Strings and Sealing Wax and Other Fancy Stuff

Seriously??

2012-01-23T23:47:00.002-05:00

I'm good.
I go. Every flipping year.
The Big Squish is, while not a friend, at least an acquaintance with whom I am on speaking terms.
One of those acquaintances while, you may not like them very much, you appreciate they could be useful even as they annoy the hell out of you.

I had the Big Squish on the 14th.
Got a call the following Monday: The doctor wants more views of Leftie.
Let me translate that for you (or, rather, add in the language that was diplomatically omitted by the radiological tech): We think we see something on your film and we want to make sure before we scare the shit out of you.

Thursday last, I got re-squished. Yeah, there's something there.

Even leaving aside the idea of contemplating my own mortality, the idea that there is something growing in me that shouldn't be there? It's just creepy. Seriously creepy. It's like the MRI I had a couple of years ago that showed a 4mm calcification in my left frontal lobe. Who cares that it may have been there since birth? It's in my brain, damn it, and it doesn't belong there!
See? Creepy.

Today, I met with a surgeon. Friday, they'll stick a hollow needle into Leftie (aided by the Big Squisher - yes, adding insult to injury, I get to get squished yet again) and remove some of whatever's in there for analysis.
Then, next Friday, I meet with the surgeon again to go over the results.

Given my mom's situation, I hadn't called her until after today's meeting. I wish I'd called sooner. Her insight into the issue (given her own two bouts with breast cancer) would have been helpful to have had prior to the meeting. I hadn't thought of that and hadn't called because I didn't want to worry her unnecessarily. At any rate, the conversation added another level to the "It's In Me And It Shouldn't Be!" freakout. The initial results from the needle biopsy on her first round came back as cancer-free. That hospital, however, routinely sends all its samples out to Johns Hopkins for more detailed analysis. That second analysis showed cancer and, when the larger biopsy was done, that too showed cancer. She opted for full removal and the eventual results showed the entire breast was riddled with tiny spots of cancer.

I was pretty calm until I talked to her. Needless to say, I'll be calling tomorrow to make sure they send samples out for further analysis. (I'm trying not to think about potentially having Leftie hacked off. I'm kind of partial to the girls, actually, and that weirds me out nearly as much as the other.)

In the meantime? There's something growing in me that shouldn't be there and I'll just be over here in the corner standing on an imaginary chair screaming like a little girl.

When even a planner can't plan...

2011-10-13T22:55:00.001-04:00

Insidious.
Cruel.
Growing.

Cancer.

My mother had an emergency hysterectomy in mid-August. They're pretty sure they got it all and, at the time they looked at the at-surgery biopsy (a cryo-slice), thought they'd not need to do anything else but... isn't there always a but? Turns out the kind of cancer that was swarming her uterus is one that spreads easily through blood veins and it's virulent. A single cell that got free during the surgery could be enough to start a new tumor elsewhere in her body. It's a rare form of cancer - so rare that the largest study of it involved no more than 60 patients simply for lack of patients to include. She starts chemo next Wednesday - 3 rounds, then several weeks of radiation. After that, if enough of her bone marrow has survived, she'll do 3 more rounds of chemo. Clear cell carcinoma has a 5 year survival rate of 40%.

My husband went for a routine blood pressure check last Friday. He mentioned to the doctor that he hadn't been able to pee fully nor had he been feeling all that well. He had a more-than-walnut-sized growth and his left testicle removed this Tuesday morning. His cryo-slice came back clear. We'll get the full pathology report back in about a week. I want to feel relieved. I want to relax. I just can't. It seems too good to be true - even if they find nothing in the full pathology report, how long will I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop? I was so good during the immediacy of the crisis - ok, just do what needs to be done... just keep swimmin', just keep swimmin'. Now? I can't focus on anything but that I could lose my husband to the same accursed disease that's stealing my mother.

In general, I'm an optimist. I plan for the worst but expect the best. (I'll leave debate on whether that's the best way to approach life for another time.) This time... I'm having a hard time with the planning for the worst. How can I possibly plan for a life without my mother or my husband?

My mother and I have a complicated relationship. It is not... mutually supportive. But she's my mom. And everyone, everyone needs their mom. (Well, or someone to act the mother role.) My husband... I cannot even begin to imagine how I would go about life without him. From the emotional abandonment to the simple practicalities of raising 3 kids on my own. How would we manage to live without John's income? How would I make it through the coming years or, Lord in heaven, the teen years, without his emotional support? How could I possibly get anywhere without his solid 'of course you can do it' behind me? How could I possibly emerge sane at the other end?

This time, God, I'm not sure I've got this. This time, God, it may be just too much... even for my little planner soul.

A Princess Fairy Dancer in a Big Floofy Dress

2011-09-20T00:36:00.000-04:00

So, I recently came across this blog post:
http://blog.pigtailpals.com/2011/08/feminism-in-motherhood/

And it's been bugging me.

Somehow, I thought being a 'feminist' meant that one supported the rights of girls and women to define themselves (rather than being forced into or out of roles by society's dictates). What is so damn wrong about a kid wanting a princess party? What's wrong with a little girl wanting to wear a sparkly tiara and a big floofy dress?

I have a degree from Smith, my favorite pants are cargos, my favorite everyday shoes are my Danner workboots, I'd rather shoot targets than go shopping but, damn it, I love wearing big floofy dresses and sparkly tiaras. I took figure skating as an adult and I loved every single fucking minute of it (ok, maybe not the time I landed on my kneecap and saw stars but all the other minutes) and every fucking girly outfit. So why should I expect my daughter to be any different? Why would I *want* her to be any different?

The reason I've been given is that "princesses are only someone by virtue of marrying the prince" - well, maybe in Disney movies. So, should we now denigrate all the good work done by Michelle Obama or Princess Anne of Britain? Because, after all, they're only somebody because they're married to... oh, wait... hmmm, Princess Anne is somebody in her own right. Gee, whaddya know, so is Michelle Obama.

Shouldn't we judge a little more carefully? Shouldn't we guide our girls with a little more discrimination than simply: "feminine = bad"? Shouldn't we say, "y'know what? Sparkly tiaras are cool and so are dance class and floofy dresses. You can be Cinderella for Halloween. And next year, you can be Tiny Pteranodon and the year after (this year), you can be Word Girl. Wanting to be a princess doesn't preclude being something else. And that's what we should be teaching our kids. Our girls *and* our boys.

And, y'know what else is cool? Standing on your own two feet and deciding who you want to be - for yourself, not for someone else - whether they be misogynist or 'feminist'. You want to be a police officer? Please wear your Kevlar for your mama. You want to be a stay-at-home mom? Feel free to call me when you're going bananas (because you will, I promise, go bananas at some point). You want to be a fighter pilot? Here's wishing you blue skies and smooth air. (And get me a ride along!). You want to be a fairy princess dancer in a big floofy dress and a sparkly tiara? Have fun but no stealing my 4" shiny candy apple red heels with the little black ribbon bows, ok?

No Room at the Inn? Ground Zero 10th Anniversary Commemoration

2011-08-29T16:23:00.003-04:00

Ok, so I've been trying to resolve in my own mind the whole "who is invited to the 10th anniversary commemoration at Ground Zero" thing. Because, as many have eloquently pointed out, including a very well stated comment by David Manning on Betty Davies post, there are so many who deserve and desire to be there.

So I've been trying to figure out exactly what's going on here... So far I've gleaned that:

The entire Ground Zero site is 16 acres. This, though, includes the ground under the building that has already been reconstructed (7 World Trade Center) and the two that are under construction as well as that under the memorials and all the construction. It's hard to tell from the pictures I found online (see the picture from 2006: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:GroundZeroFrom7WTC.JPG and this one from August of this year: http://www.rebuildgroundzero.org/rgzv2/en/ground-zero-photos?id=7745&view=detail) exactly how much of that 16 acres is accessible for the ceremony but it's pretty clearly a fraction of that original. After taking out all the buildings and construction zones and other spots where it wouldn't be safe to put people, let's say (though I think this may be optimistically large) it's about 3 acres. That'd probably include the roads but you can close the roads and put people on them so no biggie there.

I did a couple of quick googles and found that you can fit about 5000 people per acre. Now, that wouldn't include the rather large buffer around the president but we'll go optimistic with that as well as ignore the buffer. So, that's about 15,000 people without chairs.

Invited for politicians are: mayor, 2 presidents (Bush and Obama), 4 governors (NY, CT, NJ, and former NJ), and "a few local members of congress" (from this map - http://www.govtrack.us/congress/findyourreps.xpd?state=NY - it looks like there are about 18 clustered right around the center of NYC plus a couple of senators. I suspect they wouldn't have invited all those people when they didn't even invite Rudy Giuliani (mayor of NYC at the time of the attached) or George Pataki (NY governor at the time). But let's assume they did. So, that's 26 politicians.

~~ 15,000 - 26 = 14,974

From Wikipedia, I got that there were 2,753 victims in NY from 9/11 (that doesn't include people who died of respiratory illnesses from the cleanup). Of which, there were 343 firefighters, 60 police (NYPD and PANYNJ), and 8 EMTS).

I have no way of calculating the number of relatives of the victims... which makes the math guesswork but let's guess. I've heard through the political grapevine that they've limited the number of relatives per victim but I don't know to how many. 2 seems way too small a number - given that many would have still had living parents, spouses, and children. Neither can I see it being as high as 10. 5, maybe? So, that's 13,770.

~~ 14,974 - 13,770 = 1,204

Ok, so it can't be 5 unless they're counting on people not showing. So, let's deduct 20% of that for people that don't come (normally, I'd say it'd be a higher no-show rate but it is the 10th anniversary so I suspect more will come than not). That's bring the victims' family number down to 11,016

~~ 14,974 - 11,016 = 3,958

I haven't accounted for the secret service around the presidents - 10 of those maybe?

~~ 3,958 - 10 = 3,948

Ok, so let's count members of the New York police and fire departments and the Port Authority police department: 34,500 NYPD uniformed (NYPD website), 11,080 NYFD firefighters, 3,300 NYFD EMTs (both wikipedia), 1,660 PANYNJ police officers (also Wikipedia). That's 50,540 first responders. Ok, let's assume that 1/2 are on duty at any given time (which may be high but the police officers I know, for example, so often have to work overtime that it's definitely more than an 8 hour day). So, 25,270.

So, how do you fit 25,270 first responders... men and women who absolutely deserve to be there... in space for 3,948? Do you tell a mother or a father or a wife or son or a daughter of a victim that he/she can't come? Do you have a lottery for first responders that want to attend? Do you select representatives from each division/precinct? Do you invite them all and just have them spread down the side streets as far as they need to?

And, on top of that, how do you decide who stands where?

I am genuinely curious as to what other peoples thoughts are because this is a dilemma I find very hard to reconcile (and one I am grateful I do not need to reconcile!). Please be respectful of others' opinions however. I believe this is a situation where there are no easy answers and people of good will can honestly disagree and still be good people.

Consider Me Officially "De-Motivated"

2011-03-29T22:38:00.004-04:00

I got a phone call from my boss today. Seems she and her boss (our CEO) had an extended conversation that started with "I love what PPG is doing..." You hear the "but" coming, right? Because there's always a "but". Sometimes, it's just a "but", sometimes a "but" and a "butt in". But there's always a "but". This time, 'twas the latter.

Apparently, the CEO and her pet project managers don't understand my contract review emails, notwithstanding the numerous times I rewrite them, gradually reducing need for extended reading comprehension skills. I'm now to write my reviews at a "third grade reading level"... because, it seems, all these over-educated planners and engineers aren't really literate beyond that.

I suspect, however, given their own writing styles, this stems less from a lack of literacy than from a lack of spine masked as a lack of critical thinking skills. No matter how many times I explain I am not an attorney and that practice of law without a license is illegal, they still don't want to be responsible for their own decisions whether to pursue changes or live with the contract as is.

I was brought up to my heart and soul into the things I do, to give an employer everything in my power to give them. And, in return, I was taught, an employer would be fair and appreciative. It's taken me all these years to figure out that 90% of the employers out there have little integrity and less honor when it comes to their employees. As a GenX, I should've been more cynical but I feel betrayed.

I need to stop caring whether I do the job the right way. Because it's getting in the way of my ability to actually do the job.

Hmmm...

2011-02-16T22:35:00.003-05:00

It occurs to me that if I'm having a problem with so freakin' many people that the problem is probably me.

Or the world is out to get me.

But it's probably the former.

A Picture is Worth...

2011-01-21T01:06:00.002-05:00

well, a link or two at least, if not a thousand words.

Pix from our trip to Syracuse to see my sister - wherein I drove an ATV for the first time, nearly threw myself off it, and drove a motor vehicle on a frozen lake (as well as got no sleep for days on end). Pix are of the black ice - which was really cool - and some images I caught as I was putting the Christmas tree away. Sparkly.

Pix from John's and my weekend away to Cape May. It was the first time we'd been away from the kids overnight in 4 years. It was wonderful. It was far, far too short.

Best Message of the Day...

2011-01-06T22:00:00.000-05:00

From an email forward from my dad:

"If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague."

Why I haven't posted...

2011-01-04T23:58:00.004-05:00

November 22: Matthew sick - nasty cold.
November 23: Evie sick - pneumonia. Antibiotics, albuterol nebulizer treatments every 4 hours round the clock for 10 days.
November 27: Kelley ankle injury. X-ray shows it unbroken. Naproxen and a narcotic for swelling and pain as well as being restricted to combat boots. (Still hurting but grateful for said combat boots which saved the ankle from fracture per the doctor.)
November 28-December 10: Prep for holiday open house including a zillion dozen cookies, major grocery shopping, and decoration - all on said ankle
November 30: Follow up audiology report shows consistent hearing loss for Matthew, ear tube surgery scheduled
December 1: Kelley sick - laryngitis (just in time for 12/5 concert)
December 6: Katie sick
December 11: Katie first choir rehearsal. Holiday open house - turns out at least 20 invitations were not delivered by the postal service... crowd lower than normal (but enthusiastic)
December 13: Kelley still sick - inflamed vocal cords - prednisone, only iced beverages, and a teaspoon of straight honey before bed - to continue until Christmas
December 14: Family friend and beloved colleague of John's dies suddenly at 61
December 17: Kelley misses family friend's wake but plans to go to funeral
December 18: babysitter cancels at 7:30 a.m., Katie second choir rehearsal, Katie emergency pediatrician visit -ear infection - amoxycillin, Kelley scrapes up a replacement sitter but misses funeral due to doc visit, hoping to get to burial, doesn't make it due to extended wait at doc visit, hoping to get to reception... no reception.
December 19: Lessons & Carols
December 20: Matthew starting to get sick again but surgery goes ahead anyway. Lots of thick fluid drained and an active ear infection found; Kelley sick - cold
December 23: Katie sick - cold
December 24-25: Katie sings in her first choir! Kelley sings 6 Masses in less than 24 hours.
December 26: Kelley sick - hand-foot-and-mouth disease(!!), heavy duty antivirals; blizzard
December 27: Matthew sick - nasty cold and ear infection persisting -- more eardrops; drive through blizzard to Syracuse for photo appointment with family; photographer doesn't show; no sleep for Kelley; bathtub removal to start (to stop leak that is causing a hole in the kitchen ceiling) but doesn't
December 28: Evie starts coughing; no sleep for Kelley; still no bathroom renovation
December 29: Evie sounding worse; Kelley gets on bad side of family by picking up the check at Olive Garden (I know, I don't get it either!); bad night, no sleep
December 30: Trip to urgent care with Evie, blood ox at 91%, emergency albuterol treatment (of course, no nebulizer in travel kit... will be in future!), located rental nebulizer - prednisone and albuterol breathing treatments every 4 hours.
December 31: Thank the Lord in heaven, John's here and we can go HOME! Bathroom totally nonfunctional (which it still is).

BUT:
Mid-December, I got three lovely packages unlooked for just as I really, really needed them. My voice held out thanks to the prednisone and, after, massive doses of ibuprofen. So proud of Katie in her first choir experience. And we have a second bathroom so we're at least relatively clean. And I only gained just under 8 pounds in a month of totally leaving my diet in the dust.

SO:
December, don't let the door hit you on the ass.
Onward, upward for January.

A Cryptic Post Having Meaning to Few

2010-10-27T20:53:00.002-04:00

OLÓRIN noun name of the Maia that became
Gandalf, connected to olos no. 1 (UT:396)
OLOS (1) noun "dream, vision" (olor-, as in pl.
olori from earlier olozi) (UT:396). Cf. olor and see lár #2.

CAT yaulë; an earlier source also lists the word mëoi,
but this word looks strange within the context of LotRstyle
Quenya (it would be sole singular form in –oi) –
PE16:132, LT2:348

Gimme 3 Steps, Gimme 3 Steps, Mister...

2010-10-19T15:11:00.001-04:00

Annnnnd he's off! Or, rather, he was. Matthew took 3 steps by himself Tuesday, then 4, then 5. Then he figured out that it was a lot easier to crawl and his knees have been limp spaghetti since.

This Book is All that I Need...

2010-10-12T20:26:00.003-04:00

Got a notice in the mail today. My formerly free business checking account is now going to be $10 (ok, ok, $9.95) a month. Wow! The notice said. Look at all these cool new features! What a bargain!

I'll grant you (as my parents can attest), I've never been the best with money but I'm pretty sure that paying money for features you don't need or want isn't a bargain. (The cable company never believes me on that one but I, still, firmly believe it to be true.)

It's a small thing, I know, in the grand scheme of things. It's not cancer. It's not a stroke. It could be, though, the death blow to my little jewelry design business. Some (most, even, maybe) would say that a business that can't afford $120 a year probably should be allowed to go out of business. In theory, I agree with them. In practice... oh, in practice... I am having such a hard time letting go.

You see, I've been clutching at the tattered strings of my business by my fingertips, hoping to just hold on until the kids are all in school and I can devote more time and energy to it. I'm halfway there. The business is 4 years old and I've another 4 years until Matthew is in school. I'm at the peak of the mountain... or, rather, what should be the peak.

Forget Sisyphus's stone rolling down, I swear there are bulldozers coming up the other side of the mountain, shoving ever larger piles of rubble atop the zenith. The annual LLC fee to the state was supposed to a temporary thing that's now permanent - $250/yr. (and, yes, the multimillion dollar real estate LLC conglomerates pay the same fee that my micro business does). Web hosting - $180/yr. I gave up the second website, couldn't afford it anymore. Credit card processing - $96/yr. Now another $120 to the bank? How much longer can I afford the luxury of maintaining a business I don't have the time to market?

The truth is that I should let it go. But I just can't seem to let go of the dream that went with it. Still, no matter how nice I think my jewelry is, I suppose that doesn't really matter if it doesn't sell, does it?

I really should let it go, shouldn't I?

~~~
"How To Succeed", Opening song from How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying

Holy moley, Where the heck did the month go??!

2010-09-30T23:14:00.004-04:00

I wish I had a lovely grand excuse of why I haven't blogged in a month - say, a trek to Antarctica or a month in the Pyrenees - but I don't. The school year started and, attendant upon that, all manner of other obligations which have essentially shredded any free time I have into unusable ribbons.

Katie started Kindergarten! The good news: she loves it and her teacher says she's a role model in the classroom. The bad news: I now have to get up at 7:15. Now, I know, 7:15 isn't all that early but, when you work evenings until 1 a.m. or so, it's pretty damn on the 0:dark:30 side of things. It's been hard, too, on Evie who both needs more sleep than she's getting and misses her big sister. She's adjusting slowly but surely. We've started music class again and gym starts next Wednesday; that will help. She has discovered she likes having Mama to herself... and would Matthew please not get in the way! I now am in the astonishing position of having my children fight over who gets to sit with/on me. As annoying as it can be at times, I'm grateful they want to.

Speaking of Evie... I got an awful lesson in my own need to slow down mid-month. The girls had been put to bed but were raising holy Hell. John went to a meeting. I went upstairs to put them back to bed so I could go to work. Livid is probably an accurate term. The crazed whooping should have warned me what I would face. The room, which had been tidy an hour before, was calf-deep in *stuff* from bow to stern; the girls had stripped their pajamas and their beds, strewing bedclothes and bed clothes around like so many crumpled newspapers on a windy evening. I made a (sorry assed) attempt to clear a path and finally just waded into the center of the room. I put Evie's mattress back on her bed. I put the sheet back on the mattress. I couldn't find the pillow or the top sheet or the blanket or Fuzzy Blankie.

I grabbed Evie from where she stood screaming on Katie's bed and, turning around, intended to put her in her bed. I should have moved instead of just turning. It was a little too far and she slipped out of my hands and hit her mouth on the metal of the bed (the girls have wrought iron beds). It was second only to the time I found Katie putting a plastic bag over Evie's head in heartstopping moments. Blood. Everywhere. I was having such a hard time getting it stopped that we called 911. They took one look (and not even a bend down and look kind of look) and said, "she's going to need stitches". By then she'd stopped bleeding (it actually stopped while I was still on the phone with the dispatcher- I looked down and Little Miss Neatnik was stripping her blood-covered shirt saying "ucky!!") so we refused transport and I called John. I'm sure I scared the shit out of him since he couldn't hear much over Evie's screaming other than "I need you to come home". He called 3 times on the way from his meeting and still couldn't figure out what was wrong until we got home.

We gave Evie a choice of who took her to CCMC and, amazingly, she chose me. So, John stayed with the other two and got to clean up the blood and I went off to the hospital for the next 6 hours. (I can't say enough about the staff at Children's - they are wonderful.) She wound up with a radiograph, an iv (for the ketamine), 6 stitches - two under her lip, two on her lip, and two between her upper gum and the inside of her upper lip.

And I wound up with a mother lode of guilt. If I hadn't have been in such a hurry, if I had been more patient, if I hadn't been furious... would I have been more careful, would I have cleaned the space first so I could move, would I have moved more slowly? I don't know. I am clumsy by nature and do overestimate what I'm capable of; I also like to think that, even angry, I'd never hurt my children but then something like this happens and I can't help but wonder. Needless to say, I'm a heck of a lot more cautious about moving children now and keeping a closer guard than ever on my temper. She is doing well now, fortunately, and it doesn't look like there's going to be any scarring. And she still loves me. A fact for which I am SO incredibly grateful.

What else happened this month... dance started up as did religious ed. We're, so far, handling our induction into the public school system with only minor bemusement (shocks me that kids don't go to Open house but do go to parent-teacher conferences - makes no sense to me at all!). The amount of paper that comes home from school is just... something else.

Two choirs have been up and running for a month and I go to my first CONCORA rehearsal tomorrow. October is going to be as bad as December usually is for vocal commitments - this week: 4 rehearsals (2 of which are 3 hours apiece) and 2 services. Next week: 3 rehearsals (but only 1 3 hour jobbie!) and 3 services... etc., etc. Don't get me wrong; I love every minute of it but it's exhausting!

I got and finished an order for 7 bridesmaids necklaces, got another custom order, and a donation request from a repeat customer. I really wish I had more time to create. It makes me a little crazy when I can't.

Then, of course, Katie officially turned 5 and Baby Matthew is no longer a baby, having turned 1 on the 16th.

And that pretty much covers September. October anyone?

i really like dinosaurs, i like 'em a lot, 14 pteranodons is what i've got

2010-08-30T22:21:00.006-04:00

14 pteranodons, they're friendly and tame, and i've given each one a special name...
and not one was named Bob. ;-)* (I can't quite figure out the picture thing but, if you click each picture, you should get an unobstructed view.)

It was hot. Man, it was hot. It was still 93° at 7:30 p.m. so you can imagine how nasty it was in my backyard at 2 p.m. in the afternoon. Yet...

14 little pteranodons decorated their wings...

then swooped their gliders into the "fish pond" for fish. (Though, of course, pteranodons eat fish, they found that the construction paper variety had a little too much... fiber... for tasty consumption and happily traded them for the surprise of a secret prize from the prize box.)

14 pteranodons then transformed into 14 junior paleontologists and excavated dinosaur skeletons in the sandbox and listened to Skippyjon Jones and The Big Bones before eating their cake and ice cream.

We finished the afternoon with much flapping around - the pteranodons flapped their wings, we wingless ones flapped our fans. It was... hot.

~~~
with apologies to Sandra Boynton and her "15 Animals" song... ;-)

New Piece!

2010-08-24T22:57:00.001-04:00

I've a new custom piece up at my jewelry blog if anyone's interested. :)

It's for real, darn it, go flippin' figure!

2010-08-24T21:36:00.004-04:00

It was a day for music high notes today (pun fully intended).

I got my brand new personalized choral folder today (looooove the folks at UPS, they bring me all sorts of fun stuff).

I also got a sneak peek at my gorgeous new music bag (which the wonderfully talented and completely amazing h. at Marsbarn Designs made for me to replace my now outgrown one). Yes, I've been happy chair dancing today.

But, to top it off, I got, in the mail today, my CONCORA contract. Guess this means it's for real. Holy shit.

Another brilliant zinger... another vodka stinger...

2010-08-23T22:38:00.004-04:00

When *headdesk* becomes a way of life... one winds up with a perpetual headache and needs a larger stash of vodka.

The two year old is now in a big girl bed and is potty training. The second is going quite well - we're down to 2-3 pairs of wet undies/day. The first is an unmitigated disaster; she is entirely too thrilled with the freedom. As a result, the girls aren't getting to sleep until at least 10:30 (they go to bed at 7). I'm concerned how this will play out once the five year old starts Kindergarten in a week and a couple days.

Said five year old is doing her level best to drive me stark raving mad. This little cutie said to me, as we all ate breakfast and I didn't get the food in the baby's mouth quick enough to suit the baby, "well, if my baby were crying, I'd pay attention to him." Yeah. She ignores every instruction she doesn't want to hear, wails like a banshee and/or ignores her punishments, and is generally as disrespectful as a teenager (actually, I think that may be an insult to teenagers). Pass the fermented potatoes - hey, it can be mixed with OJ; that makes it breakfast appropriate, doesn't it?

Random other things:

Newington schools says "no kids" for Open House but insists on their presence at parent-teacher conferences.

I have all of 2 social events scheduled in all of August that don't involve kids. They're the same night.

I'm loaded with ideas to blog about during the day when I don't have time to access the computer but my mind goes curiously blank in the evening.

I need to start being creative again. Not making is killing me slowly.

~~~
"Ladies Who Lunch", Company, Stephen Sondheim
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/company/ladieswholunch.htm

I've got my laptop for pleasure and my guitar for pain...

2010-08-10T00:01:00.004-04:00

Pteranodons are not dinosaurs Who knew?
I do know, however, that pteranodon screeches practiced in the car alarm the driver.

I like having my car to myself. I almost never have my car to myself.

I regulate my mood through music. Usually kid-inappropriate music.
I also regulate my mood through chocolate and booze. Both of which are too caloric to eat/drink to levels which will functionally elevate my spirits. (Heh, booze, spirits, get it?) Not to mention, using any substance to regulate one's mood is probably a bad idea.
Thus, my mood.

I hate my job but I can't gripe about it to Mr. PPG because he gets depressed that he doesn't make enough money so that I don't have to work. (This, mind you, is (sincerely) not my intention but an inevitable result.)

Where was I going with this? I don't remember. Oh well, tomorrow is also a day filled with wet underwear.

~~
Jay Brannan, from the Goddamned album. As opposed to the goddamned album. Which it certainly isn't. He's coming to Portland/Seattle and a bunch of other places that aren't near me. Go see him if they're near you. Great voice. Great lyrics. Great use of rhythm for emphasis.

6 weeks??!

2010-08-05T00:31:00.004-04:00

Oy. I know I've been busy but, yeesh!

And tonight's just a shiny object too... bad blogger!!

Vacation pix from my trip to Portland and Seattle!
http://peppypilotgirl.zenfolio.com/p58197894

Highlights of the trip:
bacon maple bars (blissful sigh)
listening to ATC from BDL to PDX (happy pilot girl)
meeting one of my very best friends for the first time (she's as great in person and just as I expected)
meeting new friends and a cranky cat (grateful not to have been attacked)
wearing combat boots and not having anyone look at me funny
not having anyone wipe their nose on me
not having to fight for sole use of my water bottle
taking all the photographs I wanted (I narrowed those at the link down from 600+) without having anyone leave me behind inadvertently (that happens to me a lot normally)
did I mention the bacon maple bars?
fountains!
coffee, coffee, and more coffee (except for Sunday nights - LOL!)

Downsides of the trip:
getting up at 4:30 a.m.
my arrival at home being a nonevent for my family
um... there must be something else but I can't think of it now!

The best part though? Just being Kelley. Not Mom, nor wife, nor worker, nor daughter. Just Kelley. It was absolutely glorious.

Can't wait to do it again next year. Hopefully, they'll have me back!

Yeeehaaaaa!!!

2010-07-01T21:10:00.004-04:00

Well, I had my audition for the PPC tonight. I sang the Handel and the Duke - they went well. Both pieces fit my voice very well, fortunately, and I only had a couple bits that I wasn't entirely happy with. The intervals went quite well (thank the Lord, no m6 or M6 down) but the sight reading sucked ass.

"You have a lovely voice, a very bright tone," he said, "we should be making final decisions in about a week."

Christine, my voice teacher (and friend), called me about an hour later - I'm in!!! I cannot express how excited I am. Excited enough to celebrate madly with martinis and chicken wings and brownies, despite my diet. This has been a goal for years and years.

Christine is proud of me. Pam, my choir director (and friend) who pushed me into auditioning despite my hesitation, will be proud of me, I know. Jessica, Julie, Gabe - all the CONCORA people I know and respect. Jackie Jarrett, my late voice teacher, would be so proud of me. I miss her tonight so much and wish I could tell her in person.

And, heck, for once, I'm proud of me, too. Who'd'a thunk that, at this point in my life, I'd actually have a vocal career??

CONCORA, here I come!

Ten Reasons My Cat and My Kids are Alike

2010-06-29T20:12:00.004-04:00

10. Loud wailing noises are typical, particularly in chorus and when you're on the phone.
9. Speaking of the phone, both are a hazard to the phone cord.
8. Both take over the bed.
7. Neither likes to stay put.
6. Wetting their heads is hazardous to everyone involved.
5. Both frequently demand to be fed then turn up their noses at the presented meal.
4. Both like to fill your lap as you sit on the toilet, regardless of your wishes in the matter.
3. Cheerios or fur, it's all the same when it comes to the need to vacuum.
2. Both creep into your bed when you're peaceful asleep and wait for you 2" away from your face.
1. Diapers, Litter Box - enough said.

And he'll be in line at the Gates, people still standing in his way

2010-06-22T16:59:00.005-04:00

Got a call from the PPC office - they need to reschedule my audition to next Wednesday or Thursday. Nothing like stretchin' the stress out, I always say.

~~~
Jay Brannan, "On All Fours", Goddamned

Thursday Looms

2010-06-21T20:09:00.003-04:00

like that proverbial bulwark never failing.

It looks like Thursday at 5:45 is a go. I have an accompanist lined up.

The audition is pretty typical and should last about 20 minutes.
Two pieces in contrasting styles, one in English, one in a foreign language.
Sightreading
Intervals
Memory testing (i.e., adjudicant plays a phrase, auditioner repeats it)
Vocalizing to determine range and tambre.

I'm doing "Ah, Mio Cor!" (Handel) for the foreign language and a John Duke piece called "Give Me Your Hand" for the English. I actually did the Duke piece for my senior year jury in college. I like both pieces a lot, which helps, and they both suit my voice. I still struggle a little with cramming "puoi" (poo-oh-ee) all into a 16th when a 1/4 note = 104 bpm but, hey, at 104, it'll go by so fast maybe the adjudicant won't notice if it comes out "poy" instead, right?

I've been working my intervals (anybody have a good memory aid for a downward m6 and M6?) and practicing (as much as one can by oneself) sightreading and memory.

The goal for the next few days is to get lots of good sleep and not get sick in between now and Thursday. Of course, when one is focused on how much one needs to stay healthy, psychsomaticism can strike so I'm also downing a boatload of immune support crap. And trying to think positively. I want this a lot but, you know, if I don't get it, I don't get it and it's not the end of the world. I'll still have a family to go home to, a day job (well, night job) -bleah - to do, and people that love me. Now, just remind me of that Thursday evening!

Any and all positive thoughts, prayers, strengthening vibes, etc. are appreciated!

Commence Official Freak Out...

2010-06-15T19:59:00.003-04:00

::deep breath::
::deep breath::

::deep breath::

First, remember the PPC?

Well, this month, I bit the bullet. Sent in my resume. Harangued my (wonderful) choir director into agreeing to write a recommendation, rode herd until she did it. Pestered my (terrific) voice teacher into acting as my accompanist. Got an email today. I've been asked to come for an audition. I've asked for a week from Thursday (6/24) at 5:45/6 ish and am waiting to hear back if that works for both the adjudicant and my voice teacher.

It took me a while and some tectonic life shifts (2 more kids, getting my first real professional singing gigs) but, more importantly, it took the honest and heartfelt responses from people - a couple of whom don't even know me. It was the strength your responses gave me that led me to answer the ad for my church job two years ago in July, which led me to where I am now. Your friendship is appreciated so very much.

Cool Piece

2010-05-30T20:56:00.001-04:00

This is Ola Gjeilo's Ubi Caritas set for SSAA. We did it a couple of weeks ago with the full choir; tonight we did it with just 6 singers (5-part divisi). This is the 6-singer version (I forgot my iPod the other day).

Straight up, this isn't the best recording; it's just my iPod and the little Belkin microphone in an incredibly acoustically live church. It doesn't do this amazing piece justice but it'll give you a taste of why I love being a church singer.

Thank you, Ola Gjeilo, for this piece.

ubi caritas.m4a

I almost killed someone tonight

2010-05-27T19:35:00.006-04:00

I posted a while ago - last year maybe? - about how little touch was in my life. I think today's events are exemplary of the situation.

Traveling westbound, just below the speed limit (32 in a 35) on my way home from choir rehearsal. Truck ahead of me has been waiting but begins its left in time for me to continue westbound without hitting the brake (slowing by taking the foot of the gas only). A motorcycle darts from the left, in front of the truck. He doesn't see me. I don't see him. Until his front wheel visually clears the truck about 10 feet ahead and to the left of me.

I slam on the brakes, yank the wheel to the right - aiming for the driveway on the right but just hoping that I miss the tree - and hit the horn. And praying. A lot. (With maybe a What the fuck!! thrown in for good measure.) (Ok, a distinctly explosive What The Fuck?!!.)

It's close. His pedal hits my driver's side front quarter panel. He uses his foot to kick himself away. I come to a stop before hitting the garbage can (or the tree). He continues on down the road until he realizes that I'm totally freaked out and comes back to make sure I'm ok.

He thanks me for reacting so quickly and apologizes for putting me in that position. He assures me he's fine and his bike is fine; he's more worried about me. (I'm good during crises but tend to get shaky after it's all said and done.) He truly does seem worried about me, too. It's a guy probably 55ish, probably was enjoying his evening thoroughly until I almost killed him, much as I was enjoying the evening until that point. I thank him and he heads back to his bike. I wait for him to leave (I don't want any more motorcycle interactions today, thank you very much) and head home still shaken.

When I get home, J is working on the yard and the kids are playing. I tell him what happened and that I'm pretty shaken up. He seems very ho-hum. I show him the scrape/slight dent to illustrate how close a call it was. His reaction: "He scratched your car?!" then he goes off with the rake. I'm shaking - a man was almost killed, for God's sake. No hug. No touch. No kind words. He refuses to let me put the baby to bed, denying me even that much human contact because he thinks my wanting to put the baby to bed has to do with a judgment on him for not doing it earlier. Because, after all, isn't it all about him?

I need touch from the people I care about. It's not an uncommon need. I've heard them referred as stress touches or grounding touches -a hand on the back as one passes around another, a hug, a casual fingertip brush on the arm, an arm around the shoulders, knuckles stroking across a cheek - just little gestures that people who love each other make without even thinking about it. There's the proof that someone loves you.

Or the proof that they don't.

once upon a time

2010-05-27T12:36:00.003-04:00

heels click
across
the tiled corridor

hair twists smoothly
upward
skirt falls
neatly
jacket tailored
appearance
polished

not just
competency,
excellence

efficiency,
organization
appreciated

i was
good
at what i did

A Bit of An Explanation...

2010-05-03T20:39:00.003-04:00

A couple weeks ago, I titled a post SEATTLE!!! This was, I realize, a bit inexplicable as the subject of the post (John winning his first jury trial) doesn't seem to relate at all. I almost didn't want to believe it was finally going to happen. You see, I'm going to meet one of my very best friends. We've been trying to do this for, quite literally, years. Add to that, I am traveling All By Myself.

But, today, it's booked. My mastercard is melting (until the "enemy" finally pays up and John gets paid for the case) but it's booked. Open jaws trip: Hartford to Portland, where she'll meet me, then we'll drive down to Seattle and I'll fly home from there.

I, Wife/Mommy/Employee, am going on vacation. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oops, did I "eeee" out loud?

Insert Puffy Lower Lip Here

2010-04-22T23:27:00.003-04:00

I outsmarted myself again! Yes, I do appear to be good at this. Unfortunately, I've not yet found a way to make it profitable, more's the pity.

My boots came - Ooooh, I'm going to love these boots. But I have to put their lovely little black selves back into the box and ship them back to Danner (well, to be fair, Danner's sent a return sticker). I had been going to go with the 8 to begin with but my sneakers (which are a men's 8) are just a hair too short so I figured I'd better go with the 8.5. Apparently, Danners run a bit longer than New Balance and they're just that much too long. My heels slip up and down and, from years spent hiking with my family growing up, I know that slipping boots = blisters.

So, sadly, back they go. Once the new ones arrive, I ship them back to Danner's recraft department for stretching in the balls (of the feet, Jade, of the feet!). I can understand Danner wanting me to try on the boots before requesting they be stretched. It makes excellent business sense. My lack of patience, however, does not understand excellent business sense, however, so I'm pouting. ;)

And lusting... after my own boots. I am such a dork!

The I Gave Up On Zumba Playlist

2010-04-21T00:01:00.005-04:00

I may have mentioned before that I was trying Zumba and have come to the conclusion that, unless one is in no need of Zumba, one will be no good at Zumba. So, I gave up. No, no, not totally, just sort of. I've taken the idea of Zumba (exercise via dance with handweights) and put it to music that requires less coordination (because, honestly?, I don't have enough coordination to spare for Latinesque hip movements). (Including links because some of this music I know some of my friends won't know...)

Under the Bridge, Red Hot Chili Peppers
warm up with my handy dandy zumba toning sticks by tossing and catching them end over end while bopping to the music - I have trouble with my hand strength and this works that and my wrists as well as my eye-hand coordination.

Rockstar, Nickelback
tricep pumps with light handweights (currently at 3.5 pounds per arm) while side stepping - I'm finding this works my biceps as well

Stand, REM
Hips move in a figure eight, with the leading hip moving forward and out first.

F.N.T., Semisonic
I love this song. One of my all time favorites. handweights, side bends to work abs while sweeping the same arm outward

Does Your Mother Know?, Christine Baranski/Mamma Mia! Soundtrack
great high energy dance number - I make a real fool of myself dancing to this one.

Total Eclipse of the Heart, Bonnie Tyler
figure 8s on the hips again, but with the hip scooping backward and out first instead of forward

Kingsword, Heather Dale
Great song about the creation of the Arthurian sword-in-the-stone legend. toe bounces - absolutely brutal on the backs of the calves

Holding Out for a Hero, Bonnie Tyler
Not quite sure how I wound up with two Bonnie Tyler songs but they both work so... tapping the heels in front - knees bent (actually, I spend just about the whole workout as deep in my knees as I can - strengthen those knee stabilizers and the quads)

Never Say Never, Styx
Ok, this is the only one that's not quite working for me. I do a standard dance floor "side-together" kind of thing here and this song isn't quite fast enough nor is it slow enough to doubletime the step. Going to have to replace it - open to ideas if anyone has any!

Danger Zone, Top Gun Soundtrack
hammer curls with handweights and side steps/bounces - going to have to up the weight on this soon. May just use a second set as I'm damn sure I can't manage a whole song's worth of the tricep things with a higher weight yet.

Chelsea Morning, Rebecca Luker
Great imagery in the song which I need by this point! Knees bent - hips side to side - you would not believe how much this makes my inner thighs burn!! Ow!!

Closing Time, Semisonic
time to stretch after 40 minutes of keeping my heartrate up.

There it is. Looks pretty damn lame when I type it out.

Their Clothes Are Out of Style and the Road Shows on Their Faces

2010-04-19T13:46:00.005-04:00

A friend and I have been talking lately about liking or disliking people we've never met. We appear to be in the minority in that we both believe that how can we like or dislike someone we don't know. Oh, we can like or dislike their behavior we've heard about but without knowing the motivation behind the behavior, without knowing the personality, the impeti (impetuses?) that created the motivation, how can we truly like or dislike the person?

I think part of my inclination toward knowing people before making a decision too is that I was such a sheep growing up - tried so damn hard to be who my parents (i.e., my mom) wanted me to be. People judged me without ever talking to me. They assumed I was stuck up because I was quiet, booksmart, and (tremendously) clumsy when I was really just shy and too scared of my parents to break the rules.

When I was in 8th grade, apparently, Mark Z was smoking in the back of language arts class. We were all called down to the principal's office individually and asked about it. People assumed I'd told on him, which I hadn't. One, Mark Z was one scary son-of-a-bitch and I would've thought long and hard about telling on him (he was quick to the fists) even if I were so inclined but, more importantly, two, I had no knowledge or even any idea that he had been smoking. He sat in the very back, I was in the second row from the front. I adored my 8th grade LA teacher and paid a lot of attention in class (unlike math class where I read Star Trek books tucked inside my math book) so my brain was occupied by other things. The principal pushed me pretty hard to say something too; I'm sure he thought I was covering for Mark. That's what really frosted the whole episode. The adults assumed I was holding out on them and the kids assumed I was selling them out. Just totally fucking sucked.

Interestingly, with 25 years perspective on this, I think Mark was actually probably just a rebel but he seemed to have a code of ethics (compared to Dennis M. who kicked me in the crotch with steel-toed boots as I walked out of social studies for no apparent reason - I couldn't pee properly for at least a week from the bruising). Mark, at least, had the guts to confront me about supposedly telling on him rather than just say stuff behind my back and he had the honor to really listen to me when I told him I hadn't; my feeling is that I think he saw underneath to someone who was having just as hard a time though from the opposite end. I think we actually understood each other better than most maybe. The rest of the school? Not so much.

I've been thinking about this, though, and I realize I do tend to make judgments about people before I really know them (though not before I've met them). I have to fight to keep myself from doing it. It's not that I automatically dislike people; it's that I automatically distrust them. Not in the sense that they might do me physical damage (in fact, if you ask my husband, I seem to have a rabid disregard for my own physical safety), but in the sense that they are probably going to make fun of me somehow, hurt me emotionally. I seem to approach life with the view that everyone out there is going to dislike me automatically and do what they can to belittle me to the world.

I realize this springs from the years of people yelling "boogerpicker" or "cunt" or whatever at me in the halls, from the time kids dumped my purse in the toilet in the boys room in 6th grade, from the stealing of my lunch, knocking me down, mimicking my rather distinctive walk, making fun of people who tried to be nice to me, from the time after time they set me up to be humiliated publicly. It's only now, at nearly 43, that I'm starting to reach beyond that, to try to view new people as potential friends as opposed to potential purveyors of cruelty.

Despite all that, I have to at least have met/talked to someone to decide whether I like or dislike them. I go on my gut. And, to be perfectly honest, I trust my gut a LOT more than I trust other people's assessments of folks.

Hmm, I'm thinking I really need to work on this trust thing, huh?

~~~
"Not Born to Beauty (Born to Rock)" The Bacon Brothers

SEATTLE!!!

2010-04-15T21:08:00.002-04:00

John had his first jury trial in nearly 20 years of practice (he's a civil lawyer, not a criminal defense one) this week. He won.

I can't say how proud I am of him. He was so stressed out about it and the guy is a good friend of ours, a steeplejack, who has been unable to work for ages due to a car accident that the other driver admits was the other driver's fault. So proud of him, not just for winning, but for facing up to his nerves and doing it anyway.

Good job, Buddy; I love you.

Creative Boot Financing...

2010-04-14T23:26:00.008-04:00

For my birthday, I am getting a ridiculously expensive pair of boots. Lest you think I am indulging in my inner girly girl (which would be a reasonable assumption given my taste in shoes), I am not. I have realized that, now I no longer work where I need to wear suits to work, I do not need another pair of cute heels. Sigh. (SIGH!)

I am, however, getting a pair of boots that makes me want to drool for a whole different reason. I have wanted boots like these since I was at least 16 or 17. My mother, even now, will be horrified... truly horrified. I think my husband wonders what happened to the meek little geek he married (the meek is fading, the geek? Not so much.) but he seems to love me anyway - what a saint! I'm pretty sure my sister will think I've lost it totally. My friends, though, even if it's not what they'd choose for themselves, they understand. Yes, I am getting combat boots for my birthday.

Well, partially for my birthday... the things are just as expensive as my Stuart Weitzman ankle boots. My darling husband (and, in this case, I mean that absolutely sincerely) is donating $100 toward the cause, then I've traded our family checkbook all my personal Target/Best Buy/random-other-places-the-family-spends-money giftcards that I've been hoarding over the last 3 years for $150 cash (what can I say, giftcards are a great gift for me, I love them but I just don't have time to shop!). Then, I figure the remainder (which is actually just extra support insoles and boot blacking) can fit into the budget.

I feel a bit like I'm pretending. These are the boots. They're the real deal. (They were recommended to me by a couple of people, including my friend Tina who, despite being on desk duty since she had her second child, still takes the occasional overtime traffic gig.) What right does a distinctly unathletic suburban mother of 3 with no connection to (other than friends in) the police or the military to wear such boots?

But, you know, I'm doing it anyway. Even if it does mean I ate a bowl of crunchy dumbass for breakfast. I am tired of falling on my butt when my tennis shoes hit anything remotely slick. I am tired of wrenching my ankles on the potholes in our driveway and just about every other paved surface in New England. I am tired of my back killing me after standing around watching the kids outside. Thus, good workboots. Why this pair in particular? (Uh oh, the geek is escaping...) They look like the boots from Stargate. ::crams geek back into the encapsulated time/space rift:: And they'll look right with my cargos. (What?? You *knew* there had to be a girly girl reason in there somewhere, didn't you??) (Yeah, I wear cargos. I may look odd but, damn, they're comfortable and eminently practical pants.)

Well, at least I won't be going to the range this summer in heels...

It occurred to me today...

2010-03-04T23:59:00.001-05:00

Sometimes all we're given is the guts to keep trying and what we'll take to the gates of heaven is the sure knowledge that we kept at it, spitting in the face of adversity to keep trying.

Like the Swallow

2010-02-22T12:00:00.007-05:00

I've been debating for a while about this post. Whether I really had the guts to begin to talk about it, even to begin to think about it. Whether I really needed to work it out for myself or just I could let it keep sleeping, hidden under the surface. I think I need to... even though it's not the sort of thing I normally talk about. I mean, who really wants the darker parts of themselves on display? So, if you're looking for a cheerful, ain't life cute post, today ain't the day. (May I suggest LOLCats instead?) But if you don't mind digging in my psyche with me, come on along.

First and foremost, I'm an adrenaline junkie. Most pilots are. Even when I'm in total control of the aircraft, that adrenaline rush of landing, the kiss of tires on tarmac is beyond compare. I like speed - the faster the better. This is not to say I don't have common sense. I understand the need to control that demand for faster, higher, farther for the sake of others.

Living on that kind of edge is not a place for mothers. It's not fair to my children to put myself at risk like that. As long as there are lives that depend on me, it's my responsibility to put them first.

But I crave the danger. And it's not enough to speed or fly. There's a part of me that wants to be dangerous. That is dangerous. This is the part that lives deepest within. The part that screams with the need to express physical rage. The part that blinds that common sense. The calculating cruelty that I cannot seem to excise from my soul. Part demon, part merciless avenging angel.

I have no outlet for that part of me. Neither my vocations nor my avocations allow for violence. I am trapped: by my life, by my love, by myself. I'm fat, clumsy, and middle-aged; when I see my reflection as I exercise, I realize my only danger to others is if I sit on them. I'm hardly going to take up being an assassin or some such at this point in my life yet there is a deep part of me that needs to let that avenging angel soar.

In a few years, when all the kids are in school, I want to learn to sword fight. Yes, it's a useless skill (unless, of course, there's an apocalypse rendering ammunition impossible to come by - then it might be useful) but it calls to me. There are times I wonder whether another lifetime saw me metal-clad and armed. I don't know whether this "pretend" dangerousness will be enough to let the angel rest more quietly, keep the demon locked away.

It scares me, the need. Even as I physically crave the danger, the craving scares me.
Who am I to need that? Logically, it makes no kind of sense. Neither my place in life, nor my faith in God permits it. If I am to trust God, I am where I should be. And where I am distinctly precludes walking the edge.

On a wagon, bound for market
there's a calf that is born to die.
High above him, there's a swallow
winging swiftly through the sky.

How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.

"Stop complaining," said the farmer,
"Who told you a calf to be?
Why don't you have wings to fly with
like the swallow so proud and free."

How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.

Calves are easily bound and slaughtered,
never knowing the reasons why.
But whoever treasures freedom,
like the swallow, must learn to fly.

How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.

Taking One For The Team

2010-02-01T23:40:00.005-05:00

Ever have to force yourself to do something you really don't want to do but you know it's for the best? Sucks, doesn't it?

Remember that aria I posted last April? In case you don't, the women's choir I sing in (TCC) sang the Pergolesi Stabat Mater last year on Good Friday. We did it with string quartet and organ and it was gorgeous. We had 5 different soloists last year, I think, 3 of whom have moved on - including 2 of the strongest voices.

Our director is also a spectacular alto - just an absolutely stunning voice. As we lost our alto section leader, she's going to have the Music Director (for the church) conduct and she's going to sing with the choir and do the alto solos. I was a little disappointed as I'd hoped to sing another solo but compared to her, hell no. She asked my voice teacher to have me work up a couple of the soprano arias for audition. Now, the woman that sang these solos last year was Eastman undergrad and Julliard grad (2 of the 3 top music schools in the country). I have a decent voice but there is NO way I can compare with people's memory of this woman singing those solos. There's another problem too: one of the volunteer sopranos who, unfortunately, isn't really suited to it wants a solo.

So, I sent an email to our director tonight with the solution that said, essentially,

"There is no way I can compete with people's memories of last year's soprano arias anyway; I don't want people to think TCC is going downhill; nor do I want to be a distracting note (heh, pun intended) for the congregants in a performance that should be seamless. So I'm going to take one for the team here and sit my ass on the sidelines of whatever running there might be."

This will allow her to restrict the solos to the two people (herself and our current soprano section leader who also has a beautiful voice) who are most suited to them. And it will be lovely.

I'm just feeling a bit grumpy about it. But there is no "I" in team, they say, and this is truer even in church singing than in sports. It's about the congregation and helping them worship. Secondarily, it's about what's best for the choir. What it's not about is me.

If you touch me, You'll understand what happiness is

2010-01-29T20:33:00.003-05:00

We did backrubs in choir Wednesday. I love when we do backrubs in choir for all the obvious reasons we do them but it always surprises me how much I like them. And I think I've finally figured out why. It's the touch. I don't get touched really.

I'm not a terribly touchy-feely person. I like my personal space a fair piece larger than most. But I realized that I don't often get touched except by the little ones who are more than happy to hang on me as much as I'll let them. I think it's a hazard of being home with them and working from home, maybe; there just aren't those small encounters where someone might pat your arm briefly or put their hand on your shoulder, those little inter-personal interactions that show someone recognizes you're there and cares about you.

I remember (and, yes, I'm dating myself a bit here) a Scarecrow & Mrs. King episode where Amanda is explaining to Lee how she knows that a particular pair who are pretending to be a couple don't love each other. They don't touch each other, she says. People who love each other do. (Of course, she says this with her hand on Lee's arm...)

The isolation of working from home, of taking care of small children, of always being busier than one has any right to be... the things we sacrifice for 'having it all'... as the song puts it, "something's got to give."

I realized, after I thought about this, that a goodly reason of why my kids hang on me is that I'm always busy trying to Get Stuff Done. So I am resolving to touch them more. To try to show them through my actions that I love them. Whether it's just a pat on the head as I pass them, an extra kiss at bedtime, a hug during the day, I will try to make sure they don't come to the same realization that I did - because, when it comes down to it, we all need that little reassurance that someone realizes that we're there and is glad of it.

~~~
Memory, Cats.

Holy Shit, It's Been A While...

2010-01-28T01:06:00.003-05:00

I am so bad.
Every time I have something to blog about, I don't have time to blog.
I say to myself, "Self, I will blog about this later!"

When later arrives, I have a curiously empty head.
Go figure.

So, quick update on what's going on:

I sing in two choirs right now - a SATB choir at one church and a women's choir at my home church. I was getting paid at the SATB choir but not the women's choir. I got an offer in mid-December for the section leader job in the women's choir but only if I also took a section leader job with my home church's SATB choir. The big kicker to that, though, is that I'd have to give up my other SATB choir job. They were willing to let me finish out my contract though and join them next year.

I love the people I sing with at my SATB job. They are wonderful people. I enjoy the choir director and really appreciate how he took a chance on a singer with very, very little professional experience. I also love the director of my women's choir - she's a great director and actually helped me get my SATB job. I wrestled and wrestled with the decision.

Well, two or three days after I got the offer, the director at my SATB job called to say that the way the church budget was looking, they might be eliminating all the section leader jobs. They'd know in February probably. I still wrestled with it but, essentially, that information made the decision for me and I let him know December 23rd that I wouldn't be back next year.

So, as of next year, I'll be professionally singing in two choirs in my home church. This will cut out one night of rehearsal, which my husband appreciates greatly, and mean that I won't wind up with conflicts between choir obligations. I will miss my SATB job people a lot though.

My middle child had ear tubes put in last May to correct a hearing problem caused by a lot of excess fluid that just wouldn't drain. She's hearing perfectly now but her speech hasn't caught up. She's being evaluated tomorrow by the Birth-to-3 people for possible speech therapy.

The youngest, now 4 months, is a hefty 17 pounds 14 ounces. He's a little chunkalunk and looks like one of those garden gnomes - too freakin' cute. He's eating mush now and teething. There is much wailing and gnashing of soon-to-be teeth going on in this household.

I get to see one of my college friends (Harriet the Spy) who I haven't seen since I got married nearly 13 years ago a week from Friday when she comes into town for a musicology conference! I am beside myself with excitement. (me) (me) (see?)

I have committed to losing 100 pounds. I am done doing fertility drugs and having children - got my tubes felchie-clipped while they were in there taking Matthew out - I have no more excuses. So, as of January 4th, I started The Big Diet. So far, I've lost 10.7 pounds.

I'm using sparkpeople.com to keep track of what I eat and I get a $10-15 reward for every 10 pounds. (For any who might be wondering, my first reward was Rebecca Luker's Greenwich Time album - what a stunning voice she has!)

I'm doing Zumba twice a week to help boost the weight loss. Ok, one observation: if you are lithe and coordinated enough to do Zumba, you don't need to Zumba. Another observation, you've never seen flobblyness jiggle quite so much as mine does whilst I do Zumba. I look like the three-tiered jello mold from the feast scene in the animated version of The Grinch. Seriously, I do. I am, needless to say, doing this from home. Why "needless to say"? Trust me, you'd've heard the screams no matter where you live had I ventured to do this in public.

I had a lovely solo at Christmas that I'd hoped to get posted by now. I still haven't even downloaded Audacity on my new laptop yet. I'll get it up eventually, much to everyone's chagrin, no doubt!

Alrighty, I must go buy my sister a swivel sweeper for her birthday. I know, I know! It's what she asked for though... what can I say? She's weird but I love her anyway!! Hopefully, next time, I'll post sooner.

A Very Expensive Cold

2009-12-19T19:11:00.002-05:00

Went to the doctor's yesterday morning for this damn cold. Z-pak, mucinex, and steamy showers were the prescription.

Got a call yesterday afternoon from the doctor's office. The results of my MRI showed NO calcification (yay!) but, the nurse tells me ever-so-seriously, it did show bilateral sinusitis.

No shit. Ya think??

Pass the Kleenex, please!

Apparently...

2009-12-17T01:01:00.002-05:00

I am not claustrophobic.

I am, however, fidgety.

Neither is a particular revelation to me. How very true each is, however, was brought home by today's MRI.

No results for a while but the procedure itself was uneventful. Many thanks to everyone for their positive thoughts. They are very much appreciated.

A Horse of a Different Color

2009-12-04T23:45:00.003-05:00

A little backstory:

Saturday the 14th of November, I was singing in a cabaret fundraiser. One measure, I was perfectly fine, the next, my head exploded in pain. The worst freakin' headache I have ever had. I quite literally saw stars. It scared the shit out of me. I was honestly wondering whether I was dying but I scarfed down two Advil courteously provided by another vocalist and made it through my two pieces (Everything's Coming Up Roses and Music That Makes Me Dance, for anyone who's interested). The Advil didn't even touch the pain.

I woke up the next morning with a remnant of the headache, which flared again into brutal life when I was singing a solo at church that evening.

Monday, it happened again (I wasn't singing this time).

Tuesday, I called the doctor.

It took nearly a week to recover from that series of headaches - because once the actual headpain was gone, my neck was killing me from holding my head as still as possible.

About a week and a half ago, I had a CT scan.

Tuesday, the doctor called me to say that the scan was "normal" but that I have a 5mm calcification in the frontal area of my brain. (Ok, I know it's not a tumor (she was quite clear on that) but, honestly, there's something slightly larger than a BB in my brain; how can that possibly be normal??!)

She can't tell me anything more. Google, however, kindly tells me there are any number of causes of brain calcification... and any number of effects. Interestingly, one of the effects can be Parkinson's-like tremors. I wonder if that's why my hands shake? I also wonder how long this thing has been there and whether or not it's likely to grow.

At any rate, now I go for an MRI on the 15th.

Not sure how to do this but, darn it, when the results come back, I want to see the pictures, I want someone to explain to me exactly what this thing is, how it got into my brain, and what the f*ck it's likely to do to me in the future. And I don't want my primary care physician to be doing this. She's a nice enough person, I suppose, but she's good with the brush off. I want a neurologist. I need to figure out how to put that to her so that she doesn't get offended and so that she does what I want. I'm Gen-X - I need more than just a "trust me, it's fine".

Fortunately, the headache has not come back. Unfortunately, it seriously weirds me out that there is something non-brain in my brain. A headache of a different nature, I suppose.

Trying to Count My Blessings

2009-11-25T00:23:00.004-05:00

Work sucks. Grateful I have a job.
Kids' behavior sucks. Grateful I have them.
Can't do anything right at choir. Grateful they haven't kicked my goram ass out.
Doctor's office doesn't give a rat's ass. Grateful my haranguing, er, persistent follow up worked.
CAT scan on head tomorrow. Grateful John is willing to stay with the kids.
Totally overwhelmed with life. Grateful... well, grateful I'm alive, I guess.

Daylight, I Must Wait for the Sunrise

2009-11-12T10:49:00.001-05:00

In memory of a most beloved baby.
November 12, 2006

Laundry

2009-11-03T11:41:00.002-05:00

Folding laundry
is
bemusing.

As I hold up
a
tiny onesie
or a toddler's
overalls,

It seems
impossible
that she was
ever
so small
or that he
should ever be so
big.

I'm Walking On Sunshine And It's Time to Feel Good

2009-10-29T22:21:00.004-04:00

I don't feel particularly respected at work. Half the time you could just eliminate "particularly" from that last sentence and it would be accurate. Hell, at least a quarter of the time beyond that you could actually say I feel rather disrespected at work! What I do, because it doesn't actively bring money through the door, isn't valued by most at our company. I and the other admin folk have actually been termed "pie eaters" (as opposed to the professional staff who were called "pie makers").

I work for a planning and engineering consulting firm. I review contracts - which means I read them from a legal perspective, basically an inhouse paralegal kind of thing. (I was a legal assistant for over a decade.) I negotiate language with our clients to try to protect our interests.

We're a small firm and are usually subcontractors to larger firms that contract with state agencies, etc.. We bill our client, our client bills the state, the state pays our client, then our client pays us. Unfortunately, our clients sometimes sit on our bills rather than sending them upstream promptly; sometimes they don't even look at them for months. So, I crafted a bit of language that I try to negotiate into all our contracts that requires them to review our bills promptly and then submit them to the state promptly.

Most of our clients fight including the language. It can be an uphill battle for sure. But, tonight, I I was reviewing a contract between one of our clients and the state tonight. The client had negotiated my language into their contract with the state. You know you've written some good stuff when someone steals it for their own use.

A little respect is nice... even if it comes from a client and you wouldn't even know it unless you stumbled on it. I did stumble on it and - hey - I know it's a small thing but I'm flattered!

Dog Poop

2009-10-29T12:25:00.005-04:00

May I vent rather crudely? Um, yeah, it's my blog, I suppose I can, huh?

GDMF SOBs that don't clean up after their dogs in public!! May they be doomed to spending an hour each day cleaning that poop out of all the little crevices in toddler shoes and clothing as well as car seats both bench and child. And then may they slip and land face first in some other person's dog's leavings.

An Overheard Dinnertable Conversation

2009-10-18T19:11:00.005-04:00

J: Were you good today?
Katie: I'll be good tomorrow.
J: But were you good today?
K (reluctantly): No.
J: Why weren't you good today?
K: Because I'm going to be good tomorrow.
J: Why weren't you good today?
K (firmly): I don't want to talk about that.
J: Why weren't you good today, Katie?
K: (silence)
Me (from the couch where I'm feeding the baby): Because she 'hates Mommy'.
J: Why do you hate Mommy?
K (cheerfully): Because I like you better!
J: Because you like me better?
K: Uh-huh.
J: Why do you like me better?
K: Because you're not mean to me.
J: What did Mommy do to make you mad?
K: (mumbles something unintelligible)
J: What did Mommy do to make you mad?
K (indignantly): She told me to go back upstairs!
J (ever so reasonably): But Katie, you were supposed to be upstairs.
K: Hmph!

My Name is Katie and I'm a 4 Year Old Insomniac

2009-10-05T22:07:00.002-04:00

Ok, so she's not really an insomniac, per se, in that it's not that she can't sleep, it's that she won't sleep.

It's affecting her sister's ability to sleep (Katie plays and dances and so forth instead of sleeping), it's affecting her behavior (much poorer when she doesn't get enough sleep).

She has a CD player with a quiet lullaby CD. She has a water bottle next to her bed. We have a regular bedtime routine. We don't let her stay up; she gets scolded/yelled at/etc. if we catch her playing/dancing/etc. instead of lying quietly in bed.

Any ideas??

A Dash of This, A Pinch of That

2009-09-28T22:57:00.003-04:00

Why is my camera always on the other side of the room when I want it? I looked over while Evie was eating dinner tonight. She was skewering her hot dog slices on the pointed tip of a big fat crayon before using the crayon as a utensil. Note to self: be sure to provide a fork in the future!

Matthew appears to be back on the weight gaining track. He'd lost, then gained in the hospital, then lost some more as of the end of last week. My thought is that second loss was due to me stopping the morphine (damn!) - either the increased pain level inhibited milk let-down or maybe he was missing the dope hitting his system through the milk. At any rate, hopefully we're back on the gain train for good now.

The Syracuse Medical Cootie Problem continues - this time, the ER visits spread outside the family to my sister's friend (chest pains, she's ok now).

Oh, and we, too, were visited by the Syracuse Medical Cooties. Evie wound up in the ER at the children's hospital Saturday night after having possibly eaten part of a mushroom in the yard. (She's fine - a dose of activated charcoal and some observation.) Two observations on the event: (1) the CT Poison Control people are great and (2) it's very helpful that our pediatrician is a bigwig at the children's hospital. He called to let them know John was coming with Evie and he didn't have to wait on queue at all.

Feeling a bit isolated these days. It's funny how even the small interactions with store clerks or the preschool teachers can make one feel connected to the world and how deprived one feels when one can't even leave the house. I do realize, of course, that people are busy and this, too, shall pass; but, as my friend Marla says, "yeah, like a kidneystone!"

I am grateful for John, who has been an enormous help. It's hard for me to accept the help. I feel guilty that I'm not doing more. I forget (though, to his vast credit, he does not) that feeding the baby is work too. Even though it takes up probably a good 8 hours a day (8-12 feedings of 30-60 minutes each, then the concurrent diaper changes)k, I'm just sitting on my ass while doing it so it makes me feel quite the lazy bum.

Particularly when the girls are being truly wretched. Jealousy, exhaustion - not good for anyone's temper and the combination is really ... unpleasant. Evie is just getting into the tantrum age anyway and has taken to beating on her older sister (to Katie's credit, for the most part, she just bursts into hysterics instead of hitting back).

I'm back at work (since last Wednesday, a week after my c-section) 10 hours a week. Thank the Lord in heaven it's from home but, still, between that in the evenings, watching 3 kids all day, recovering from abdominal surgery, and being woken 2-3x night, I am too tired to even get myself carried away in a good make believe.

Next doc appointment on Wednesday. Should get ok'd to drive but, still, Matthew's too young to really go anywhere - particularly with all the H1N1 crud. But maybe I can get a spare half hour to just go for a drive or something by myself some night. As long as I'm back by the next feeding (an hour and a half apart lately - methinks a growth spurt is coming on).

Alright, enough.
Later.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

2009-09-25T21:26:00.005-04:00

Matthew William Patrick Kelly
8 lb 5 oz, 19.5" long

Evie at 17 months
Yogurt is good! Spoon usage? Not so much. ;)

Katie at 4 years
All imaginative sociability

And my heart is in your hands too, my own dear children.

We Have Ignition in 3-2-1...

2009-09-15T20:03:00.003-04:00

Less than 12 hours to go.

Thanks for all the good wishes, everyone! I'll post as soon as possible after - probably Sunday night or Monday.

T-minus 1.25

2009-09-15T00:10:00.003-04:00

Katie has now been duly feted for her birthday. I cannot believe she's 4 already. Yow.

Only 29.25 hours until we leave for the hospital. It's damn weird this whole scheduled thing. I mean, Katie's birth was scheduled but the induction didn't take and it quickly went to unscheduled. Evie had a c-section scheduled but then, of course, arrived a month early without warning. It's just odd knowing that "ok, tomorrow I need to do blah-blah-blah because we need to get up early Wednesday."

I'm now officially on maternity leave - I know I'll have to check my work email tomorrow at least briefly but, other that that, I will not be doing work-work for the next week. Back at the keyboard for that on the 23rd.

Alrighty, I still have Katie's lunch to make and 18 cupcakes to frost for tomorrow. Yes, I bought the cupcakes for most of her class but this one poor kid has a violent peanut allergy and can't eat them. The preschool teachers won't let her eat anything I might make and send in for her either. So, I made the cupcakes, frosted a few and ran them over the backyard to her mom to send in with her. If they won't let her eat what her mom sends, then we're in bad shape for sure.

Oh, by the way, my dad was fine this a.m. so I'm pretty sure it was that he overdid it. We're on for Wed. a.m.

'Night all. Baby in less than a day and a half. Yikes!!

T-minus 2.5

2009-09-13T22:28:00.002-04:00

Wrote this post once, damn Blogger ate it!

Ok, let me start with a little medical background refresher for my family for the last month...
August 14th... my sister has her knee put back together from a complete ACL and partial MCL tear.
August the next week... she passes out and convulses in her bedroom - double pulmonary embolism.
August/September... my brother-in-law (sister's hubby) winds up in the hospital with some sort of bladder issue *and* viral meningitis.
Two days after that... my dad is diagnosed as needing a (basically) immediate hip replacement.
Today... my parents arrive in CT from NY. Dad gets sick with vertigo, nauseau, and chills.
Also today... my sister-in-law is diagnosed with Lyme Disease and sky high BP.
Also today... my youngest has been running a high enough fever all day that we've been crisscrossing the ibuprofen and acetaminophen - no other symptoms.

As you can see, we've got some pretty damn nasty medical/bad luck cooties floating around.

So, here's my problem. I'm having major abdominal surgery Wednesday morning and, of course, it's not like they can put it off. Katie turns 4 tomorrow. We're supposed to be having my folks and John's mom over for dinner tomorrow. Also, my parents are supposed to be babysitting my children at 5 a.m. on Wednesday whilst I go have the aforementioned major abdominal surgery. I do not have any urge to catch whatever Dad's got right before said surgery. I have no urge to have my children catch whatever Dad's got when I won't be around to take care of them. I have even less of an urge to have a newborn exposed to this shit. Do I disinvite Dad to the birthday celebration? Will Mom be carrying enough exposure to expose us? Should I be finding an alternate sitter for Wednesday a.m. (pretty damn difficult to find someone for that early on such short notice!)? I don't want to cause a family rift here... maybe I'm overreacting?

Got The Suitcase just about packed - one thing I learned from the last 2 stays is that what you really need most is stuff to do, decent shampoo, and toothpaste. It gets boring lying around in bed, particularly when you're still attached to a catheter and can't move around. Also, when you're finally allowed to shower, you really don't want to use the industrial strength bar soap provided. And, of course, toothpaste isn't provided. Worse to worst, you can always use your finger if you don't have a toothbrush but it's not the Ritz... they don't have a front desk to keep you stocked.

In other news, got my hair cut - yay! Now sporting a very Tasha Yar-esque 'do. Good thing is I like it. Bad thing is I like it... I'm supposed to think it's too short. I, unfortunately, don't. And the shorter my hair is, the more often I have to have it cut, which gets expensive.

Any advice out there on the family medical situation?

T-minus 3.5

2009-09-12T21:14:00.002-04:00

Just in case anyone was wondering, screw-mount drawer locks are a bitch to put in. Two down, three to go. Not sure I'm going to make it on that one.

I was also supposed to pack The Suitcase today. Didn't get there.

Did get down to Ikea though to get the easel for Katie's birthday and made the lovely discovery that its price was knocked down from $25 to $15, allowing me to buy the paper roll holder thingie as well.

Made quiche yesterday - 3 of 'em. Two went in the freezer and we ate one (well, most of one... ok, well, John and Katie weren't enamored so *I* ate most of one and they picked at it) for dinner. I'd like to get a lasagne made and frozen too - I need to get those no-boil lasagne noodles first though.

Last night was rough. Katie wouldn't go down for screaming, got up in the middle of the night and wouldn't go down (again), and then got up at an ungodly hour and screamed some more. What was she screaming about, you ask? Get this. She was screaming because Evie was babbling at her. Of course, the more she screams, the more Evie ramps it up, thinking it's a game. Absofuckinglutely ridiculous. I also got up seven, yes seven, times to pee.

Oooh, and I got a package today! Fun!! I haven't opened it yet but I'm thrilled!!

Alrighty, I'm babbling and tomorrow is also a day. G'night all.

A Different Day

2009-09-11T13:41:00.002-04:00

It's pouring today - gray skies, chilled air. More late October than early September.

It was not this way 8 years ago. It was one of the most stunningly beautiful early fall days I've seen. The sky was blue - oh so very blue - and the air was the perfect fall temperature - just warm enough to make a jacket unnecessary. The leaves were just starting to turn here on a few trees.

It was, in short, utterly incongruous with the hatred- and jet-fuelled destruction unleashed on New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania. A day filled with that much horror should have had weather in keeping: rain, snow, windchill, sleet. Anything but the crystalline clarity of the colors and air that surrounded us.

Though I still enjoy that type of fall day very much, I can't help but think of the lives lost that day when I experience one.

T-minus 5.5

2009-09-10T22:54:00.002-04:00

Had the first women's choir rehearsal of the season tonight. Didn't need to go, I suppose, given that I won't be singing for another month plus but I needed to get out of the house. It's my only "adult only" activity - singing - and I've missed it sorely over the summer!

Turns out my passenger missed it too! Or maybe he was objecting to it. Hard to tell. He danced about a fair amount though!

Last gym visit before his arrival was today as well. Guess I'll start packing the suitcase (i.e., the repurposed gym bag - LOL) tomorrow.

T-Minus-6.5

2009-09-09T23:04:00.002-04:00

As in, 6.5 days until the occupant makes his way, via slice in my abdomen, into the world. You'd think I'd be relaxed and calm by now, that I wouldn't worry about him and just be focused on getting through the last week of discomfort.

Now, don't get me wrong, being this pregnant is distinctly uncomfortable. But.

But I worry. I know way too much about what can go wrong. Sure, our loss was early on but I know a lot of people who lost their babies at the last minute. Cord accidents, true knots, placental abruptions, previously undiagnosed genetic disorders. If he's not moving, I worry that he's still. If he's moving, I worry that he's working his umbilical cord into a knot or around his neck.

It doesn't help that I'm beat and don't really have the energy to do the last few remaining things that need to be done (or can't - i.e., put the new, narrower car seats in the backseat - I simply don't fit it my backseat at this point). He's dropped so I'm sleeping better at least - I can breathe without stabbing pain in my stomach. But I can't focus for the worry.

Anybody got a nice shiny object?

Ahhhhh, Back to School

2009-09-02T22:42:00.003-04:00

So, my blood pressure fell by tens of points today. My nearly 4 year old went back to preschool - 9:30 - 2:30 T, W, and Th this year. I'd feel guilty about how good I feel about this but for three things: (1) she LOVES school, (2) she's much better behaved when she returns (which doesn't say much for my parenting, I'll admit) and, best of all, (3) I like her a LOT better for having the break from her during the day.

I got an hour to myself this afternoon while the 16 month old was napping. It was glorious. Yes, I should have folded the laundry. Yes, I should have finished up the bills. Yes, I should've changed the sheets in the crib and put away all the girls' too big/too small clothes that are cluttering up the nursery. Yes, I should done any number of practical things that are hard to do with the kids about. Screw that shit. The sunroom was the perfect temperature with the windows open and I looked out on a sunny cheerful backyard, it was quiet and peaceful, and I was alone. Alone!!! I played on Facebook and sent a couple of long, chatty emails to friends. Totally fucking worth it.

Cheers all!

Rest in Peace, Senator. You Will Be Missed.

2009-08-26T13:45:00.003-04:00

“For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.” Edward Moore Kennedy

::Smacks Head in Frustration::

2009-08-25T13:33:00.002-04:00

You'd think I'd learn. After all, I've been part of my family for 42 years. But I never do. Sometimes, I am just a fucking idiot!!

Someday, someday I will learn not to comment... on anything.
Someday, someday I will learn to just take what I am offered, whether I need/want/can use it or not, and stuff it in a box or give it away.
Someday, someday I will learn to not offer any details of my personal life.

Someday.
Someday.

If Today Was Your Last Day...

2009-08-19T20:35:00.004-04:00

Today was perilously close to being my sister's last day. She dodged a big time bullet.

She had reconstructive knee surgery (completely torn ACL, partially torn MCL, extra long something'r'other that involved drilling into the bone) last Friday. She was 911'd to the hospital today after passing out and convulsing. She just managed before she passed out to click the button on the walkie-talkie and whisper "help, help".

Fortunately, my mom's house (next door) was quiet; she heard the whisper and went next door where she found my sister unconscious and, then, convulsing, in her bedroom.

And, for once I'm not going to save the whole lesson for the end, here's the first part: LISTEN when other people tell you about what they're going through. Even if you don't care that it's what friends do, you never know what you'll learn that may be useful later. For example, I learned from one of my best friends about pulmonary embolisms awhile back.

So we pushed for the ER staff to check for that. The ER doctor rather arrogantly dismissed the idea because my sister didn't recall having a hard time breathing. We pushed some more. (Ok, I pushed my mom via phone, she pushed my sister's husband via phone, my sister's husband and my dad pushed the ER doctor - it was kind of a chain event thing.) The doctor pushed on my sister's leg, it hurt. They did an ultrasound. Yep, a clot. They sent her up to get scanned all over. She does, indeed, have a clot in the upper lobe of each lung.

So here's the second part of the lesson: DEMAND to be heard. Unfortunately, we can't rely wholly on the health care system to know what's wrong with us and, in the end, we are responsible for our own health care. If it doesn't make sense in your gut, ask questions. If it still doesn't make sense, ask more questions. Keep asking, keep pushing.

If we hadn't, if we'd just accepted the codeine allergy theory, my sister would've been sent home from the ER with nothing more than "you just fainted" and a pat on the head which would have, most likely, killed her.

Scared the shit out of us all but she'll live. My sincerest thanks to that friend - I am so sorry you had to go through what you did to learn that but what you learned and shared saved my sister's butt. You know who you are and you're one of my best friends for many, many reasons.

When Does Parenting Become Fun?

2009-08-12T19:49:00.003-04:00

I had to leave music class today 2 songs in because Katie was being so disruptive (despite multiple warnings and a stern discussion before class) it just wasn't fair to the other kids n the class.

Now, granted, I think too much. But, in thinking too much today, I believe I've hit on why I get so very angry with Katie when she gets in these long, long spells of rotten behavior: she takes every drop of joy there could be out of parenting.

I want to like her. I want to have fun with her. I want to share the things I see that I find cool. I want to take her neat places and giggle together. Her behavior precludes it. I have to be the hardass every minute and it gets wearing. If I'd wanted to be a drill sergeant, I'd've enlisted.

I really want to like her and it makes me very, very sad that I don't.

God, I Love My OB!

2009-08-11T15:30:00.002-04:00

So, last night, John and I drafted an appeal letter on the ultrasound denials. This morning, I called my OB's office before I sent it, just in case they had anything they wanted me to add.

Well, Jessica says, they got the same letters yesterday. My OB was apparently really upset and called their medical director and raised holy hell (my term, not hers). The ultrasounds are now approved.

I could not ask for a better doctor.

Oops, They Did It Again...

2009-08-10T17:47:00.004-04:00

Ok, first, please forgive the language that is about to follow...
GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING HEALTH INSURANCE COMPANY!

::takes deep breath and visualizes their medical director roasting on a spit::

Ok, now that the vent is out of the way, let me explain.

Yes, the health insurance company is at it again - determined they shall not fail in their mission of racheting the stress level of pregnant moms to Total Freak Out Level by the last few weeks of pregnancy. People who have been reading here awhile may remember that, last time, they threatened about 6 weeks before I delivered that I wouldn't be able to deliver at the hospital where my OB practices. That, being an issue that affected the state insurance pool as well as our tiny little bit of business, got resolved by the State Controller getting involved.

This time... well, a bit of background first... Evie, my 16 month old, was delivered nearly a month early as her amniotic fluid levels had dropped precipitously (>50%) from Tuesday to Thursday. This time, the OB warned us that the insurance company wasn't going to cover twice weekly fluid check ultrasounds and we've been scheduled for weekly ones with fetal non-stress tests for the next 5 1/2 weeks until delivery. Well, today, my mail brought me the news that the insurance company won't cover those either - sorry, they say, it's not medically necessary. If a baby doesn't have enough amniotic fluid, first, he or she stops growing, then, loses weight, and, if it goes on long enough, the child essentially starves to death in the womb. There is no question that ultrasounds are safe, they are not experimental, and have been shown, as I am a direct example of, to save fetal lives.

Not medically necessary, my substantial ass.

Mothering Fail

2009-08-04T09:19:00.004-04:00

So, today, we're trying a new experiment.

Whereas Katie can't be trusted to sleep in the guest room, and
Whereas putting her and Evie in the same room for nap was an unmitigated failure, and
Whereas she clearly isn't getting enough sleep,
Now, therefore, she is lying in a little blanket bed on the living room floor under my reluctantly watchful eye. She has a stack of books and a big stuffed animal. I'm playing new agey meditation music on the computer.

So far, I've had to remind her of the no-talking rule 6 times. She's been (sort of) down 10 minutes.

The sleep thing is getting to be a real issue because her behavior is exponentially worse when she's tired. She's 10 times as sassy, 10 times as defiant, and 10 times as disobedient. Given that she's really rather sassy, defiant, and disobedient in the first place (well, she is almost 4!), it makes for days filled with parenting crises of confidence.

I get tired of spending what feels like 90% of my time yelling at her. It's not fair to her. It's not fair to Evie. It's not fair to me. I don't like my household to be wreathed in such negativity but I also know it's my job to civilize my child. I can't release her out into the wild without such things as manners, knowing when to shut the fuck up, how to be considerate to others, yada yada yada.

This boils down, at this point, to teaching her that disobedience has a price. The trick, however, is proving to be finding the price that will make her realize it's not worth it.

Take picking up. I know, for a fact, that the child is perfectly capable of picking up; she's done it on multiple occasions. Sure, things may not always be in the most logical or "proper" spot afterward but, hey, she's 3. But, like most of us, she'd far rather play than pick up. Now, just so you know, I don't expect her to remember to pick up. She gets reminders - several - and some direction in how to go about it (even though she's proven she can do it without direction when she wants).

So, in comes Sol, the Pick Up Fairy. (Personally, I always imagined the Pick Up Fairy to be a girl - my husband, however, insists the PUF's name is Sol (for S.O.L.). Makes for an interesting visual since it's already been established that the PUF wears striped tights. Of course, it does explain the bowler hat - it covers his bald spot.) Sol recently added our house to his rounds. After Katie goes to bed, he comes and takes the toys she's left out. Some, he'll let me put away for Evie, some go off to Ukrainian orphanages. Sounds like it'd be a pretty good incentive to pick up, right? Yeah. So did we. So far? Not so much. We get a lot of "well, I didn't like that anyway!" and "I don't want it!" Yeah, she does the martyr thing. I absolutely hate taking my child's playthings away but, if she refuses to even make the attempt to take care of them, she doesn't deserve them. It usually leaves me on the verge of tears.

Another constant is refusing to put on her shoes. She knows how. She's actually quite good at it. But, if she doesn't feel like putting on her shoes, she refuses to. She'll sit there like a lump. Like after swimming class yesterday. Despite the pavement being "too hot!!!", would she put them on? No. She wound up having to go to bed without supper as soon as we got home. It seems an overreaction to the situation, I know, but it's so much bigger than the shoes. Because, basically, it all boils down to this: Do what you're told when you're told. And she doesn't... consistently, unremittingly doesn't.

Ironically, my 15 1/2 month old is far more obedient that Katie has ever been. She'll even willingly help pick up, she holds her foot out to have her shoes put on, she tries to help when we dress her (all three things, Katie never did). It gives me a little hope. Because, otherwise, I feel like a total failure as a mother.

Oh, by the way, now, 1/2 hour into naptime, she's had to move to her time out spot for the remainder of nap (with blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal) because she simply wouldn't stop talking.

The Patience Poem

2009-07-28T14:33:00.002-04:00

A friend recently sent me a poem she'd written about her experience with grief in losing a child. I'd like to share it here (with her permission). Thanks, Robyn for putting into words what is so hard for people to understand about we parents with children who are no longer with us. It's the first thing, she says, she's ever written. I hope it's not the last.

Patience…………..Understanding

When a child dies a part of you dies with that child
A future you dreamed about no longer exists.
Everyone waits on the side for you to move on.
Everyone wonders why you still may grieve from time to time.
Have they ever lost a child?
Can they really know what we are feeling?
Everyone must understand this loss is a life long journey.
Patience…………Understanding - that’s all one can do.
Those of us who have had a child die don’t want the pain or want to dwell on the past.
The pain is just there.
It eases up and gets easier, but the pain will live with us forever.
Forever because it’s a future we will never know.
Only a dream we dreamed.
Only a prayer we prayed.
Only a wish we wished.
Only a hope we had hoped.
Not a day goes by that we don’t think of our child that is not with us.
It may not be an all day affair wondering what they would be doing right now.
But it may be a song we hear
A moment we feel
A smell we come across
A short simple thought of that child who is not with us.
Just give us Patience……………Understanding
Our emotion, whatever it may be, will forever be with us.

Robyn Lloyd
Mother of Hailey
Born still May 31, 2008
July 2009

Another Dichotomy

2009-07-22T23:39:00.003-04:00

I'm lucky. My interactions with the police - whether troopers or local officers - have always been polite and respectful on both sides. I have always found the people I have known - whether personally or in their professional capacity - to be professional, considerate, thoughtful folk who honestly care about people.

A post came across a listserv I'm on today that really appalled me and spat in the face of what my own experience has been of the police. (This is a listserv for people who have lost children and are either pregnant or trying to conceive afterward.) It just upset me so much that I have to relate it (in abbreviated fashion) here in the hopes that someone has some ideas on how this woman can keep other people from being treated this way or at least get an apology.

This woman lost her baby at 7 wks old. She called the ambulance when she went to check on her baby and the girl wasn't breathing. The paramedic told her she could ride in the ambulance. The police refused to let her, detaining her for hours. The baby was pronounced dead at 7:15 a.m., she wasn't even told for another 2 hours and 20 minutes. When she was finally allowed to see her baby, it was for less than a minute, the child was completely covered, and she wasn't allowed to hold her, touch her, or even uncover her to see her face or kiss her one last time.

They were demeaning and aggressive, tried to get her to say she did things she hadn't done and to confuse her statements. They wouldn't allow her husband to be with her. They made no bones about the fact that they thought she killed her baby. An autopsy showed no signs of any trauma and the cause of death was determined to be SIDS.

She accepts they had a job to do but, you know, that doesn't excuse cruelty. No apology was given. No expression of condolence. They never, even after the autopsy, returned any of the items with the baby at the time they took her from her parents - not even her pacifier. No wonder so many people don't trust the police!

In every field, there are good eggs and bad ones. It's that kind of police that give police a bad name - just as the sleazy attorneys that advertise on busses and cheesy TV ads give the honest ones a bad name. Just as there are far more honest attorneys than sleazy ones, I'm sure there are far more good and compassionate police than cruel ones but it's situations like this that just make my heart cry. I mean, for God's sake, they lost their baby - at very least have the courtesy to give back her pacifier and say "I'm so sorry for your loss."

As I said, I'm lucky. The police officers I know and have known are good people that go out of their way to be kind, even as they are professional - ones who take seriously the dictum "to protect and serve". I am grateful for them and, at one time, thought about becoming one (before my mother pointed out rather bluntly I was way too fat, way too clumsy, and way too blind). I think my rose-coloured glasses just got broken.

The Only Good Thing About Morning

2009-07-22T09:56:00.004-04:00

is that it means you survived the night before.

My 3-going-on-4-going-on-14 year old starts talking the minute she wakes up and keeps talking until she goes to sleep. Sometimes she even talks in her sleep. "Mommy," she pleads when asked to 'please dear God be quiet', "but I have to talk."

I need earplugs for the morning until I can have coffee again!!

In the meantime, in case anyone can answer this, I'd appreciate it..."who was the queen for baby Jesus?" Also, in case you're curious, she advised me that she straightened the pepper so it wasn't tipping (FYI, it wasn't tipping in the first place) and "what sound does pep make?"... and the list goes on... and on... and on...

"Mommy, I have something to tell you - why is the fan not on? Mom, I'm hot!!!" And, by the way, her "shoes are locked." No, I have no idea what that means either.

Definitely earplugs. Except then I couldn't hear if the baby needed me. Crap.

Ideas Among the Missing

2009-07-13T22:00:00.002-04:00

Ok, I've had about 8 things I've wanted to blog about in the last month but can I remember any of them when I actually sit down to write? No, of course not. Because that would be the hallmark of a practical, organized person with a calm and rational brain. Which, of course, would not be me. So I'll just babble for a while. You might as well tune out now!

Got taken to see the Goodspeed Opera House production of Camelot last Saturday and to dinner too! It was wonderful but sad - a dichotomy of an evening. The company I was in was superlative. Dinner was absolutely marvelous - mussels, clams, and shrimp over homemade wide noodle pasta with light bacon alfredo sauce. Absolutely spectacular. The production was, as Goodspeed productions typically are, excellent. Gorgeous sets, beautiful costuming, wonderful cast. It's, at its heart, though, a sad story. Lerner and Lowe did a wonderful job, as did the cast, of really portraying how heartbreaking the triangle is for each of the three. Love is a funny thing and catches us each in many ways. Humanity, also, at its heart, is a funny thing. The inevitable war that results from a king's attempt to maintain the civilized society they all so strived for is tragic.

The sense of dichotomy is heightened, for me, as the reason I got to go was that their traditional 4th for the dinner'n'show evening was direly ill and in the hospital and, indeed, 2 of my 3 hosts left at intermission to be with her. So, as thrilled as I was to be there, I couldn't help feeling somewhat guilty that my good fortune came only at the cost of another's misfortune.

~~~

I told my mother off two weekends ago. I just couldn't take constantly not being good enough. I find it very interesting that she told me it was all in my head and that no one else feels that way when I know, for a fact, that each of my siblings has had the same conversation with her.

My sister thinks my father is trying to eat himself to death. Of course, if I lived with my mother, I'd probably try too... or fall into the "candy's dandy but liquor's quicker" trap.

It's another dichotomy. She's my mother and I love her. I do my best to see her personal demons behind the vitriol and let things go. Still, one can't help but feel those barbs strike home.

~~~

Perhaps my life itself is simply a dichotomy. I don't feel like a boring person (to me) yet, when I examine what others must think... it's pretty obvious that I am. My mother termed me once, as I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before, her ornamental child. I am still torn as to whether it was said fondly or as a veiled slap.

Does it just come down to whether or not being ornamental does any good in the world? Maybe so. Do I, despite my protestations to the contrary, really believe underneath it that being the ornamental child is useless? Have I bought into the Puritan Work Ethic so sternly that I dismiss my own worth if indeed there is any? Yet, I struggle to make it through the "worthwhile" parts of my day - living for those times when I can create, whether art, music, words. And, if that is such a struggle for me and the other such a joy, where does that leave me in terms of worth? How can I truly be a useful, worthwhile sort of person when all I really want to do is be creative, when every scheme to make a little side money revolves not around a second (well, third... no, fourth) job but around music or art? Is it courage to keep slogging through my "worthwhile" tasks or cowardice... or both?

I simply don't know.
And,
because I don't,
I'll shut up
now.
Probably to your
eternal
gratitude.

A Rant About Gender and Pregnancy

2009-06-16T14:09:00.000-04:00

First, some (much abbreviated) background, my apologies to those for whom this is a repeat.

I got married at 30. We started trying to have kids at 34, by 35 we were full into the ART (assisted reproductive therapy) swing. At 37, tired of all the hormones, tests, and procedures, we called it a day. At 38, we unexpectedly (very unexpectedly) had a baby girl. At 39, we lost a baby. At 40, we plunged back into the Clomid full force and, at 41, had another baby girl. Afterward, we decided that to just let fate do its thing. I wasn’t going back to hormones (either assistive or preventative), I wasn’t going to monitor for ovulation. After all, fertility has always been an issue for us and, of course, it declines as one gets older. Not to mention, with two kids under 3 and me working nights, how much, er, personal time do we get? As we now know, the Great Good Thing had different plans for us, of course.

Ok, on to today’s rant...

So, my boss calls this morning with some action items (I hate that term) from yesterday’s ExCom (I hate that term too - we’re not the military, for Pete’s sake) meeting. She wants me to make another presentation on why contracts and, more specifically, the language in our contracts is important and to go through our contract procedures with our PMs (project managers, not prime ministers though, of course, some of them think of themselves as the latter). They want me to make this presentation at one of the monthly staff meetings. Now, there’s really only one date that will work as July’s meeting is coming too quickly to put a presentation together on our currently shortened hours and still get the other work done and September is, well, occupied. So, August it is.

In the course of this discussion, she reveals that she’s told ExCom that we’re expecting. I have to say I’m a bit surprised. She was the one that wanted me to keep this quiet (because our COO was p-i-s-s-e-d that I got pregnant last time - that much was made very clear to me at the time: heaven forfend, I should put my personal life above the company) and, given that I work from home, it’s possible I might have kept it secret until well after the fact. (We don’t have maternity leave, per se, and, last time, I was working 10 hours a week within a week of getting home from the hospital.) But, ok, they know. And, she adds, “they’re all happy you’re expecting a boy.”

Ok, this I have a problem with. Like they wouldn’t be happy if it was a girl? Still, I’d think it was just a wording thing except that I’ve talked to several people for whom the only saving grace of this pregnancy is that the baby appears to be a boy.

The pregnancy was received poorly by many people until we/they found out the baby is a boy. From my parents to random acquaintances, people seem to think that we’re crazy/disobedient/inappropriately fecund to have a third but, oh, it’s ok because “John’s getting his boy”. So, WTF? How could our pregnancy possibly affect you? It’s not like my parents babysit or really have much to do with our children at all. It’s not like we’re imposing on friends to watch our kids or run errands, etc. We’re not on public support; we pay our taxes, Katie’s preschool tuition, and our bills. It’s not like I work fewer hours or ask for weird accommodations due to pregnancy... as I mentioned earlier, I was back in the saddle within a week, answering emails, and back at 10 hours a week the following week and back to my full 20 hours a week within 6 weeks. I took no unpaid time off. I took no paid time other than my normal sick leave and normal vacation time: time to which I would have been entitled whether or not I had a baby. So how could our pregnancy, the number of children we choose to have, possibly be any business of yours to judge?

Let me just say this publicly: we were thrilled about this pregnancy from the day we discovered it. We are happy it’s a boy; we would have been happy if it had been a girl - we just care that it’s healthy (which, thank God, he appears to be). Every child is a miracle, particularly when one has had such trouble conceiving... every child.

I guess I am grateful they don’t have to have the experience which leads them to understand how precious each chance to be a parent is. Fertility crap sucks - there’s only about 1 or 2 people in this world that I’d be tempted to wish that misery upon (and those people I wouldn’t want reproducing anyway so I suppose in the end I wouldn’t wish it upon them either).

But, I say again, WTF?!

Today

2009-05-13T22:38:00.003-04:00

All went well, thank goodness, though I suspect Evie's enmity toward Dr. Valdez may be of the enduring variety. The nurse told me they do 50 ear tube surgeries a week - a week!! It was quick and the hardest part (for me) was restraining her little hands as she tried to pull the anesthesia mask off. But then she went to sleep and I trotted my tearful person out to the bathroom and it was over almost before I got back.

I really don't know how parents whose children have to have "real" surgery take it. LJ, my hat's off to you!!

So, there's a family waiting room where you're supposed to wait. And the waiting room has a monitor who checks you in. And the monitor has all the warm fuzzy demeanor of a middle school gym teacher. I swear, it felt more like detention than a place for anxious parents! (Though I don't suppose detention offers coffee and tea...) It just struck me kind of funny. Everyone else was so nice and friendly, including the nurses in recovery who have to listen to wailing children all day, and the waiting room monitor was as dour as a Scotsman who's had his golf clubs and whiskey taken away!

In other news... the concert tonight went well and I didn't make a fool of myself either in my aria or in the choral bits, fortunately. Always a good thing.

And for those who are curious, the new baby is a boy!

Tomorrow

2009-05-12T21:22:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow, tomorrow, we'll start the day tomorrow
with a wail or two...

Well, it's scheduled. Little Miss Evie is having tubes put in her ears tomorrow morning. Now, as surgeries go, this is incredibly minor - the surgery itself takes only 10 minutes though she does get put out for it. BUT I have to take a year old baby to the hospital by myself, a baby that hasn't eaten or drunk in more than 12 hours, and that, I expect, will be the hard (and loud) part.

That and watching my baby get put under...

Still, hopefully this will resolve her hearing loss. We'll be seeing the audiologist again in a month to check back on that.

In other news, the *new* baby appears to be baking away quite nicely, my BP is remaining stable, and I'm not loading on the weight. Joined a gym and have made it a goal to swim twice a week for 1/2 hour. I know it's not all that much but it's what I can manage so I just try to keep my heartrate up for the whole time and enjoy the heck out of having a shower all by myself at the end.

Tomorrow's a busy day in a lot of ways. Anyone in Central CT is cordially invited to join us tomorrow evening for a concert of Mendelssohn works at Center Church at 7:30 p.m. I'll be doing "O Rest in the Lord"; it's low for me but the space isn't cavernous and the accompaniment is piano so hopefully it will go well.

Honestly though, I can't think that far ahead. Right now, I'm just focused on getting Katie to the sitter tomorrow before 9 so Evie and I can be to the hospital at 9:30. If you hear persistent wailing about that time, you'll know from whence it cometh.

Quae Morebat - another attempt

2009-04-25T21:29:00.001-04:00

Ok, let's try it this way.
Sigh, you know - for a reasonably tech-savvy person, this is a pain in the ass!!

quae morebat mp3.mp3

Quae Morebat

2009-04-24T15:05:00.007-04:00

From the Stabat Mater for those who are morbidly curious as to how I sing - click on the post title to play the file.

Concert was SRO and the offering covered the costs. We were thrilled. The choir did wonderfully; the strings were excellent.

The Quae Morebat is first. That's the aria I did.

The soprano (I sang the alto) in the Quis Est Homo is Kim Young - who is wonderful!! I'm privileged to be able to sing with her. We're joined in the allegro by Beverly Boyle and Suzanne Fournier, also great fun to sing with.

Ok, hopefully this will work!!

The Tale of a Tail

2009-04-19T23:57:00.007-04:00

Or how I lost 13" in twenty minutes.

I'd been growing my hair since Katie was born 3 1/2 years ago - not out of any grand scheme on my part, just lack of time and money, really.

It had been getting to be quite a pain though pretty when it wanted to be but got in my way unless I put it up.

So my sister was here and easily co-opted. And we wound up with a 13" ponytail being separated from my head. I swear the thing looked like it could sprout legs and walk away on its own it was so long.

Fortunately, such a critter doesn't go to waste even if it once went to waist! (Heh, I crack myself up... ;) )

And now we're back to short. How long will this last? Um...

For All of Us Who Have Dreamed a Dream

2009-04-13T23:52:00.003-04:00

You go, Susan Boyle - Here's hoping you take it all the way for all of us who are a little older, a little heavier, but still dare to dream a dream.

Susan Boyle

You Know You're a Geek When...

2009-04-12T19:44:00.002-04:00

You're playing Scrabble and you start to think "Fron! Ok, cool, now where can I put it?" then realize that fron is only a word in Ancient from Stargate: SG-1. And you're even more of a geek when your first thought after that is that the reason you can't play it is that it's a foreign language, not that it's a made up word.

Hail, thee festival day!

2009-04-12T06:23:00.004-04:00

Last Tuesday, as we were rehearsing for Friday's concert, a man came into the church. Nobody thought much of it at first: when the church is open, a lot of homeless people use the bathroom. But, then, he wandered down the aisle, looking for something or someone. As the director was busy with the strings, our soprano section leader headed him off. He handed her a card with some writing on it and she drew him to the back of the church, talking to him as they went.

She took him to the door and next door to the Center for Urban Ministry and returned to her place. I asked if he needed a priest. She said he needed a lot more than that but that's what he was looking for.

His face was so sad, so desperate that I haven't been able to forget him and I've worried a lot this week about this man I never met but only saw - like I worry about a lot of the people I read about in RD's blog.

I very much hope that, on this anniversary of the Lord's resurrection, he finds what he needs.

Happy Easter, sir. May you find hope and peace and, yes, some joy as we celebrate the great Alleluia.

Don't Get Around Much Anymore

2009-03-31T23:37:00.003-04:00

Missed the Saturday dance

It's been a little crazy here. We got John's dad buried then John went to Miami. Then I went to NY to do a jewelry show. Now we're heading into Holy Week with loads of rehearsals this week and next. I'm still sick. It's been, what, 7 weeks now? 8? But, hey, I'm out of the first trimester as of last Saturday at least, even if I can't breathe.

Heard they crowded the floor

So, I was told a week ago Sunday that my hours at work are being cut 25%. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to still have a job but I'm just not exactly sure how the mortgage is going to get paid without that $500. And what kind of galls me is that the leadership isn't cutting their hours, nosirrreebob. I did the bills today (and isn't that always a party and a half; I can't even drink afterward these days!). The medical bills from the pregnancy are starting to come in. $600 this month. In order to pay on the plastic, I had to pay one of the medical bills with plastic. How seriously fucked up is that?* But, hey, that puts us $600 more toward the $2500 deductible after which all is covered.

(*Just so that everyone knows, the bulk of our credit card debt is from a surprise $7700 tax bill and subsequent doubling of our estimated quarterly taxes (basically, we had $12,000 due to the IRS within 2 weeks of finding out about it) and not from big screen TVs, unnecessary clothes, or fancy cars - I am pleased to report that both cars are paid for, not so pleased to report that our 24" TV (the only TV in the house) is starting to develop a weird line in the middle, and distinctly embarrassed that I've had to stop wearing my tennis shoes out because they're just too holey. We had a nice cushion - that proverbial 3 months all the planners talk about - when he went into his own practice but, funny, how quickly that gets eroded when your income gets cut in half.)

So he's been pushing me to donate more to charity. I'm not exactly sure where he thinks it's going to come from. I had to lay it on the line for him today. I don't like having to do it. He internalizes it and beats on himself for not "providing" better. In fact, I absolutely hate having to do it. He gets depressed about the credit card debt and I always feel like he's blaming me (though I am no more a spendthrift than he is!) simply because I'm telling him what he doesn't want to hear. It's frustrating because I feel like I can't talk to him about it yet I can't talk to anyone else about it either because that upsets him too.

Couldn't bear it without you

Life isn't all bad though - my sister, God bless her, hosted a jewelry party - the proceeds of which should pay much of my jewelry business's expenses for the year. She also, bless her double and her children too!, cut my hair (with her son's round nosed school scissors, even) into a cute little 'do that is a vast improvement over the "D.W. haircut" I sported until she got at me.

I'm looking forward to Holy Week and the Stabat Mater in particular. I really wish I could find a way to record at least my aria. I'd love to hear it - you can never hear yourself properly when you sing.

John's mom appears to be holding up well. She's been moved into a smaller assisted living apartment where, provided the stock market doesn't fall too much further, she should be able to stay without a problem. I was going to call her to come visit tomorrow but Katie threw up tonight so I'm not sure I ought to be exposing an elderly woman to that.

Don't get around much anymore...

Thanks for listening.

"But, Mommy, I HAVE to Talk!"

2009-03-14T13:25:00.004-04:00

Ok, I love my kids. I really do. But my 3 year old is a morning person and, worse, an extrovert. She's not a true morning person - i.e., she's not one of these kids who's up and demanding attention at 5:30 a.m. - but once she's awake, look out. The mouth starts running and doesn't stop. Ever seen that "Help I'm talking and I can't shut up!" t-shirt? That's my 3 year old.

In contrast, when I worked at the law firm, I got up at 5:45 every morning and got all corporated-up, read the paper, and drove the 30 miles to Springfield, getting there about 8:30 (work started at 9). My boss knew not to talk to me unless absolutely necessary before 10. Oh, he made plenty fun of me - he being a true morning person - but if he wanted a well-thought out and rational response, he knew to wait until a couple of cups of caffeine hit the bloodstream. That's the kind of night person I am.

Now, I know (man, do I know) that being a morning person and being an extrovert will be very helpful to her through the years. In fact, I'd venture to say that being an extrovert will take someone farther than natural intelligence. It is, however, a volatile combination in the mornings - the introverted, night person parent vs. the extroverted, perky morning person 3 year old.

Even if you take morning out of the mix, it is difficult to parent a child who is the opposite temperment. I suspect it may be even harder for extroverted parents with introverted children but, yowee kazowee, this introverted parent sure struggles with her extroverted child. I worry that I'm dampening her natural high spirits by asking her to "Just. Stop. Talking!" (to which she once answered "but, Mommy, I have to talk!") or that I'm not meeting her socialization needs adequately. I worry that, given my prediliction for inner (vs. outer) conversation, I can't accurately judge what is an appropriately average amount of spoken conversation. I remind myself that my job is to be her mother, not her playmate, and at 3 1/2 she's old enough to be expected to entertain herself a good chunk of time. Even though I haul her to music, dance, preschool, and occasional playdates - all of which involve a fair-to-excellent amount of socializing with her peers, I worry.

I had really hoped that once her sister was old enough to interact with her, she would lighten up on her need to be "entertained" by me. It is starting to work a little that way - but there's still the jealousy that gets in the way. We still hear a lot of "She smiled at me!" (this is a grave affront in my 3 year old's world) and "Evie's scaring me!" (when the baby is merely attempting to "talk" to her). It absolutely infuriates me that she can't see her sister wants to be her friend - both for Evie's sake and my own.

I have not gone all Bunny Foo Foo (or, Jade, is that Bunny Fu Fu? ;-) ) on her head. But, man, sometimes I sure want to!

Toora Loora Loora

2009-03-04T17:48:00.003-05:00

Toora loora lie
Toora loora loora
Hush now, don't you cry.

My father-in-law passed away last Saturday night. He'll be waked Friday evening and buried Saturday morning. He was a good, fair, and honorable man. He was a funny man. He always had a smile for me, even when he could no longer speak really. He was career military and very proud of his Irish heritage. Rest in peace, Bill; we'll miss you so very much.

http://www.legacy.com/HartfordCourant/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonID=124870628

Ah, toora loora loora
Toora loora lie
Toora loora loora
It's an Irish lullaby.

Audition Avoided

2009-02-24T20:21:00.002-05:00

But positive results anyway!! The women's choir I sing with is doing the entire Pergolesi Stabat Mater for Good Friday and I got picked to do one of the alto arias (Quae morebat et tremebat) and one of the duets (Quis est homo) - YAY!! The really neat part is that we're actually doing it with strings and not with just the organ. How freakin' cool is that??!!

The Most Useful Onion

2009-02-19T21:18:00.003-05:00

Ok, so 3 people recently have mentioned Greek yogurt to me - how it was really high in protein (20 grams per cup) and didn't have the mouth feel of regular yogurt (shudder). Eventually I do usually figure out when fate's trying to bonk me over the head so I bought some. Ok, more accurately? I shamelessly batted my eyebrows at my husband who bought some.

Ok, I couldn't eat this stuff just out of the tub but neither could I eat sour cream just out of the tub. That said, this stuff is pretty darn useful. We got the fat free version - and, basically, it tastes and "feels" like sour cream and not like yogurt. Ok, so this is a plus but what to do with it? Add an enormous onion and make dip.

500 g tub of fat free Greek yogurt
1 large sweet onion - diced rather more finely than I did and sauteed in as little olive oil as necessary to keep it from sticking.
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp salt

Mix it all together. Voila - a fake French onion dip that's much lower in fat, has a bunch of potassium and Vitamin C (thanks to the onion), and a ton of protein. Whee!!

And, yes, I was good - I ate it with lowfat crackers instead of with the Fritos Scoops I really wanted... ;)

On feeling simultaneously young and very old indeed

2009-02-16T21:23:00.006-05:00

Thank you all for your good wishes and for not asking if I'm crazy!

So, as those of you who are mathematically inclined could easily determine from my birthdate on my ultrasound, I'm 41. I'll be 42 in April. I'm old. Ok, I'm not really old in the general way of things (and certainly not behaviorally!) but, in terms of being pregnant, I'm old. And being AMA (advanced maternal age) engenders (heh, pun fully intended) a host of things - one of which involves extra progesterone. For those of you who don't remember (or who never knew), progesterone is responsible for many of the lovely side effects of early pregnancy, including exhaustion and nausea. So, yeah, this pregnancy is so kicking my ass. I could probably be in bed all day and still be wiped out. Unfortunately, I can't *be* in bed all day (more's the pity that!!) as I've the rugrats to chase. And the lovely low-level nausea that dogs me much of the day (until just about 4 pm) does nothing for my mood either.

Now, in my last pregnancy, I took the symptoms as a good sign - things were progressing as they ought. What with this extra progesterone coursing through my system, God only knows whether this is a good sign or just a sign of well-meant medical intervention. Sigh.

At any rate, yeah, I'm old. I'm already easily the oldest mom at any playgroup though, luckily, I don't look it (thanks be for small mercies). My mother and many of my friends think I'm stark raving mad to do this again. Truth is, we never expected it to happen. We weren't trying but neither were we trying not to. We had such trouble getting pregnant for our whole reproductive history that who would think that at our age I'd get pregnant the normal way. I mean - go figure!! That does not mean, however, that we aren't thrilled. I'm ecstatic, actually (well, except when queasy - queasy tending to interfere with any feeling other than being queasy), and am really looking forward to one last baby.

There is something about the kids that keeps you at least a little young. My 3 year old makes me off the wall nuts mad but her joie de vivre, her flamboyant boisterousness is contagious. The baby, now 10 months old, is so curious and frighteningly physically adept (she not only unplugs the night lights, she takes the shield off and unscrews the bulb). How could anyone feel old when they spend a good part of the day watching her little boomba scuttle across the floor chasing the cat?

That being said, I'll probably call it permanently quits if this baby makes it. The risks for miscarriage, etc. get higher the older you get and I really, really don't want to go through that again. Also, I've spent the predominant amount of the last 7 years either pregnant or trying to get pregnant. That's a goodly amount of time worrying about one's onboard roommate.

Actually, I'll probably call it quits if this baby doesn't make it as well. You move on as best you can, try to distance yourself from that pain, that aching need to hold the child you never can, bringing it only out occasionally to feel anew that burning anguish. But it never goes away. It's always there, tucked neatly away, hidden lest it offend or make someone uncomfortable, ready to come out of its own volition, wreaking agonizing misery, arms stretching for a child that will never fill them, voice whispering, barely audible, pleading with the fates for the impossible, and tears that will not be quenched. No, I don't want another child's death on my soul.

The Baby That Wasn't (No. 2) would be 20 months old now (it's been 2 years, 3 months, and 4 days since s/he left us) and, of course, Evie probably wouldn't be with us - it's such a mixed feeling. So, old, young... either way, fingers crossed and prayers said for baby #4 to join us happy and healthy in September.

Oh Baby

2009-02-11T23:00:00.001-05:00

The little bean is measuring right on target at 7 weeks 4 days, giving us an estimated due date of 9/26/09. The heartbeat was fluttering away - no trouble seeing it! I'll be going back every 2 weeks through the first trimester.

Feeling rather relieved here as the last time we conceived after having a baby, we lost the baby; though it wasn't until several weeks after the initial ultrasound, the baby measured really small at the u/s then and the heartbeat was hard to find - so measuring right on target and a lovely flutter was a big relief.

Facebook Foibles

2009-02-01T20:22:00.004-05:00

Anyone else feel a certain amount of pressure to put something pithy in their Facebook status line?

It's odd how difficult I find it sometimes - how to find something relatively light and fluffy, that won't scare people, or offend people.

Kelley is fucking sick and tired of always being cold and wearing 18 layers and polarfleece wristies in the house and really wants to go to someplace warm where she can drink without responsibilities. (NOT ok.)
Kelley is freezing her ass off. (ok)

Kelley is a fucking idiot that can't seem to manage to remember whether she means piton or crampon and is too damn lazy to look it up. (NOT ok.)
Kelley has mommy brain. (ok)

Kelley needs about $1000 worth of $200 problems fixed on her car but can't possibly afford it *and* pay her daughter's preschool tuition. (NOT ok.)
Kelley desperately needs new back tires. (ok)

Kelley is pissed off for a stupid reason, feels beaten on by life even though vast numbers of people have it far worse than she does, worries that she's never going to have time to do anything but mother and work, and is lonely. (NOT ok.)
Kelley is grumpy that her favorite wings place isn't taking any orders tonight. Stupid football game!! (ok)

See? It can be done but it's difficult at best sometimes.

On another note, I find it very interesting, now that I've got the whole paid church musician thing going on, how different sermons given by two different priests on the same Gospel can be. And I'd planned to discuss the differences in today's sermons here (it was the Gospel of Mark, the bit about Jesus casting out the unclean spirit within the man in the temple) but I'm pretty sure I can't remember them enough. The second one had to deal with how the unclean spirit was the only one who recognized the divinity of Jesus and then delved into how the Gospels mention the healing power of Jesus 30-some-odd times but that 14 of those times are within the Gospel of Mark - the shortest of all the Gospels and the only one to begin with Jesus already being grown. No doubt, Fr. Tom would be very disappointed that I can't remember his homily but I hope he'll cut me some slack, it was the 8 a.m. Mass and, even though I'd been up since 6, I really wasn't very awake.) It is ironic, however, as the second one is the one I almost fell asleep during.

Kelley is exhausted, barely awake enough to sing, slightly low blood sugary, and freaked out about getting to her second gig on time. (NOT ok.)
Kelley finds that two sermons is one too many. (ok)

January

2009-01-14T00:32:00.002-05:00

January sucks
mooseballs
soaked in
pondwater.

Just in case
anyone
was wondering.

Taking A Stand

2009-01-12T00:14:00.007-05:00

Ok, let me say from the start that I know this is going to offend some people. I hope they'll forgive me for disagreeing with them and, for what it's worth, I forgive them for disagreeing with me. It is, however, my blog and, honestly, I'm at a point in my life where I think I need to move from thoughts to words. Maybe, in another 41.5 years, I'll actually get from words to actions.

These pictures moved me to tears:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/couragecampaign/sets/72157611501972510/

I grew up in a conservative household in a very conservative area. I'm Christian. I'm straight. None of which changes how brutally unfair it is that the decades-long partnerships of some of my friends can't be truly recognized by the law.

Equal doesn't have exceptions, else it would not be equal.

There are some that will say I can't be Christian and support "gay marriage". Well, there are those that dismissed Christ as being unGodly because he consorted with tax collectors and prostitutes and, heaven forfend!, treated women as people. The new testament God, through Christ, is about inclusiveness - God is love. We are of God, we are of love. And those that love should be allowed to marry and stay married.

No marriage threatens another simply by its existence. The only thing that threatens a marriage is its own partners (and, for some, unequal treatment under the law).

If you want my honest opinion, which if you've read this far, you're probably sickly fascinated by my drivel, I think civil union and religious marriage are two separate things. I happen to have both - a civil union sealed by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and a religious commitment sealed by the Diocese of Springfield.

Don't we have enough undercommitted couples in the US? Do we really need to force some to remain undercommitted by law?

Just my humble opinion, of course.

P.S. Want to sign the pledge to repeal CA Prop 8? I did. Here's a link for that.

The Meme Follow Up From Months Ago

2008-12-31T21:46:00.006-05:00

Ok, as discussed at the bottom of the last meme I posted, I've answered all the memes but, honestly, no one (except me) really cares whether I eat blue cheese (I do - I love it) or whether I prefer pink or red, diamonds or pearls, winter or summer. If we really want to know our friends better, shouldn't we be asking different questions? So I wrote some. Then I answered them and I'm hoping you'll do the same. I'll warn you, these are harder to answer but, honestly, I think they're more important.

1. What is your ultimate goal in life? Are you working toward it? If so, how is your progress? If not, why not?
To be the best person I can be. It's pretty broad, I know. I started to put "to be happy with myself" but, honestly, I want more than that from myself. I want to make the most of what God has given me (music, creativity, writing) and constantly push to be better in the things I'm not so skilled at (patience, self-care, parenting (i.e., patience). I am constantly working on these. I've made some progress. Like many things in my life, I wish it was more but I am seeing improvement and, for now, I'm learning to be happy with a slow, steady climb.

2. What would you die for? Why (or why not)?
I would die for my kids. I've had a chance at life, whatever the length may be at that particular point; they haven't. I'd like to think I'd die for 'truth, justice, and the American way' but I pretty sure that'd be a game time decision and based on a lot more factors. If I did, it would probably be because I have more balls than brains sometimes ("Son, your ego's writing checks your body can't cash!").

3. Is it more important to you to be right or to be liked? Why?
It used to be far more important for me to be liked, primarily because I was distinctly unpopular through elementary/middle/most of high school. As I get older, I'm realizing being liked isn't as important as it once was - for example, it is more important to me to DO what is right than to be liked. I'd still rather be liked than win an argument at all costs though.

4. Who do you look up to most and what has he/she taught you? (This person does not need to be still living.)
My grandma Pundt. She was probably the world's most patient and loving person. As Mom used to say, "she wouldn't say boo if she had a mouthful". To the extreme, that can be a bad thing. But what I am still learning from her, though she's been gone for several years, is that nobody likes a whiner and, just because things suck, I don't have to bitch about it. (This is why sometimes I don't post for several weeks, being rather prone to depression.)

5. What is the worst thing that ever happened to you in your life and how does it affect you today?
Two things. One a specific event, one a more generalized thing that had an even more broadreaching impact. First, the obvious one: as many of you know, I lost a baby. As anyone who has can tell you, it affects you in ways you can't even imagine. Still, I think my pariah status in grammar school affected me even more... it certainly shaped who I am as an adult. I don't like people much and I trust almost no one. If there's a way for me to interpret something as being 'against' me, I will. If someone is nice to me, my first thought is "what do they want from me" and my second is "when is the shoe going to drop". Something about having people be nice to you just so they can later kick you in the crotch/flush your purse in the toilet (yes, both happened - in elementary school) and humiliate you in front of large groups of people does that, you know?

6. Ditto for the best thing.
My husband. We've known each other nearly 16 years and been married 11 1/2. He's seen me at my best and at my worst. We have our issues - everyone does - but he is an unending booster for all my efforts. It's taken a while but I've learned I can trust that he loves me and isn't looking to humiliate me or tear me down somehow. And there is something really wonderful about that.

7. What is your favorite book and why?
I don't think I can narrow it down to one but here are a few. A Little Princess, Frances Hodgson Burnett - who wouldn't love to wake up from the drudgery of their daily life and find out they were really a diamond heiress? And the writing is so evocative; her descriptions are wonderful. Pride & Prejudice, Jane Austen - a heroine I'd like to be. Again, the language is delightful. The Lord of the Rings / The Silmarillion, J. R. R. Tolkien - between the languages, the epic stories, the mythic nature, and the elves, it's a world I happily lose myself in at least annually.

8. What would be your ideal day? What would you do? What would you eat? Would you be with people or by yourself?
My ideal day varies but since I have to pick one... I'd sleep late, then get up and laze on the couch with a giant plate of cookies and a stack of books. When I got bored with reading, I'd go down to my jewelry bench and beat some metal for a while, then back up and order delivery boneless chicken wings (garlic parmesan), maybe play the piano some, then read and/or write until late into the night when I'd take a hot bubble bath, drink a martini, and snuggle down to bed and finish with a little conversation and good sex. I would be alone until bed. The only time I get alone is the drive to/from rehearsal and church. That's it. I'm an Introvert (and the capital was intentional) and I need my cave and I don't get it.

9. Do you need to do anything so badly that it makes you a bit crazy if you can't for some reason? What is it?
I need to create. These day it's jewelry or writing but it's been any number of things. I need to bring something from nothing by working with my hands. Unfortunately, I get very little time to do it (creativity requires focus which is impossible when interrupted every 5 minutes).

10. Is there any part (physical, mental, spiritual, etc.) of you that, if you lost it, it might not be worth going on?
I was having real troubles with my voice at one point and they thought I might need to have my thyroid out. This is a tricky surgery for singers as, if the surgeon is even a little off, it can have disastrous effects on your voice (witness Julie Andrews). Who I am is so inextricably linked with music and singing, I'm not sure how I would continue without being able to sing. Now, this was before I had my kids so I doubt now that it would have that effect but it sure would take the joy out of life.

11. What do you believe in - the sort of belief that goes to your very soul?
I believe in God - not a little old man with a big beard on a throne ready to can my sorry ass but what Susan Sowerby in The Secret Garden called the "Great Good Thing", the source of love, blessings, and, if we ask, guidance. I believe in being kind, giving people second chances. I also believe in whupping a little ass if it needs it. I believe in being honest, within reason (white lies are ok). I believe that, if you can love yourself, you've accomplished more than 90% of the people out there (I'm one of the 90%, mind you). I believe that most of my friends undervalue themselves immensely. I believe that some things are worth fighting for, that justice is important but that forgiveness is too. I believe that one's own house should be in order before one tackles other people's houses.

12. Do you have a creed/code/quote that you live by (or try to live by)? What is it?
There's a quote from Anne Shirley (the Anne of Anne of Green Gables) where she says she'd just like to leave the world a more beautiful place for having been in it. Me too.

Let's make this a baker's dozen and add one final one...
13. If you had to sum yourself up for someone in 10 words or less, what would you say?
"My life flows on in endless song above Earth's lamentations."
or, if you'd prefer descriptive words... creative, determined, loving, fierce, kind, multi-faceted, thoughtful, curious, eccentric, introvert

Happy New Year, everyone - Tag, you're it! (And if you missed the Christmas pics - see below!)

A Christmas Season Pictorial

2008-12-30T00:11:00.007-05:00

Ok, it was a crazy December and I wasn't here much because I was singing with 3 choirs, getting ready for/hosting a massive party, and doing all the typical "mom" stuff that has to get done. So, I'm going to make up for it with one gynormous post...

Christmas Season started the day after Thanksgiving with getting the tree. Katie was in a pissy mood. Really, really wretchedly pissy. Fortunately, it was a nice day and we found a nice tree. It wasn't nearly as scraggly as it looks in the picture.

That night, we (sans the baby) went with my sister, her husband, and her younger son to the Constitution Plaza lighting. It's not often you find someone taller than my 6'6" BIL but 2 such people were standing directly ahead of us.

Next came the clean up of the house. This included cleaning up the grotesque remnants of the Great Pumpkin Massacre. Fortunately, the culprit was discovered if not apprehended...

It took a couple of days but I got that tree decorated to within an inch of its life. Wait a minute, maybe that's an inch over its life? Poor thing. It will go to the town to be mulched (our town will pick up your tree for free - saves on the town mulch bill!)

I posited that, if I were to find a little tree for my 3 year old that she would leave my tree alone. Coupled with a stringent "you touch Mommy's tree, you get an automatic time out", it actually worked. Fortunately, the tree was virtually free.

And, of course, the poor kid came down with her first ear infection a couple days later. (I consider us very lucky, though, to have gotten to 3 without having an ear infection!)

Visiting Santa didn't go so well though. Poor Daddy.

I never get a good picture of the party set up with all the food in place and the guests not there. Sigh. Of course, I guess if I were a little more on the ball it would help!

Once the party was over, I embarked on a mission. My mother, you see, has a habit of leaving unwanted objects in other people's homes. In this instance, she left a picture painted by my grandfather at my brother's. Ok, most of my grandfather's paintings are quite good but this one? Well, still life wasn't his genre. So, I was given the mission, which I gladly accepted with a distinctly evil chortle, to sneak this painting back into my parents' house. It took me nearly a year but it now hangs in the back of my mother's closet where, presumably, she will one day discover it. Heh heh heh...

Ok, this next one has no bearing on my December except that I took the picture in December and it captures rather how I feel about life at the moment.

Then, on the 19th, it started snowing and didn't stop until the evening of the 21st. Our snowblower, of course, is still in the shop missing a part they can't get. Now, granted, the guy came and plowed a couple of times since it was his fault the snowblower wasn't repaired (he's had it since April) but we still got stuck at the end of the driveway at least 5 times (John once - me four times - my car sits lower). All told, in our yard, we measured 16". There were about 8" when these photos were taken.

So, finally, the party's out of the way, two different Lessons & Carols services have been sung and are out of the way, it's time to wrap. Katie notices a teeny tiny present and inquires. I tell her it's for Maddie (her babydoll). She wants to show it to Maddie. Ok, I say. A few minutes later, she says "Maddie's going to stay here and look at it, ok?" "Ok, Katie." When I saw the doll later, I thought I was going to pee my pants. That package wasn't going anywhere for the watch that doll had on it!

And, on Christmas Eve, Maddie's (and Katie's) wait was rewarded. (If you or your child (or your doll) want one of these crowns - check out Marsbarn's Etsy shop! They're adjustable in size and reversible!)

\

And, yes, didn't you all want to see what I look like after a long Advent of song? This is Christmas Eve.

And Christmas Day (after singing three more services that morning with rehearsal starting at 7:20 a.m.) (Greta, that's Idol Eyes and Prankster on the lid with Non-Conformist and Frostlite liner - LOL!).

I hope you all had a lovely holiday and I wish you and yours all the best for 2009!

Motion Denied, Counsel

2008-12-22T23:24:00.005-05:00

Said by a 3 year old desirous of moving her stepstool from the side of the island near the racks of cooling cookies to the front of the island where her mother is working (a move previously denied by her mother)...

"If vis [the stepstool] gets near the cookies, vey may fall down and break vemselves. That would be a sad fing!"

Part 3 year old, part lawyer.

She Is...

2008-12-15T21:11:00.004-05:00

Written for a friend about her mother. Her mom, by the way, sounds like the mom I wish I had and the mom I want to be.

She Is

She is
indomitable,
intrepid,
undeniable.

She is
a force to be
reckoned
with.

She is
the adult I want
to be.

She is
enduring,
engaging,
stalwart.

She is
nowhere to be
found;
she is with
me
minutes after
I call.

She is
the mother I want
to be.

She is
spirited,
spunky,
amazing.

She has
my
heart.
She is
my
all.

She is
everything I want
to be.

Steal Away, Steal Away

2008-12-11T14:51:00.002-05:00

Steal away to Jesus...

My friend, Ann, has battled breast cancer for years on and off. I sang with Ann for years in the Springfield Symphony Chorus - we both being part of the cadre of BRAs (back row altos), known mostly for a rather insouciant attitude (though dedicated musicians) and our irreverent parodies at the SSC banquet at the end of each season - until I moved to Connecticut and she moved to Virginia. Ann sang also for years at the Berkshire Choral Festival each summer. She even made it up there this summer and, by all accounts, had a great time though she was exhausted at the end.

I got a call from her husband this afternoon. A week and a half ago, she decided that the chemo was just too much and it was time to let go. They moved her up to the 4th floor (hospice) and made her comfortable as possible. Tuesday afternoon, she lost her battle. She was in her early 60s and leaves a husband, grown children, and an adorable set of grandchildren.

She was a woman who loved her family, loved her music, and loved her God. I know that she, truly, has stolen away to Jesus and I rejoice for her in that. It is for us, we left here, I mourn.

Rest in peace, my friend. Know you are loved and missed and ever will be.

Promise of Living

2008-11-27T22:18:00.002-05:00

I am thankful...
That my poor exhausted 3 year old is sleeping soundly after a rough evening
That both children are (basically) healthy and happy and growing/developing well
For my poor husband that just went back in to work at 9:35 on Thanksgiving night to try to make this self-employment thing keep working
For those that keep our world safe despite the fact that it often means they have to work holidays
For tasty food, solid shelter, plentiful clean hot water, and flush toilets
That neither I nor anyone I love is in Mumbai
That none of my family, including me, have yet been laid off
That gas is half what it was at the beginning of the summer
That the waistband on my pants is looser than it was a month ago
For my new gloves that do not have holes in the fingertips
For winning the November prize at the Jewelry Making Forums
For my church job and being asked to sing Christmas Day at my home church
For the people who have been so supportive of my singing - my AWCD, Pam, my AVT, Christine, my beloved late voice teacher, Jacquelyn Jarret, and my husband
For music
For joy
For laughter so hard I start coughing
For the times I don't hit myself though I feel like it
For those perfect nights when there's a hint of magic in the air and I feel so connected with the earth and the universe that everything seems possible.
That learning is a continual process and I get to keep doing it
For a place to express myself
For a means to express myself
And for you... all my blog friends... whose comments mean a whole heck of a lot to me as does the gift of your time in reading whatever nonsense I'm currently spewing out - Amanda, Betty, Carol Sue, DreamLurker, FoxPhile, Graymama, Greta, Harriet, IWOM, Jade, JerseyTjej, LauraJ, Marsbarn, Raindog, SmileyMamaT, Willow (gone but not forgotten!), and everyone who stops by here.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

~~~~
*The Promise of Living, The Tender Land, Aaron Copland
This was the recessional at our wedding. The ending 'verse' goes...

Give thanks for the sunshine
Give thanks for the rain
Give thanks we have hands to deliver the grain
Oh let us be joyful
Oh let us be grateful
To the Lord for his blessing
(Oh let us sing our song
And let our song be heard
Let's sing our song, with our hearts
and find a promise in that song.)
The promise of living
The promise of growing
The promise of ending
is labor and sharing and loving.

2008-11-25T00:36:00.003-05:00

New (brief) post up at Keep the Geek.

In other news...

the solos at both churches on Sunday went well (solo trio in William Walton's Jubilate Deo at Center Church and the opening and (near) closing solos in Chilcott's Loving Shepherd (at the cantor stand even) at P&A).
the trip I was going to be making to the PNW this spring has been killed by my 3 year old's dance recital schedule. To say I'm disappointed is an exceeding understatement.
the cold that I managed to stave off so that I could sing the solos is arriving but that's ok, better now than Sunday last.

Of Inspirational Phrases.

2008-11-22T20:39:00.001-05:00

A phrase I heard once is dancing at the periphery of my consciousness - “if God brings you to it, God will bring you through it" - these days. I can’t disprove it as, well, God has brought me to a whole boatload of “its” and I’m still alive. You’ll note, however, the saying does not say “will bring you through it unscathed” or “happy” or even “unchanged”. It promises nothing but that the sufferer of “it” will continue and there are a lot worse things out there than dead, many of which leave you praying for dead instead. This isn’t helping my mood any, is it? Guess I’ll try to leave that one alone and go back to “This, too, shall pass.” It’s a little more certain.

These Boots Are Made For Walking

2008-11-21T13:37:00.004-05:00

So far today, in separate incidents, my 3 year old has clocked me in the temple with a sneaker (hard enough to leave a bruise) and had to be carried out under my arm from a playdate (without her coat on) screaming.

Bet you wish I'd stayed on blog sabbatical, huh?

Two Years

2008-11-12T00:10:00.004-05:00

Two years.

Two years since life as I know it
changed.
Immeasurably,
completely,
in perpetuity.

Two years since I began
describing my
children
as "one living, one lost".

Two years
has served to merely
dull
the searing knife of pain
that will
never
truly vanish
though the phrase has
now
become "two living, one lost".

I do not know
if the life that
left us
was male or female.
I know only
that my heart holds
it
him
her
until the end
of
my own.

You've Reached the Blog-Mail of PPG...

2008-10-30T20:52:00.002-04:00

The only shit I have to share is depressing and (I strongly suspect) whiny so I think I need to step away for a while - maybe a short while, maybe a long one. I don't know yet.

Tears In My Eyes

2008-10-23T22:24:00.003-04:00

Ok, I apologize. Profusely. Because (a) this isn't the meme follow up and (b) well, you'll see why when you click the link.

For the record, I am, indeed, a 41 year old female, not a 10 year old boy.

Facts On Farts

Oh, and to whoever the person was that asked the question about halfway down inquiring what the brown spots in undies after farting are? Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! ::wipes eyes:: Thanks for the laugh.