The Art of Threats and Bribes

I've been trying to get Evan to clean his room for, I don't know, months and months. He says he won't do it, he says it's his room and he knows where everything is. It's disgusting, though. Wrappers strewn about, an old science project growing mold in a petri dish. The thing that really irks me is that, for some reason, he can't keep a fitted sheet on his bed. The boy can work a computer, he can do all kinds of complex tasks but he seems to not be able to stretch some elastic over the corner of a bed. I tried to speak his language. I pleaded, can you pretend that the bed is an enemy soldier, and the fitted sheet is your weapon, and if you encase your enemy in the sheet you will win the battle?

Today he wanted to go to Games Workshop and I told him not until he cleaned his room. It worked. He cleaned for a few hours and I saw some real results. Observe:

Before:


After:


Parenting, it is the art of threats and bribes.

Solstice Skeleton

The presents are wrapped. It's Christmas Eve and I'm finishing up the night drinking wine and listening to Uncle Tupelo. We spent the evening at my dad's house. Me, my kids, my dad, my sister Cara and her husband Dan, and their two teenage daughters Koty and Kiley. We had a nice dinner--my dad grilled salmon and asparagus. I brought a mushroom galette and Cara brought cheesy potatoes and chocolate chip cookies.

I had given Cara my stethoscope to bead, and she made it all fancy for me for Christmas. It's awesome. I hope my clinical skills will be as dazzling as my stethoscope. If not, then I hope my stethoscope will serve to distract my patients from my incompetence. This picture does not do it justice, I'm going to try to get a better one.



My dad gave us typically tasteful gifts, plus some cash which is always welcome. A nice little sweetgrass basket, a harmony hollow cranberry plant knicknack, which was the kind of cute little botanical thing my mom was into, a fancy candle. He gave my sister and I these Minnesota Ojibwe dictionaries, so if any of you start talking Ojibwe smack to me I'm going to be able to look up what you're saying.

I gave my sister and dad handmade leather purses that I bought at the Shadow Art Fair. With Cara's I included a wine bottle vacuum sealer. In usual eerie fashion, it turned out that she had bought one of those for my dad as part of his gift. I didn't buy him one because he finishes any bottle of wine that he opens and I didn't think he'd start drinking less so he could vacuum seal it. Now we figure he can keep drinking more, maybe one and a half bottles and vacuum seal the rest. Cara and I are always doing weird synchronous things like that. One time near Christmas she called and I was making cranberry white chocolate oatmeal cookies, and at the same time she was making the same cookies for me. It wasn't like those cookies were some tradition, either, it was out of the blue. Freaky!

When we got home I got the kids straight to bed so I could get down to serious Santa work. It used to be that I would wrap presents in the basement while Gerry managed the kid situation, but last year I remember being really tired and just doing it in the living room. Luka had been told about the realities of Santa because I'm not going to lie if he asks me about it, but still he acted startled when he was faced with a half-hidden pile of gifts in the living room. He had been coughing all night, and had gagged himself into throwing up all over the place. So we had gifts to wrap, vomit to clean, and a kid that would not stop coughing. He ended up coughing all night long and there was no reprieve until I called for some narcotic cough syrup the next morning. It was awful. Anyway, I thought last year that we had established that I was Santa.

So this evening he kept getting up and I had to usher him out of the room several times. He started bawling and saying something about Santa not existing!! I was like--please!! He said, why did you say Santa existed. I told him that I am Santa, and that I do exist. I feel like I'm living Groundhog Day but it's Christmas instead.

With classes finishing up so late, I didn't get a chance to get a tree until right before Christmas so I said forget it. I just didn't have the time to go running around looking for one, so I bought some cedar garland in which to wrap our skeleton and Evan decorated that on the solstice. The cedar makes it look more tropical than I really like, but the cedar can burned when I'm done. Burning cedar smells really good, a fact that I am including here for my pyro readers.

Luka wasn't into the skeleton idea, so he decorated my little fake tree. Amongst the traditional decorations he hung some fondue forks he found in the kitchen. He put up a sign that directed Santa to put Luka's presents there.

Christmas morning. I think they made out pretty well. Evan got some Warhammer 40K, a soft and sparkly severed unicorn head, again from the Shadow Art Fair (which he said he LOVED), a holy toast stamp where you can press the image of the Virgin Mary into a piece of bread and then toast it. Luka got a gel ant farm colony, some sour cream and onion crickets to snack on, and some Beatles stuff. They both got IPods, books, maps, the movie HELP, the Wii game Big Brain Academy. When Luka opened that he stood there going hmmm... with a doubtful look on his face. I ordered--"look excited for Santa!" and he gave me the reaction that I was looking for, a little overkill actually. The kid is so opinionated.

I Think I Molted

Thanks to those who have offered up help and suggestions for winter semester childcare. I think I have the afterschool situation covered, and backups, and now all I need is the two early morning shifts covered but I have some leads to follow up on.

This past week has been interesting. On the day that my divorce was final, a knot developed in my center that I carried around for five days. It was the weirdest thing, as generally I'm not a gastro-stressy person. Then it disappeared. It just went away, and I felt great. Really great, like I've been carrying around this sublevel anxiety that was suddenly released. I have just as much to do, but it doesn't feel ominous anymore. Instead of this nebulous feeling that the things I have to do are a gray sky above that I'm trying to clear by making wind with my hands, they just became a canopy of fruit that needs to be picked and I can just reach up and grab it.

I feel like I gained Deep Understandings of Life, without reading any Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I can focus on schoolwork, but then feel okay about setting it aside for awhile to play games with the kids or laugh with Evan over hilarious headlines from his book of compilations from The Onion. Six Flags Killer Still at Large, Says Souvenir-Bedecked Police Officer.

I think I molted. Perhaps somewhere in the neighborhood my crunchy shell is lying amongst this year's shed leaves, unseen for the cloak of early snow.

It's Crunch Time

Oh my goodness. It's the end of the semester, holiday obligations are making themeselves known, and I need to line up winter semester childcare. Help!

Starting in January, until the end of April, I have clinicals starting at 7 a.m. on Wednesday and Thursday mornings at St. Joes and I need someone to help me with my kids. I would like someone to be here around 6:30, and the main thing would be to get my kids up, fed and off to school. My younger son (age 8) would need to be driven or walked by 8:30 a.m.

It also means that if there is a problem, if Luka is sick and I'm already gone, that the sitter would have to deal with it the best they can. They would have to make the calls to find someone to watch him, construct a velcro wall and stick him to it with some food and videos, or stay themselves...because attending clinicals is mandatory. They've assured us that if we miss a clinical, that those hours will have to be made up and they will find something even more evil than usual for us to do. And when you're talking human bodies...hoo boy, I don't even want to go there.

I will also need afterschool care on Mondays until 7 and Thursday and Fridays until 6:15. It wouldn't matter if it were my house or not.

So...are you interested or know anybody? Let me know and we'll talk money. Contact me at sfallis@sbcglobal.net

Or feel free to suggest places to go to recruit some help. EMU Childcare Institute is one place that's been mentioned, I have yet to do that.

Glad, where?

What a day. After a 6 month process, I showed up in court on my appointed day of today and then waited for what seemed like ages for a courtroom full of people to sign in. I then gave my testimony when called, which took about a minute, and I was done. I held up my right hand, swore in, and answered a battery of questions asked by my attorney with "yes yes yes yes yes yes yes". And now it's over.

Georgina accompanied me for moral support which was super fab of her because it was all pretty boring really. It could have been less boring if we could have knit, but we couldn't take our needles in. We talked about how strange it was to wait with all those people, all knowing that they're going through the same process. All these random people end up in this one spot on one day for the same reason. Like when you're waiting for a mammogram, and you know everyone there is going to get their boobs smooshed. Or when I saw an eating disorders psychologist years ago, and if there was someone waiting in the waiting room when I came out I felt like I had this automatic bond with them, that I knew that they were messed up, but I didn't know if they were throw-uppers, or anorexic or what. And I was curious about that. But your eyes don't even meet because that would be weird, because we wanted our screwed-upness to be anonymous. How things have changed, because here I am posting about it on my blog.

Now I just feel exhausted.

I got a message from the ex today that said that he was thinking about how the last time he told me he loved me, and that I told him that he only thinks he loves me. And he said maybe I was right.

What is love anyway.

I'm so tired, I can't even function right now. My dog keeps looking at me with concern. Or maybe she just wants to get fed. I think I've secured my dog's love with food, but that sure doesn't work with people. That's just a pile of empty gladware containers.

Jive Turkey

It's Thanksgiving weekend.

Our usual Thanksgiving gig was cancelled due to the stressiness of my aunt that would have hosted. My grandfather broke his hip and had surgery, and she's been the one helping her mother out and getting her back and forth to the hospital. When she called on Sunday to tell me, I was similarly stressy from the party that was shortly due to start at my own home to celebrate Luka's birthday. His birthday was the Sunday before but I just couldn't do it then, too much going on. So when my aunt called, I shrieked, "I know where you're comin' from sister!"

So the boys and I spent Thanksgiving at home, and I rather looked forward to it. I like to hang out with my family, but it's been so chaotic here that I was glad to be able to just come to a screeching halt for a second. I planned a beta-carotene Thanksgiving--I was going to make stuffed acorn squash with veggie sausage, smashed potatoes, turnips and baby carrots with faux chicken gravy, and carrot soup. For some reason I bought what seems like a bushel of baby carrots at Costco for Luka's b-day party and I have to use them up. I figured my kids wouldn't be thrilled with the pervasive carrot theme, but we all like fake meat. Boca makes good stuff, and so does Tofurkey. I don't really like their fake roast, but their sausage is good and I was going to chop up some of their Italian sausage to put in the squash.

Late afternoon, I took the boys to see Bee Movie. I am not a huge fan of going to the movie theater, and became less so when I had to fork over $21 for the three of us. I thought there was a discount for getting there early, but I think they were gouging us for the holidays. I brought my knitting and two little flashlights to knit by that turned out to have dead batteries, so for a good portion of the torturous movie I was holding up my knitting to be silhoutted against the screen so I could see what I was doing. We discussed the movie afterwards, and I taught them a new word--"formulaic".

I was starving by the time we left, too hungry to go home and cook the planned dinner that they probably wouldn't appreciate anyway, so we decided to search out an open restaurant. I figured our best bet was Asian, but Tuptim and DaLat weren't open. We stopped at Pita Pita and ate there. I'd been there before, but I never noticed how dirty it was. I took Luka to the bathroom, and started immediately telling him "don't touch that! don't touch that!" He grabbed the door handle before I could wrap it, and so I made him rewash his hands. I know from Microbiology what would grow on some agar if any door handle were swabbed and cultured, and normally I don't make a big deal about it but this place was gross! Then I noticed everything that needed to be cleaned and I started getting a headache thinking about how disgusting the kitchen might be. I guess that was kind of a depressing Thanksgiving dinner. We went home and had a nice time playing board games, though.

Yesterday I took the boys to their Grandma's and they're staying for two blissful nights. There is so much I want to get done, but unfortunately I discovered that the furnace wasn't kicking it out as it should. I had a heating and cooling dude out and found out that the fan is broke and it can't be replaced until Monday. Well, it could have if I coughed up an extra $100 because the supply house was closed for the holiday and they would charge extra to go open up. Thrifty as I am, I said nah, I'll wait. So it's currently 51 degrees, calm wind, barometer steady in my living room. When I was drinking coffee, I could see my breath. Now I just want to sit here swaddled on the couch, but I can't let some good freedom go to waste so here I go. I'm going to try to warm up this place with some cleaning energy and I suppose it's a good time as any to fire up the oven and cook that squash.

Turn 42, First Tattoo

I turned 42 last week.

Georgina threw me a party at her house, which was loads of fun. We ate delicious food, including a pesto pate thingie that was demolished and a roasted veggie soup that Brooke made. I know there was a can of Campbell's soup in there, and according to Brooke, that was the magic ingredient. Andy brought a cake that eventually was blazing on its entire top surface. We also demolished a case of Dark Corner.

I missed Julie, who didn't make it because she was sick. I guess the upside is, as I decided to wear something lowcut, at least she wasn't there to steal my boob thunder.

We danced! Thanks to Brooke and Shawn for providing the tunes, as well as entertaining us with their dance routines. A highlight of the evening was reenacting Tara's fourth grade dance routine to Devo's Whip It. We did that twice.

I also did double duty in the spanking machine. It was supposed to be a progressive spanking machine, although the first time it didn't work out that way so we redid it. I ended up with elbow burns since there was some low-clearance areas that required some elbow-shimmying. It was an all-ages spanking machine, and there were some young 'uns that were more challenging to get through. Our parties are family-friendly, after all.

I felt lucky to have such great friends to celebrate with. I am glad to have the vim and vigor to make it through a spanking machine. I hope to still go through spanking machines when I'm 82, truly.

The day after the party, I got my first tattoo. I met up with Leo Zulueta of Spiral Tattoo, and he proceeded to draw the design on my wrist. I had been into his place before and looked at this portfolio, and I loved the wrist tattoo that he had done on another woman. It's not his usual style. He is known for his work in tribal tattooing, the big bold Polynesian style tattoos. Another thing about Leo is that he draws the tattoo freehand, which apparently is unusual because a lot of tattoo artists use stencils. That's my understanding anyway, but like I said, this was my first one.

I spent a probably a total of three hours there, and I'd say that it took two hours to draw, and one to actually tattoo. Leo was meticulous, and kept redoing the art. Other than starting to feel a little hypoglycemic, I really enjoyed the whole process. Leo is very knowledgeable about the history of tattooing, and talked a lot about that. His partner, Diane, was there, a tattoo artist herself and photographer, and they were the cutest thing together. She oohed and aahed over my tattoo, and they smooched each other when they crossed paths, and he told me how she was his biggest supporter. He told me how he thought tattoos are a sort of rite of passage, and that those are missing in our society. He told me he thought the tattoo would help me, and how he knew they helped Diane. I asked her in what way, and she told me about how it's helped her claim her body and herself, no matter what society tells her is appropriate. She showed me something that she had framed on the wall, that was attributed to Nelson Mandela but when I looked it up I found that it was actually written by Marianne Williamson, and it goes like this:

"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Other than the God stuff, I can relate.

I love my little tattoo. I like that I can see it, because I do think of it as a little ritual that is marking this time in my life. There are a lot of changes going on with me now, and it's kind of a hard time because I'm juggling a lot with home and school. I look at my tattoo, and I think--I can do it, I have to do it. I like that there was pain involved in the process. I like that the design is evocative of water and feathers, and that it encircles my wrist, one of the toughest parts of my body on one side, and one of the most vulnerable on the inside. The two dots on the inside represent my babies, and I didn't think of this at the time, but I think it's fitting that they are on the side where the skin is thinnest and you can see the vessels that carry my blood.

The Big Four Two

From Gerry.

I Ran Away Today

I'm losing it.

I ran away. I couldn't take it any more. My kids arguing with me. I said fine, watch tv, eat as much candy as you want. I'm not making you dinner because I don't feel like it and you guys don't do anything you don't feel like doing. I have a test tomorrow so I went to the Corner Brewery tonight and studied.

I thought they might be a little taken aback by this, but they were like, wow, you're a cool mom. To me, it felt really extreme, but apparently not to them. I was hoping that they would realize that I am the structure in their life, that it's all a swirl of chaos without me, but apparently 2 1/2 hours at the brewery didn't exactly convey that.

I feel a little decompressed, though.

I did have two good things happen to me today. I had my hair trimmed by my hairlady, Tara, at Salon Luminescence. She was up at the front counter when I crossed the parking lot and walked in. When we went back to wash my hair, she told me that another stylist at the counter kept saying to Tara how beautiful I was as I walked up to the salon, without knowing that I was there for an appointment with her. How nice to hear, as I'm going to be 42 tomorrow and I feel like a middle-aged vomit and feces encrusted scuzz of a dishrag.

And I received this, from Gary, Andre's dad:

"The day was Halloween,the year sixty-five,
ghosts and goblins of today were not even alive;
and, on that day there was a blessed event,
for Stacey came to us, heaven sent!

From crying and crawling to talking and walking,
she grew into a lovely young girl, a full life ahead,
her elders revealed that she is unique, a treasure
a blending of traditions, heritage and culture.

The promise of youth is now fulfilled in this woman,
in the caring and nurturing of her young blessings,
in the friend she is to many, such a treasure,
in the dignity she adds to our traditions and culture.

So we gather this Halloween day, not to say boo!
Not to play tricks, not to beg for treats,
but, to celebrate her day
to stop and to say to shout as one,
HAVE A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I don't know how well I nurtured my young blessings today, but I'll take it. I am so touched. Such a nice present.

This is Mama Love

It's a busy time of year. There's Halloween, which means parties and cobbling costumes together, Luka's birthday is coming up, harvests are rolling in and its the last chance to preserve anything if it's going to be done.

Yesterday turned out to be more hectic than I had planned for. Wendy and Pete hosted Pumpkin Day at their barn, plus Evan had a birthday party to go to, and I decided I was going to make a pumpkin chili as well as some homemade applesauce to bring to Wendy's. I've been making applesauce for freezing from apples I picked up last weekend from Lesser Farms out in Dexter. I bought two bushels of Ida Reds for the sauce (I prefer Jonathan's, but I missed the season), a peck of Granny Smiths for cooking (they became an apple crisp), and peck and a half of these delicious apples called Arkansas Black that are dark as plums and super crispy and sweet in a green perfumy way. Soooo good. I also bought a gallon of their honey and a hunk of beeswax that I'm going to transform into votive candles.

From Lesser Farms I had driven my kids and E and O out to Rodgers Corners, a family farm out near Chelsea that we go to every year for our pumpkins. I just have to say that every one of us were munching on an apple varietel as we left one farm for another when Fiona APPLE came on the radio. I kid you not.

So yesterday, I had multiple projects going on when I received a call from my neighbor that their child that Luka plays with had lice. I've been battling the lice monster with Luka, and I had treated him last week for it. I've been checking him every day to see if I should reshampoo him, and sure enough, after the call I checked and he was reinfested. Or, infested still. I have no idea but I am sick of those little fuckers.

So, here we go again. Wash his hair, coat him with Nix, wash again. Make sure nothing's burning on the stove. Plead with him to sit still so I can comb through his hair, he resists, cries, complains. Get all the laundry downstairs and get all that going--pillows, sheets, stuffed animals. Make sure the main bedding is done first so I can get his bed remade before we go out. May as well clean the bathroom since there are telltale signs that my no-standing-and-peeing rule has been violated. Take out the laundry from the day before when he stood in the hallway and threw up because the cough that he has sets off his gag reflex. He had been covered in vomit, it was all over the floor, splashed on doors, trim and walls. I had him step onto a towel, get undressed, wipe off his feet so he can walk straight into the shower while I start the laundry and clean up.

So last night, we get in late. We had fun. I was exhausted. I had to decompress at the party after rushing around all day and thankfully when I picked Evan up from his party and held my breath as I checked his scalp AGAIN he was still clean. If he weren't that may have sent me over the edge. So Pumpkin Day was a nice little break from it all. I could sit, talk, dance, eat, drink and that was all I had to do. And I did it.

Four a.m., Luka calls me and he had puked all over his bed while sleeping, so he was matted with puke on one side of his head. So I get up, get Luka up and just shut the door to his room because there is no way I was dealing with that at that time of night. Thankfully, it was all contained, and the kind of situation that's going to have to have an initial decontamination in the backyard before it goes to the laundry.

So I wash off the little goober, give him the hard stuff cough medicine that has codeine in it, and get him settled in my bed and rub his back to get him relaxed until the medicine takes effect. He falls asleep, his little head on my pillow, still with a faint aroma of vomit. And I think to myself--I will battle lice for you, clean up gallons of throw up and contend with all the other bodily fluids, too.

It won't always be like this, but until then I will just keep doing it. This is mama love.

My Friends Are Like Cabbage

The season is wrapping up. Just one more week to go for vegetables from Box Elder Acres, but in part I'm looking forward to it because with just the three of us, it has been too much. I've frozen what I can, but jeez. It's bad when you shove green stuff into your fridge with one hand and close it with the other, like an overstuffed suitcase.

We got a storage cabbage yesterday. I love those words together, "storage cabbage". It sounds so firm and solid, like a storage cabbage is. I was musing upon the goodness of storage cabbage. It's there for the long haul. It'll take you through the winter, ready to nourish when it's needed. It's so versatile, it'll make a sturdy, hot soup, or a funky salad.

My friends are like storage cabbage. They have been there for me, especially lately with so many changes going on, like adjusting to school and single parenthood. Providing childcare so I can get to class, listening to me complain, and offering up help whenever I need it. Being fun. It's still overwhelming at times just because there is so much to do...I wish someone could go get a mammogram for me.

It's allright though.

And there you go. Comparing my friends to cabbage is about as sentimental as I get.

Finally, I Made Something I Can Wear

I've been knitting more, in part because the weather is such good crisp knitty weather, and also as part of my vigorous efforts to avoid studying. I made this hat from handspun that I bought at the last Shadow Art Fair. I made another hat from Noro Iro that didn't turn out, it was the detective hat from the Tracy Ullmann book. It just looked wrong so I ripped it out and I'm going to make a scarf.

Music, Sticks, Cans and Kittens

I was seriously questioning my parenting skills yesterday. I was seriously questioning my decision to get cable. I thought it could be a nice little addition to our household, something to round out our busy lives in controlled doses of educational programming. But really, it's one more thing to power struggle over with my kids. I am sick of the arguing and whining, and worst of all, the glassy-eyed stares of my little media junkies. If there was a parrot in the house, this is what it would have learned to shriek by now, "Turn it OFF!!"

I had banned video games from this household, but recently let my kids buy a Wii with their own money. The Wii is pretty cool, at least it involves moving around and there are no shooting games with it. But Evan had borrowed a controller and a Mario Kart game and we've been fighting over that, too. The game is fine, but when it's time to switch it off, you'd think that I'd told Luka it was time to cut off a limb. The crying, the carrying on. The fury.

It is ridiculous.

As usual, I was trying to get some cleaning done yesterday and trying to get my kids involved with that. Evan will help, but he typically does things half-assed and has to be told each individual task. You can't just say, "clean the living room". Never mind that there is visible litter that can be thrown in the trash. Speaking of trash, it's Evan's job to take the recycling and garbage out and the empty cans back in. I typically find the garbage can and recycling bin IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR BACKYARD. Why? Why not take it all the way to the garage? He must get halfway back there, and think that it would just be too thorough to keep going.

Luka resists every little thing, and I'm constantly issuing threats. Yesterday there was packaging from a cheese snack on our coffee table and I told him to throw it away. He refused. "That's not mine, that's Solstice's". Give me a break. I have to expend way too much energy to get these kids to do stuff. That's the problem with our cushy modern American society. Natural selection would have eliminated this gene pool years ago if it were up to hunting and gathering to keep us going.

There are times I just need a break from these kids. Just get out of my way, let me clean. I fantasize about stringing them up a pole for awhile, like those bear poles that are out in the forests where people camp so that they can suspend their food out of the way of bears. I would do it humanely, of course. They would have a nice comfortable jacket that would would hold the line, and it would be worthwhile because I would give them some reading to do. Maybe some Jane Austen, and maybe they'll grow up and put a bumper sticker on their car that says "I'd rather be strung up on a bear pole, reading Jane Austen"

After the stressful morning, we had Luka's soccer game and things started looking up. The kids were excited about going out to Dexter to see a barn show featuring Chris Buhalis and the Hummingbirds. Actually, they weren't so excited about the show, but they love playing out on the wooded property of the folks that own the barn. So Shannon and I took the kids out there. I love seeing shows there, I had seen Uncle Earl play there before. The sound quality is great, and I love the down-hominess of the barn. Toddlers wandering around, each matched with a dog staring them down waiting for them to drop food. One dog would meander around on stage during the show and then plop itself down. There were lots of people I know, but don't see very often.

Chris sounded great, he played with Dave Keeny on dobro and Dave Sharp on stand up bass. I particularly liked the song Whiskey Six which apparently will be on his next CD. The Hummingbirds played with John Latini on bass, Jim Latini on drums and a pedal steel guitar player that I don't know, but Shannon was familiar with. A fiddle player was up there for a few songs but I didn't catch her name. I bought the new EP by the Hummingbirds, so now there will be some new Ypsilanti music for the IPod.

My boys occupied themselves outside for most of the night, running around with sticks, until the last hour or so when Evan cozied up with a kitten and listened to the music. Luka knew a boy from school, and they entertained themselved by kicking a can around outside under some lanterns strung around the trees.

An interesting day, starting with some high tech frustrations and ending with good relaxing times with music, sticks, cans and kittens.

I don't think cable is going to last very long around here.

I Have to Rave

I signed up for a membership at Washtenaw Community College's new Health and Fitness Center a couple weeks ago, and I finally went today to swim after I dropped the kids off to school. The place is fabulous! I was hooked in because I love to swim, but I usually don't swim indoors. Indoor pools usually seem so clammy, and I feel crispy just thinking about winter chlorine skin immersion. The lap pool that they have, however, is surrounded by windows and filled with natural light. I had heard that they don't put chlorine in the pool at all. The lifeguard there today said they may put in some but it's mostly salt. I could tell, too, by the difference in buoyancy. They played music in there, too, which always helps to get me going.

The place is like a spa. It's all new, and environmentally friendly. The toilets have two different flush modes, one for Number One and one for Number Two. The bathrooms have saunas and whirlpools. In the locker room they have something called a Suit-O-Matic, where you put your wet bathing suit in and press down on the lid, and the machine spins it dry. As an Amish wannabe, I was like, GOLLY! I love it when appliances have "O-Matic" in their name. It couldn't be better unless they detailed my car while I was in there.

They supply shampoo, conditioner, soap, hair dryers, towels, deodorant, hairspray, mouthwash, q-tips, all kinds of crap. And that is the deal that will tip me over to actually going on a regular basis because I hate packing all that stuff. It's like camping, I want to be there but I abhor getting all the stuff ready. It's because I'm lazy. I guess I wouldn't really make a good Amish person after all.

Ypsitucky Kernels

Last night I met Shannon at the Corner Brewery to throw down on some Sacred Cow IPAs. We've been talking about meeting for a beer for awhile, and finally it worked out. Greg was also there and he bellied up to the bar with us, disappearing periodically to have a smoke outside after being reminded that he couldn't light up inside, which he kept doing. So, I got to know these folks a little better, the way that one does over fermented beverages, that I'd really only known before as acquaintances.

I brought with me a big honkin' tomato from my garden for Shannon. As the tomato beautifully squatted red before us, it served as a focal point for some interesting discussion about food preservation methods and the undigestibility of corn.

Nostalgiac '70s music was playing last night, so I must have said "I love this song" at least five times, but I only said "I wish I could smell gas right now" only once. I can't remember exactly why, maybe it was because the corn discussion led to talking about ethanol exhaust. That had to have been it. I love the smell of gas and garages.

Anyway, the beer and nostalgia led to a flurry of Itunes buying when I got home. This is what I bought:

The singles Killer Queen and You're My Best Friend by Queen, Siren by Roxy Music, Goats Head Soup by Rolling Stones, I deliberated over buying Tommy by the Who, but I thought I might only listen to We're Not Going to Take It so I'm waiting on that one, and The Gospel Spirit: Loretta Lynn. I'm an atheist who loves old country gospel, go figure.

One of the songs that played last night was one that I always liked, but I have no idea who sings it or the name. Can anyone help me here? It goes like "Sign, sign, everywhere a sign...do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?"

Revelations

from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran Khalil

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter
rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup
that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit
the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart
and you shall find it is only that which has given you
sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart,
and you shall see that in
truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow,"
and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you
at your board,
remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between
your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at
standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh
its gold and silver, needs
must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Crazy

It's been quite the week so far. The kids started school yesterday, and thankfully they seem happy with their teachers. L says he want to do two years of second grade, he likes his teacher so much. I also started classes. I have Microbiology on Mondays and Wednesdays, Micro Lab on Thursdays, and Pathophysiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Interesting subjects, but I will have to do a shitload of studying in order to do well.

I'm trying to get into my groove. I'm up at 6 to have time for shower and make coffee before making sure E gets up. He's off at 7. Get L up with plenty of time to argue about whatever we're going to argue about that morning. Today it was shoes, but it will be a different topic tomorrow.

Get them off to school, then come back, clean the kitchen, do laundry, get some reading done for class. Maybe make some food for dinner so it's ready right after my class. Yesterday, I invited Andre and his kids over to help plow through some of my produce from Box Elder Acres. I made an eggplant pasta dish that I thought was pretty good but it was looked on with suspicion by everyone under thirty. Nobody gagged, though, so I count that as success.

I got an estimate to get trees trimmed away from my house. I'm getting a half-bathroom put in my basement, and that should be done over the weekend. It should be cool, too, Chris is going to put in some slate tile and knotty pine walls. I also ordered three double-hung windows, and in a few weeks Chris is going to replace my front picture window with the casement windows on the sides, that crank out and which I discovered funnel all the noises I make into the neighborhood. Screaming at the kids, singing along with my records. I'm sure it's been entertaining over the years.

Chris has been working with these two other men, Barry J Fixall and his son, Barry. The Barrys have been doing the plumbing and gas line work in the basement. Barry J Fixall really does fixall. He's been finding different things that need work, like my screen door, and he asks if I mind if he fixes them. I love it. I guess L told Barry the son that "Usually my mom's friends don't charge her for doing work, but I guess you guys have been doing a lot."

I got cable this week. I've never, as an adult, had cable. I'm not sure I like it. Of course, the kids are giddy over it and it has come to good use as a babysitter when I need to run out for a minute. My kids are obsessed with screens, unfortunately. They will watch ANYTHING. They'd be the kids standing side by side in Bed, Bath, and Beyond, mouths agape, watching an Orange-Glo infomercial video playing in the aisle. Personally, I'm overwhelmed by the sheer volume of choices and the preponderance of absolute crap that constitutes television programming. I checked it out a little bit the second day we had it, and it was too much, it made me feel like someone was gripping me by the arms and was shaking me, my head banging around my shoulders. It's depressing that there are enough people to watch some of those shows to justify putting them on the air. I'm just going to find out which shows are good by polling my friends, and ignore everything else. I'm not television savvy, that is for sure.

Today is the 130th anniversary of the death of the Lakota warrior Crazy Horse, born 1840 - died September 6, 1877.

He would have hated cable.

This is My Life

Ahh...

The kids are off to their first day of school.

I'm decompressing.

I'm starting this blog after taking down my MySpace page. I found that there were things going on with me that I would write about, but I wasn't comfortable doing so in that forum. I used it as more of a social networking kind of thing, a public facade, a diversion when I was looking for an escape. Now, as a single mom taking nursing classes, I need to focus and remove the distractions. I guess this blog is also a bit of a distraction, but I look at it as keeping my right brain going, whatwith all the left brain stuff going on as I take Microbiology and Pathophysiology this semester, plus try to keep this house running in smooth order.

More to come.