
and worked the television shows that taped with a li
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
1:25 AM
2
comments
Labels: T3
My mom flies in next Monday afternoon from LA, and after we pick her up at the airport we're heading to their wonderful lake house for five or six days. The Film Geek is staying home since his summer classes start next week, but the kids and I are really looking forward to it. This vacation house is so calming to adults that they should bottle it, but for kids it's a little more problematic. You see, this charming cabin, this idyllic little waterfront paradise, this retreat from the world at large is not wired. There are two TV's, but...No Cable. No Internet. No Cell Phone Reception. All the things that make it so appealing to adults in fact, but confuse the kids. I did my huge spiel on how it is possible to live without electronics and how society has been doing it for eons with no ill effect. Still, each one of the three has taken me aside individually to casually inquire as to the status of the cable. So yesterday, cell phone in hand, I put the question to my mother.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:51 AM
4
comments
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:26 AM
1 comments
Labels: work
I took the boys to the public pool this afternoon once the friggin' rain stopped. It's very nice, as far as public pools go - high dives, a couple of pretty cool slides, and a lily pad type thing that seems to appeal to all ages, although it's designed for the toddler set. When the kids were younger we hung out a lot at the zero depth area with the fountains, since, in theory, they couldn't drown. Not easily anyway. Now that they're older they pretty much leave me in the dust and head out for whatever action they can find. There's usually plenty to choose from, since the pool is one of the major kid hangouts around once it opens Memorial Day weekend each year.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:05 AM
1 comments
Stayed in bed 'til almost ten
No sounds of fighting from my men
Stumbled towards the coffee pot
Hot caffeine, I need a lot
My house looks like the Huns marched by
Trash and dishes, I could cry
Popsicle wrappers on the floor
Soggy laundry by the door
Remnants from the water fight
That caused a fury just last night
And as we head straight out of May
Just one more thing I need to say
Rain and thunder, go away
I know they need you in LA.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
10:35 AM
2
comments
Damage at the supermarket laying in supplies for long holiday weekend - $71.64
Cost of four matinee theater tickets to watch Johnny Depp prance around for three hours in eye liner - $28.00 (and worth far more)
A leisurely walk downtown with a pit stop at our fabulous local ice cream parlor - $8.52
An entire two day weekend with not a single thing scheduled - Priceless.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
9:10 AM
0
comments
Sitting out on my fabulous, newly screened porch, I was thinking about paint. I absolutley adore paint. It's one of my Very Favorite Things, so I probably spend a lot more time thinking about it than I should. My paint chip collection is world class in its scope. I am continually amazed at what you can do with just one gallon of the stuff. It's like magic as far as I'm concerned - the good kind. Let other people redecorate or wallpaper or move around furniture, I just head for the paint store. It's the closest thing to a quick fix I have. (Short of a big cold bottle of Diet Coke with Lime, anyway).
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
11:10 AM
1 comments
Labels: the film geek, the money pit
And the list for today is...
My Three Favorite "Children's" Book Series
The reason I say "Children's" is because most of these are favorites to this day, and I haven't been called a child for a while. At least not that I'll admit to. I'll thank you all to keep your opinions to yourself please. Play nice!
#1. The Little House on the Prairie series. Let's just start with the one of longest of my book love affairs, shall we? Oh my god, I adore these books, every single one of them and reread them regularly. Which one I read is usually a reflection of my mood. If I need a little kick in the butt I read The Long Winter. If I'm really upbeat I go for Little Town on the Prairie and These Happy Golden Years. If I'm hungry I read Farmer Boy, because the food descriptions in that one do me in. (Clearly they were written by a woman who lived most of her childhood on salt pork and dried beans). My husband, who doesn't understand the appeal, calls it Little Disaster on the Prairie, claiming it's one locust horde and blizzard after another. What does he know? Several years ago, on a road trip back home, we actually made a stop in De Smet, South Dakota, the real little town on the prairie. The feeling of actually being on the homestead that I'd read about so much was incredible, and I can't wait to do it again.
#2. (Sorry, Mom) Nancy Drew, girl detective. I can't count the hours I spent as a kid reading all about Nancy and her sleuthing adventures. The fact that the gal can do anything was appealing to a kid, although as an adult I know people like her and I just want to slap them. She could play all sports and instruments, speak many languages passably, was naturally "trim", and had a cute little roadster to boot. Granted, she was motherless, but like all the Disney heroines, this was designed to increase her pity appeal and make her seem vulnerable. It didn't work though. That chick was bullet proof. Even as an adult Nancy has given me hours of entertainment. After the (sorry again, Mom) kibbutz caper, I set about replacing my collection with a vengeance. There are three editions of Nancy Drew - the early 1930's versions, the 1950's and the 1970's. (I'm not counting the paperback slop that's out now). Most of what I had was the 30's and 50's, so I haunted rummage sales and out of the way places for years. They were too expensive in the used book stores. For years I had this dream of finding a paper shopping bag of ND's at a garage sale and they were all marked a quarter. I would wake up so happy. Then one day when I was in college I was at this junk store on Colorado Blvd. that no longer exists and it happened. There really was a paper shopping bag of old ND's and they were a dime apiece, since these people obviously didn't know what they had. I have them still, but don't reread them that often, since as an adult she tends to tick me off with her know it all ways.
#3. Harry Potter. What can I say about Harry Potter? I'm equally anticipating and absolutely dreading July 21st when the last book comes out. If she kills him off I think I'll just cry. Seriously, I know more adults who are into this series than I do kids. What is it exactly? Each of the main characters is so appealing in their own way, and so believable in their actions as they age. Hogwarts is a place I would kill to spend time at, especially as a young wizard. There's the eternal theme of good vs. evil, and the allegiance you feel to this fight. I am continually amazed at J.K. Rowling's imagination. Where does she come up with this stuff? My favorite is the howler. Every time I even think about a howler I crack up. You can tell the woman has kids, can't you? And speaking of kids, I absolutely love Mrs. Weasley. That woman kicks some serious teenage wizard butt. In anticipation of the last book Sasquatch and I are about to start re-reading the series. This is a ritual we've done for the last few books, and we really look forward to it. The last time we did it I was so immersed that I actually had Hogwarts dreams. Of course this project gets longer each time, but it's a lot of fun. Go Harry!
At this point I normally encourage all of you to throw in your two cents, but I haven't been getting much feedback on this. Do you people not understand how much fun it is to throw your opinions out there into cyberspace and let the devil take the wheel??
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:04 AM
2
comments
Well, it's mid-afternoon on a fine day in May and I am officially the parent of an incoming high-schooler. Excuse me while I sit down and put my head between my knees. How did we celebrate this milestone? He came home with a bunch of his friends, picked up his video gaming equipment and hit the road for greener gaming pastures. Any minute now the phone will ring and he'll be asking me if he can have a sleepover to celebrate the last day of junior high. His friends will be laughing and shouting in the background, giddy with anticipation.
And what will I say? It will be something along the lines of That sounds like fun for you guys. Go ahead and spend the night with your friends. I totally understand. Have a great time and call me later if you get a chance. I love you.
Here's what I want to say. Please come home so we can celebrate with you. Please give me this moment while it's fresh and still exciting for you. Please let me be a part of it. Please let me believe for just one more night that you have any desire whatsoever to be around your family, in spite of all my instincts that tell me you don't. I know this is what you're supposed to do, but I don't understand. When did I become a pit stop on the way to better times and endless sleepovers? Why do I feel so left out? I love you.
Or, in a nutshell, When did I stop being the mom you needed and start being the mom you just needed to take you where you wanted to be?
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
2:33 PM
1 comments
Labels: sasquatch
Picked up some extra, last minute hours at work, so I'll be a little late posting today. Should be back by mid-afternoon!
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:12 AM
0
comments
The stars aligned and the heavens smiled last night as The Film Geek and I actually worked together on a home project and didn't kill each other. The sound you hear is angels singing in astonishment and pure joy. We do not have a good track record, you see, although we've really been making an effort to get better. We know why we work so badly together, we just haven't been able to do much about it. I'll explain it all and then maybe someone can provide some words of wisdom. God knows we need help.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
8:46 AM
0
comments
Labels: dogs, the film geek, the money pit
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
9:53 AM
0
comments
Labels: work
Another soccer season over, and not a minute too soon as far as I'm concerned. Four practices a week and at least two games a weekend have finally taken their toll. Add in all the personal and emotional drama and I'm done. And unless I'm misreading their cues pretty badly, so are my kids. They are little puddles of inaction at the moment.
Surfer Dudes team ended up playing for third place, which they won. It sounds better than it is, since they had a small division and there were only four teams to start with. His team legitimately had a chance this tournament, and barely missed playing for the Championship, but they were thrilled they didn't end dead last. Gumby's star-crossed team was not so lucky and did indeed finish at the very bottom. It was ugly. His team started out the season without a coach, and got bounced around for several weeks before the coach from last year came back on board. As a result there was a real lack of cohesion the rest of the season, no matter what they did to try to make it up. That they're best goalie was out of town this weekend didn't help.
As I sat there, essentially watching both of my kids fight to not finish dead last, I just wanted them to have the same results. You know, either both dead last or both one rung up. They instinctively know how to torture each other, and I thought this might not be a good weapon to have around the house all summer. It just wasn't meant to be. There were positive things to take away though. Surfer Dude's coach behaved himself for the most part, although the coach opposing Gumby's team was so obnoxious that a couple of our dads were ready to go and have a chat with him, but the ref beat them to it. It was a beautiful day, to continue with the positives, and we got to hang out with friends who have kids on the teams. Oh well, it's done. Until August anyway. At this point they're still deciding on whether they want to play or not, so I guess we'll see.
Well, I'm off to work. It should be interesting today since the University is having Graduation ceremonies and I'm sure there will be a lot of parties after. Maybe I'll have some Springer stories for tomorrow!
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:13 AM
0
comments
Labels: gumby, soccer, surfer dude
Both of my soccer players have their first game at 10:30 today. The rest of the tournament schedule for the day will depend on how their first games go. Surfer Dude's team lost a thriller last night 7-6, but on points are still ahead of the team they lost to. Gumby's team lost Thursday night and I don't know about last night since we weren't there.
We're getting to deal with the real life issues that playing sports tends to bring up, and it's not a lot of fun. Surfer Dude's coach isn't particularly nice to him, and doesn't give him a huge amount of playing time. I'm not exactly sure why, since he played a lot (and well) in the fall, but this season he's become something of a whipping post. My poor kid got in the car yesterday and said, "My coach hates me and I don't know why." We had a very long (private) conversation about how his worth isn't defined by what he does on a playing field, and how sometimes people behave in ways that you can't understand but that doesn't mean it's your fault and that we just need to get through this today. I'm sure I'm cynical, but between seasons his coach invited us to a political fundraiser at his house for a candidate we did not endorse. We didn't go, but I was polite about it. I said we'd try to make it if we could but I couldn't promise. I didn't tell him his candidate sucked or anything. I'm sure it's all coincidental, right?
Well, that's it for now. We have a full day out on the fields ahead of us and I'd better start filling water bottles. Whee!
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
8:18 AM
0
comments
Labels: gumby, soccer, surfer dude
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
11:20 AM
Labels: gumby, sasquatch, surfer dude, the film geek
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
9:50 AM
1 comments
I wouldn't wish my day yesterday on Paris Hilton.
First the disclaimers - No one died, there are no sick kids, my house didn't burn to the ground, nothing earthshattering. I always feel I have to throw gratitude out there for all the good things I've got before I start bitching about the mundane crap that does you in. Disclaimer out of the way...let's go.
My class ended early at 3:40, so I called the Film Geek (FG) on my way to my car to tell him I could pick up the kids from school at 3:45, so he could stay at work. I got in my car and cranked the radio, little knowing this would be my last bit of peace until almost midnight. I should've enjoyed the drive more.
Got there to get the two younger ones and realized that the eldest had forgotten his house key yet again. Tried to get Surfer Dude (SD) and Gumby (G.) to stop playing on the playground so I could get home to let Sasquatch(S.) in. I knew the longer he stayed on the porch the longer I would hear about it, never mind that it was totally his fault. Finally got them home only to find that the FG hadn't shut the back door all the way and because of all the rain and the swollen wood the door had been left open all day, allowing the entrance of a bunch of smelly ninth graders after school. I walked in to find a group of them lounging in my living room. First words out of S.'s mouth was a request to go out to dinner at the Chinese buffet with the Red Headed step-child (RHSC) and his family. I said no. Argument ensues.
Check my phone messages. Soccer practice that I thought was off is now back on and I have thirty minutes to feed and clothe two kids before driving the first leg of the carpool. On the phone arranging that with one friend when other friend calls to arrange pick-up of RHSC. One phone to each ear at that point, tell RHSC to go out to curb as his mother will be there in two minutes. He says he'll wait until he actually sees her car in front of my house. S. still following me whining about the Chinese buffet. Smelly teenagers still filling living room. Three smaller kids begging me for food while I have a phone on each ear. Arguments ensue.
Break up fight over computer rights, feed and supervise soccer players getting dressed, hang up both phones, start to wonder what the heck is for dinner since I'll be out for an hour driving the carpool. FG walks in from work and offers to go get stuff for Chicken Caeser salads (my go to dinner when I'm in a hurry). I say a CC salad doesn't thrill me but that's fine since the kids will all eat it. Go drive the carpool and get stuck in accident traffic. Drop them off and head home. FG meets me at the door and says he didn't go to the store because he wasn't quite sure where we left the Chicken Caeser discussion. I say we left it at you were going to the store. He says that's not the impression he had. Argument ensues.
Go to the supermarket and wander around for thirty minutes in a brain fog. Get home, throw dinner together(I've switched to burgers and fries by this point) and say bye to FG who is on his way back to work. Make a few scheduling phone calls and make a doctor's appointment for G. who got bitten by a tick Saturday and it's looking funky. Check the balance in the checking account. Very bad move. Open schedule for the soccer tournament this weekend that we just got. Eight games between two players in four days. Nice.
G. gets home, eats and remembers a bunch of homework (it's 8 pm). S. finally finishes his computer homework and I get on. Open the email from his AP Biology teacher telling me he has an F due to unturned in work. He tells me this is what he was working on. I say what about the other project, the one you said you turned in two weeks ago? The one I know is finished?Argument ensues.
One kid wants to be on the computer but won't stay downstairs by himself. Other kid leaves him alone just for kicks and sneaks upstairs. I've already gone upstairs to collapse on my bed for a minute, but sit straight up to the sound of frantic feet running upstairs once they realized they were alone on the computer. Argument ensues, but I miss it because I've had to go downstairs and turn off a) the TV, b) the computer and c) all the lights.
I get SD and G. to bed and lay on my bed to read. Three seconds later S. is at my door remembering a computer test he has to take that night. Of course he won't go downstairs alone either. I go with him and putter around while he finishes. We go back upstairs. By now I'm wide awake, so I read for a bit. Am just dozing off when S. says he's thirsty and needs a drink from downstairs and will I go with him? I say get it from the bathroom or go downstairs yourself, but he won't do either. I won't budge at this point. Argument ensues.
He finally goes to bed unwatered and I turn out my light. The dogs all of a sudden go ballistic and I have to walk through the house to see if anything is wrong. Nothing to report. Back to bed and am now totally wide awake.
And all I can think is that I need to sleep just so this day can end.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
11:44 AM
0
comments
Labels: rotten correspondent
Am I the only person who sees the humor in the name of the class I'm attending today? It's called Crisis Intervention in the Workplace, and it's designed to teach ER workers how to de-escalate potentially violent situations before they get bad. Or really bad. I'm sure it's a very useful class, but come on. I have boys. Three of them. I de-escalate on an hourly basis. For this I need a class?
I'll admit that our clientele can be a little, uh, colorful, but for the most part they've got nothing on my kids. Here are things I've never heard a patient say:
Nurse! I want to watch something else on this waiting room TV and this guy won't let me. He knows I don't like SpongeBob!
Nurse! He got three shots and I only got one! That's not fair!
Nurse! He's been on the cardiac monitor for fifteen minutes and I haven't had a turn yet. Why does he always get his way?
Nurse! Ha! You think that's bleeding? I can bleed worse than that. Here, let me show you!
You see what I mean? And at home all the negotiating and de-escalating happens unmedicated. The whole better living through pharmaceuticals theory doesn't extend to the family hearth. (The hearth where, coincidentally, two brothers are pummeling each other, kicking and screaming over the Game Cube). If this happened at work there would most likely be a loaded syringe on the second level. Or at the very least a blue uniform.
Should be an interesting class...
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:20 AM
0
comments
Labels: work
For Mother's Day all our dogs got baths. Don't ask me the connection, because I don't know. It was a gorgeous day though, and it was a lot of fun having all of us outside together doing it. The rest of the day was lovely too. I got breakfast in bed - peach mango waffles ( Surfer Dude watches too much "Throwdown with Bobby Flay"), orange juice, coffee and banana chocolate bread on a tray with freshly picked flowers. There was also a homemade card with Gumby's poetry that he didn't want his brothers to see because it was "too mushy". (Wasn't too mushy for me.) The Film Geek coordinated it all behind the scenes whilst cooking waffles. Sasquatch brought me the newspaper to read and gave me a big hug. Life was good. We hung out all day and for dinner walked to a local pizza place where I had a huge slice of feta and red onion pizza and the biggest dark ale they had. I love Mother's Day.
The dogs, on the other hand, not so much... First up was the Diva.
I bet Jennifer Lopez doesn't have to put up with this crap.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
8:56 AM
0
comments
Labels: dogs
For the last few years Mother’s Day has kind of been a problem. When I was younger I did all the standard things – flowers, candy, handmade goodies – and was always gratified by the response I got from my mom. But things have changed, not on her end but on mine. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a mother myself and have a better understanding of how treacherous the job can be. Maybe it’s because I’m 1600 miles away. Maybe it’s the realization that there aren’t enough flowers in the world for this woman who has given me so much for so long. Whatever the reason, I come up empty handed on Mother’s Day lately. Nothing I think of is good enough, and what ends up happening (to my chagrin) is that I am left with no gift. (Unfortunately, so is my mother). No flowers, no See’s candy, nada. This year I started early and still have nothing. To borrow one of my mom’s pet phrases this just won’t do. It’s my favorite line of hers, unless she’s using it on me. Then it doesn’t do much for me.
I wracked my brain for ideas, but what I kept coming up with were these little vignettes from the past that showed so many of my mother’s facets. I kept remembering all these stories that we swore would be funny someday. I took a peek at the mental images that have cracked me up for years. I cautiously examined the times that had been so hard for us from the perspective of an adult. And as usual, I sidetracked myself from my original purpose. It’s one of my specialties
First, there were the Flower Child times. This is when she and a bunch of her friends painted hands and feet and “Love” and “Peace” all over our red VW bug named Miranda. I took one look and refused to be seen in the car. She dropped me off around the corner from school for years until the paint faded. This was the era where for Halloween one year she dressed me in a handmade purple pinafore complete with a ruffled apron. She tied a ribbon around an empty butter box, hung it around my neck, and told me I was going as Mother Nature. This was about the time she pulled me out of public school in Highland Park and sent me to a private Montessori, because, as she so nicely put it, I was a little naïve for the homegirls and my mouth was about to get my butt kicked. Our house was always full of musicians and writers and artists, and my mother would laugh when one of them would chant the mantra “Marry a doctor. Marry a lawyer. Whatever you do, don’t marry a musician. “ (Editorial note one year later: HELLO! Did I see filmmaker on that list? Should they not have said all creative types in general??)
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
10:56 AM
1 comments
Labels: mom
Soccer round up for the day - one win, one tie and one painful to be a parent for blowout. Four hours on a scorching field with boys who were tired to start with. Speaking of which, here are a few party pics.
This is your brain.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
3:02 PM
0
comments
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
7:51 AM
0
comments
Labels: surfer dude
Now that we’ve gone over the utter chaos that was our last moving experience, it’s time to introduce the cause behind it all. The picture below was taken by the Film Geek the first time we saw our new house together, and it was, literally, the vision that fueled us when the tank was completely dry. Have you ever seen a house that needed love more? When I was too tired to move I would park in front of it just to remind myself of what the stakes were. Sometimes I didn’t even care anymore, but by then it was plain too late to do anything about it. The entire experience reminds me of the saying “be careful what you wish for because you just may get it.” Well, we wished all right, and we got it, too. It’s just that some days we’re still not sure if we knew what we were wishing for. This house is bigger than the both of us. Meet The Money Pit.
The house was built in 1887 and is a style called Folk Victorian, which I had never heard of before. It pretty much means it was built for the common folk who wanted a “real” Victorian but couldn’t afford one. The house is on a double lot in one of two historic areas in town, and the entire neighborhood is treed to within an inch of its life. Towering is a good word for the trees, even from our (very tall) second floor the trees go on forever. It feels a little like you’re in a tree house.
Okay, here are the bare bones details. The house itself isn’t huge but it’s very spacious feeling, because almost the entire place has ten foot ceilings. Downstairs is an entry way, living room, dining room, family room, kitchen, bathroom and laundry/mud room. The kitchen, bath and laundry were part of a big remodel in 2000 and they’re quite large. Upstairs is a bath, a library and three bedrooms. One of the bedrooms was added the same time they did the remodel and it’s really more of a sunroom that is used as a bedroom. It’s also enormous. The house has an attic and a basement, which I’ve already described (unfortunately). We have a great front porch with a swing, and the entire side yard is planted with orange and red day lilies. It’s quite a respectable house, even simply on paper.
But it’s the extra stuff that grabbed us by the throat. The floors are pine and oak throughout, and the living room has a fireplace. The windows are all tall and thin and the light just pours into the house. There is a stained glass transom window over the glass front door and two original pieces of stained glass that follow the curve of the stairs. The staircase is something else. It’s literally the first thing you see when you walk in the door and it curves like a candy cane as it rises upstairs. Virtually every room has crown molding and the downstairs has carved doorway and window molding. There are nice built-ins in the family room. The kitchen has partially stainless steel countertops and more storage space than you can shake a stick at. Off the kitchen, through a sliding glass door, is a screened in porch that has a hard wood floor and is fully wired. There are lilacs planted all along the screen so you can smell them in the house. When you go out the back door from the laundry room you are on a brick patio that is surrounded by an arbor that has built in wooden benches along the perimeter. From there a brick walkway leads to the driveway. There’s even a basketball goal for the kids.
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
9:36 AM
1 comments
Labels: the money pit
The list today is - My Three Most Hated Household Chores. If ever a list needed to be seventy two items long, this would be it. If I wanted a managable size list I should do The Three Household Chores I Enjoy. I could narrow that down real quick. 1) cooking, 2) uh... Does bringing in the newspaper count as a household chore? Never mind. Martha Stewart is in no danger here, trust me on this. The Health Department yes, Martha, no.
The irony is that I really love a clean house. I just don't want to do anything to make it that way. And since paying someone to do it obviously isn't in the cards, I only have two options. Do it myself or suck it up. Guess which one I choose most of the time? To be fair, my husband is awfully good about doing stuff around the house without even being asked, but he's gone a lot. The only time I enjoy cleaning the house is when I'm really ticked off at someone or something. Then it actually feels good. But...in lieu of working up a snit at someone, here we go...
Posted by
the rotten correspondent
at
10:52 AM
1 comments
Labels: bitch bitch bitch, T3