quilting time

Between mongo migraines, a short bout of the flu, working, enjoying married life, "running herd on the wild kingdom" (Chill's words), sharing garage sale duties with Lit, and the duties of motherhood (you know, feeding, scrubbing, and driving), I actually found time to make a quilt as a wedding gift for Oyster's choir director. And I am pretty sure she likes it! I hope you do, too.

Assuming I can figure out how to post the photo.

It has come to my attention...

...that the magazine company that sponsored the fund raiser for Oyster's school is pestering people and using my home e-mail address to do so. I offer my deepest apologies to any and all who are experiencing this. And I am looking into a way to address this with the company. Hopefully, I can get this to end.

Continued Confusion

An addendum to my earlier post regarding confusion:

• Why is it that when I want to turn left out of Chill's parking lot, traffic is thick and spaced just so it is too dangerous to attempt the turn for several minutes, but when I want to turn right there is no one coming from either direction? While this happens at many intersections, also, it seems to be very consistent at this particular spot.
• Along with that, I believe there is a tear in the space-time continuum at the corner of 1st Street and University Avenue in Champaign, IL--but only in the right hand lane of the west-bound traffic. You know, right in front of the Cattle Bank. If you are stopped at that light, the left-hand lane always moves immediately when the light turns green and there is a significant lag (2-3 cars long) before the car at the beginning of the line in the right hand lane moves.
• As I mentioned on Lit's blog, why is it more fun to pull weeds from someone else's flower bed than it is it to tend my own?
• Why is it than when you have a quick task to accomplish at a red light (like sign a school permission slip or complete a bank deposit), all the lights in your path are green? And when you are in a hurry they are all red?
• Why is it when I get on the phone my child immediately has urgent questions to ask me in a loud voice--even if she was outside when I dialed the phone and could not have possibly heard me talking?

Just wondering...

Doctor Mom

All moms have the magic touch when a child is very small. A kiss can soothe so many boo-boos and you may end up touching your lips to a piece of your child's flesh that is way more dirty than you ever dreamed you would allow near you. Knees that have fallen on a sidewalk, fingers that have been smashed--even toes upon occasion. All are suspect if the child has been outside of the bath for more than a couple of minutes.

But as the child matures the magic seems to go away. A kiss soothes, but does not cure. Bandaids become important, especially if they bear the image of a favorite cartoon character. Our home has seen Barbie, Sponge Bob, Spiderman, Scooby Doo, Disney Princesses, Hello Kitty, and who knows who else. Oh wait, Spiderman actually lives at the shop with Chill. But he does share them with Oyster if the need arises.

As chilldren move into the pre-teen phase, the mother's magic evolves yet again. Now it is obvious that a child really is ill if the complaints come as they are readying for a long-anticipated activity. Complaints of vague stomach ailments as they dress for school are less reliable. Maybe they are important. Maybe they are a ploy to get to remain in bed for another hour and then get to watch TV for the day. Maybe. It is hard to tell.

And sometimes Moms get to return to the days when they could effect a cure for the all-important ailment that causes our children to whine. For example, I have noticed that Oyster's pains in her sides, back, and neck increase when she is eating healthy food and are not so prevalent when eating junk food. It seems obvious to me that this must indicate her body it too used to unhealthy eating and therefore absolutely must be reconditioned to her previous state of being used to eating healthy food. We do not need to invest in meeting the deductible on her insurance plan for this ailment. We just need to cut back on junk food until her body again accepts the healthy fare that is offered.

I believe I can actually hear the child healing.

Learning Curve

It seems to me that although many books indicate you can teach cats by judicious use of a spray bottle, it isn't working around this house. I am not a believer in the other books that say you can't teach cats, though. It is obvious the cats in this household know their names. They also know when it is time to eat and when it is time for me to go to bed. They know if they lay on their backs and waive their paws in the air someone will come by and scratch their bellies. They are teachable. They are just also very curious and determined--two traits that outweigh the other.

Directing a spray of water onto the top of feline noggins may make them run away from the task they were pursuing before being caught in the act, but it will not prevent them from returning to the activity. Especially later when you aren't around with the spray bottle.

Sometimes I find this irritating. Other times it is amusing. Many times it is frustrating. I guess that is one of the purposes of cats in our lives. They help us to experience and identify a large range of emotions.

As for the household pride, Cheddar is the most forgiving of all creatures on the face of the earth. No matter how many times I step on his tale, trip over him (and break two teeth in the process), or squirt him, he immediately comes back to let me know he loves me. Skids is the most tolerant, allowing Oyster to wallow him anywhere, anytime, anyhow. It would be hard to say who is the most playful. They each have their moments, but there is something special about watching Sammo chase his tail.

Sabrina stays on the fringes during the day, watching but not wanting to be touched. Once midnight hits, though, she is very vocal in her declaration that it is time for me to go to bed where she will deign to allow me to pet her. She likes to have me hold her tail--something I don't recall ever experiencing with another cat. As long as I have a loose grasp of her tail or a hand on her back or side, she is happy to purr and snuggle on or beside me.

Scooter sets a trap for the unwary, exposing his hourglass abdominal markings in a manner that makes one think that round tummy is ready for a rub. Once the hand makes contact the claws gently grasp the wrist and the teeth pretend to gnaw knuckles. He doesn't draw blood--most of the time.

Maggie is a purring machine. She is the least likely to make overt demands, just setting herself in a convenient spot for you to stop and pet her. And in her extremely optimistic way she begins purring loudly as soon as a person arrives on the scene, obviously sure of her irresistable allure. No need to wait until you reach out to pet her to express her satisfaction.

And that just leaves Daisy. I was determined to become her friend when I first joined this household. And it really didn't take too long for her to warm up to me--as much as she is capable of warming up to anyone other than Chill. She likes me to pet her. Some of the time. She purrs to show she appreciates the attention. Some of the time. Mostly she likes me to make the boys leave her alone. All of the time.

As for the learning curve. I think we learn as much from the critters as they do from us. Maybe they are more effective teachers.

confusion

There are many things in life that I find to be quite confusing. Following are some examples of real head-scratchers:

• Shoes at the side of the road. Now, while I don't condone littering, I can understand the presence of fast food trash and cigarette butts--but I just don't get shoes. They aren't the kind of thing one would just toss out the car window (and if they are, I don't want to know about it). And the theory that someone would put them on top of the car or onto the bumper in order to open the car door, then forget about them and drive off just does not account for the many I have seen. Just this morning there was a pair of men's dress shoes at the roadside. Why?


• The current use of the electoral vote. This made sense when it was established, but it is no longer necessary. Why does it still exist?


• Why do weeds thrive where garden plants struggle? Now, this one has lots of scientific data to support it and I would just as soon not hear all that logic regurgitated in my direction. On a cognitive level I understand. This conundrum is purely emotional. I just need to ask a rhetorical, "why?"


• Do noseeums and stink bugs really serve a useful purpose in our ecology? Or are they just God's little joke on humanity?


• Cockroaches, too, for that matter.


• Why are shampoos wasted on children? There is so much relaxation and pleasure to be found in having someone else wash your hair. It seems to be wasted on people who are struggling to avoid the entire cleanliness process. By the time they are old enough to appreciate the feeling of a scalp massage, they also appreciate cleanliness and are therefore old enough to be trusted to bathe without any assistance. I think I'll make an appointment for a hair trim just so I can get the shampoo that comes with it.

I am certain there are many more things that confuse me. I'll let you know about those items later.

preaching

Well, the e-mails have finally gotten to me. I frequently put articles in the newsletter at work--and generally they pertain to the liturgical season. However, this month I am printing one that is just cathartic for me. I firmly believe that if you never state that something is bothering you, you are giving the message that you approve. I want people to know I don't approve. I have received more than enough (well, one is more than enough) messages that are anti-muslim, anti-semitic, racially prejudiced, bigoted, anti-democrats, anti-government, anti-women, anti-Obama, etc.

So, here is the mini-sermon I am printing in the newsletter this month:

HOW DO OTHERS SEE YOU?
As adults we put effort into personal appearance, tailoring our clothing and grooming to meet the occasion. We wouldn’t normally wear formal evening clothes to work or torn blue jeans to the opera. We are aware of how we look to others and take care to exude the persona we wish others to perceive.

For the most part we do the same with our behavior. As children mature we teach them appropriate behavior for specific occasions. Through trial and error they learn to be quiet in church or at a movie, that it’s okay to be boisterous on the playground but not in the classroom, and that some foods require the use of utensils other than those provided by God. They learn to address others in a polite and courteous manner and to show respect in their words and actions.

But do we pay that much attention to our communication when we are not face-to-face? The age of technology in which we live allows us to communicate with more people at a faster rate than ever before in history. Instead of penning letters to loved ones, we can type out a missive and send it to the masses. We can also pass along jokes, photographs, and links to web pages.

As Christians it is important for us to remember that not only are we judged by what we do and say, but that the Church is judged, as well. When we forward material sent by others, do we stop to think how it reflects on us or on that which we represent? It is so easy to read the superficial words and laugh, but sometimes we need to consider the deeper consequences of what we are seeing before he hit the forward button.

We should consider whether the joke we are passing on is something that could be hurtful to others. Is the superficial laugh wrapped around a concept that is harmful to someone? Is the underlying message one of racial prejudice? Is it promoting abusive behavior? Is it undermining the unity of our nation? And is the message something that we really want others to associate with us? Maybe we should consider hitting the delete button when forwarded dubious messages and instead sending a heart-felt and hand-written (or at least self-typed) letter to keep in touch with those we love.

Wouldn’t we prefer that the message we send be one that proclaims us to be courteous, respectful, and interested in the welfare of others? How better to proclaim to the world that we are of Christ and striving to be Christ-like?

Shopping Advice

I love estate sales and garage sales. Sometimes the estate sales can be especially fun just to admire the houses. Those are generally the sales where I couldn't afford to purchase anything, anyway, so I might as well enjoy the tour.

Other times I find great deals on vintage fabrics, books, or a dish that matches what I have. But sometimes I find wonderful deals on groceries. I get to try something for a quarter that I know costs $3-4 in the store--and if my family doesn't like it, I know not to waste the money in the future. And if they do like it, we've discovered a new taste treat with little risk.

But, speaking of risk, there are some rules to grocery shopping at dead people's houses:

• To begin with, check to make sure the item has never been opened. I am amazed at the large number of open boxes and bags of food stuffs that have prices similar to what you can buy new and unopened at the grocery store.
• Check the date, if the item has one.
  
• Check to make sure the item on the shelf does not read, "keep refrigerated."
• Check for damage to the packaging. Just because the previous owner never opened it does not mean no one has been inside for a munch. And maybe they and a colony of relatives are still there.

Now, using these rules, I passed up the following items at a sale just this past weekend:

• The bulging can of tomatoes. In fact, I handed it over to the woman running the sale. Carefully. It looked ready to explode at any second.
• The two boxes of "Tofu Classic" (not really a rule--I just can't imagine my family happily chowing down on the vegetarian equivalent of hamburger helper.
• The large bag of dried cranberries with the 2003 expiration date.
• The bag of cornmeal that appeared to have a corner nibbled off. It was sitting directly next to the pellets left by a rodent.
• The large can of sweet potato pie filling with the 2006 expiration date.

I have been known to bring home pudding mix, spices, canned veggies and fruits, ant killer powder for the yard, and Comet. And these were at reasonable prices--like $.25 each.

You just never know what you will find. It is like a treasure hunt.

In praise of Erma Bombeck

We recently bought a new mower. It is lightweight and electric--much easier for me to use than the old, heavy gas mower. I can push with one hand and hold the cord out of the way with the other, much like when vacuuming. I wasn't strong enough to consistently start the old mower, which I found very frustrating. (The wheel that fell off regularly was frustrating, too). I'm guessing that since it was purchased Chill and I have probably used it about equally.

The drawback is, the grass must be completely dry before you can mow. And Louisiana spring doesn't seem to cooperate very well with that concept. As a result, I didn't so much mow as bushog and I am waiting for the baler to arrive. In the front yard we have a very nice crop of white clover. In the back we have lush St. Augustine cover. This grass is new to me. I am more familiar with Kentucky Blue Grass. This has wide blades and very thick thatch. It is soft and springy under your feet, as if walking on a deep pile carpet with a thick mat beneath. Well, when it has been mowed, anyway.

As for Erma Bombeck, my experience this evening reinforced my belief that she was an intelligent woman. While I no longer live in a home with a septic tank, I can attest that the grass is greener where the dogs most frequently fertilize. And when it grows so tall it is hard for the child to locate all possible nuggets when scooping. This makes for a very aromatic mowing experience.

(For those of you who are not familiar, Ms. Bombeck wrote such classic humor as, "The Grass is Always Greener over the Septic Tank," and "If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, Why do I Always get the Pits?").

Milestones

Oyster experienced two significant milestones in one day. Yesterday we picked up her very first pair of glasses. After completing another Happy Dance in the optometrist's office and admiring herself in the mirror, she started looking around through the lenses and comparing it with what she could see over the lenses. She was fascinated by the differences and gave me a blow-by-blow account of all she encountered as we roamed the Wal-Mart in search of an item for Chill.

I got to hear all about the signs she could read from a distance, the texture in fabrics, the nuances in colors that before had seemed all one shade. She brought smiles to the faces of many shoppers, mayhap remembering their first view of the world sans blur. One lady even stopped to exclaim in wonder of the exuberance of my offspring. Luckily she displayed a sense of humor when she encountered us coming around a corner just as Oyster exclaimed, "Mommy, before I got my glasses I would not have seen the wrinkles in that lady's face!"

Which brings us to milestone number two, one I have been praying for (an plan to exploit during her teenage years). For the very first time I can recall, Oyster actually appeared to be embarrassed! She seemed to realize that her words may have been offensive to the lady in question and she stopped before actually completing the final word of the sentence.

Maybe with this new visual awareness of the world around her Oyster has developed a new insight into how she can have an affect on others. Maybe. Or maybe she will suddenly realize that other girls her age do not want to dress just like their moms and will stop insisting on such.

Who would have thunk it?

• Oyster did the Happy Dance in the optometrist's office this week. She is thrilled to need glasses, just like Mommy and Daddy. She picked frames with a cheetah print. I think it is the same as what we called tortoise shell when I was a kid--but I am content to let her believe it is a cheetah. Maybe when she can actually see them she will revise her description.
• The most popular time for a child in this household to want to be read to is bedtime. Especially when she eschewed my offer to read to her earlier and opted to watch television instead. She did not do the happy dance when I declined her kind offer to let her stay up late while I read aloud.
• Right now she is watching television, even though she agreed that once her homework was done we would read together. I anticipate she will again be disappointed at lights-out time when she asks me to read aloud.
• Lawns do not mow themselves. Floors do not sweep themselves. Cats do not clean up after themselves. And children do not use soap in their bath without direct supervision. But if anyone knows of a spell I can use to make any of this this happen, please forward it. I would be forever in your debt.
• And, despite what may appear to be grousing in the previous points, I feel quite lucky to have landed in my current life. My family is wonderful and fun and I feel very loved. I really enjoy my job--especially post-Easter Day! The work-load certainly decreased when Holy Week came to completion. The new house is much nicer than the old and we are making changes to get it to better meet our needs. I may even get that front flower bed looking nice someday soon!
  

Apparently using one's imagination makes one hungry.

Oyster just pranced into the room where I have been sitting with Cheddar snuggled in my lap. She is wearing a Sunday church dress with a bikini top peaking out, dress-up shoes two sizes too big, and a pretty hair bow. She is carrying a beaded evening purse, which contains index cards that have been turned into money in denominations like $5,000 and $2,000,000. She tells me she is a queen, Skids and Scooter are her guards, and Cheddar is the King.

After I obediently took her purse and her hand and help her onto the stool she carried in earlier, she "encouraged" the king to skedaddle and climbed onto my lap. Once cannot allow the king all the cuddling.

It is hard to resist the imp, with her pretty smile and puppy eyes, but I manage to convince her that I believe all queens play the violin and she needs to go practice. Which, of course, means she is hungry. Since she just ate one and a half slices of cheese pizza, a serving of peaches, a glass of milk, and an ice cream bar, I don't feel too bad about insisting she play before she is provided with more sustenance.

Mom does stand for Mean Old Mommy, doesn't it?

Peer Pressure and Education

We've all had experience with the power of peer pressure. And we all know the benefits of education. Well, we've gotten to see the two hand-in-hand in our household recently. Thanks to an in-depth (for second grade) study of the life of George Washington Carver and the lunches packed by her friends, Oyster has suddenly decided to try peanut butter. And--surprise! She likes it. Since late February she has eaten a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich at least 5 times weekly. A big change for a child who until then swore there was little on earth as disgusting as peanutbutter.

When I comment on it I am told, with a little disdain in the tone, that she is allowed to change her mind...REMEMBER. She points out that she used to like all kinds of things that she doesn't enjoy much anymore, like spinach, prune juice, and pumpkin. However, she also used to hate peppers, but now loves raw red bell pepper.

I guess she is like all of us, constantly evolving our preferences. And I guess you can't ever go back to really enjoy a taste you have outgrown. For Oyster it may be spinach. (For me it is YooHoo--that chocolate flavored drink of my childhood. I made the mistake of giving in to nostalgia and bought one a while back. Wow! What a totally shocking experience! I used to love to drink that? YUCK!!!)

Back to Oyster, peer pressure, and education. The child recently tanked her grade in one class. Up until the last week of the quarter she had 100% in language development. The school sends home weekly progress reports, so it is easy for parents to keep up. However, Oyster earned a B in the class for the quarter. Turns out she refused to do an assignment--write a hiaku, a task she had completed successfully earlier in the quarter--earning a big fat zero to average into 40% of her grade. Turns out at least one kid in her after-school program had been teasing her about being smart and therefore being different. No kid her age wants to be different, especially if others are going to make fun of her for it. So she proved she wasn't so smart. To them and to me!!

She got the grade she earned. I just wish she had chosen to earn a grade based on her abilities instead of based on her attitude. But, as Lit has pointed out, this costly mistake is considerably less costly in the second grade than in college. Let us hope the end result is worth it.

And kudos to George Washington Carver and the great peanut!

Friendship

When I was a kid we moved around a lot. I attended 8 different schools between kindergarten (moved after two weeks to a district without kindergarten) and graduating high school. That doesn't leave a lot of childhood friends with whom I have kept in touch. In fact, it doesn't leave any.

My longest friendship with an individual to date started in college. I've got a good buddy in Arkansas whom I haven't seen as often as I like over the years, but with whom I still share phone conversations, cards, and letters (e-mails more recently). We used to vacation together about once a year, attending Star Trek conventions or spending New Year's together.

I have several great friends from my years in East-Central IL. One tells everyone I was a college roommate, when in reality she was in college and I was launched into my second career when we met. But she is godmother to my child and I am godmother to her girls. My daughter's other godmother is still in C-U, but I wonder for how much longer. She and her husband are talking retirement, but I don't think they have a specific date in mind. I'm betting they plan to move closer to their kids and grandkids when that happens.

My daughter's two godfathers are also among my best friends. One moved to the east coast and the other is still in IL. I miss all of these people quite a bit.

However, I have realized that a person I expected to like before moving here is quickly becoming my best Louisiana buddy. And based on popular lore and stereotypical jokes, one wouldn't have expected it. However, I figured out this morning that the person outside of my household with whom I spend the most time, with whom I do the most fun things, and with whom I speak via telephone most often, is my mother-in-law! So--thanks, Lit, for the fantastic welcome to the family. I really appreciate all you have done.

Taking a break to say, "Happy Birthday!"

Goo, you will have to imagine--but I am betting you are skilled in that arena, based on your writing. So, imagine a beautiful child soprano voice, worthy of a professional Royal School of Church Music-trained choir, offering in pure tones:

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday Aunt Goo
Happy birthday to you

And, at your request, a summary of what is happening in our lives:

Oyster got into the Gateway program at school and hopefully will soon be happily immersed in all the wonderful extra learning that will entail.

Chill is working as hard as ever and then spending some time most evenings after work moving more stuff to the new abode or doing tasks to put the new abode into fantastic shape for everyday living.

And I am going crazy at work, fighting with Dell about their error in billing us for the new printer, praising the technical support folk for the great job they have done in helping me to replace the faulty imaging drum, and cursing the machine for messing up just as we were finishing the newsletter print job. This Sunday is the annual meeting, so there is additional work putting the annual report together--amazing how many people do not turn their parts in on time. And we are printing the new parish directory this week to pass out at the annual meeting. And we are having the end-of-year contribution statements available to all parishioners at the annual meeting.

Did I mention the priest gave me the holidays off (Christmas Eve, Christmas, and New Year's Day--and tried to give me New Year's Eve, but I just couldn't get the work done in time to take that off). No one at the church seems to realize that giving me days off (without pay) during a week when there is extra work that needs to be done means making me work even harder for less pay. (But I did receive my very first Christmas bonus)!

However, despite the current headaches, I really love the job and recognize it is absolutely perfect for me at this time. The hours are great. The work really is easy and my boss is fantastic. And I get to write. How could it get better than that?

After work I spend time moving things from house to house and trying to figure out where to put everything that is staying and weeding out what is not. Chill advises that anything not out of the house by Jan 31 is not ours, anymore. Could be a blessing in disguise.

So--time to stop this lollygagging around and get back to work!