Holiday Meltdown!

So, I never really understood the whole holiday meltdown thing until last year. Seeing as I am Scandanavian, I still am not a particularly obvious candidate. Repressed, uptight (oops! Did I say that out loud?), generally cool and even keeled. But now, I am a bit unglued and not enjoying the holiday folly as much as I used to. The stresses of being an adult have finally worn away any attempt I might have made at creating a little Christmas "magic." Yup, this year I am just plain old depressed and in dire need of some good counseling-I'm going tomorrow. Thank you to all of my friends who have watched me implode and have had the graciousness to just be "supportive" and not slap me silly, which is what I know they secretly and not so secretly want to do. The holidays will come and go and I will survive and manage to be a cheerful elf. Afterall, this season isn't about me anymore.

Dysfunctional Eustachian Tubes

For most of my life I have suffered from dysfunctional eustachian tubes. Most of the year, it really is not a problem, but when a particularly virulent winter cold hits me, I become partially or mostly deaf for an indeterminate amount of time. I am currently partially deaf and have been for a few days now.

The thing I find peculiar about this lack of hearing, while my ear is full of fluid (a delightful thought I know), is that not only can I not hear very much, but I really don't want to talk either because my voice resonates so loudly in my head I can barely stand it. What I want to do is be mute and read until it gets better. I feel socially inadequate, as I don't want to talk to anyone and can't hardly keep up with a conversation. It's actually very tiring to have to work so hard at something you normally take for granted.

So, right now, don't call me or expect any form of verbal reciprocity from me. I'd rather be reading.

Things You Should Consider When Choosing A Breed

When choosing a breed of cat, one should consider several factors. Sure, there's the "what an adorable kitten factor, but that is only the beginning. Our family in particular seems to have unusually bad luck acquiring things that are typical for the breed or type of animal. We once had an Australian Bearded Dragon. These were supposed to be the "dog" of the lizard world. We were told that this meant friendly and loyal. Well the dog attributes our lizard had were probably more pitbull like, ranging from crabby and solitary to viscious and dangerous. I fed the stinking thing live crickets every day of its life. What kind of thanks did I get? Well, if I put my hand unprotected in his cage, I got bit, that's what I got. Never knew lizards had teeth? Well, they do, and ours would hiss and lunge. Hiss and lunge, hiss and lunge. That's what I remember.

Then there was the teddy bear hamster....Fluffy. He sure was cute. Lived in his little cage, that smelled. He was orphaned with us and the previous owner swore he didn't bite. Why, oh why do I listen? I should know by now that ALL ANIMALS BITE. So, little Fluffy had been handled a few times by us without incident and was all cute and fluffy and innocent looking and stuff. I decide, at the urging of my son, that poor Fluffy, all locked up in his cage needs some exercise. I reach in and pull him out ever so carefully and put him in his little hamster ball to go for a spin around the house. Fluffy looked like he was having such fun! When exercise time was over, I again reached into his ball to extract him. Apparently I had not been sent the memo that said hamsters are very happy to get in the ball, but less happy to come out. That little *&#! of a hamster bit my finger down to the bone. My initial instinct was to put him back in the ball and punt it down the stairs, but I refrained and simply returned him to his cage. From then on, he might as well have lived in Siberia in exhile. No love for him or hamster ball rides. I think I may have laughed the day he died.

So now we have beautiful Edward....I think you know where this story is heading. He is a Ragdoll. Here is a brief description of the Ragdoll breed:

*They are a large breed-Read friggin' enormous!!!!! Ed can take out an entire coffee table full of stuff with one swipe of his large backside. Also, large denotes a certain lack of grace in his case. I always thought of cats as a fairly nimble animal. Nope, not Ed. This guy is an accident waiting to happen. I do not think he has yet realized how really large he is.
*They are good with children and the elderly being careful to not use their claws-It really says this on the Cat Fancier's website? Have they met Ed? He has now drawn blood from several people, particularly the elderly and small children. I am running out of bandaids. Oh, it's all in fun, but I think Ed missed the genetic preprogramming that stops him from using his claws. He whittles away at them for hours each day, making sure they are pinpoint sharp.
*They adore humans and greet you upon your arrival-This means he will pounce on you when you least expect it, scaring the crap out of the fore-mentioned elderly and children.
*Ragdolls tend to be floor cats, not jumpers-Again, have they met Ed? This very large cat hurdles furniture, leaps onto counters, pounces and generally jumps around more than any other cat I have ever owned.
*Ragdolls feel that humans prefer purrs to yowls and keep their voices softly musical-Oh my GAWD! He's an alarm clock I tell you. We can hear him yowling his heart out (in the basement, with the door closed in our bedrooms on the second floor) in the morning when HE thinks it is time for us to get up. He also yowls when we leave the room until Mr. Walnut Brain figures out where we went.
*Ragdolls adore their humans-OK, this one I will give them. He is the most loving cat we've ever had. He actually likes being with us and isn't solitary at all. If Ed could be on us or next to us all day long, he'd be happy. He purrs like a demon and tries to groom you if he is especially happy. For this, we love him.

Tomorrow we are getting a guinea pig. I've been told he doesn't bite.

UNDEAD!

Resurrected one more time because they love their audience? Who knows. All I can say is, long live the Goth Gods of Bauhaus! Tonight they are playing their second sold-out show in Chicago at The Vic. Everyone needs a little spooky in their life every now and again.

Little Miss Fast and Loud (or Am I Having a Mid-Life Crisis?)

Clearly I am having a mid-life crisis. Or am I? I don't feel desperate or old. It's more like I can't get enough or feel enough. Perhaps the old manic-depression is rearing its ugly head. Who knows? Maybe it's that taste of freedom I've been gettng now that my kids are a little older. Whatever the case, I want to run, play, and listen to loud music. Is that so wrong?

Relevent or Dinosaur?

Continuing on with our inane banter, Lauren and I started in on the mother of all music conversations in my little world. Is punk rock dead? Or, as she put it, "Is it relevent?" I knew this was headed for a good blogging the second we started discussing. As usual, Lauren is ready to throw down right then and there, she's a "wanna go?" type girl. Sticking to my true self, I refused to answer until I'd had some time to think about it. I don't like to put stuff out there in the heat of the moment and then regret it later.

So, what do I really think about the whole punk thing? First of all, it's an overused and frequently misappropriated word. It's been banging about since the mid-60's, so if you want to get technical, it really was originally applied to some garage bands in the 60's. Hardly what you think of when you hear the word punk. The first wave of what I, and many others, consider punk happened right here in the good old USA in the mid-late 70's. You know the suspects, The Ramones, Patti Smith, Richard Hell, etc.. I believe the true spirit behind these artists was their willingness to create music outside of what was popular at the time, which was the famous arena rock and, cough..sputter.., excuse me, hacking up a hairball, disco. In short, it was anti-corporate, individualistic, sometimes snotty, but honest music.

Now, if we're going to go there with this definition, let's think about the climate of today's world. Is or is not music even more corporate dictated than ever before? Is or is it not even more difficult for bands to be recognized for their merit versus their income earning potential? I think these are the real questions underlying the relevence of a punk scene these days. Yes, punk is clearly a type of music, but almost as important is the do-it-yourself attitude that comes with it. So is it dead? I think the answer is a resounding "no."

The scene exists because it has to. Should age matter regarding relevence? This is the other question I've heard from both Lauren and others pondering the whole punk thing. I guess my feeling is, no. As long as the music does not stagnate and rely on past reputation alone, age of said band members should not matter. I don't hear anyone telling Bono that he is irrelevent. Nope. They buy his albums at warp speed and U2 continues to have an audience of all ages. So, apply that principle to any music if you wish. It's relevent if your fanbase tells you it's relevent. If young kids are going to your show and your music is fueling their fire, it's relevent. Plus, I kind of feel, once a punk, always a punk. Maybe an older, more realistic punk, but still a punk. I don't even want to get into the whole idealism of youth vs. the realism of adults. Think action. If it's happening , good.

Punk isn't your clothes or your hair. It's need and desire driven. Yes, it's a style of music, but a very broad style of music. Another conversation for another day. So, as long as there are garages and basements full of boys with bands and problems or adults who've had it with corporate dictated music or are sick of the government and are going to tell you about it, punk will exist. As for relevence, I dare you to go to any show and ask the people there if it's relevent. 'Nuff said.

Indecision!

The Bomb

Have I mentioned how much I love these guys? Do yourself a favor and check out their blistering new CD, Indecision. Turn it up real loud and make your head buzz and the paint peel off the walls. Good clean fun for all! Hope they aren't serious about that losing your hearing business. You can purchase it for yourself at Interpunk and damage your own hearing. As Jeff Pezzati said at our 40th birthday party, "If it's too loud, you're too old!"

Times Have Changed

So I have been thinking that seeing as I've billed this blog as partially being about music, perhaps I should include it occasionally as a topic. There's a thought! I don't know if I am having a mid-life crisis or a reawakening or what, but lately I have been obsessed with music again. When I have freetime, I find myself wandering around different sites online. You name it, sites for bands, online music stores, music e-zines. I'm there desperately looking for something. I just can't figure out what I'm looking for yet.

Maybe I'm trying to reconnect with my youth. Maybe I'm trying to find that perfect new band that I can't stop listening to. Maybe I'm trying to identify with the aging of some of my old favorites, see how they are handling and expressing the changes your soul makes over the years. Have we softened up yet or are we just more realistic? Have we figured out what matters?

I'm still not sure why I turn to music when I do some soulsearching. I guess I find it comforting when I find a sound or an idea that mirrors what I am going through at the moment. Sometimes I think it's a little weird that I've chosen such an impersonal way to be a part of the collective consciousness. I guess I'm kind of introverted. Now that I'm older, I wonder if I am being immature. I guess I still really don't know why I love it so much. It's simply part of what makes me tick.

The difference between me now and 20 years ago, where music is concerned, is that then it was who I was. Lauren and I had a whole discussion this past week about how I used to be so concerned about my "cred" when it came to what I would and wouldn't listen to. No way in college would I ever have admitted to liking bands like Van Halen (there's a whole horrific story that goes with that one) or some funny song from younger years like "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." Now, I'm OK with it all. No shame involved, no judgements placed. Wow, it sure takes a lot less energy! There are definitely some great benefits to getting older. I find myself more able to enjoy things for what they are. Simple.

I guess what got me thinking about this today is that tonight Lauren and I are going to go see Bob Mould. He is someone who I think has aged gracefully where his music is concerned. What is great about this show is that he will finally be playing both his newer solo material as well as some old material from Husker Du and Sugar. I never blame musicians when they decide that they aren't going to play certain things from their past. Imagine having to tell some story from when you were 21 over and over again. Not only would you get tired of the repetition, but you're no longer the person you were then. I do think that as you age, it becomes easier to revisit the past, as time has a way of smoothing out even the roughest edges. You learn to appreciate that you are what you are now because of a process and that it was all important. Trite, but true.

I guess I decided to write about this today because my last experience with Bob Mould was far different than the one I know I will have tonight. Tonight, I'll pick up Lauren, drive to the show, have probably one beer, maybe two, stand in the back, and be fine with it. Almost twenty years ago, I bought my Husker Du ticket from a friend the day of the show. I piled into a VW microbus with a bunch of people I barely knew and we drove from Columbia, SC to Chapel Hill, NC. I don't know exactly how long this took, but it was more than a few hours and I know I missed class the next day, but I'll tell you about that in a minute.

So, we drove all the way there and managed to get to the show on time. I knew I wasn't feeling so good that day, but by the time we got to the show, I knew I had the flu. Cold sweats, woozy head, exhausted. So, what did I do? Why, drink of course!!!! The show was amazing. What was more amazing was the rest of the trip. Amazing? No, STUPID!!!! So, we all leave and decide that we didn't want to drive all the way back to Columbia. We stop at a hotel somewhere. This is when I realize that I have now been railroaded. No one in the van is 21 except me. Mind you, there is also another car traveling with us and they've stopped, too. I am now legally responsible for about 10 people I barely know.

We pull around the side of the hotel so the front desk can't see how many of us there actually are. I go in with one of the girls and check in and get ONE room. Right. I'm sick and delerious and feeling a little nervous, but does this stop me? No. We all load into the one tiny room and are sprawled all over everywhere and of course we are not quiet at all. At this point I realize I am really sick and pretty much attempt to pass out. In the fog my head was encased in, I do realize that my roommates are loud, they have alcohol and they are in possession of, and are using, various types of drugs. If I hadn't been so sick, I probably would have freaked out. Even then I knew what was crossing the line regarding legality and the possibility of getting in actual legal trouble. Regardless, I just laid there. Nothing happened and we all made it back to Columbia the next day, but I definitely was not happy. Needless to say, I never went on a roadtrip with that crew again.

Long story short, I am very glad to go see Bob Mould tonight. I am very glad to be going with Lauren. I am very glad that I know I will be in my own bed at a reasonable hour tonight. I'm very glad that I can tell this story of youthful foolishness with no embarassment. I'm very glad that I am 40.

I'd Do It Again

I could call these shoes my instruments of torture or I could call them my companions. Either way, my shoes and I both endured 60 miles of pavement, gravel and grass. We walked from St. Charles to the Montrose Harbor and with the help of 2,409 other pairs of shoes and their owners and we collectively raised $6.2 million for breast cancer research and treatment. It was hands down the most physically gruelling thing I have ever done, ... and I can't wait to do it again.


Without detailing what Lauren and Jane and I were calling the "Littany of Complaints," I can briefly say that Day One was tiring, but doable. Night One was freezing cold and miserable in a way that I can't begin to describe. Which led to Day Two's problems for me, the seizing up of my calf muscles. Unless I kept moving, they cramped up. So I paced around a lot even at the breaks. We wimped out and ditched camp for Night Two and retreated to the civilized confines of the Musgrave home. At this point my calf muscles had completely rebelled and were nearly immobile. We ate and passed out and woke up early the next day to head back to camp. Were it not for a hot bath that morning, I have to say, I'm not sure I would have made it. Well, a hot bath and a lot of Vitamin V (Vicodan). Day Three was unbelievably difficult from start to finish, but at that point, who's giving up? No way! I believed at one point that I could see my pain and it took on different colors at different times. I was like a runaway truck. I could only go in one direction and had no brakes.

Happily, this is the picture of me at the closing ceremonies. Obviously I made it, as did Jane and Lauren (who, if you read her blog, was considerably more messed up than I was-stupid stubborn Viking!) I feel like I did something good. I feel like I just gave my mom the best birthday present ever. I feel like I need a nap.

Walk, walk, walk, sleep in tent, walk, walk, walk, sleep in tent, walk, walk, walk, collapse

Wow. I can barely believe it. Only three days until the walk. Sadly, one of our team members, Lauren, is suffering from a painful foot injury and may not be able to join us. I am not sure what I think at this exact moment. I am excited and anxious at the same time. I am riding an emotional rollercoaster.

It barely seems possible to me that this time last year we were celebrating my mom's birthday. Although by then we knew her time was short, she was still here and in good spirits. It was my last happy memory of my mom. Shortly after her birthday we began the revolving door of hospital stays that engulfed last fall. And so, this is a bittersweet time of year for me, heightened now by the focus on her memory as I complete this walk for her and the thousands of others who have lost their mothers, daughters, grandmothers or sisters.

Hurricane Katrina was a massive blow, wiping out a large swathe of humanity in one single blow. The images are there for all of us to take in and assess. It is easy to feel the weight of such an enormous disaster. I think of breast cancer in similar terms. It's just not so graphic and palpable. It destroys family units by robbing young children of their mothers. It kills thousands each and every year. Not just once, when the weather provides specific conditions. It is an ongoing destroyer of life. It causes financial hardship for those it touches. It does not discriminate. It devastates those who are economically disadvantaged, they seldom have access to the preventative care and God help them if they need the unbelievably costly treatment. It leaves families grieving for loved ones and fearing for the future of those left behind.

I am not making light of the horrible devastation of Katrina. I personally plan on taking action and doing my part to help those affected by such a horrible disaster. I am simply saying that quietly and doggedly, breast cancer will declare more victims than hundreds of hurricanes and will continue to do so until a cure is found. So this weekend I will do my part with the support of many dear friends and family members. A huge thanks and much love to Jane and Lauren who have committed to this with me. I wouldn't be doing this without them.

The look of pounce

My poor son, Evan, is terrified of Edward. He constantly asks me if the cat has "the look of pounce." Meaning, if that cat is going psycho-kitty on me, I'm out of here. We hope that Edward and Evan will eventually be good friends.

Taped ankles and a lot of Kleenex

My ankle is taped, but my heart is still sore. With about 7 weeks to go, this weekend is our big fundraiser for the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk. We are having an art auction at the Breadline Theater Gallery on Saturday night to raise the $6300 we need to do the walk. My friends have had to "readjust" me a few times as it is very personal for me. I've discovered that the walking is the easy part for me, painful at times, but easy compared to dealing with all the raw emotions I have while I go through this exercise.

So, my greatest hope is that we will do well and raise a lot of money so that other people won't have to go through what our family has faced. I know I can't buy a cure, but I can help raise money for much needed research. If you are in town, please come to the auction. It will be great fun and there is so much cool art. Really!

Breadline Theater Gallery
1802 W. Berenice
Chicago

6:30-9:30 p.m.

If you can't attend, you can still donate by going to:

www.the3day.org

Click on the Chicago dates and then on the Donate button. Type in my name and it will take you to my fundraising page where you can make a donation on-line.

Hope to see all of you on Saturday night!

"Mama need coffee."-Evan H., age 2

Emma found this lovely picture for me. What is she trying to tell me? The quote is from Evan. He uttered this one day when we were in the grocery store as the coffee was passing him on the conveyor belt at the cashier. I guess this makes me an addict. Oh well, I can think of worse things to be addicted to. Kids, all truth, no filter.

Ready for Eddie

I have now completed the most insane parenting task of my lifetime. On Saturday, I left at 7 in the morning to fly to Portland to pick up Edward, ...........a cat. If my children ever doubted my true love for them, it was proven through and through on Saturday. Four and half hours to Portland, a sprint thorough the airport, a quick pick-up, another mad dash to the ticket counter, followed by begging for "cuts" in the security line so I'd make my flight back home, a layover in Dallas and home by midnight. That's just plain nuts, and I was the fool who agreed! In the end, money was saved and a kitten was added to our family, but geez, that was a little extreme.

Edward has so far proved himself to be a perfect addition. He purred the minute I picked him up and has apparently fulfilled all my insane cravings I occasionally have for another child. This morning when I came back from my walk, there he was, all sleepy-eyed and purry and just plunked himself down in my lap while I drank my coffee. What else do you need? A little caffeine and a little furry love. It's all good.

I decided as he sat there purring that he was very healing to me. Lots of love has been lost this year and a little more added was a good thing. I know that it's just a cat, but sometimes it's the small things in life that put the big things in perspective. No words of wisdom will ever come from his mouth, he will never laugh as I blunder my way through parenting, but he will sit in my lap and love me while I drink my coffee in the morning and sometimes that is all you need. A small, furry calming force in my life. Not necessarily mindblowing theology or philosophy, but just a little piece of earthly joy to start the day, creation created for us by our Creator. I don't know, but i think it's pretty cool.

What Have I Done?

It was all fun and games picking out the new kitten. And then reality hit last night when we had to return poor Baily to the animal shelter. All I can say is that it was probably the least fun I've had in quite some time. I feel so fundamentally wrong for just giving away something that we all loved. Baily was a good sweet kitty that just happened to have a really bad habit. I know that in the grand scheme of life, this is not a major moment. Believe me, I've had enough of those to know the difference. Maybe it's that I'm really not as OK as I think I am. Little stuff does seem to set me off much easier than it used to. So for now, I feel awful, mean, and cruel for giving away the family pet. What can I say? I have perfected guilt and self-hatred to a high art.

I'm left to clean my house top to bottom to prepare for Edward's arrival. I'm sure once he's here I'll feel much better. I don't know, in my world, you don't give away things you love...ever.

It's Raining Citations

What the heck? Scott and I collectively have managed to rack up four citations in less than a week. What does this mean? 3 for parking (including getting my friend's car towed that I am supposed to be taking care of while she is on vacation) and one speeding ticket (not mine!). You know, we always wanted to spend ALL of our money like this. All I can think is, "Hey, that all just cost me my new screen door!" One of the parking tickets was given to us after metering time was over. You know, you only have to feed the meter until 6. We got the ticket at 6:30. What the f*#&! Bad luck, bad karma, bad cops. I don't know. So, I just got back from the Norshore Towing pound. Yikes! That place is a bit scary. Scott started singing "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" as we pulled up. Not a place I really ever want to visit again. They are so sympathetic, too. So the moral of the story is, drive the speed limit and mark on the calendar when you need to move cars?

Brew-Ha-Ha

So tonight we are paying our poor suffering students who have been working on our house for three weeks (for a restoration class-they PAID to work on my house!) in BBQ and beer. Believe me when I say I owe them more than a few beers. They have saved us at least a few thousand dollars. They are all very earnest "kids." And of course, one of them is vegan. I actually am looking forward to talking to them tonight. Not much of a chance so far with them, and myself at times, hanging off of scaffolding. I'll include some pictures of the house as it goes through the stages of restoration. All you really need to know is that our house was beige and literally had 110 years of paint on it. Makes for some fun scraping! I never really anticipated some of the repairs we've had to do. Who has to rebuild a chimney? Well, we did. I am very excited about restoring this house. The poor thing had been neglected for about 50 years when we bought it. They had refinished the inside, but did nothing but slap yet another coat of paint on the outside. It ends here! So, if you,d like to know what I'll be doing every weekend this summer, think scaffolding, caustic chemicals and scrapers. Sexy, huh?

Today I Rant

I am appalled and disgusted by the news of the terrorist bombings in London today. On a personal note, I worry for the safety of my sister-in-law, Jhennifer, who is there peacefully studying architectural history. On a global note, why interrupt a conference where the possibility for real positive change is the focus? Clearly, I do not have the mind of a terrorist. Much wrong has been done to so many, but I think we can all agree that blowing things up is certainly no solution. And I would say the same to our own nation as we continue to torment people on what seems like a global basis. There's no point in asking why anymore. We're left with this mess and personally I feel helpless to effect any kind of change. I sign things when I can, write to congressmen, and even to the president. Yeah, I'm sure he read that! I feel the anger just boiling up inside of me this morning. Pure unadulterated disgust and that behavioral therapist feeling of "Consequate!" Not that I am advocating retaliation, just I wish there was a peaceful consequence that would stop this madness. Lauren, you're studying justice and punishment. Any thoughts? This is total injustice on all accounts as far as I can tell. What next?

Edward!!! 

Goodbye Baily, Hello Edward

So, our old cat is leaving us due to some "behavioral issues." I hate being a parent sometimes. It is so painful. Emma is so upset about losing the cat and I feel evil for causing the pain, but the cat is destroying our house. To alleviate some of her pain, we are getting a new kitten. She has already named him Edward. He is being flown to us from a cattery in Oregon. It was the best deal we ould find on a Ragdoll. Hopefully the new kitty will fill that empty space in her heart. Thanks to puberty, she is kind of a mess right now with emotions flying all over the place. It's wonderful to see her growing up, but this is such a brutal age.

As for me, I am focusing my energy on work, the house and getting ready for the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk. Apparently all fabulous diversions from dealing with my own raw emotions. There are many times that I feel like a shell of my former self. Losing my mom has left a hole that I can't even fathom at times. I've lost my mother and my best friend. The loss of female companionship is the most difficult to take. And of course, I have always felt that no one could understand me as well as she did. No one ever does love you like your mother, that all encompassing level of true unconditional love. With everyone else, your faults matter. Moms see your faults, endure your faults, and help you navigate your way through them.

Enough about sadness and loss, although it has fully taken over my life it seems. I'd love to rant about the government, but I just don't have the energy these days. I'd love to sit and discuss the last great book I read, but it just doesn't seem to matter so much. I do spend a lot of my time focusing my energy on the kids I work with, in an effort to make their lives and their families lives better. I guess I'm a one person at a time girl. No big fights for me, just little ones.

A great thing that has been happening lately, and spurring my work efforts on, is that one of my little guys is really doing well. In the last month he has changed so much for the better. I'm afraid to say it, but I have been convinced all along that he is one of the ones that will make it. He is so close, finally crossing the final threshold of socialization with his peers. Boring to some, three years of literal brute force and undying energy and patience for me.

I did want to mention my trip to New York with Emma. We had a fabulous time. Zabar's coffee and bagels each morning and shopping until our feet hurt. I have to wonder who this fabulous creature is that was with me. Did I ever know her? Who knew that at the Met, what gave her pause was the armor and modern art? Interesting for an 11 year old girl I'd say. We met Lauren's friends Tom and George for dinner in Chinatown and had a lovely time. Emma loved them both even if she was shy around them at the time.

Guess I should at least mention Evan! He is doing very well, almost done with his baseball season. He is getting more mature and easier to handle everyday. It's about time! Scott's birthday is coming up next weekend. We haven't decided on how to celebrate yet. Guess that's it for now. Work to do. Kids to tend to. House to scrape! Yow, my muscles still hurt from some marathon scraping this last weekend.

Numero Uno

I don't know what possessed me this morning to start this, but here it is. Today is my daughter's 11th birthday and perhaps I am feeling a bit reflective. I've been thinking about the course of my life, hers, and that of my mother's. All intertwined, all with different focus and energy. We are the same blood, but clearly unique. I worry that sometimes I can become too selfish with myself and my time. It doesn't really belong to me anymore. Not that my children own me, but I owe it to them to be available when they need support. Well, I actually have to do some work, so I'll write more later.