Looking Ahead

I was at the swimming pool yesterday. I watched my boys as they interacted with the other boys. Bigger boys. Stronger boys. Bigger fish in their small pond.

Eldest Son was the easiest among them. If he didn’t like what was going on, he simply went somewhere else. No argument. No criticism. No judgement. This was not where he wanted to be, so he went somewhere else, looking for a happier spot. I have worked my whole life to be like him.

Middle Son was more incendiary. Boys who were mean to him were playing in the diving well – so he decided NOW was the moment he had to jump from the board (a decision that made the lifeguards ‘clear the well’). He got back at the mean boys, even in a small way, and he felt better. I have spent a good part of my life this way.

Youngest Son moved from moment to moment. He didn’t like what was happening in front of him, so he thought he’d yell at it. That didn’t work. He tried to bargain. (Play with me now and I’ll let you have the ball later…) That didn’t work. Eventually, he followed what he wanted, and jumped in at the right time to play. That worked… until he had to start over. That’s my life in a nutshell.

At this point in my life, I am trying to incorporate my children into my personality. The attack, the retreat, and the mediation. Those are my boys. They change places periodically, which is confusing, but keeps me alive. Sometimes Eldest Son is the attacker. Sometimes Youngest Son is the mediator. Sometimes Middle Son is so sweet he breaks my heart.

I want to be my children. I want to learn the lessons they teach me, and incorporate those lessons into my heart. I want to be young enough to learn.

PS – I know I’ve been gone awhile. I needed some time. I’m still with y’all, though. (Especially Hangar Queen, who I can’t wait to chat with, and Gimme a Minute, who’s removed me from his blogroll, the jerk, but I’ll still read him…)

 

Killing Uncle Bob, Part Deux.

Wow. Three posts in one day! I’m on a roll…

It occurs to me that the ‘Killing Uncle Bob’ part in my recent post doesn’t make sense. Until you hear it in context.

When learning how to fight with a sword, you must recognize that if you screw up, you’re going to undo the man standing behind you. In our little play, we called him ‘Uncle Bob.” All three of the boys murdered said ‘Uncle Bob’. They swung their swords so wildly, they killed anyone who ‘had their backs’.

The only member of my family who did not issue an untimely death to his relatives was Hubby. I wonder where he learned to use a sword?

Here’s Youngest Son, killing Uncle Bob:

Here’s Hubby, issuing a cathartic war cry:

 

And here’s Middle Son, committing a family massacre:

 

Stepford Beverage

It’s not every day that I am surprised by advertising. In fact, as an average American, I consider myself nearly immune. I am so inundated with it, I don’t really even see it anymore.

Which is why it’s amazing that this little gem got my attention:

Hubby and I were at the Kroger (grocery store). We’d been there a while (shopping for five can take some time). Anyhoo, we were checking out, and I spotted this little bottle in the ‘impulse buy’ checkout fridge.

I was peaked. And thirsty. And because I’m a nudnick, I actually read the fine print (the whole e.e.cummings bad grammar thing is all theirs):

“essential

orange-orange (C+calcium)

ah, orange juice commercials. funny stuff. mom cheerily prepares some huge breakfast while the rest of her family sleeps. sure, this could happen. but every morning? please. maybe if mom were heavily medicated, in which case, we wouldn’t condone operating a stove or any electrical appliance.

for those of us who don’t live in an orange juice commercial, there’s still a way to get your morning nutrition. this product has calcium and lots of vitamin c, so you can you can get your day started right, minus the whole stepford mom thing.

vitamins + water= all you need.”

How could I argue with that? A laugh, a beverage, and some vitamins. Well done, “the center for responsible hydration,” aka Glaceau*.

(*Now owned by Coca-Cola. Take that, Hubby, you Pepsi-drinking fool!)

 

 

Lucky Cats

Hubby and I love the local Japanese steak house, Kabuto. We go there once or twice a month.

The last time we were there, we noticed this weird little golden cat, with its fist pumping up and down. Neither of us knew what this was about. Hubby asks me, “Why does the manager have a cat on his desk that looks like, ‘Fight the power!’?” He then made the same gesture as the cat, leaned over to me and whispered, “Meow, motherf**ker!”

Once I was back in control of myself (I probably laughed for a full ten minutes – I couldn’t help it. Hubby doesn’t normally talk like that, and it just killed me), I asked the manager what the cat was about. He said something in Japanese that I didn’t understand. I thanked him and let it go.

But I couldn’t let it go. So I spent some time looking into this cat phenomenon. (Once I noticed the first one, they began to pop up everywhere. Well, not really everywhere, but I eat sushi a lot and they’re in every sushi place I go to.)

They’re called Maneki Neko (beckoning cat), and they seem to be very popular.

The gold color is to attract wealth; the fact that it’s the left paw beckoning is to attract customers. The reason it looks like a fist is that Japanese beckon with their palm showing, as opposed to Americans and most other westerners, who beckon palm-in.

They’re available in all kinds of colors and styles, and the colors mean different things (red keeps away evil spirits, for example).

Now I think I have to run out and buy one of these things. I’m fascinated.

Who knew you could learn so much by web-searching for ‘Japanese steak house cat’?

 

 

Dreaming of Nigel Terry

Try this one on for a psychoanalytical creep-fest: I had a dream about Nigel Terry last night. Complete with “O Fortuna” soundtrack.

Was it a sexually explicit dream? God, no. That armor looks painful.

We were, in fact, shopping for houseplants at the local garden center.

WTF?

So what does it mean when your average middle-class housewife shops for plants with King Arthur? Especially considering I am generally considered to have a black thumb? I am bewildered. Perhaps that’s why I remember it so clearly.

I cannot fathom what my subconscious is trying to tell me with this. I haven’t seen ‘Excalibur’ in ten years. Though I consider it to be the best Arthur movie ever made, I don’t spend any time thinking about it. So why now? And why houseplants?

I’m baffled.

*** Because I’m anal about crap like this (or maybe just obsessive), I researched the lyrics to ‘Carmina Burana’:

Sors salutis                        Fate is against me
et virtutis                         in health
michi nunc contraria,               and virtue,
est affectus                        driven on
et defectus                         and weighted down,
semper in angaria.                  always enslaved.
Hac in hora                         So at this hour
sine mora                           without delay
corde pulsum tangite;               pluck the vibrating strings;
quod per sortem                     since Fate
sternit fortem,                     strikes down the string man,
mecum omnes plangite!               everyone weep with me!

Sounds like I’m pretty screwed. With houseplants.

 

I’ve kinda already done this, but…

…everyone else is doing it, and I’ve always been one of the herd, so I’ll follow along. (I can hear my mother snorting at that lie from 100 miles away.)

1) Ever been in a relationship lasting over 5 years?

Most of them, actually. I’ve had four serious relationships in my life. One of them I’m married to. Two of them I’m still friendly with and communicate with fairly regularly (you know, Christmas cards and the like), so if that counts as part of the relationship they’ve all been over five years. (I’m a pretty loyal, or possibly just very stubborn, gal.)

2) What was one of your dreams growing up?

Singer. Writer. First female president of the United States.

3) What talent do you wish you had?

Will power. Is that a talent?

4) If I bought you a drink what would it be?

Diet Vanilla Coke.

5) Favorite books?

Better to list authors as listing books would take a while. Top ten are probably Orson Scott Card, Robert Heinlein, John Scalzi, Octavia Butler, Mark Twain, Alexandre Dumas, Madeline L’Engle, Arthur Clarke, Ray Bradbury, and James Halperin (of The Truth Machine and The First Immortalfame. Where’d he go?).

6) What was the last book you read?

Currently re-reading Dawn by Octavia Butler, listening to The Night Listenerby Armistead Maupin, and trying to get through East of the Sun, West of the Moon by John Ringo (Ringo and Weber are really more Hubby’s thing than mine, but I try). Just finished Kushiel’s Scion by Jacqueline Carey. Don’t know where I’m headed next. I’m open to suggestions.

7) Astrology: Menace to science education or entertainment?

I don’t see that it has much impact either way. I don’t think it’s important enough to be considered a menace, really, but I don’t find it especially entertaining, either.

8 ) Any tattoos and/or piercings? Explain where.

Ears pierced. That’s it, and if I hadn’t been pretty young (seven or so) when I did that, I wouldn’t even have gone that far. I’m terrified (like cold sweat, shakes, elevated blood pressure, and a strong desire to run kind of terrified) of needles. The idea of getting a tattoo makes my mind go numb.

9) Worst habit?

Laziness.

10) Best attribute?

Loyalty, I guess.

11) What are your favorite hobbies?

Reading, learning new things, crocheting, messing about on the computer, movies, and travel.

12) Do you have a negative or optimistic attitude?

Optimistic. Almost always. Many think this is naive of me.  

13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?

I think if it was Shawn and me (the guy I swiped the meme from), we’d be cracking each other up by the fourth floor. Mostly, though, I stare at the door after doing the polite half smile. Unless I’m with my kids, in which case I’m trying to hold all six of their limbs to keep them from pressing all the buttons or hitting each other.

14) Worst thing to ever happen to you?

That’s a tough one, actually. Death, divorce, heartbreak, illness… there’re so many options.

15) Best thing to ever happen to you?

Marriage, children, friends, family, travel… Same deal. Many, many options.

16) Tell me one weird fact about you.

I pronounce words oddly, and occasionally accent the wrong syllables (Thanksgiving instead of Thanksgiving). And sometimes Hubby catches me with a little Valley Girl in my speech, which is exceedingly embarrassing.

17) What if I showed up at your house unexpectedly?

You’d be invited in. I would offer you food and drink. And then I’d probably make you babysit.

18) What was your first impression of me?

Goofy in a good way, and kind.

19) What scares you?

Needles. And losing someone I love.

20) If you could change one thing about how you are, what would it be?

I would be more ambitious.

21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?

I liked Jim’s answer: conscientious crime partner.

22) What color eyes do you have?

Grey-blue-green. They change.

23) Ever been arrested? If so, what for?

Kinda. I was protesting US involvement in the war in Nicaragua and El Salvador back in college. We blockaded the Pentagon. The police put twistie-ties on my wrists, sat me in a van, and called my parents.

24) Favorite dessert?

Not really a sweets kinda gal, but probably chocolate mousse.

25) If you won $1000 today, what would you do with it?

Pay bills. Get my house power-washed and my chimney swept. 

26) Tell me something you want me to know about you.

I want to live in Ireland.

27) What’s your favorite place to hang out?

Right where I am.

28) Do you believe in ghosts? Aliens?

Ghosts, no. Aliens, yes. And like almost everyone else, I don’t think any have visited us.

29) Favorite thing to do in your spare time?

Read. Eat sushi.

30) Do you swear a lot?

Not anymore. Though I dropped a few f-bombs at the blackjack table last time I was in Vegas.

31) Biggest pet peeve?

Hubby and the kids leave their shoes everywhere. This drives me nuts.

32) In one word, how would you describe yourself?

Goofy.

33) Do you believe in/appreciate romance?

Depends. I’m not overly romantic, but I get a lift every time Hubby brings me flowers.

34) Most unusual place you’ve had sex?

I’m reminded of the Newlywed Game blooper. Snort if you remember that one…

35) Do you believe in an afterlife?

I hope for one, but I don’t believe down deep. This really troubles Hubby.

Your turn!

 

Ten Things I’ve Done

Scalzi had a post not long ago about ten things he’s done that he didn’t think anyone else had done. Though this is eerily similar to a drinking game I played in college, and I try to avoid such games these days, I thought I’d try it this time without the shots of liqueur. I’ll try to keep it chronological, but it all gets mixed up. Forgive:

1. While celebrating the Fourth of July on the White House lawn with my parents (Dad worked for the President at the time, and I think Mom did, too), I managed to get past the Secret Service in order to ask Rosilyn Carter where the bathroom was. By tugging on her sleeve while she was giving an interview in front of cameras. I was seven or so. Gracious woman that she is, she escorted me. I had no clue. How sad that that was my 15 minutes. (I was on the 11:00 news that night.) (I could not, however, get anywhere near Amy or her new puppy, which was all I cared about at the time.)
2. I rode in a (I think it was a Chevy) Grenada with my Amma, my Aunt Hulda,  and five kids from Virginia to California. Yes, that’s five children, two adults, and 3,000 miles. At the end of the trip I threw up in my uncle’s Volkswagen Beetle in Huntington Beach, California.
3. I kissed Lorne Greene on the cheek when the family took a Chex Mix-sponsored flight on a double-decker plane to Hawaii. Awesome and memorable vacation. I walked through lava tubes. Fell for a Hawaiian boy (I was 13), and danced with my Daddy while he was wearing a grass skirt. (I have pictures. You can’t run, now, Dad. I can be bought.)
4. I sang with Stanley Jordan. I sang with Farrakhan’s choir. I sang at the Shiloh Baptist Church (special place). I sang on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial (special place as well). I cut an album with an opera cast. (Did I mention I sang?)
5. I sat in a canoe while men with impossibly large calves hauled me up the Pagsanjan River in the Philippines. Then I got so sick (Dengue Fever, right?) that I didn’t know where I was for three days. Fell face down in a bowl of rice. Daddy freaked out. Mom (on the other side of the planet) freaked out. I would’ve freaked out, but I was unconscious. Soul-defining moment. Long way from home. I recovered. I remembered.
6. I had a passel of Korean children touch me for luck while touring Seoul, Korea. (Thanks, Dad. And thanks to the summer sun that had turned my hair white, and the weird twist of fate that had me still wearing braces at 20.) I was a vision to these kids – must’ve looked like I was from another planet. I ate kimchi. Dad took me to where the ‘locals’ ate. He didn’t even smirk at me when I retched, though it must have cost him. (Again, thanks, Dad. Blech.) I learned how to ask for the bathroom and beer (uh, reverse order) in Korean. And Chinese. And Japanese.
7. I was in a foreign country (Italy) when my own country went to war. I was 21 or so. I watched a bunch of Italians burn an image of an American soldier in effigy (while displaying a sheet with the lyrics of John Lennon’s “Imagine” next to it. I think they missed the point). I finally learned something about how the world feels about Americans.
8. His Holiness Pope John Paul II patted my cheek, after I shook his hand. In the Vatican. Standing next to my mother. Wow. I mean, WOW. (Thanks, Mom.) The Holy Father then guaranteed me favors in Heaven. (My Catholic friends refer to this as my “Get Out of Hell Free” card.) (Did I mention WOW?) This same trip I touched Galileo’s tomb. I touched ‘The David’. I saw ‘The Pieta’ (wanted to touch it, but it was behind glass). I saw the Sistine Chapel. I touched Keats’ and Shelly’s headstones, and felt humbled by William Story in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome. I sat on the Spanish Steps with a pretty Italian boy’s head in my lap, and my heart full of poems. I saw the Colosseum by moonlight. I kissed said pretty Italian boy while wading in the Trevvi Fountain. (I met the Carabinieri soon after…) I was covered from head to toe in pigeons in St. Mark’s Square (Piazza San Marco). I took a gondola ride through the canals of Venice, walked across the Rialto, and sipped cappuccino on the Grand Canal. (Again, all this is thanks to, and mostly with, Mom.)
9. I sang ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’ with nothing but a bodrhan (and, of course, my best friend, and lots of Guinness) for accompaniment to an after-hours club of really old people on Prince’s Street in Edinburgh. (We sucked, incidentally.) I hitched a ride from a Brit officer after touring Stonehenge. I tried to avoid watching a rugby match between the Aussies and Kiwis while sleeping in bunk beds in Earl’s Court, London.  I had a tank train its guns on me in Belfast (don’t tell my parents). I met a neo-Nazi on the street in Munich. He spit on me. (Other than that, Germany was a lovely country. We toured the country, and were well met. We loved Munich and Koln. We also went to the Alps, and swam in some of those lakes. Wow. Deep, full, and lovely.) (And peopled with naked Germans….) (Coochie crawling is verboten!) I gave tours (again with best friend, and again with lots of Guinness) of the red-light district of Amsterdam. I jammed with a Big Band in Warsaw. I taught the Czech singer at the pub in Hungary how to sing John Denver songs. I slept at a Marriott in a Soviet city. I met Havel in Prague before the break. He hit on my best friend. He stood the bar a round. This all took more than three months. My life changed.
10. I took a group of children in my raft as I navigated the New and the Gauly rivers, in West Virginia. I taught them how to pitch tents, build fires, and keep their sh*t together. I took other groups down the north branch of the Potomac. I climbed big rocks. I mountain-biked. I was a badass there for a while.

There’s more, and much of it is more important and more special, as at this point I’ve only hit about 26 years old. But I’m beginning to bore myself… I’ll do the “Ten Things, part deaux” at some point. It’s not as interesting, I fear. “I watched my children tear up my house” just doesn’t make good copy.

What’re your “Ten Things”?

 

Now I’m Cookin’!

It’s a big joke in my family – Cam can’t cook. It began when I was a young teenager and melted my mom’s kitchen. Literally. Melted the oven and range, melted the ceiling panels, and set the curtains on fire. (Ever hear the bit about oil and water? True story.)  Mom never got over it. Had to buy a new stove and hated it. Every time she used it she muttered under her breath at me.

The “Cam can’t cook” theme has not ended, twenty-odd years later. Eldest Son loves to tell the story of how I burned the Spanish rice I was making for the Cinco de Mayo party when he was in third grade. Middle Son loves to explain about the day I burned water. (No, really. I set the water on the stove to boil hard-boiled eggs, forgot about it, and burned off all the water and scalded the pan.) I have a penchant for burning the breakfast. Especially when it’s corned beef hash (Eldest Son’s favorite breakfast food).

At least once a week the boys look at what I’ve fixed for dinner, drop their heads in unison and mumble, “I’m not really hungry.” I have become a little bit defensive about this. I try. I make the effort.

I fail a lot.

I’ve decided to stop reading novels while I’m cooking. Something tells me this will help.

But things are changing! I have found two things that have given me a new lease on my culinary life:

One is a website (www.allrecipes.com) that gives me more recipes than I could possibly ever read (lots with pictures!), complete with instructions and shopping lists. The more I take advantage of this terrific service, the happier my children are becoming.

The other is the slow cooker.

A few weeks ago I made Louisiana red beans and rice in the Crock Pot. The boys LOVED it, and we now have a new family staple.

I have made cheesy chicken, baby back ribs, baked chicken, awesome chili, and a pot roast that is becoming famous. I use this miracle at least once a week, usually twice. At the end of the day the house smells heavenly, and I have yet to burn anything in the slow cooker. (I’m sure it can be done, and I’m probably the one to do it, but I haven’t done it yet.)

Another upside to the slow cooker is that generally the recipes feed many more than the four or five of us who are here to eat them. Louisiana red beans and rice, for example,  generally yields enough for ten or fifteen people. Frozen leftovers! Lunches for a week! Yippee!

Crock Pot, you gorgeous thing, where have you been all my life?

 

Shower Scare

So, it’s very early (7:30am or so) on a Saturday morning. As far as I know, Hubby is still dealing with his red-eye flight from Phoenix to Richmond. The closest I imagine he is to home is disembarking at the airport. Which leaves me about an hour until he arrives.

I’m in the shower.

The water pressure goes all screwy. Hard, then soft, then hard again. I mumble to myself, “Whassup with the water pressure?” as I bend down to check the faucet. I’m wondering if I put a load of laundry in that I forgot about?

“Don’t know. What is up?” says a deep, scary voice that then proceeds to slowly pull the curtain back…

Alfred Hitchcock and Janet Leigh are swimming through my head…

I scream for all I’m worth, swear with words I would never use in front of children, and try to keep myself from both fainting and ripping the shower curtain down off the rod. My blood pressure and heart rate shoot to the sky, and my feet try to find a gripping place (in a soapy shower) for the eternal ‘fight or flight’. I attempt the ‘fight’ stance. I must’ve looked ridiculous.

It’s Hubby. He wanted to surprise me.

He did.

He damn near killed me.

Hubby, for all I know, is still chuckling about this encounter. I’m still trying to control my breathing.

Not funny, damnit.

 

My Band

Swiped this meme from Sinister Dan at Reasonable Ego (though it’s all over the place at this point). I hope I don’t have a gobsmacking experience like he did. Here we go…

“The meme is ‘Make a Band’, or ‘Make an Album’ depending on who you ask.

The steps are simple:

1. Go to Wikipedia and hit the random page function; this is the name of your band.

2. Similarly, go to QuotationsPage.com and take the last four words of the very last quote; this will be your album title.

3. Finally, go to this link at Flickr and use the third image; this is your album cover.

The results are alarmingly impressive and confirm that the people who made album covers were third rate hacks who never really understood Hemingway and just smoked too much weed.”

My random wikipedia entry was Swanand Kirkire, who is, ironically, a musician. But it’s a cool name.

My quote is, “Do not trust all men, but trust men of worth; the former course is silly, the latter a mark of prudence.” Democritus Greek philosopher (460 BC – 370 BC)

The results:

How cool is that? I’m gonna do it again! Hee!

New quote is, “Television is more interesting than people. If it were not, we would have people standing in the corners of our rooms.” Alan Corenk

I could do this all day, but Eldest Son is expecting me to come get him…

Try this yourselves!