Caught

Here's a good story from my weekend at Davis Cup. The interesting thing about watching tennis is that you can't get up and wander around at concessions and bathrooms at will. One has to wait until after odd numbered games or in between sets or matches. Therefore, the time in between matches can create unbelievably long lines for the bathroom. Our line wove through a good part of the concourse and by a concession stand. And you know women - we have the longest line and we always start talking.

A couple women behind me (who were about my mom's age) started talking about the good looks of several of the tennis players. Then they decided that entire Spanish contingent was really hot. I decided to chime in at that point. "Especially Feliciano Lopez," I added. "I haven't minded watching him play at all!"

Then from behind me I heard a voice, "Talking about the hot Spanish players again?" I turned to see Hubby holding popcorn, and then rolled my eyes.

"What makes you think that?"

"You had a particular grin on your face." I rolled my eyes again and let my fellow waiters know that this man was Hubby. Hubby laughed.

"I swear I didn't start the conversation. I just joined in." And throughout the afternoon, anytime I took the binoculars during Lopez's match, Hubby started laughing again. You'd think a women's bathroom line would be a safe place to talk.

USA Davis Cup vs. Spain

Davis Cup is an international tennis competition. Teams play for their country, and the USA team hosted Spain in the quarterfinal this past weekend in Winston-Salem. I can't quite express how excited I was to be able to go. Not only was I seeing professional men's tennis, I was able to enjoy it with my family and with my tennis buddy, Restless Mama, and her two boys. We saw Andy Roddick, James Blake and the Bryan brothers take on a Spanish contingent that included no. 6 Tommy Robredo.

This weekend's Davis Cup was a sell-out. Supposedly George Clooney was even in the crowd (he has been filming in the area). The USA won and the players attributed it in part to the enthusiasm of the crowd. It has even prompted Bob Bryan to request that if they make it to the final it should be played in WS.

I have lots more pics I'll post in the coming days. Being able to see a Davis Cup match was certainly one of the highlights of my life, and being able to see these particular players was an added bonus. Sonny Boy, who resisted our family outing because he thinks tennis is not as cool as snowboarding, was even heard to say, "This was more fun than I thought it would be."

How hard can sewing be?

When I was in high school, most the girls I knew took home ec. I didn't want to waste my time - I wanted to get all the AP courses I could and besides, surely someone else would cook and sew for me. But we all know what happens to our best plans.

I have learned to cook (fairly well, I think) over the years. I can follow directions, and I do love my cookbooks. Sewing has been a different story. I still save hems and buttons for my mom. Mom has taught Princess to sew. She even bought her a sewing machine for her birthday last August. I have quite a collection of pillows now.

Last Friday I reached a crisis with the window covering in our guest room. The cheap blind (which came with the house) had finally fallen apart. I went to the discount bed and bath store (Anna's Linens) but could not see anything at all that I liked. A fabric store was right next door, so I walked in and immediately saw the perfect fabric. How hard could it be to make a basic panel? I bought the material I thought I needed and had them point out the correct thread. I had Princess thread the machine later that day. And then while she spent the next day Geocaching with the Girl Scouts, I had a pleasant day of sewing. Well, perhaps except for the carpal tunnel, the couple desperate phone calls to a student who sews and a friend who was carting around 3 feuding girls all day, a flung bobbin or two (who the heck ever named those ridiculous things bobbins?), a flung instruction book, and a few choice words mumbled here and there.

And didn't it turn out well? (and please, never look too closely when you come to the house)

Caramel Cake, pt. 2

Well, I am officially the parent of a teenager. Much more scary than turning 40. Some of you might recall the trials and tribulations I endured last year while trying to make Sonny Boy's beloved caramel cake. As stores in this town do not deem it necessary to stock caramel frosting, I had certainly been at a loss. But then my husband's sister, Yaya, came to the rescue. She found a recipe from her mom (and thus Sonny Boy's grandma) for caramel frosting. Yaya was so thoughtful to frame it and it has hung on a wall in my kitchen for several months.

Sonny Boy unfortunately was never able to know his Grandma Elizabeth. She died when Hubby was still a very young man. I'm sure she would have liked this teenager who looks so much like his daddy and has his energy (even if he has inherited my argumentative temperament!). I'm also certain she would have been quite pleased that he was eating his favorite cake from one of her old recipes.

Caramel frosting is not easy to make (as I discovered last year). And it wasn't quite perfect this year - I added one cup too many of sifted powdered sugar. But now I know. It was good enough this year, and next year will be absolute perfection!

Of course, it would have helped my ego if Sonny Boy didn't tell me one of his friends still talked about the ugly cake I made last year.

Caramel Frosting - Melt 1 1/2 cups butter on the stove and add one cup packed brown sugar. Cook on low for 2 mins. Add 1/3 cup milk and bring to a boil. Remove from heat for 10 mins. Then add 4 cups sifted powdered sugar until desired consistency. Frost your luscious yellow cake.

Make a wish

The moon was shining brightly as the group of women walked side by side along the old fishing bridge. The bright light from the sky revealed all the dark places on the pavement - we were hoping it was only fishing guts. A few seabirds called out in the distance as we strode further to the heart of the Nassau Sound. It was just a touch too quiet - like some really big slasher movie. Yet, we were all about 20 years (and some of us 20 pounds) past starring in such a movie. To break the eerie mood, I spoke.

"Ya'll, this is just a perfect night. That moon is just gooorrrgeous!"

HJ responded, "Kinda feels a little like a slasher movie, doesn't it?"

"No way! This is a buddy chick movie!" We all continued to talk until we were about halfway along the old bridge to Jacksonville. BM took the wine bottle, held it up in the moonlight, saying "Well, here are all our wishes! Let's hope they come true before someone finds this bottle." She then flung it with full force into the ebb of the tide.

"Sure wish I could have used that original wish," I quietly said.

"Rio, one hot night with Mr. Darcy is not something that could actually happen. These are really our intentions." A sigh escaped my lips.

As we walked back to the car, we began to flesh out our buddy chick movie (and it would be far superior to Wild Hogs, trust me). I called dibs on Kate Winslet playing me. That British connection might actually get me one step closer :)

Book Group Rook Goddess!

I have been quite fortunate to spend the first four days of my 40s with my Asheville Book Group buddies at our annual beach trip. We have many traditions - walking on the beach, sharing bottles of wine and beer, eating good food, enjoying long naps, and playing cutthroat games of Rook. Tonight was no exception. I was neck in neck with BM in the lead, each of us hoping to get to 150 first. I kept plying her with wine, hoping that would give me the edge I needed to get across the finish line first. At one point, our very sweet and gracious mommy to be, Corky, was at negative 30. I felt for her and wanted to keep BM from getting some points, so I passed some along to Corky. Well, Corky came on strong at the end - and went from 70 to 165, beating out my final score of 155. My response can be left to your imagination.

So here is a picture of Corky, with little Lizzie (who we look forward to meeting in a couple months), wearing the championship belt - "Rook Goddess." Congrads Corky, but watch your back next year...

Hair Compliment

I got a pretty short do on Tuesday - ready for a change and thought I would hit the 40s in a different mode. So Princess is commenting on my hair. She really likes it. "If your hair was black, it would look like that Charlie guy. You know, uh, Charlie Brown." Huh?

"Oh, no!" She said. "Not Charlie Brown. That guy in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

In other words, Johnny Depp looking really, really weird. Thanks a lot.

Gettin' Old

Well, tomorrow is one of those birthdays that end in zero. 40 to be more precise. I actually think that it sounds better than 39 - everyone thinks I'm really in my 40s and lying about my age. I haven't had much time to fret over where my life may or may not be at this particular age (like I did at 30 - you would have thought chasing 3 year old wild boy all day would have kept me from having time for such reflections). For years now, I've thought that the 40s were supposed to be the best decade. Kids would be old enough that I wouldn't be changing diapers. I would be fairly stable in a career. I would have a decent home and good friends. These things actually seem to be true - wow, who would have thought?

An added bonus to the day is that people seem compelled to give me really nice birthday presents - Sonny Boy is a little jealous! And then on the actual day, I get to head to Amelia Island with my Asheville book group buddies for our annual beach trip. Can't wait. No kids, no husbands - just friends, food and fun.

Getting old could be much, much worse...

The Thermals - A Pillar of Salt

Here is a song from the Thermals that is quite appropriate for the season of Lent. I also like this group because they were offered $50,000 to allow Hummer to use one of their songs in a commercial - certainly a good amount of money for a little indy band. But - they could not in good conscience support a product that is so bad for the environment. My kind of band...

Chinese New Year Dance

Sunday was Chinese New Year - the year of the Pig. Princess danced in the downtown New Year's Celebration with the Greensboro Chinese Association. (She's in the long green dress.) Sonny Boy taped this. He said the time he taped the floor was when the girls threw candy to the crowd and he bent to pick up some. Enjoy!

Austen sequels

It is a truth universally acknowledged that my all time favorite author is Jane Austen and my best loved book is Pride and Prejudice. For many years, I have steadfastly avoided all the "sequels" to this masterpiece. Why mess up the little world I created in my own mind in relation to all these wonderful characters?

I have been trying in the past 20 months to seek comfort reading instead of comfort food. Thus, I have reread P & P about 6 times in those months (even a bit much for me). Last spring, I decided to venture one of the Austen imitators. I picked up the first book of Pamela Aiden's Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman series. The next two in the trilogy eventually came out in the following months. I liked the first one - it held true to the world Austen created and seemed to illuminate the story I held dear. The second one got just a touch weird - the author obviously had to try her own Northanger Abbey. Yet, it was still an enjoyable book. I must say I was getting tired of the lovey-doveyness that never seemed to end between Darcy and Georgiana. If he said, "Dearest" one more time to her, I thought I might gag. I found the final book about a month ago, and felt like Aiden had done well. The story was completed beautifully. I would recommend these to any Austen lover.

After all my years of suspicion ending so well, I picked up Elizabeth Aston's Mr. Darcy's Daughters. Now, my one big pet peeve is lack of consistency with characters (do you hear that people at Gilmore Girls?) Aston obviously has no problem with it. Otherwise, how could Darcy and Elizabeth end up being very neglectful, oblivious parents? How could Col. Fitzwilliam end up being a sex-obsessed, brutish boor? How else could vapid airhead Lydia get some observation skills and shrewdly make her way in society? And how on earth else could the very bright Caroline Bingley fill her life with junior high high-jinks?

Aston's book was one big soap opera. None of the daughters were likable. They were doomed to making very bad decisions after the apparent abandonment of their parents. One could only hope the book would end. Aston does create the world quite nicely and writes well. It was just a ridiculous, soapy story.
Aiden - B+, Aston - D+

I'm through with this experiment. Only the real thing (Austen herself) for me from now on.

A little is better than nothing

Well, I finally saw some snow. It wasn't much and it was gone by the end of the day, but it had been two years - so I'll take anything I can get. I still haven't had anywhere near enough. Hopefully a lot more will come, and very soon. I am in desperate need of a snow day (or even two). But doesn't my house look pretty with just a little bit of snow?

Old Spice Commercial ft Bruce Campbell

Here is my favorite B actor in a truly great commercial -

Blogging for Books entry - The Best Time of Your Life

Here is my Blogging for Books entry for this month -

Those ladies were great. Every Saturday morning I would see them running to the the door about 9:45 for the 10am opening. They had really, really nice cars - one even had a Mercedes convertible. I was usually in my '78 Fiesta, waiting for them to arrive and unlock the building. I would get out of the car and meet them at the door. I couldn't wait to see what they were wearing. Such great dresses, skirts, tops, dress pants. And the shoes - oh my! I could not wait until I stopped buying shoes at Payless.

I knew I was lucky. While most of my 18 year old friends donned a McDonald's uniform and worked until the wee hours of the night, my after school job was quite different. I dressed nicely each day and was always finished by 5:30. On Saturday mornings I could easily watch "Alvin and the Chipmunks" before leaving for work, once again finished by dinner so I could enjoy my Saturday nights. And the store was never opened on Sunday. I had the good fortune to be employed at a gift and card shop in the "Village." That little shop has been owned and operated for many years by a number of well-to-do women who wanted some fun thing to do on the side.

Saturdays were always the best. They would sit in their glorious outfits, sip on Bloody Marys (they made virgin ones for me) and talk over the social exploits of the previous week. Their friends would come in to order stationary or to exchange interesting tid-bits. Occasionally, a teenage or college-age child of theirs would pop by. These women were having the time of their lives. They looked incredible! They were always having fun! They had great friends and families they loved!

On the other hand, I resided in high school hell. I was a smart girl, made to sit through that ridiculous movie they showed us every year about how high school was meant to be the best time of our lives. The movie showed all these beautiful teens in cheerleader outfits or football uniforms, laughing together in absolute bliss. I would simmer through those movies, muttering under my breath, "This is NOT meant to be the best time of my life! How pathetic!"

Each Saturday morning I had a glimpse of what else was out there. They were smart women in their 40s who had control of their lives. They always looked great, because they were happy and not entertaining the fashion whims of the world. They were comfortable with friends and family. They had a certain amount of peace. As I sat there fuming in that high school auditorium when the yearly viewing of the movie ended, I knew this was not the best time of my life. I didn't expect to be miserable for many years to come - but I knew the 40s would probably be the best. As I anticipate my 40th next month, I cherish this vision that the best time is still yet to come.

The Good Intentions of a Thank You Note

I am one of those moms who force their kids to do thank you notes. I have been doing this before they could write. Back in those days, I would write a few lines they would dictate to me, and then they would sign their names. It was a long, arduous process - but I believed they should learn to be thankful people and this was part of that development.

Nowadays, all I have to do is leave the list of who gave what and they do the notes themselves. I still address the outside, just out of consideration for the postal service. Sonny Boy finished and mailed all his Christmas thank yous last week. Princess is still working on hers. She takes more time and tries to make each one individual - which is really good.

After she did several last week, I looked over them before putting them into envelopes and addressing them. She had written one to my parents. The words were very nice. At the bottom of the note, she had drawn some pretty symbols - how thoughtful of her! She had drawn a hand with a finger pointing up and the letter "I" written on it. Just under it was a heart, and then just under that was the letter "U." How sweet! Then I looked more closely. The hand with the fingers was well drawn, but the finger that was held up was actually the middle finger.

I was about on the floor I was laughing so hard. I definitely mailed it to my parents. Mom agreed it was unlike any other thank you note she had ever received. I'm sure it's been a while since someone shot them a bird, and definitely a first from a grandchild.

If Princess does some more thank you notes, I'll have to be more selective as to who gets that kind of drawing...

I WANT WINTER!!

One of the things I have always enjoyed about living in a mid-Atlantic state (particularly when I was in the mountains), was having four actual seasons. Each season came and went, and with it all the joys of that season. I like each season (fall the best), and they normally lasted just long enough.

And so today is Jan 5, and we are still in the midst of record setting high temps. It's currently about 60 degrees and raining. Yes, raining. Not snowing or threatening it - but just rain. I dressed in a turtleneck, light sweater and rain jacket this morning - and have been burning up.

I want winter. I want to get at least an inch or two of snow (I haven't seen any in two years now). I want the ground to freeze so that all the fleas will finally die, so that mosquitoes will not keep me inside all summer, and so that the crocus buds will stop and not see an early and short life. I want winter!!

It's been tough in recent days. Every time I am driving around town, and I want to ram into every Hummer I see. Like someone needs to drive a Hummer in the middle of Greensboro - those potholes sure can be hard to navigate. It's their fault!! Global warming is here, and it's 60 and raining today!! I do realize that ramming my '91 Nissan into a Hummer isn't wise - so I have chosen not to do it. Perhaps I just will make a bumper sticker - "SUVs - It's your fault we don't have winter anymore!!" or "Kyoto - Who Cares? Bring on the heat!"

I've never considered moving north (or to Colorado), but I might have to do so to experience four seasons once again.

2006 in multimedia

One of my favorite things about my Entertainment Weekly subscription is the Stephen King article found on the back page twice a month. In homage to his year end lists, here is my top 10 in multimedia, in no particular order.

1. Gilmore Girls - still continues to be one of the best tv shows ever. It is a sin that Lauren Graham has not even been nominated for an Emmy - and just the continued disrespect for the WB and now the CW. It has great characters (I really wish Lorelai were real and we could hang out together), humor, interesting stories, growth, a fantastic cast. I could go on and on. And yes - I am very glad Lorelai married Chris.

2. An Inconvenient Truth - I've been ticked at Al Gore for years for the shotty campaign he ran for pres, but he helped win me back with this movie. He's dealing with issues vital to our survival on this planet, and in an entertaining way (even my 12 year old was able to sit and enjoy it).

3. Taking the Long Way by the Dixie Chicks - easily their best CD to date.

4. These Streets by Paolo Nutini - a young Scotsman with a CD I can't hear enough. James Blunt should watch his back.

5. The History of Love by Nicole Krauss - a book recommended by the Asheville book group - I probably would not have picked it up otherwise. The story is unique with characters I don't think I will forget for many years.

6. Beyonce's and Carrie Underwood's Cheatin' Songs - Irreplaceable by Miss B and Before You Cheat by Miss U are two very different, but very great songs about the same thing - how to treat a man who cheats on you. Just be sure to shove the truck to the left with the baseball bat.

7. Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series - I discovered this series this summer, right before the latest one was published. The last couple are not quite up to par with the earlier ones, but still a highly entertaining series perfect for the beach.

8. The Office - When NBC announced they were stealing yet another BBC series, I was understandably quite concerned. Yet, they have transformed a series I liked into one I that I absolutely love. The American version has even funnier characters, and with a sweetness that makes me pull for each one of them. Can't wait to see more.

9. Casino Royale - Sean Connery, you will always have a special place, but I am officially over lamenting the years since you left.


Well, I only have 9 in my list and there just is no 10. I haven't seen as many movies or read as many books as I have in years past (or watched as much tv). So to round out the list - here is my biggest disappointment of the year - easily XMen 3. Brett Ratner will forever be on my hit list for taking an incredible series and really blowing it. The movie just stunk. The only thing that saved it was the fantastic cast and the history of the first two movies. Brett - shame on you, and learn to tell a story with a little more character development, less fright about women's power, and a little (or a lot) less violence that does not progress the story. Stop dating models or celebutants and start shadowing Spielburg or Soderberg.

All in all, a good year. I'm sure other great movies, books, tv shows and cds came out - and I missed them. Hopefully I catch up in latter years.

Nativity

Princess was Mary in the Children's Nativity this past Sunday. She's sitting beside the donkey (if you're not sure what the little boy's costume represents). Each year, the children grades 5 and younger dress up and are the Nativity scene while the Christmas story is told. My favorite part was when it was said that Mary gave birth, and Princess unceremoniously grabbed the baby doll from under her wrap and plopped the baby into the manger. He was left with his left arm sticking straight up for the rest of the scene. When I asked Princess about it later, she responded, "It's just plastic - it wasn't a real baby."

7th ring of hell

I must first say that I should not have been in the situation I found myself yesterday. This meeting in Fort Worth did not have to be scheduled a week before Christmas. It could have been last week, two weeks ago, or some other time. I didn't schedule it. And I know it could have been much worse - I could have been traveling with kids.

Yes, I found myself in the 7th ring of hell at DallasFortWorth airport yesterday. I had a direct flight to Greensboro at 1:20. Weather was fine there and in Gboro, but my flight was delayed and had gate changes 5 or 6 times until about 4:30. And then they announced the flight was cancelled due to mechanical difficulties. It's a little regional jet with about 36 seats, but when those of us on the cancelled flight arrived at the gate where rescheduling was taking place - there were about 100 people in line in front of us and two flight attendants working the desk. 20 minutes went by and about 5 people were helped. I began to wonder if I could get home that night - certainly there were enough flights going somewhere, but if it took 2 hours to get my flight rebooked...

Then an attendant told us we could exit and go to the main desk to rebook. (which of course meant going back through security, but hey, if it sped things up by an hour or two...) About 15 of us took off. I walked 12 minutes as fast as I could (and I had already walked rather quickly for some of those gate changes). If I walk at that pace, I can make a mile in 15 minutes. So, I found myself at the main desk out front. She said she would book me on the 8pm flight to Gboro - the following night! I explained (hopefully calmly) that I wished to get home that night and would take any flight which would connect me to Gboro. She found a flight to Philly that left in an hour. I was tired and not enjoying the prospect of being stranded without my bag in either Dallas or Philly. I made my way rather quickly to the gate, only to find out that flight had been delayed so long that I would not make the connection to Gboro. (Did I mention that most of the monitors in DFW were not working properly, so that we were always having to ask attendants for correct info?)

So there I stand, thinking, I'll be stranded in Philly. Then I happen to overhear someone mention a flight that was leaving in 5 mins for Philly at a gate in that same terminal, but at the other end. I took off. I got there about 2 minutes before they closed the door, and they did have 2 empty seats.

Once in Philly, I had just enough time to get to the new gate, get a fizzy diet coke (which was dinner - they don't even give pretzels on American anymore), call hubby, and then get on the little connector to Gboro.

My luggage did arrive in Gboro this morning on one of the full flights directly from DFW. Thank heavens for that.

Just pure luck, good ears, and fast feet got me home last night. Thank heavens. And I sure hope all those people not in good health and traveling with kids get where they need to be.

One bad ride in a van

I'm in Fort Worth for a meeting. It's the usual exhausting stuff. My day ended in a series of misadventures on the ride back to the hotel. Several of us were riding in mini-van. I graciously offered to sit in the very back. There were two bucket seats in front of me. They are the kind that have to be folded up for someone to get in my seat. As the very kind man in front of me tried to fasten his seat back to the floor, he banged my knees with the seat - three times.

The ride back continued to be eventful - the driver drove rather fast and furiously. I was slung from side to side, trying not to hit my bruised knees. And then we hit a bump, and my head hit the ceiling rather hard. I thought there was a dent on the ceiling when I got out.

And then when the ride was finally over - and I was on my way to get some Advil, I was having some difficulty getting over the folded down bucket seat. The back of my jeans caught on the sliding door, and then riiiiiippppp. Hole just under my pocket showing my behind.

Yet again, I can say that at least I have given people around me a good laugh.

How I Spent My Time Preparing for the Holidays

When I became a mom (almost 13 years ago), I began doing many things I never envisioned. About 11 years ago, I started buying gingerbread house kits so our family could make those special Christmas memories. About 7 years ago, I started making the houses from scratch (making the patterns, baking the gingerbread and icing, etc.). I was always so proud of my from scratch houses.

We all know what comes after pride - one really big fall. And that's what happened to this year's house after a good chunk of my Saturday (and the kids' day as well) was spent.

Inspite of the proof in these pics, this wasn't the worst thing to happen to one of my homemade houses. The second year I made one, and before I could take a picture, our cat was checking out the house (curious) and knocked it off its high-up perch. Seven hot glue sticks and lots of cover-up icing later, it was back in place on a shorter and much wider table. The next day we left the Golden Retriever inside because it was so cold. When we entered the house, it reeked. Apparently, eating an entire gingerbread house (except for a few specks of candy and icing) as well as the glue did not sit well on her stomach. We ended up throwing away Sonny Boy's rug.

So - it could have been worse yesterday. At least my kids had a good laugh. Unfortunately, they won't remember all the beautiful houses - but they sure will remember this one.

Cameron Crazy...

There are some perks occasionally with my job. A recent one was when the UNCG men's basketball team played Duke - at Cameron Indoor Stadium. I had not been in that building since 1992 (which was a very good year to be there) when I was in grad school at Duke. My family and I were able to get tickets - and even though we absolutely cheered for UNCG, you can tell where our hearts were.

This one is just for you, Restless.

A Quiz where I like the answer - Which X-Men are you?

You Are Storm

Exotic and powerful, Storm descended from a line of African priestesses. Emotions can effect your powers, but you are generally serene. Powers: controlling weather, creating winds that lift you into flight, generating lightning

Which of the X-Men Are You?

What I really want for Christmas...

This is what I really want for Christmas - the I Robot Vacuum. I recognize that it's a sad state of affairs that all I really want is a vacuum. I also realize that life must be pretty dull if having a clean house is what most excites me. Yet, in defense of my increasing dullness, I must say that this thing does the vacuuming for you! I wouldn't have to lug the heavy thing out of a closet, fight with it to get it to the needy spot, and then drag it back and forth so much that my right arm hurts too much to serve more than 3 games of tennis. I also wouldn't have to needle, cajole, or harass other members of my family to do the vacuuming.

I'm not getting one of these things - I got to go see Carlos Moya in the flesh at Flushing Meadow (which really is a better present than the I Robot) - but I can at least have some wistful thoughts while in the midst of holiday shopping.

A thought for a busy time...

Our minds are like crows. They pick up everything that glitters, no matter how uncomfortable our nests get with all that metal in them.

-Thomas Merton

Paolo Nutini

While in Scotland, the Argyll Hotel usually had CDs softly playing in the background. There was one I kept hearing, and I liked it more everytime I heard it. Paolo Nutini's These Streets was the CD. He is a young Scotsman (inspite of the Italian name) who is a singer/songwriter. I found the CD while journeying through Oban, and I have absolutely driven Sonny Boy bonkers by playing it so much. (Hey, I suffered not only through Hilary Duff CDs constantly being played - I even took him to see her in concert!)

Check out Paolo - he's really great. Hope some big time music person in the States finds him soon.

The Prestige

Well, what does Thanksgiving mean in our world today? It could mean pumpkin pies (made with Splenda to fool my brother), cranberry relish, giving thanks. It could mean shopping, shopping, and more shopping. Or it could mean the best movies of the year are finally coming out and it's time to hit the theatres again.

I chose the final option yesterday. It's rare that I don't see a Hugh Jackman movie, so The Prestige certainly fit the bill. It also stars other quite gifted actors - Christian Bale (I still tear up everytime I remember The Empire of the Sun), Michael Caine and Scarlett Johannson. It is set around 1900 in London. Two young magicians become rivals to the fullest over a terrible accident. Jackman portrays Angiers, the dashing showman. Bale is Borden, the lowerclass magicial genius. It is a story of how they hope to best the other, or really, to destroy the other. The movie is well-plotted, with twists and turns and all sorts of interesting facets in the story. It was a relief to see a movie that is not so dreadfully predictable. Some things were predictable, but just when we think we figured something out - something else would happen to turn things around.

The acting was superb. David Bowie even makes an appearance as a mad genius (appropriately so - and did I really think he was that hot in 1985? Lunar, did we really? Well, at least it was better than when I was soooo in LUV with scrawny Shaun Cassidy in 1980.)

Yet, something was lacking in the movie for me. It was certainly a good movie and I would recommend seeing it. As I have been thinking over it, I wondered if my inability to see this as a really great movie was my old standby criticism - a redemptive quality. Obsession does not often allow room for redemption. But that lack of redemption didn't bother me in Brokeback Mountain (still the best movie I have seen in years). I think what was lacking was an identification with the characters. They were fascinating and even sympathetic at times, especially Angiers. Yet, as the movie came to its conclusion and the final face-off with these two magicians, I was unsure for whom I should pull. Angiers seemed obvious, and his words on why he was a magician were powerful - but the words did not match the actions. Actions do speak louder than words.

It was a well done and well crafted movie. Yet, more time was spent trying to make this a clever movie than making this one where the audience was truly invested with the characters. I think that was the flaw - the reason I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen in the movie. My grade - B

Like a Sheep

Here are some of the countless sheep who populate the island of Iona. I heard a rather interesting story about how the backsides became marked, but as this is family oriented blog, I won't go into said theory or its possible veracity.

The sheep were everywhere - many more sheep than people. And they were hysterical. They NEVER stopped eating. Everywhere we went, there they were - moving those lips.

I am lacking a picture of my favorite sheep. She was of the average variety. She was in one of those lush fields, totally collapsed on her side. From her hooves to her ear, every part of her body was fully relaxed on the grass. I thought she was asleep. Then I saw her lips moving - still eating. I've felt like that on occasion - can't move anything at all but my mouth to put food in it. I'm sure I'll feel that way next Thursday.

Cool 13th century nuns

The religious community on Iona has focused around the Celtic religious community founded by Columba in the late 500s. The Abbey (see Thursday's post for a picture) was built in the 13th century on the site of the original Columban community. As Roman Christianity was spreading to the further reaches of Western Europe (and continuing to usurp Celtic Christianity), the Columban community became a Benedictine monastery.

It was not uncommon for a women's religious community to exist near a monastery. In 1200, the Nunnery construction on Iona was begun. It is the most intact ruins of a nunnery in Scotland. Whereas the Abbey was repaired and reconstructed in the late 19th century, the Nunnery has been left in ruins (although quite beautiful ruins). Very little is known about the Nunnery, and very little was written in any of the Iona books I read. However, while perusing the wonderfully written guest book at the Argyll Hotel, it was mentioned that the Nunnery has a She-la-na-gig (a pagan fertility goddess, or vagina dentata/"vagina with teeth") on its prominent South wall.

A pagan fertility goddess on a prominent wall of a Nunnery built in 1200? We do know that a woman named Beathag was the first abbess. We'll never know why the She-la-na-gig is there, and practically no one who writes about Iona seems to care about this, but I can only imagine that Beathag and the nuns must have been women who honored other women and God's gift in Creation.

Iona, Scotland continued

Iona is a tiny island in the Inner Hebrides (1 1/2 miles by 3 1/2 miles). It is one of the more beautiful places have ever been. The waters are blue (like the Carribean), the sand is white, the grass is unbelievably green, and the rocky terrain is lots of fun and provides some really good exercise (hopefully to counteract that great food from the Argyll Hotel). People have lived on the island since ancient times, and a religious community has been there since the late 500s. Here are some more pics of the Island.

Long Hair is Cool, pt. 2

I am interrupting my pictures and recollections of my recent trip to Scotland for an update on Sonny Boy. The avid reader might remember a post not too long ago about Sonny Boy's quest for long, beautiful hair (and not to be a nerd). His school pictures just came back, as you can see. At least he had combed his hair. It is a shame that his best feature (those big, beautiful blue eyes) were hidden behind the veil of very straight hair. But at least his hair was clean.

Sonny Boy has had a hair cut since, but this picture will be around for many, many years to come.

More from Scotland

I'll have a number of ongoing posts about my pilgrimage to Iona (in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland), but here is the beginning. I thought I would start with food. As I anticipated the trip, I actually wasn't too thrilled about Scottish food - the only thing that stood out in my mind was Haggis. Yes, that is a picture of me taking a bite of Haggis - reminded me of those little tins of potted meat which I have avoided like the plague over these past 20 years (and then when Hubby bought some last year for a camping trip - I threw them out - inspite of what I might say sometimes, I do love him and want him to be around for many years :)

The other two pics are of our residence on Iona - the Argyll Hotel - and our group of pilgrims in the dining room (after we have yet again stuffed ourselves silly - please note the mostly full plate of wonderful apple and berry crumble in front of me - I really did try my best for 20 minutes to eat more). The Argyll is absolutely wonderful. The staff is welcoming and extremely helpful. It is warm and cozy and quiet, and the food is absolutely worldclass. One doesn't normally think of gaining weight on a pilgrimage, but it was a real challenge for each one of us not to explode from the incredible food. I think my favorite entree was the Vegan Haggis (yes, that is correct) and my favorite dessert was lemon cheesecake. If you ever travel to Iona, the Argyll is the place to stay.

More to come...

Things I learned from my trip to Scotland...

1. Being allowed to take 1 tube of lipstick on board an airplane gets me real excited.
2. Sheep really are stupid.
3. Sheep NEVER stop eating.
4. Climbing straight over steep, rocky paths when one is dressed like the younger son in A Christmas Story is not easy.
5. It really doesn't hurt to fall face forward in heather.
6. It's hard to distinguish between sheep dookie and mud. (and it's nice to travel with a friend who knows the proper way to spell "dookie.")
7. Towel warmers are a gift from the gods. (unless you bend over at the wrong time)
8. Whiskey really is the best way to take off a cold chill.
9. 13th century nuns rocked!
10. Just when you think you miss your 12 year old son, a mischevious spirit (who must be a 12 year old boy) will do all sorts of funny things to your room (hide books, move rocks, change the alarm clock, wet the inside pages of a book, and even keep lifting the toilet seat over and over).
11. Scottish footballers are gifted at running to catch an 8:30am flight while holding a pint - all without spilling one drop.
12. A ferry ride in the pitch dark over very rough waters is more fun than any roller coaster.
13. It's a pleasure to have a full-body collision in the rain with a travelling, long-haired, scruffy bearded Scotsman who is carrying a guitar.
14. We thought we were in heaven in the Inner Hebrides, especially with the gourmet food - but then realized that God wouldn't let us gain weight in heaven.
15. There exists a man who can say "vagina dentata" (Latin for vagina with teeth) without blushing or stuttering.
16. Vagina dentata can be sung to the lively Disney tune "Hakumamatata" from The Lion King. (Check upcoming posts for more on the She-la-na-gig pagan fertility goddess, aka vagina dentata, and what it has to do with ancient Nunnery ruins.)

Leaving Town

In the morning, I am headed to the GSO airport for a Pilgrimage to Iona, Scotland. It is an ancient and fascinating place. I'll be gone 12 days - so no posts during that time. Check out the website while I'm gone, and I'll have lots of things to post when I return.

More pics from the US Open

Weird Al does it yet again...

For months, Sonny Boy has been singing "Ridin' Dirty" by Chamilionaire. It's actually about racial profiling and has a decent message, even though it makes me a little bonkers. Leave it to Weird Al Yankovic to do one of his best parodies yet.

Check it out - http://music.yahoo.com/video/default.asp?vid=35881672

US Open

Walker and I hanging out in Arthur Ashe Stadium, praying the rain will go away...

The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

I decided a couple weeks ago to put down the Janet Evanovich books (good though they are) and pick up The History of Love at the recommendation of the Asheville book group (where I still consider myself a member, even though I live 3 hours away).

The story centers around two individuals in NYC - an elderly man, Leo Gursky, who is a Holocaust survivor and is limping through what may be the last days of his life; and Alma, a young teenager who is searching for her identity in the aftermath of losing her beloved father at a young age. The search for life and meaning by both Leo and Alma occurs through a little known book, The History of Love, and the mystery that surrounds it. Krauss writes beautifully, and the glimpses we see of the History of Love manuscript make me want to read that as well (if only it existed).

The first two pages left me depressed, and then I realized Krauss had the gift of combining the hysterical with the poignant and the overwhelming. Leo's desire not to die unnoticed leads him to create scenes whenever he goes out - I could easily imagine him purchasing and then intentionally spilling coffee (in dramatic fashion) so that he would be remembered. Alma's desire to distance herself from her mother and a religion obsessed younger brother also left me laughing many times. Krauss took what could have been simply another search for meaning, and filled it with true life moments that made it real.

The book is wonderfully written. It is heart-wrenching, heart-warming, funny, sad, endearing, and ultimately fulfilling. My grade - definitely A.

Women & Daydreams

Heard this on the radio recently - This is the list (in order) of what women most often daydream -
1. winning the lottery
2. relaxing on the beach
3. having a clean house
4. thoughts of a hot doc on tv

I've never daydreamed about #1, but as to the others...

Long Hair is Cool

Have people noticed that young guys are wearing their hair longer these days? Well, 12 year old Sonny Boy sure has. The hair on his neck just about reaches his collar these days. And his bangs are almost down to the tip of his nose. I always enjoy seeing him watch tv - he tips his head way back so he can look underneath his bangs.

I don't care what his hair looks like. I want to reserve my battles for other more important subjects (like actually doing his homework).

On Monday, a couple of his teachers (there are 4 total) asked him to do something with his hair. They wanted to be able to see his eyes during class. (He does kinda look like one of those dogs in the Alps who has bangs that cover the eyes and carries beer around their necks.) The teachers asked him to wear a cap, push his hair to the side or wear some kind of clip. I offered him one of Princess' hair barrettes, but he didn't want that for some reason!

Yesterday, I drove him to school and we did the usual good morning prayer. I say a sentence, and then he repeats after me. At one point I prayed, "Please God, help Sonny Boy do something with his hair so that he won't irritate his teachers." He didn't repeat exactly as I had spoken. Instead, it was "God, help me keep my hair EXACTLY like I want it."

The teachers gave him a bandana yesterday. He wore it as a joke for one period and then removed it. At lunch, one of the teachers asked where his bandana was. "I took it off and I'm not wearing it." She apparently walked on at that point.

I asked Sonny Boy what his plan was. I suggested just flicking it to the side (have I also said he reminds me of Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber?) He said it has to go straight down or else he will look like a dork, geek, nerd, etc. He said when it gets long enough to tuck behind his ears, he will (and we have a ways to go before that).

Not my battle - but entertaining from the sidelines nonetheless...

Get Ready for Christmas

Yes, it's not even October yet - but it's time to start thinking about getting ready for Christmas. We all know that if we prepare early, we spend less money and have more time to do those homey things that make Christmas special. Christmas tends to get very expensive and hectic - so hopefully we can find some ways to avoid that.

Alternatives for Simple Living was begun in the early 1970s as a way to help people get back to the real meaning of Christmas and get away from the mass commercialization of the holiday. We all know how much worse things have gotten in the last 30 years. Check out Alternative's website - it has lots of great ideas and resources of how to prepare our lives so that we can truly enjoy the time we have together in December.

Ban Skinny Models?

The internet has been filled today with an interesting news story from Spain. It seems that the Madrid Fashion Show is coming up soon, and organizers have banned models who do not have a BMI of 18 or more. This has caused a furor in the industry, but praise from groups trying to fight eating disorders.

Most people know by now that models are far more thin than they were just 10 or 20 years ago. Hollywood stars even (who are not runway models) are on average a size 0 or 2. I remember when Jane Kracowski (of Ally McBeal fame) was called a "big girl" because she wore a size 6. Andie McDowell (who I have seen in person and is truly tall, thin and beautiful) has stated a number of times that she could never be a model these days (and she started off in modeling) because she would be too big.

People in the fashion industry believe they are not to blame for the rapid increase in eating disorders. They say it's because of the moms at home who are always dieting. But why are these moms always dieting?

When Restless Mama and I were on our way to NY for the USOpen, I picked up a More magazine. The trip was in celebration of our 40th birthdays, and More is targeted at women over 40. (seemed appropriate) Throughout the magazine were pictures of impossibly gorgeous women of various ages over 40. I realized it was only making me feel bad about not being as gorgeous or thin as someone 20 years older than I (even though they may have personal chefs, much more disposable income, personal trainers, etc.). So - I put down the magazine. If I need to compare myself - much better to do it with the tired, overworked, and financially strapped moms I see at my job or at my kids' school!

We can't blame just one area for the pervasive and growing issue of eating disorders. Our society as a whole has created this environment where women are starving themselves and thus killing themselves. It's created a world where women can barely put food in their mouth without some sort of guilt. It's created a world where much of my job with college students is referring young women to counseling for eating disorders, and trying intentionally to model healthy diet and lifestyle. It's created a world where my 5th grade son talked about a girl in his class who would sit at lunch eat day, say she was fat (when she was not),cry and say, "I just can't eat!"

I don't put all the blame on the fashion industry - but it is part of the entirety of the problem. Bravo, Madrid.

Rocker Quiz - What Kind of Rocker are You?

You Are a Glam Rocker!

You put the "show" in rock show with your larger than life self. No doubt, you are all about making good music... But what really gets you going is having an over the top show. Glitter, costumes, and wild hair are your thing - with some rock thrown in!

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

In remembrance of 9/11

Oh, only for so short a while you have loaned us to each other,because we take form in your act of drawing us,and we take life in your painting us,and we breathe in your singing us.But only for so short a while have you loaned us to each other.Because even a drawing cut in obsidian fades,and the green feathers, the crown feathers,of the Quetzal bird lose their color,and even the sounds of the waterfall die out in the dry season.So, we too, because only for a short while have you loaned us to each other.
--Aztec Indian Prayer

First Dates

Just so you know, I was given permission to share this information on the world wide web -

Quite recently, I was asked by a certain 12 year old boy when I went on my first date. "Depends what you mean. Do you mean like a date in a car with a guy or do you mean going with somebody, having a boyfriend?" "Well, either." So I provided information as best I could remember. I also said that being able to drive a car was a good indication of when someone could go on an actual date.

Said young boy grinned and spoke up, "I asked someone out last week."

"You did what? How did this happen?"

"Mindy (name changed to protect the innocent) and I were at lunch and just talking. And then I said, you wanna go out with me sometime? She said - ooohhh, FRIENDS!" He kept grinning and thankfully didn't seem crushed by the rejection.

"So what did you think about that?"

"I think she likes me. She kept flirting with me at the retreat." I then went on to ask how two 12 year olds would go on a date (if they went), how they would get there, where they would go, and who would pay. Those apparently were inconsequential details. I then asked what his best friend said when he told him about the rejection. He grinned and responded, "He said that must suck for you."

I think this is the most entertainment certain young man has provided since he was in kindergarten.

Things I learned at the US Open

This past weekend I was able to fulfill a dream I have had for many years - I was able to attend the US Open. Restless Mama and I have been planning this for a while. I have never been to a professional tennis tournament. Restless and I were able to see the day session on Friday (then got rained out Fri night and all day Saturday), and then the day session on Sunday. So - here are some things I learned during my weekend.

1. First impressions can be changed - Andre Agassi and all his image stuff really got on my nerves in the 80s; but for some time I have really admired him, his work ethic, his philanthropy, his love for his family and friends, his wisdom, and his graciousness. Just being on the grounds during his last match was an honor.

2. There are some great older women out there - Restless and I really enjoyed the Carlos Moya match (and not just for his great forehand). A woman beside me (probably in her 50s) spoke of how hot he was during a changeover - I of course agreed - and then she commented on some other similarly blessed men on the tour. Not much later, I heard a woman in her 70s make similar remarks.

3. A mother can never impress her 12 year old son - "Did you see Agassi?" "Well, no I didn't have tickets for the big stadium that day." "What about Federer or Roddick?" "Well, no - but I did see Nadal." "Huh" - as he dismissed me.

4. There are lots of friendly people in NY - I felt like I was part of one big family at the Open - everyone was talking to strangers, sharing lots of info, being kind and patient (even on a record setting attendance day). The Billie Jean King National Tennis Center was a really nice, friendly place to be.

5. Doing one's homework pays off - I have obsessively watched tennis on tv for years. I always read my Tennis magazine, and I scour the web for tennis news. My first day ever on the grounds was Friday - and I found myself giving directions to various people (I had the grounds map memorized), finding toilet paper in the bathroom for people in empty stalls, and explaining some of the various seating arrangements. I felt like Rory Gilmore the day she first visited Yale.

Pictures will be forthcoming!

Bulk Mail...Duuuuuhhhhhh!

I've had the pleasure of doing a variety of things with my job. This summer I had the opportunity to reapply our organization for a non profit bulk mail permit. I collected the requested materials and submitted them at the appropriate center. The manager had some questions about our aka in our organization name - but I was confident things would be fine.

While I patiently awaited the renewal of our permit, I had to get a bulk mailing out. I was told this could be done while I was waiting from NY for the renewal, and after the renewal I would receive a reimbursement for extra cost. No problem.

I scoured the usps website to make sure I did this correctly. I wanted to have the letters all sorted properly. After two full work days of getting the mailing ready to take to the bulk mail center (and breaking some kind of child labor law where my 8 year old was concerned - but she is a really good folder and really good at putting on stickers), I proceeded to the mail center. The very nice lady called NY to check on my permit. The paperwork was nowhere to be found - so we faxed a copy to them again. I could still do a mailing. I had actually sorted too thoroughly and had to correct that. And then I had to put non-adhesive stamps on 310 newsletters. And then we had to figure out more paperwork and have me write a check (no debit or credit cards at that center). After 2 hours, I was able to leave and confident the mailing would be sent out that day.

I finally received confirmation from NY that the permit was reinstated. I had another mailing to do this week. With some help, I only wasted one work day. I then gathered everything together to head to the bulk mail center. I was only there 1 hour this time (cut my time in half!). We are still working on the paperwork for reimbursement from the last mailing, still need to get a rubber stamp with the permit number, and still need to make sure I can fill out the paper work correctly. The patient man was very helpful, but I know he thought I was an idiot. I had to use a calculator to multiply exactly the number of pieces for one zip code by a certain decimal a few times. Then I was supposed to subtract 11.01 from 23.56 - I continued to use the calculator and heard some snickers from the helpful postal worker.

I wanted (but did not) to say, "I am really not an idiot. I actually have a masters from a very good school. Granted, one where lacrosse players should never be allowed to have parties - but where I got a good education. I handle all my family finances. I have sat on boards and organizations. I really do have common sense. And you have to understand I have been putting in 70 hour weeks the past month - it's the nature of my job right now."

So when my hour was up, I left with a big weight off my shoulders (at least for the next two months). I also left wondering when I had encountered something that made me feel like such an idiot. Now, if I didn't have an accountant come April, there might be competition.

Thank goodness for the government which keeps us humble.

The IRS gets it right

Yes, you read the title correctly. I know there are a number of us who would think that statement could rarely be true - but an instance occurred last week which encouraged me to write this post.

It has been a tradition for some time that celebrities at the Oscars receive gift bags. In recent years, the bags have become multi-million dollar bonuses - the latest gadgets, vacations, jewelry, and even diamond studded underwear (really). Like any of these wealthy people need these things? As if they could not afford 225,000 of these items if they wanted? I realize that companies want to have a celebrity photographed using one of the said items since people tend to want to buy articles used by celebrities. (However, I have a hard time imagining wearing a size 0 jewel embellished thong.) I've been even more disgusted to hear celebrities talk about how they really look forward to all the free goodies.

Thank goodness there have always been some people with sense - like George Clooney - who would promptly give the bag to charity (to be used, to be auctioned for the money, whatever).

And now the IRS has finally caught on to the free bonuses - they announced last week the gift bags would be taxed. I hope most of the people impacted have enough sense not to be upset by this - and maybe even more will give the bags directly to be auctioned for charity. Better yet, maybe the companies will stop the practice and use those funds for charitable donations themselves.

Books

Here is a meme from Edgy Mama. I can't resist anything to do with books.

One book that changed your life?
The Once and Future King by T.H. White - it helped shape my personal philosophy in a major way

One book that you read more than once?
Quite a few would fit this category, but the hands-down winner is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I must be somewhere in the 30s.

One book you would want on a desert island?
The Bible - it has so much variety (mystery, love, betrayal, poetry, friendship, humor, mysticism, etc.) that it would keep me busy for a while; plus, there is the added bonus of the hope it could provide when stranded on a desert island

One book that made you laugh?
Lamb: The Gospel according to Biff, Jesus' Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore

One book that made you cry?
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling; I cried in the movie too when poor Cedric met his untimely death

One book you wish you had written?
A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle

One book you wish had never been written?
The Left Behind series

One book you are currently reading?
Twelve Sharp: A Stephanie Plum Novel by Janet Evanovich (and yes, I have read all 12 Plum novels in the last 3 and 1/2 weeks)

One book you keep meaning to read?
After Virtue by Alistair McIntyre (one of those theology books I read for professional enlightenment)

Say What?

When I was about 3 or 4 years old, we would be visited by my aunt and uncle and 5 older cousins about once or twice a year. I was wise enough to hide my toys before they came - I knew older kids brought destruction with them. I also knew the visits (while I loved my extended family and looked forward to seeing them) would bring nonsense sayings as well. The most beloved was, "Hooey on Amy." Hooey on Amy? What was that supposed to mean? And why say it to a 3 or 4 year old? Yes, it annoyed me - to the point that I threatened to call the army and have them arrest my uncle.

Some talents - like a talent for nonsense sayings - never cease. Witness the latest saying from 12 year old Sonny Boy, having just returned from a visit with said great uncle. "What in the ham fat is that?" If I've heard it once today, I've heard it a million times.

Of course, Sonny Boy has spent the last few months finding various ways to say, "I've got some beans in my pocket, yo-de-a, yo-de-a," so I should thank my uncle for the change.

Dear Mr. Squirrel and family

Dear Mr. Squirrel and family,
I hope you are enjoying your summer. I am glad you have survived my kittie huntress. I'm sure you've seen the bunnies and birds she has terrorized and left for me as a present in front of our door. I am unsure if she likes squirrels or not. Perhaps you and your family are just too fast for her. Nonetheless, I am happy for you that she has left you alone.
I know you have noticed something new in the yard this year. Princess and I have a long standing tradition. Each summer, we plant giant sunflowers - and lots of them. My great-grandmother always used to have giant sunflowers in her garden. Sunflowers are my favorite flower. (Hubby, please take note.) Princess and I love to plant the seeds, water the seedlings and then gently plant them in the ground. It's fun to guess how long it will take before they are taller than she, and then how much longer before I'm in their shadow. One thing about our new house that we like is that the soil is great for growing giant sunflowers. They have grown like never before.
Yet, we noticed something unusual lately. The giant sunflowers are starting to droop - some even to the point of breaking. I didn't understand. How could that be happening? And then I saw you and your family. I had no idea squirrels could climb up a giant sunflower, all the way to the top, and then bend it over dramatically, while you eat the sunflower seeds. It looks like quite a feat. Of course, now most of our beautiful flowers are bent to the ground.
I have just one thing to tell you Mr. Squirrel. If you and your buddies keep this up, I will help the huntress kittie hunt you down and leave your body parts on my front porch where she always leaves her best prizes.
My best wishes for you and your family and friends for the rest of the summer and fall.

Rio

Blogging 4 Books entry

Here is my entry for this month's B4B.

Summer of 1979 - I find myself gazing at the mountains, hardly aware of the breeze, as my book drops onto the porch swing. "Wow... That Jane Austen is really something. She must have known someone like Mr. Darcy. When I start dating, that's the kind of man I want." I subsequently read everything by Austen while my friends think I'm a weird egghead.

Summer of 1983 - I'm at Nerd Camp with nerds from all over North Carolina. I encounter a quite tall, lanky, dark-haired young man - no one's idea of a nerd. Mr. Darcy as a 16 year old? It's luuuvvvvv. When camp ends, I console myself with the fictional version once again. My friends tell me I should think more about Jon Bon Jovi and forget the made up guy in the funny clothes.

Summer of 1988 - I'm in love. He's a little short to be Darcy and a little too talkative and gets along with far too many people and doesn't have any money - BUT, Darcy is fiction anyway. I spend the next 18 years with days, and sometimes weeks, banging my head against the wall and muttering, "Austen knew. Austen knew."

Summer of 1996 - I'm in love. BBC knows Austen. Colin Firth is SOOO Darcy. Wonder if he's married and wonder how Hubby's cholestoral is doing.

Summer of 2005 - Phone rings. I'm reading P & P again (38th reading?) while watching the BBC miniseries (21st viewing?). I ignore the phone, but Hubby hands it to me. "It's Beth. She wants to talk to you."

"Hey Amy! We sure miss you up here, but I bet you like your new home. Andy says it's great. Are you enjoying it?"

"Uhhh - yeah," as I scan the room. It's too dark to see much but the tv and a few words on my page.

"You aren't fantasizing about Darcy again are you? You have a wonderful husband, two healthy and smart kids, lots of friends, a great new job and home. Step into reality."

"I just need a little fix!"

"Turn off the tv and go take a walk with your kids."

"Tomorrow."

"Okay - tomorrow. But then the book and the dvd do not come back out until the first snow day. Right?"

"Right....." I mumble some more words, hang up, yell at the kids to hush so I can see Darcy direct his intense stare at Elizabeth, and sigh with contentment. Better than chocolate even.

late night phone calls

I'm getting old - I admit it. When the phone rings after 10pm, I immediately think of my Granny or some other really terrible possible situation. We just returned from vacation yesterday afternoon (week at Edisto Island). I'm usually keyed up after returning and trying to unpack and get the house back in order. So - I'm watching "While you were sleeping" at 11:18 (comfort movie). I knew it was 11:18, because when the phone rings, the caller id comes up on the tv screen. My heart skips a beat, and then I see the cell phone number and name of the 13 year old girl from Charlotte who has been calling my baby boy the past 5 weeks. Hubby answers the phone while I'm whispering loudly, "You tell that girl that he is asleep and she should be too and not to call so late!!" He does tell her that Sonny Boy is asleep, and then nicely says "That's okay."

When he hung up, I responded, "That's okay?! It's not okay! Girls can't be calling my son at 11:18 at night and think it's okay! Either her parents don't know that she is using her cell phone like this, or they don't care. You should tell her not to call so late!!"

Then I proceeded to tell him how I have suspected for years that I would be the "tough" parent when interested parties came to visit our children. They'll think the daddy is so sweet and cute, and that mom sure is tough and wouldn't want to cross her.

Why do I always have to be the meanie?

Fun and Games with Bubba

Sunday is a really good day. It's the day of rest - a day to worship - a day to relax and enjoy good family time. Yesterday started off pleasantly enough. Kids and I went to church (Hubby was at a cousin's husband's funeral.) We arrived home. 95 degrees it was, and I thought kiddies and I might enjoy the free ice cream and music at the church block party. I thought I might have an opportunity to get to know some more people - people with whom I have things in common.

Well, kiddies wanted to go to Wet'nWild waterpark - where we purchased a family super saver pass last December. (It was less expensive than joining any pool in the area.) WW is not my favorite place, but at least it doesn't really matter how much skin hangs out from my bathing suit - no one would really notice. If it's not a tiny two piece and accentuated with numerous tattoos and piercings, it's just not very noticeable.

Kiddies and I arrive and decided to take up a chair in "pirate cove," where I can lounge, read my historical fiction novel and easily watch Princess swim while Sonny Boy seeks thrills on the more exuberant rides. But pirate cove was packed. Rock 92 banners were everywhere. Very large men in odd swim outfits abounded. It was, I came to discover, the Bubba Olympics. (Check out their website for lots more info.) Apparently, one must weigh at least 250 pounds, and consider himself "country" to enter - and also have a non-existent threshold of embarrassment. We could not avoid seeing a few of the events - the moon pie swim, the cannonball, and the water ballet.

So instead of conversing pleasantly with sophisticated people, and eating ice cream - I was thinking of my brother, seeing much more of people than I wished, and trying to list the brighter side of being a Southerner.

Fun Way to Spend an Evening

First, take a 95 degree, humid day. Add a one hour drive at 5pm, with a fruit salad, sleepy daughter, and lots of traffic. Drive way out in the boonies on a dirt road to a very large, wooded camp. Arrive at 6pm to immediately go through the covered dish line while all the Boy Scouts wait (somewhat patiently) for the visiting families to get a plate first. Wait (somewhat patiently) for Hubby to set up camp chair so that you can juggle paper plate and drink on lap - while encouraging sleepy daughter to eat something more than just watermelon. Too hot to eat - but that never really stopped me before.

Dinner is over - wondering where the heck the bathroom is - but can only see the tents set up on wooden bases (smelly little places). Ask Sonny Boy for a tour - apparently there is one hour to wait before "Campfire." (What the heck will we be doing there and why are families supposed to come?)

Sonny Boy shows his smelly tent - which only houses his clothes and food - especially care packages from aunties and grandparents. Has so much sugar could open his own canteen. Say a quick prayer that he's brushing his teeth at least once a day. We see his tiny hammock - where he's sleeping at night. He's only had to knock two ticks off this week so far. Wish he would shave his head.

Continue tour. Take trail and realize almost 300 scouts from all over the place. Arrive at central buildings - thank heavens - decent bathroom at Cafeteria. Sonny Boy wants to show the lake - only 10 minute walk. After 20 minutes walking, hearing more and more thunder and walking towards the dark clouds - we turn back to campsite. "Just about 5 minutes!" End up walking fast as we can for almost 20 minutes on tiny trail. Sore body from 3 hours of tennis day before - wonder how bad it will be next morning (it's bad).

Get back to camp - storm's ready to hit. Closing campfire will be at Cafeteria. Walk different way there - but hit by storm first - soaked through and through and very glad not wearing a white tshirt. Chaos at Cafeteria. Staff yelling for everyone to cram into building and get off porch (15 minutes after storm has started moving away - wondering what the fire code is and if that outweighs risk of standing on porch.) Closing ceremony starts in building - wonder why they have to have families there - why don't they do this on Friday night with just the scouts? Then the "serious" part begins where they beg for quiet - some of the lilly white boys pretending to be in touch with their inner Native American and dressed appropriately so. Wonder if anyone in building has more native blood in them than Sonny Boy - who is a whopping 1/32 Cherokee.

Finally over. Still raining. One hour drive back still soaked to bone. Arrive home 10pm - immediately shower, get Princess dried off and then answer phone from Hubby (who was scheduled to stay these last two days). Large tree had fallen and blocked the road; one tent collapsed, tornado warnings the whole time.

Thank goodness Jon Stewart came on tv soon after to salvage the evening.

Pirates of the Caribbean - Dead Man's Chest

My family and I have been anxiously awaiting the new Pirates movie. We own the first installment (have watched it a number of times) and headed out to an early showing on Friday. (So yes, we have contributed to the record $132 million it's taken in this weekend.) My viewing experience wasn't premium. We were at an older theater, since it saved us about $10 (even with matinee prices) - thus my head was looking straight up at the screen the whole time. And Sonny Boy kept nudging my arm saying, "I'm starving!! Can I PLEASE have some popcorn?" "No! You ate just before you came! Hush and let me watch the movie!"

Yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. About 10 minutes into the movie, I thought - "This is like The Empire Strikes Back!" Empire is my favorite of the original Star Wars trilogy (I just pretend the prequels never happened). I sat in the theater Friday thinking about three main characters who thought they knew their situation in the world suddenly being thrust into new circumstances - new worlds. Their plans had gone awry - and in these new worlds, they discovered parts on themselves they didn't realize were there - for good and for bad. Conflict ensues, loyalties are tested, and we are left hoping the good will win out, but also knowing that no one is all good or all bad.

I have always loved swashbucklers. Maureen O'Hara is my favorite actress of all time - especially when she was aboard a pirate ship. Once again, Pirates had creative, interesting and exciting action sequences. The best action took place this time, not on board, but on land. There were nods to the original - but the action was not contrived or repetitive. I liked the twists and turns in the original movie, and appreciated the continued twists and turns.

I have heard complaints about a complex plot. I did have to think about the plot (esp. with Sonny Boy begging for popcorn), but thinking about a plot and figuring out the twists and turns is part of the joy I find in a good movie. The plot was not too complex or difficult - but interesting and thought-provoking. I figured out fairly easily what was happening as the movie progressed (even though I must confess to having no clue how the gambling game worked on board The Flying Dutchman). I do also wish there had been just a touch more humor (and I know that's hard to do when part of the time is spent with Davy Jones).

The acting was great as usual. Johnny Depp has no peer, and I found Jack Davenport's role especially intriguing. Bloom and Knightly were quite good as well, but I was wishing for a little more meat in Bloom's role (Knightly had plenty with which to deal).

Overall, the storyline was interesting, the acting was very good, the action scenes were engaging and exciting, and it was a fun ride. The ending is incomplete - we know that the 3rd movie is half done already - and I will probably go the day it opens again. These characters have new worlds to explore - both within and without. My grade - B+

P.S. - Stay until the credits are over :) You'll be glad you did.

We're a nation of eaters - not athletes

Anyone who reads this blog on occasion realizes the great and undying love I have for my favorite sport - tennis. I am in the midst of one of the best two week periods of the year - the Championships at Wimbledon. After spending the morning suffering through the 100 degree weather at the downtown 4th Festival, I was able to hole up in the air conditioning with ESPN2 and the women's Quarters. Anyone who halfway follows tennis realizes there is not one American (male or female) left in the singles' events. This is huge news. I think I heard one of the commentators say the last time it happened was 1922, and no Americans entered Wimbledon that year. American dominance of this great international sport is over - and with very little hope that a young American is on the rise to be a top 5 player.

This news just after the US's predictable early exit in the men's World Cup.

And what is the byline on ESPN2 today? That same crazy guy from Japan (for the 6th year running) has won the world hotdog eating contest (53 3/4 this year). Who came in 2nd with 52 dogs? An American! Yeah!!!

We suck at sports - but we sure know how to eat.

Cars - the movie

A couple weeks ago, I took Sonny Boy and Princess to the latest animated "family" movie - Cars. I had read some favorable reviews, so I was hoping and praying this would not be another Spongebob Squarepants movie (definitely one of the worst I have ever seen). I was fortunate that Cars was far superior.

Now part of me felt like I should see this movie just because I am from North Carolina. I have never actually seen a NASCAR race, but I know I can name more race car drivers (and even recognize their faces) than I can pro football players. It's just osmosis in this part of the world. I was delighted that several of the actual NASCAR drivers (including the King himself, Richard Petty) voiced characters. Cars is about actual cars - the primary character being a snazzy red racecar, Lightning McQueen. He's all about the glory, the babes, the money, and the sponsorships. On this way to the destination of fame and fortune, Lightning gets waylayed in a sleepy Route 66 town. (There's even a nice little side story about commercialization and major highways missing the local beauty.) The story itself is by no means original - I sometimes had flashbacks to Doc Hollywood. Yet, the way the story is told is quite creative and original and engaging.

These were cars - but I felt like I knew each one. When Lightning left the sleepy town, I was so sad. I didn't want to leave this town and the people in it. I wanted to go back and stay there. (I probably watched way too much Northern Exposure years ago.) I'm sure you can predict the ending - but as with the story itself - it's not the destination that counts; it's the journey.

The journey is just a lot of fun. The characters are interesting. The dialogue is snappy and heartfelt without being cheesy. The voices were well chosen. Even the soundtrack is impressive (Sheryl Crow, John Mayer, James Taylor, Brad Paisley, Rascal Flatts). This really is a feel good movie that all ages can enjoy - and I will happily see a sequel when it comes (as I'm sure it will). My grade - A-

fashions from the edge

Do you remember the day that you set foot on your new college campus? When you were there to register and be "oriented" with all the other new students? Do you remember how you kept trying to ditch your parents, and kept praying that your mom wouldn't cry too loudly?

But most importantly, do you remember what you wore?

I bet most young women do. I wore a pair of predominantly blue and green madras shorts, a white Izod, and white canvas Tretorns (sans socks, of course). I carefully planned my ensemble - I was making a first impression after all.

One of the joys of working on campus is seeing all the assorted fashions. It's been particularly interesting of late when new students are coming in for their first two days of "Orientation." I know most of these young women carefully selected their clothing to reveal the kind of person they are to others. Some of my favorite choices in the recent weeks of orientation days -

*cut-up, layered tank tops with a very short red plaid skirt, black tights, and combat boots
*very low rise ripped jeans with a tiny white tshirt
*low rise, slim fit madras shorts (just a different take on mine from 20 years ago) and tiny Izod shirt
*long, flowing gypsy skirts with tiny tank to reveal belly button ring
*tshirt proclamations like, "All I needed to know I learned in kindergarten," "I do all my own stunts," "I'm the only hell my mama ever raised"
*tiny white tshirt with very low rise blue jean skirt that has ripped edge (I know that's how they come these days) that is precisely 1 and 1/2 inches below one's bottom)

Just some of my favorites. I could do another article on what some of the moms are wearing. Sonny Boy was with me one day and was impressed by a dad who wore day-glo orange Nike bball shoes (and had to tell the dad how impressed he was).

All interesting sites and impressions...

Wimbledon - get rid of the old guys!

Being such a tennis lover, I once again anxiously await the first ball hit of a Grand Slam this Monday morning - The Chamionships at Wimbledon. Of the four Slams (US Open, Australian, and French), many consider Wimbledon the most prestigious. Yet, in one very important circumstance - it seriously lags behind.

Wimbledon is the last of the Grand Slams not to offer equal prize money to men's and women's champions (read article). Their reasons? Men don't normally play doubles like the women do (and don't earn as much money there), and then men play 3 out of 5 sets while women play 2 out of 3. Since when do these old guys not realize that different does not mean one is better? Hubby normally mows the lawn, and I normally do the laundry - they're different, but does that mean one of us should get paid more? And just look at ratings - in recent years, it's the women who are watched more than the men. As much as I want to see Roger Federer win everything in sight, thank goodness for Rafael Nadal who adds some spark to what has become a rather predictable men's game. The women have a whole host of exciting players who could win anything.

Women in Britain earn 17% less than men working comparable jobs. About 80% of Brits want Wimbledon to offer equal prize money. It's 2006 and time for the old guys to go! 80% of the population realizes the year and what's going on in the rest of the tennis world - time to get some of those people in charge of things!

My daughter is different from my son. But I love them both equally and pray that will be treated equally in the world. I pray my daughter will not be forced to earn less one day because she is different from a man. Thank goodness for the differences in the world - it's one of the things that makes this an interesting planet.

Summer Solstice

Yesterday was important for two reasons - June 21 is the anniversary of Princess' baptism (something we always remember as a family), and it was Summer Solstice. Princess and I were driving around yesterday, trying to stay in the air conditioning of the car, when I noticed a sign for a Summer Solstice celebration at the Arboretum. We happen to live about half a mile from the back entrance, so I thought it would be a great way to celebrate.

I felt like I was back in Asheville. People were dressed alternatively and appropriately for the day (I did feel a little out of place in the pink Ralph Lauren shorts and matching pink stripe top, and Princess was wearing a tennis skirt since she just came from her tennis lesson at Parks and Rec - but we weren't the only preppies walking around!) Everything was free, and there were lots of great things for the kids - flowers and hair accoutrements, body glitter, face painting. Drums were played at various spots, with accompanying dancers, fire dancers, and the best hoola-hooping I have ever seen. Mosquito nets were under a number of trees, with free massage or healing touch offered.

We did run into a couple people we know - one family from school and one family from church. I saw the mayor there as well (not that he would have any idea who I was). I thought he was smart to be there - there must have been 2500 people walking around on the late summer's eve.

I have been in disbelief since last November when one local journalist called Greensboro a granola town. It's still most certainly not, but it's good to know there is more diversity than one sees on the surface.