The Nun and Some Kleenex

I met with my very favorite nun again today despite the fact that the world was conspiring against me. 

At 7:01 am I pushed the button to open the garage so A&P could catch the bus.  Nothing happened. After pounding on the button, still nothing happened. Tim came to the rescue. Thank goodness we can pull the red hanging emergency rope to get out of the garage! It came off in his hand.

By this time, A&P were on the bus and me and Tim were standing in the garage in our robes trying to figure out how to get out-like rats in a one box maze. A few bolts removed here and there and we were free until I couldn't find my keys and I was further delayed. Do you ever wonder if the universe is delaying you so that you don't get wiped out by an asteroid or something while you're waiting at a stop light? No such thing fell in P-burg today, but it could have and I made it to work alive.

After all that, I made it to see the nun too. I asked her if God broke the door and hid my keys. She is so cool and calm. It's probably because she doesn't have children. Although, she does live with other nuns and apparently nuns can be kind of tough to live with. I may have her beat because I'm certain that nuns don't leave underwear in the middle of the bathroom floor for two weeks until the other nuns flip out and demand it be removed or there will be "sanctions" from the "management."

I'm also certain that A&P are funnier than those nuns. We've had a running commentary with A&P for the last week and a half about our trip to the post office to file our passport applications. Next to us at the counter was a lady mailing a very big box. Her parcel was packed into a giant box that had shipped Kleenex at one point in time. She answered appropriately when the postal service representative inquired as to the presence of explosives, liquids or other illegal substances.  Good for her but it got Peter to thinking, why was she shipping all that Kleenex. We roared and laughed and pointed at him and made him feel small whilst we hooted.  "Seriously," we scolded, "it's the shipping box!"

Indignant, Peter replied cooly, "How do you know that? Maybe she bought some Kleenex online from Amazon, doesn't like it and is returning it."

We chortled some more.

"You don't know that there isn't Kleenex in there! Maybe she has a relative with a cold."

I laughed so hard that I snorted. (I hate it when that happens. I think I did that at work today, but not in front of the nun.)

The Kleenex debate is renewed almost daily. Peter's still convinced the lady was shipping Kleenex, but maybe he's right. Regardless, we still whoop and wail it's so funny.

Nuns laugh, but I bet they don't snort.  If the garage doesn't open tomorrow and my keys are misplaced, I'm not going to try so hard to leave. I'll curl up with some Kleenex and call it a day in case the asteroid is coming.

Retooling

Here's what's going on my head.

Should I blog? Nah, it's too much work. Easier to drink at night and then fall asleep drooling on the pillow.

Wait, someone might think I have a problem. (Define, problem? I'm above ground, how bad can it be?)

I can't blog about nearly 15 year old boys because that's embarrassing. Somehow, along the line, I became embarrassing. This probably occurred around the time I dropped some kids off at school in my Christmas pajamas and it was May and sunny at 7:30 in the morning and everyone could see that my jammies had Christmas ornaments on them.

It's been an interesting few months. I won't bore you but suffice it to say we're all still kicking. This reminds me, speaking of kicking, hold one moment, while I scream the following (it's like in real time!)

Me: PETER! ARE YOU PLANNING ON DOING ANYTHING WITH YOUR LAUNDRY?

Peter: Ya, when this show is over.

Me: THAT'S STUPID. JUST GO PUT YOUR CLOTHES IN THE DRYER.

Peter: 5 minutes.

Honestly. Turn off the lights. Pick up the shoes. Push in the chair. Don't smoke dope. Use your napkin. Stay away from whores.  It's really rather simple.

I thought if I turned to God that maybe I'd have a better chance of raising the urchins or at least keeping one of them out of prison. I'm pretty sure you have to push the chairs in at prison. I'm pretty sure that God doesn't think I've got this under control.

At dinner tonight:

Me: PLEASE DON'T USE DOPE. I read some article about high school students and reefer and I'm totally freaked out.

Kid: I don't use marijuana, Mom.

Me: Well then stop watching that reefer madness show and telling me how much money you could make if you moved to California and opened your own dope pharmacy.

Kid: It's just a show.

Me: I'm turning off the cable. Don't do stupid stuff.

Kid: Like in college when you hid in the bushes so you didn't get arrested? Dumb like that Mom?


So, to blog or not to blog. What comes out of my head and onto the fingertips may be a problem.

An Open Letter to the Reptiles in my Yard

Dear Mr Toad,

I know you have a place in the food chain. You probably eat bugs or something. But can I offer you a bit of advice?

When you see a giant hand coming at you in the bush, could you hop aside? Is that too much for a girl to ask? I already have a "Prince" so I'm not going to be kissing you and there's no need to sit still. I also don't have any desire to touch you and I'm pretty sure you have salmonella.

By the way, when you don't move and I see you and nearly touch you while schlepping oak leaves out of the boxwood bush, I scream. This scream echoes all over the neighborhood and everyone things I'm a goofy drunk because two feet behind me is an empty martini glass.

If at all possible, it would be appreciated if you could spread the word to your reptilian friends- snakes and the like.  Oh, and the lizards (snakes with legs) could you tell them too? You're all creepy and too closely camouflaged to all of the leaves and dirt and I can't hardly stand the thought of touching you or seeing you creep away like I didn't almost see you or touch you. Can we just be honest? If I wanted to eat you, you were right there. (I have the willies.)

Lastly, I'm prejudiced against reptiles in general but I have a high degree of tolerance for leaf peepers. I don't ever see them but they hang out in the Black Swamp vestige behind our house and I love to fall asleep while they're singing.  But, Mr Toad, you might take note that they stay far away and I have never screamed at them.

Thanks for your consideration.

The Idiot in the House

Carnivale

I feel like an incompetent, out of control, carnival worker- the one who runs the giant, rickety ferris wheel. The loose wheel keeps whipping by, faster and faster, and I can't make it stop. Everytime it goes by it whacks me upside the head because I'm a stupid carnival worker and I'm standing inside the yellow lines. I should be fired for this. Where is my job description for this mom-carnival worker-slave-grocery fetcher-splinter puller-pole dancer? (I made that last part up).

Climb on the insanity wheel with me and you'll feel like a gerbil trapped in a two by two cage with a python, a bedspring and a small bottle of minibar whiskey.

School supplies in bulk (exactly why am I buying Kleenex and post it notes in 5 different colors when my children are color blind?)- the laundry room is torn apart, there are fruit flies in the kitchen from those awful cherries that looked better than they tasted, I can't open my martini shaker and someone had the AUDACITY to steal the radio antenna off of my car. Seriously, it's a psycho mom's minivan, you sickos.

I bought way too many school supplies. I have a fear of running out of red pens on a frosty night in November when its really hard to find erasable blue pens in bulk. (And this is especially weird because I'm worried about the red pens so why I'm looking for blue pens needs some introspection.)Peter goes through a pencil a day so the effort my family puts into judging me because I have a container with 300 pencils in it is entirely unnecessary. Some people stockpile paper towel (Matthew), I stock pile writing utensils. Odd because A&P have horrible handwriting.

Oh, the laundry room, you must be wondering. I had it ripped apart because it was horrible and needed a makeover and tile backsplash and beverage cooler. Who doesn't? (Are you judging too?) The new cabinets were in place for about 6 hours before the cat opened a base cabinet  with his short toes that can't even open a cracked door and barfed right in it. Really, the new cabinet? Wouldn't you prefer the white carpet?

Is your head spinning off yet? I hear I can get prescriptions for this kind of thing. Andrew grew an inch during a 4 hour mid day nap last week. You think I'm kidding but he's nearly 6 feet tall and he wasn't that tall when I left for work that day. I started to wear even higher heels and now my feet hurt. Stupid feet. Dang tall kids. Note to self: buy more coffee and bricks for their heads.

Are you feeling whipped around on this giant wheel yet?

Tomorrow is the start of 8th grade. I remember 8th grade so the fact that I have 8th grade kids is just ridiculous. I told someone at work that I was 32- it went like this- "you need me to work on Section 32 of such and such? Sure, that's the same age as me." Pause- no comment- total silence. She said "You're 32? I could be your mother." I burst out laughing hysterically (that's what happens off the medication) and she said "you look good, but not 32 good." Nice.

So I'm hysterical, hateful and hyperventilating the night before school. At least we have pencils.

Knocked Around

In my quest for some good TV, I stumble around the dial of 200 channels like an inebriated housefly desperately searching the screen for a hole big enough to cram into and escape. Surely TV is an escape for most everyone. After an hour slogging through the machinations that is a VH1 reality show, I flipped over to a narrative of The Wreck of the Whaleship Essex and Hermann Melville. It's one of my favorite stories- gruesome but wonderful language and allegory.





Ever feel like you've been whacked upside the head by a 2 ton right whale? I can't be the only one. But when that happens, there's always the little stuff to get you through, hour by hour, if necessary. Like some of this stuff...





Andrew has a beautiful, young soul. He's not an old soul- I know you know what I mean. He doesn't look at me with those eyes that say "I've done this before, leave me alone." His eyes say "Hey, this is the first time I've seen this and I'm having a wonderful time, thank you very much." It's rather refreshing after a day or two of being knocked about in what feels like a very small, hole riddled boat.





Yesterday he told me that the new shampoo I got him made him so happy because it was a great shade of blue. "It actually made me smile in the shower." How cute is that? It's shampoo so I think that's rather delightful. He never said anything profound when peering into the Grand Canyon a few years back- he said something more like "That's a big hole." I suppose if he can appreciate the small things, I've done my job.





This is what he picked out for me for Mothers' Day...

I've received a variety of opinions about what this means- including one that suggests that he is trying to butter me up should he end up in the slammer. He's not the felonious type generally so that can't be it. Regardless, he was quite proud of the purchase and insisted that I take it to my office. So I did. Hopefully the nuns don't mind the mild profanity. (Incidentally, Peter got me a very nice vase.)

Being knocked about is generally worth it, even when the boat springs a leak, or 12. I found at my local Big Lots a nifty four pack of root beer that helped me focus on what's important even when someone else is yanking the life jacket and pushing my head under water.

It was way up on the top shelf, but not out of reach. Nothing is, if you try hard enough.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to bailing me boat.

Worms: An appreciation

This is a post about worms. If you think worms are icky, you should probably not read this. Although I think worms are icky so I probably can't type anything too gross or I'll make myself sick.

Shall I explain the picture? In preparation for a newsy little post of vermicomposting or some such thing, I decided to find a picture of an earth worm. Instead I found this lovely photo of the Nibelungen Bridge over the Rhine at Worms, Germany. Obtuse? Indeed.

Curiousity got the better of me so I turned to google to find out some more stuff about Worms. Did you know it was founded by Celts and that the people of Worms fight with the people in Cologne about who has the oldest town in Germany? The only thing I ever knew was that Worms was where Martin Luther had his temper tantrum.

Now get this about the name... the Celts back in the olden times before calendars named their little town Borbetomagus which means "settlement in a watery area." How nice and direct of those Celts. Anyway, the Romans came along and started calling it Vormatia and that's just a fancy way to say "worms." I'm not sure the Romans did them any favors with the name change but with Romans stomping around, I'm not sure that the Borbetomagusians had any room to argue.

So there we have it, worms.

I bought a composter. I don't know anything about worms, but I'm going to compost my coffee grounds and my black and white inked junk mail.

All Hail Mighty Worms.

A Walk in the Woods, Part One

I think I have a loose screw in my skull. Before you go judging me and trying to figure out which screw is the loosest, lest you are one of those folks who believe that I have more than one loose piece of hardware, I know just which one. The problem I have is that I have to live some place flat. Clearly we could have picked someplace else that was not as flat. Really, I can't dwell on that. So here we are.

Do you notice a problem? Yes, I am the shortest. That is a problem. Do you notice the other problem? Peter is on the left. That is about the wrong-est thing that can happen in one of my pictures. Ten years from now I will be totally screwed on who is who. Andrew is always on the left- except in this picture because no one listens to me anymore. I think I'm going to have a short snit about that. OK, I'm done.

Anyway, here we are at the top of Amicalola Falls in the state park of the same name, Georgia. We were ready to start our walk into the woods. (If you have not done so, you must read, MUST, I SAY MUST READ, A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson. Indeed, required for this blog.)


Off we went. Normalcy was achieved as above you will find Andrew on the left. Phew. I thought Mercury was in retrograde there for a few minutes. This picture was taken right before the half way point Atkins family meltdown, a.k.a. fight. This time it was about a dented metal water bottle. (Sigh. It's not worth repeating.)

A&P recovered from their mutual hatred and found company on the trail somewhere way ahead of us. They tell us we're old. We tell them they hike too fast. Whatever, I'm right.

We arrived late afternoon at the Len Foote Hike Inn. It's fabulous and I will tell you more about it tomorrow.

To the Moon Alice

If I were going to send someone into space, I suppose the Saturn V rocket would serve as an appropriate vehicle. As we saw at the Kennedy Space Center today, this thing is GIANORMOUS. (That's a very technical NASA term.)

Guess who I might like to send to the moon? You would not believe who I literally ran into today at KSC. Never. Don't even bother guessing. I had this boss one time who was horrid- fairy tale, wicked stepmother, except he was a man, horrid. He personified everything that anyone ever might hate about corporate life working for "the machine." Anyway, he was always slightly clownish, and I have not seen him since I left for greener pastures- UNTIL TODAY. There he was, with his pants hiked up to his armpits in line for some food. How on Earth did I end up at KSC on the same day as this Evil Corporate Tool?

Anyway, that's who I would like to send to the moon. No, I am not one bit bitter.

It was a good visit (except for being shadowed all day by the Evil Corporate Tool) with the space stuff as evidenced by A&P and the lunar node thing . I think they used this node thing on Apollo 11. We were all pretty happy today and our only meltdown involved Mountain Dew at lunch. We did see another family with kids about A&P's age having their own very public meltdown. I wanted to hug them all and thank them for being human.

Tomorrow is another beach day and I'm pretty sure that I need a lobster for lunch. Late in the day we'll work our way up to Atlanta. Friday is when we hit the Appalachian Trail for a hike and an overnight in the mountains with no cell phones, TV or computers. Heaven!

A&P keep asking when we can take a normal vacation like everyone else.

Define normal, then we'll make our plans.

Love, Exciting & New

Avert your eyes. This is us on vacation. Aren't we sweet? It's a small miracle that no one was thrown from a precipice today. There's always tomorrow.

I made the boys pop a squat on the sand for some pictures. This is how it went.

Me: I want to take your picture on the beach. Sit here.

Them: No. That's dumb. You know what we look like.

Me: Not for long.

Them: We don't care. Pictures are stupid.

Me: I can wait here until dark. You choose.

Obviously we didn't wait until dark. Aren't they sweet?

For this picture at the Fort in St Augustine I said, Hey stand in that door way for your picture. They were trying to make me look like a fool. It worked. Aren't they wonderful?

At the end of all of it, there's the peaceful lapping of waves on the beach. The waves wear the shells down to dust over several million years. Just like my children are doing to me, however it's taken a mere 13 years. Surely that makes me lucky.

Until tomorrow....

More Picture Obstruction & The Beach

Whilst attempting to pose for a family photo at the UGA Botanical Gardens, we again find ourselves obstructed by an interloper. The raised hand has been used to terrorize A&P since they were very little. Uncle Adam, the obstructionist, used the hand to threaten younger versions of A&P by telling them it was a brain sucker. And, the brain sucker was apparently starving. A&P have often told me "Uncle Adam scares me." Ah yes, he scares us too.
But our visit in Athens was short and we were soon off to sandier places outside of St. Augustine. It's amazing how easy A&P are to spot in the water. They're a bit pale after an Ohio winter.

Cousins make good beach pals and we spent our afternoon digging in the sand for shark's teeth and tossing about in the waves.

We'll report again as time permits and without the interloper, I suppose, unless we can find another one.

Athens, GA

Family Picture, obstructed. Again.

All Hail, UGA. Or something like that. We're from the North, so we just don't really understand.

A&P at the famous double barrelled cannon of Athens, Georgia. Ingenuity, inspired.

We'll report again from St. Augustine.