-written, provocative, chilling and completely accessible. And I am not interested in zombies at all - except as far as they pertain to my teenage sons.) Talking to Chaos is only comprehensible if you spend time getting his context. It's hard to keep up with the music, the comedians, the you tube bits, and the books - but if you don't at least make a stab at it, he makes NO SENSE.

4) Whine, whine, whine. Only ONE more football game. I had a great time getting to watch the championship games with my dad even though neither game was close to the caliber of the week before. At first it didn't look like the Pats had bothered to show up for their game against Chargers. I was grateful when they started to actually play football in the second quarter. I was pretty bummed about the Packers losing to the Giants, but I also have to admit that my antipathy for the Giants is considerably less without Jeremy Shockey in the lineup. It sucks for Brett, no two ways about it. Eli, however, has to be pretty pleased to be going to the Superbowl the very next year after his brother. Still, without the Packers in it, I have zero decision about who to root for on Feb 3. Go Pats! I hope the '72 Dolphins are prepared to share their place in the record books!

Between the travel every which way and lingering viruses, school conferences and report cards, and the general cold and dark - this bear would really like to hibernate for a week. Instead my plan for this weekend is to get my shaggy headed children to the Aveda Institute, build a glass brick wall, finally visit my webfriends' blogs and finish the drafts in my "to be posted" file (dogs, tv interviews)! What are y'all up to?
Peace.

Deth Delayed 3 Days, School Only 2 Hours

Today was a delayed school opening due to weather the media describes as a "wintry mix". Wintry mix of what you might ask. Wintry mix of HELL I'd be tempted to answer were it not so freaking cold. I am sincerely hoping that this morning's lovely blend of sleet, rain, ice, and wind is a one off event. I do NOT relish driving 500 miles (over the mountains) in it tomorrow. Oh no I do not.

The schools here have this great automated phone tree system. I get a call with a recorded message about upcoming events at the high school every Sunday night. The day the water main broke at the middle school, I got a call in the middle of the day explaining dismissal procedures etc. Last night we got a call (and an email) notifying us of the possibility of a delayed opening this morning. That message said that in the event, early morning connect ED message calls would begin around 6 a.m.. The house phone rang at 5:45 this morning. Ok, they jumped the gun by 15 minutes. My cell phone rang a few minutes later. Hmmm. Hadn't known they'd call the cell phones too, but ok. THEN the house phone rang again. It was my ex calling to tell me in his ridiculous, self-important way that the school had just called him and he wanted to pass on the information to me that school was delayed. "Did you get a call too?" he asked. "Yeah," I said with the word "Asshole!" unsaid but perceptible nonetheless. Does he REALLY think that he needed to call me? From another state and time zone? To tell me there is a weather (my weather) related school delay? For God's sakes, Bet is a TEACHER IN THIS DISTRICT!!! It is not like we would somehow not figure out whether or not school was open and at what time!

If Mr. Tapioca Head were an overly helpful sort in general, it might - just might - be plausible that he wanted to make sure we had it all under control. But seeing as he's an obstructionist pig, I know he just called to get under my skin. The man wouldn't confirm his mailing address for me yesterday (which resulted in me having to send an insurance receipt to him by way of the attorneys!) but he'll call me to tell me what the weather is like outside of my window?! Fucktard.

Having started off so well (what with sleet, tapioca, off schedule children with EXAMS today) you'd probably think it could only get better. Sadly, I have no guarantee of that. I have a dozen mostly important but impossible things to do today. One of them is figuring out what to wear for the tv interview on Monday. Since losing 20 lbs in four days is not an option, I decided to go with a new haircut (cute bob), new hair color (boring but shiny brown/black as opposed to the fun black/red/violet I got last time), and new nails (French manicure). Having spent all my money on that, I must now choose something I already own to wear. Advice???

Since I'm not going to get my chores done, I may as well get around to telling you how much fun I had with my children listening to their music. Dethklok is the new fave. You would not believe how much amusement has been generated by this band in our household. If you have Guitar Hero in your house, you may already be familiar with their stunningly uncomplicated piece "Thunderhorse" which literally has half of the lyrics in the title. If you do not have Guitar Hero and clicked the link you will see that Dethklok is a virtual death metal band created for a television show - a cartoon show. (Like the Monkees - only animated and err... somewhat darker.) The article says that the band is sometimes compared to Spinal Tap "though the overtly comedic aspects of the band are usually reserved for show episodes, while the music itself is relatively straightforward extreme metal." I beg to differ. The lyrics are freaking hilarious. There is a song about lost Vikings who left their map at home and are too macho to take one offered by a girl. There is a song called "Briefcase Full of Guts" and another called "Hatredcopter." Hatredcopter is our second favorite. The lead singer (or rather lead shouter) rails "I get to wear big black helmets I pilot the HATREDCOPTER" and then Pickles (<-scary name that) comes in with the chorus:
You will most likely die
From the hands of my arm
When I come and fly and
Take off your face
With the front
Of my HATREDCOPTER

(I play air guitar with that part and Havoc loses it every time. Chaos (whose CD this is) is not quite as amused - but he's a good sport and he should be after all the razzing he's given out about other people's music.) Our very first favorite on the Dethalbum is called "Birthday Dethday." It's a long song so I'll only give you a sampling of the finer parts:
(it starts out with a growly voice probably trying to sound menacing)
Many years ago today something grew
Inside of your mother...
That thing was you

YOU

YOU YOU YOU YOU

(later)

Happy Birthday
You're gonna die

(still later)

DIE DIE
DETHDAY
BIRTHDAY
DETHDAY
DIE DIE
DETHDAY
BIRTHDAY
DETHDAY

I have promised to sing this song to my sons every year on their birthday. Chaos made the comment that he would thankfully be home for only three more birthdays. I said, "Remember that scene in "City Slickers" where the mom calls her 40-something year old son every year at 5 a.m. on his birthday? That's me. Only I'm going to sing Dethday to you (YOU YOU YOU)." Mayhem made gurgly noises at that point and when I turned around to look (since we were in the car at the time and he was in the backseat) I saw that he was rolling from side to side, practically unable to breathe from laughing so hard at the thought of my calling him to croak into the phone "Happy Birthday, you're gonna die!" God, I love my kids. It's a good thing, I guess, because I have an eight hour drive with them. EIGHT hours of listening to shouting in German (Rammstein), shouting in Metal Dethspeak (Dethklok), electronic pig squeals (Mushroom Heads or Job For a Cowboy - one of them is known for their pig noises but I can't at this moment remember which - ask me on Monday), and crooning about nuclear holocaust (Greenday - Havoc's new CD). As my mother (who put up with The Dead Kennedys, Violent Femmes, and Depeche Mode from me) constantly reminds me, "Paybacks are hell."
Peace. (Not deth!!)

Silicone, It's Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

Last week Bet got some of these. They are two shades of green (which becomes relevant in just a minute.) They're pretty cool. We've been making our own breakfast sandwiches at home with them. Mayhem asked what they were and how to clean them. I explained about poaching eggs and then he wanted to know what they were made of. I said, "Silicone." While I was telling him how to wash them out and where to put them away, he had his back to me. Then he spun around, holding the cups to his chest and said, "Is this what they make fake boobs out of? They're pretty weird." When I could stop laughing long enough, I said yes, silicone could be used to make breast implants but it wasn't quite the same as our egg poaching cups. "Good thing," he said. "Who would want to have green breasts?" The Princessa and Havoc were cracking up. The Princessa snorted and gave Mayhem a hard time about having a one track mind. (I think her having brothers is a pretty good inoculation against her wanting to date any time soon.) I had to reassure Havoc that women who got breast implants did NOT end up with green boobs. Ahhh, those teachable moments!
Peace.
PS - You may have noticed that I've postponed all those things I said I'd write about yesterday. My camera is currently languishing from lack of double A's and I'm just not in the mood for "deth" tonight as I'm worn out from talking to my children. Maybe tomorrow we can do deth over lunch.

It's Beginning To Smell A Lot Like Christmas

This Saturday was Cookie Day at our house. Cookie Day is a tradition that we stole from share with some good friends. Everyone piles into one house and each person makes a few dozen of their favorite cookies. At the end, each person gets to take some of all the cookies that were made. It's cookie chaos, but gobs of fun. This year it was at our house. Our huge island was covered with cookbooks, flour, nuts and chocolates, extracts, rolling pins, and icing. We had three Kitchen Aid mixers mixing at once. Havoc was in the thick of things. There were a half dozen adults baking (including Bet's mom who came for the weekend). We also had a couple extra girls whose "help" consisted mostly of experimenting with leftover bits. Linus (after buying a Christmas tree and sending the boys to the attic for the decorations) pitched in here and there and everywhere. He loves to bake, but this time he was more of a troubleshooter. He helped Havoc change blades on the mixer; he pulled things out of ovens; he organized Qbert during the baking intermission, etc. I baked a little but then snuck away to put up most of the Christmas decorations by myself, unlike last year. It was ten hours of holiday cheer and socializing. By the end of the day I was happily exhausted and frankly, sick of talking to other people. I was very ready for a day of football.

And what a day of football it was! Sunday was well nigh perfect in Football land as far as I'm concerned. The Titans, the Colts, the Dolphins (and the Patriots for Havoc) all won. Icing on the cake? Dallas lost to the Eagles! (Sorry Jeff. Can you believe I have a friend who's a Cowboys fan?? Weird but true.)

I know some of my pals around the country are snowed in. I'm sending y'all some mojo for a day that's all hot chocolate and kids making snow angels and not like the day the weather channel is showing which is all cars buried in snow drifts and icy trees downing electric lines. Peace to the people!

In Which Lilymane Falls In Love

Linus has been traveling this week. He went to Boston and then Detroit (by way of Chicago where his flight was canceled and his luggage took five hours longer than he did to get to Michigan) and now today he's on his way home from Detroit (by way of Dallas). Sounds like fun, no? Yeah, not to me either.

While he's been gone, I've fallen in love. With a hair salon. Crazy but true. Among my other loves, now I heart the Aveda Institute. I went in simply to buy Bet some Blue Malva shampoo. While I was paying, I noticed the huge room full of empty salon chairs/stations. The little guy at the desk (whose makeup was flawless) explained that Tuesdays through Saturdays they offered full salon services provided exclusively by supervised students. I must have looked as skeptical as I felt when he tried to get me to book an appointment. He launched into a fairly dramatic description of how wonderful and fab-u-lous it was, only all-natural products were used, they were the first to have an emphasis on the whole person, and that it was more than a haircut, it was an experience at Aveda. I tried to pay and scoot out the door, but the festive lout insisted on showing me the salon price list. Eeek! A haircut was half the price of the shampoo I'd just bought! He smirked and asked if mornings or afternoons were better for me. He promised me I'd love it.

I admit I had doubts and almost canceled. I thought about the only beauty school I'd ever seen before which was called something like Elite Beauty & Style Academy. Wedged between the Books A Million and the China Wok in a strip mall, there were always sad looking waifs in smocks tossing their cigarettes to go in and little old ladies with bad perms coming out. The store section of the Aveda Institute was a gazillion times cleaner and classier than that so how bad could the salon section be? I figured I didn't have much to lose. I hadn't had a haircut in nine months and I'm planning to shave my head after the triathlon anyway. If worse comes to worst, I could shave it now. That was my thinking.

I showed up at 9:25 for my 9:30 appointment. I was not the only one. In fact, I was one of about 38. I was totally unprepared for that many people. Yes, I'd seen all the empty chairs but I didn't think they'd each and every one be taken! It was a bit of a cattle call. You gave your name and signed a sheet of paper saying you knew they were students and then you lined up along the side wall and waited to have a stylist call your name. I stood flat against the wall marveling at how many people there were. I was a trifle bit intimidated about how hip the stylists appeared at first: lots of spiky hair gelled into interesting geometries, quite a few piercings and tattoos, all black outfits everywhere, and several gals with great boots. I watched a bit more and noticed that there were folks of all shapes and a few older students than at first glance. I saw that some of the stylists that I'd thought were sneering at first actually looked more nervous than anything else. Stylist after stylist came and called a name and took away the women along the wall one by one. More people kept coming in, though. I began to notice that some of the ones who'd just come in were starting to get called too. It felt like grade school, standing there waiting to be called, wondering what to do if I didn't get called, trying to decide how long I should wait before I said anything. Feeling uncertain about the process and overwhelmed by the noise, I'd just started to inch towards the door to escape when a girl with a lovely smile waded through the crowd calling my name. She was maybe all of nineteen but she radiated kindness. I answered and she took me back to her station, which turned out to be in a room I hadn't noticed off to the side. It was MUCH quieter. Her name was Megan. She offered me tea (organic peppermint and licorice). She talked with me about what I wanted done with my hair. She got her supervisor. She told her supervisor what I wanted, her supervisor checked it with me and then advised her on how to go about it. Then she walked me back to the even quieter shampoo room where I got to choose whether to sit or to lie down while having my hair washed. What a fantastic thing, to get to lie down while having your hair washed! I highly recommend it. Megan washed my hair (lather, rinse, repeat!) and gave me a mini-facial (toner, moisturizer, short massage, steamy towel). Then we went back to her station where she gave me a stress reducing treatment (a short neck and shoulder massage). Then she cut my hair (exactly the way I wanted it) and styled it (way better than I can do myself). All of this pampering for the low, low price of $19. And they don't let you tip the students. It was nineteen bucks total. I'm used to paying upwards of $60 for about a tenth of the attention. I mentioned I heart the Aveda Institute, didn't I? It was quite literally my favorite haircut ever. I'm thinking of going back every two weeks. Haircuts: cheaper and more fun than therapy! Be warned, if you ever come visit me, I will give you a whirlwind tour of UNC and Duke and a day long saunter through Aveda. Peace.