during the past week, everytime i pull onto our street, i wish i had the camera. i remembered tonight (after about an hour and a half, thus the dark quality of the picture). i just love the way the house looks from this angle. the dog in the picture is sheba (amoeba. or louise. she has two middle names. sheba amoeba or sheba louise. not sheba amoeba louise. it's kind of confusing. i know.) betsy's on the couch in the house -- it's fucking 7 degrees outside! you can't see her from here. duh. but neither can you see the refrigerator in the basement. still. it's what the boys in my house are counting on. it is on what the boys in my house are counting? it is that upon which my boys are counting?
you never can tell what goes on behind closed doors.
here's a very recent picture of the betsy. bill brought the girls to the dog "salon" and had their nails done after their grooming session. bets had the bright red nails, sheba (no picture) had pearlescent pink. sheba thinks betsy looks like a tramp.
received confirmation that semi-son, mark, is also arriving home next weekend for a couple days -- matt had told me the other day that he'd be home then, too. so we're gonna have us a full house. for a couple days anyway. yay! gotta get the ironing out of their room. it must be impeccably clean so they can take full enjoyment out of the inevitable trashing.
matt's gonna try to teach bill, jax, and me some html stuff so we can blog with style. other than that, it will probably be just a couple days of movies (at home and out), eating (at home and out), and just hanging out. except for the j-dog, we are all most comfortable hanging out at home. he's already asking me to go ahead and make some plans that don't include him. you'd think he's embarrassed by us. we'll be sure to live up to that expectation when we make him come out in public with us at least once.
on a sadder note: the big betsy (boxer, almost 12) appears to be in tremendous pain from her arthritis. the meds seem to be helping less and less. we'll take her to the vet for a shot to see if that helps; but i almost hate to take her there cuz i know the vet will say it's time to make a decision. how do you decide that loving us and being happy to be with us is not enough reason to keep her around? she still seems to be so happy. but her more-and-more-often yelps of pain are breaking our hearts. she's had such a good life and has given so much to all of us -- a life well lived.
and this will be the second time in only a couple months that we've had to look at this kind of decision. if i could figure out how to link to a specific blog entry, i'd direct you to bill's entry about cocoa in early january.
i am so swamped at work that i haven't updated yet. i will soon.
bill and i are getting more and more angry about robitussin and coricidin. check out his blog about this issue. and here's a link to a short, informative news story.
i think my flu is now developing into pneumonia. or tuberculosis. or malaria. or leprosy. i KNEW i should have gone to work yesterday. i just can't stop tempting fate. you NEVER call in sick on a friday unless you want to be even sicker all weekend.
nobody in my office even wanted to talk to me on the phone. i think they may have changed the locks as they did not want to have ANY contact with me WHATSOEVER before the weekend. so i took the bait (foolish, foolish girl) and stayed home again yesterday. yes, i was sick as a dog. what difference does that make?
bill made a nice valentine's day dinner for me (toast and a nice cup of earl grey tea) and bought me some advil cold and sinus tablets. and then stayed upstairs with me for the rest of the evening. tell me you had a nicer valentine's day. i dare you.
cuz MY comment's server WORKS. NYAH, NYAH, NYAH-NYAH, NYAHHHH. (i THINK it works.)
sick, sleep, sick, eat, sick, sleep, sick, eat, sick, sleep. it must be piling up at work. remember how it never bothered you to take a sick day when you were a kid? i don't need to be sick AND feel guilty, too! scuse me. got to go get sick and take a nap.
bill wrote me a nice valentine on his site. he knew i was planning one, and he just had to beat me to it!
we were both dorky (me less so, of course). i was in the marching band, and bill was brought over by some of his friends who knew me to meet me (i was in the stands with the band) at an away game. he musta been kind of nervous cuz he really wasn't very nice (not like him, really). but his buddies felt that he HAD to meet me. time for bill to talk to a GIRL! i kind of was "adopted" by this group of guys. i wasn't very threatening as girls go (in the way teenage girls can be scary to nerdy guys) because i was the new president of THE GERMAN CLUB. ok. i was a LITTLE nerdy.
so all these guys would get together after the football games for pizza and ping-pong, and they'd invite me. the only girl. FINALLY, after a couple weeks, bill and one of the other guys asked me and my sister (a year younger. not a nerd.) to go out with them. sure. go out with a guy as a friend? interesting.
we went to see 2001: a space odyssey and to burger king afterwards. i had a nice, not very exciting time. he WAS kind of cute, though. and he didn't have a clue (that he was cute). but, for some reason, i just knew. i remember looking out the window at the street light when i was in bed that night and thinking, "i'm gonna marry that guy." i felt his goodness, his rightness. i was 16, bill was 17.
bill and the other guy had agreed to switch dates the next time out beforehand. bill told him to forget it. bill was going out with ME. cool.
by the time i finished high school (bill had finished his freshman year of college), bill put a $2.50 (yes, i said TWO DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS) deposit on an engagement ring. ok. the ring only cost $62.50. it's the thought, you know. my parents were ok with it, bill's dad walked out of the room in anger when told and didn't return until i left that evening. we were 17 and 18 when we broke the news to them.
we were engaged for two years. i went to secretarial school to learn a skill that could support us. we got married at the end of his junior year in college (june, 1974). i supported us through law school. then when he finished, i started college (thought i wanted to be an engineer). got about half-way through. we'd been married 6 years by that time. we got pregnant with matty in the fall of 1980, i quit school and never looked back, jackson followed (born sept., 1985).
you probably know where we are now if you read bill's blog. we've lived through a lot of financial struggles, family difficulties, the diagnosis and inevitable dealing with my "disability," lots of life.
he's ALWAYS made me feel loved and special. he's the smartest, funniest, most giving man i know. i really can't imagine another man measuring up to him for me. not to mention the fact that he's got the nicest butt. still. oh. i said i wouldn't mention that, didn't i? sorry.
yay! i'm blond again! and no middle-aged bob for me!
too much time between my visits to bernadette left me too dark and too long. i've been having a bad-hair MONTH.
the bad-hair month began the day after i was putting on lipstick in the car and said to my husband, "man, i'm having a good-hair day. i'm kind of diggin' my hair this length." to which the husband and 17-year-old broke into hysterical laughter. NOT at this foolish and bold-faced double dare to the hair god to make a good-hair day impossible for the forseeable future (as soon as it passed my lips, i knew it was all over), but of the incongruity of this woman using the phrase "kind of diggin" (i guess i'm not groovy enough to use these kinds of words). i immediately picked up the phone to make a hair appointment. 4 weeks! arghhhh.
i made my next appointment before i left the salon. 5 weeks from today.
i change channels when something comes on the tv that i KNOW is gonna upset me. i know it’s immature. and it bugs everybody else in the house. could be a tv show or movie where you KNOW they’re leading up to some kind of gruesome violence (is there any other kind?). i watch tv to be entertained, mostly. there ARE times when that’s not my purpose when turning to a certain channel, and i think i have a different level of tolerance.
i left work a little early thursday afternoon as i wasn’t feeling well. got home early enough so that when i plopped down on the couch, i thought, “yay! oprah time!” turned it on, and as it was a little bit into the show, i missed the introductions. oprah was addressing a woman in the front row of her audience -- oprah and this woman were discussing some actress who made some “anti-american / anti-war” statements at a film festival out of the country. this woman didn’t like it one bit. i got the feeling that she was not just ANY audience member (i don’t know why i thought this at the moment), but that she was some type of lawmaker / legislator. her final statement was: “i promise not to pretend i’m julia roberts if julia roberts doesn’t pretend to be a politician.” big laugh. applause. i changed the channel.
EXCUSE ME!!!??? you have to be a POLITICIAN to speak up against what you believe is wrong??? oh realllllly. bummer for this woman (SOMEBODY PLEASE, PLEASE TELL ME WHO SHE WAS / IS) that she lives in this country. and yes, we’re fully aware that it’s the fact that we are citizens of THIS country that allows us to speak out AGAINST certain policies of our “elected” government officials. that’s the point, dummy!
hey lady! the voting rights act passed in 1965. that means we ALL have a voice HERE. seems like all it is is a voice, since more than half the VOTES went to somebody else in the last election; and those were deemed irrelevant. so i’m gonna use my voice here, and i hope julia roberts and sean penn and anybody else who wants to use their voice does, too. love it or leave it, lady! i’m not talking about a bunch of POLITICAL HACKS AND THEIR POLICIES. YOU DON’T OWN THIS COUNTRY! i’m talking about the real values and principles upon which this country was founded.
i’ve always wanted to believe – i think most of us feel this way – that our leaders are guided by what they believe is right for a nation, what is righteous. HAH! the politicians think they’re ceo’s of the largest corporation on earth, and are looking ONLY AT THE BOTTOM LINE. today, THIS looks good for the bottom line, tomorrow THAT looks good. do the right thing, dammit, and let the damned bottom line take care of itself!
so, i’m gonna try to be a good citizen a little more and NOT change the channel every time a republican opens his or her mouth.
i was planning an anti-war rant for today's blog, but you'll have to wait for that. first things first.
i'm the kind of cook that rarely uses recipes. i READ other people's recipes and figure out how to do it my own way. sometime / somewhere in the past year i saw a tv chef make a quick dessert wrapping a banana slice and small piece of chocolate in a won-ton wrapper, deep frying, and dusting with powdered sugar. gimme some of that, i said, but waited until today to try. yummy. but... as i was picking out the won-ton wrappers, i spied the EGG-ROLL WRAPPERS-- PERFECT SIZE FOR A CANDY BAR! i got the wrappers, bill picked out an assortment of candy bars (baby ruth, milky way, snickers, three musketeers). we ran into the house, throwing the candy bars in the freezer for a very short cool-off, and started with the healthy first course of the banana-chocolate won-tons. goooood. made four of those, took the baby ruth and milky way out of the freezer, wrapped them up, and fried them. oh my god. immagenius.
yes, there is a PART of me that feels sorry for michael jackson. a small part. a really, REALLY small part.
he is clearly one of the most immature men i’ve ever seen or heard of. he’s clearly a liar. whether he’s more than that – a child molester – i’m not sure we’ll really ever know as he’s got so much money to throw around to “victims” in the way of “settlements.” enough to keep EVERYBODY (including parents) quiet and content, obviously.
btw, what’s up with that 12-year-old’s parents (the kid on the show last night) to think that what is going on (EVEN IF YOU BELIEVE IT AS IT WAS CHARACTERIZED BY JACKO AND THE KID) is a-ok? what the hell? would YOU think it was ok for your kid? if you say yes to that, you’re whacko, too.
who’s to blame for this screwed-up “man?”
his dad? if you believe jacko, dad is not a very nice man. i’m the first one to agree that childhood abuse can mess you up. big time. but at some point you have to own your own life and GET OVER IT. i’m not saying forget it. in fact, i’d be the first to say “get this person out of your life. he’s not worth your time and attention. not to mention affection or good will.” but get over it you must. it’s YOUR life. make something better of it.
his management? probably, to some extent.
the public? screw that.
based on what i saw last night, i’m surprised there isn’t a line of relatives at the courthouse filing papers to be appointed his guardian. and he does need one. he should not be walking around unsupervised. this “man” has NO understanding of what constitutes normal, healthy behavior.
was he feeding the baby in a normal, loving way? did it look to you like he EVER fed a baby before?? not to me. it looked like he was trying to get the baby to throw up. he almost made ME throw up.
was he going to throw the baby off the balcony? i don’t think ANYBODY thought that. what incensed people / the media about this immature stunt was that it scared the baby! he had no clue about this. said the baby ENJOYED IT and started to make “singing-like sounds.”
every time he interacted with his kids, it felt fake to me. fake. bullshit. i was disgusted. and he wants to adopt a child – no – 2 CHILDREN – from EVERY CONTINENT OF THE WORLD! what a guy. what a humanitarian. what a load of crap. figure out how to be a REAL father to the kids you have already, buddy. spend some time with normal people.
try to understand that to someone who wants to consider himself (and be considered) an honest person, words should in SOME WAY be related to reality. not as YOU WANT IT TO BE. that is called “make-believe” or NEVER-NEVER-LAND to some. if you don’t like what you see in the metaphorical mirror (i’m not even gonna broach the subject of the real mirror), make some changes. way past time for that, but not too late. do it. it’s not cute anymore at all. it’s disgusting.
he’s a wounded, immature, rich idiot. get over it. grow up.
so matt spoke to all his profs yesterday. they all were very encouraging, except ... in one class, he has a large group project due at semester end. however, one PART of the project is due next week (week after?); and that happens to be the part for which matt and another kid in the group are responsible. so ... doesn't seem possible for matt to up and leave without severely compromising the group grade. ahh well. he tried. but his priorities are right. #1 to the group. and so no trip to austria. i'm waiting to hear that big baby (see yesterday's blog) gets his ass kicked (metaphorically) by SOMEONE who has some sense and encourages him to do the right thing and go.
this is a real bummer for matt. he would have LOVED to go. the other kid (big baby) was asked several times if he was sure he'd go. "sure." whatever. i don't believe for one minute that he's sick (or sick enough) to cancel. this (BIG BABY) is the kind of "round-peg" kid who's had a pass his whole life. but there's NOTHING inside the perfect facade. NOTHING.
i'm gonna stop this bitching and whining stuff. you're gonna see a brand-new me in future blogs. all upbeat and positive! lots of exclamation points!
here is part of a letter our son, matt, received back in november i've x'd out portions that might lead you to the name of the subject of this "rant:"
"Congratulations! Your paper "Seismic Signal Analysis using xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx" has been accepted for presentation at the xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx, which will be held February 10 to February 13, 2003, in xxxxxxxxx, Austria."
he and another student co-authored this paper with a professor at the university. matt and the other student decided that the other kid should go to THIS conference (with the prof) as he (other kid) will finish up his degree before matt, and matt would have other opportunities as it’s likely more papers will be published. so matt spends a lot of time finding good air fare for prof and kid (why matt had to be the kid’s “bitch,” i don’t know), makes reservations for 2/8/03 departure. done. matt’s in the middle of a very busy time at school right now. NOT TO MENTION THAT HIS PASSPORT HAS EXPIRED! you know how schoolwork ebbs and flows. this other kid’s known about this trip for three months. today, his mommy calls prof to tell him baby boy is sick, can’t go. how sick is he that he knows he won’t be better in a couple days? we don’t know. nothing life-threatening as far as prof was told. and how sick do you have to be to be a 22-year-old baby to have mommy call. wtf? how sick that you can’t get to a doctor and get yourself better in 4 days? at least better ENOUGH???
OBVIOUSLY, brat/baby does not want to go! prof has ALREADY written grad school recommendation letter.
so prof says, “matt, can you come?” matt would LOVE to go, but, at this point, it doesn’t look possible. shit. he’s on the phone RIGHT NOW with all of his other profs hoping against hope (what are the odds of this happening?) that EACH of them will say, “go! no problem! whatever you need!”
like THAT will happen. last year, when jax was in utah, all of the family was encouraged to come for the three-day grad/therapy sessions. one prof said “go! no problem! whatever you need! this is a wonderful thing, matt!” two others said, “whatever. go if you want, but you’ll be in a HUGE hole when you return.” so, obviously, with THAT kind of encouragement and support, he did not go.
i’m so pissed at this other kid right now. AND his mommy for raising this big baby. i would have said to matt (as if matt would even consider asking me to call for him!), “CALL HIM YOURSELF, YOU BIG BABY!”
I HOPE PROF SUES HIM (THE OTHER KID – THE BIG BABY – THE BRAT) FOR THE AIR FARE IF MATT CAN’T GO. DAMMIT! if you didn’t wanna go, you big brat, a little more notice woulda helped! spoiled fuckwit.
this blog stuff is a heavy responsibility. i thought i was up for it, but now i'm not so sure that i am. crazy bill has a lot more time than i do as he works out of the house (and can update when inspiration strikes), needs a whole lot less sleep than i do (and thus spends more time later at night), AND his computer is upstairs in our room (thus more accessible late at night also). plus, he's a lot more motivated than i am.
the only thing i really feel like talking about today is a blog i got caught up on today (popular blog -- a lot of you if you come over here from bill's blog know which blog i'm talking about). she says she saw a mini van with some kind of coded license plate with what she interpreted as "carpe diem." the point of her post was that how could anyone driving a mini van entertain such a philosophy. how, indeed. obvious to me (as it must be to her many, many readers) that this woman, by virtue of her choice in vehicles, could not, by any stretch of the imagination have the intellectual capacity to even understand what she was "saying."'
i'm so FUCKING sick of this kind of crap. i had enjoyed this young woman's blog for quite some time, but now i feel smacked in the face and won't go back. you're obviously bright, articulate, and funny. enjoy it while you can because 'unless you die before you get old' -- forgive me, pete -- you will get old. and i guess that means stupid, too. unimaginative. not creative. just because you had two or three kids, and maybe two of them play hockey, or maybe soccer. forget about seizing any day. it's all over for you.
here is the j-dog, in a doctored picture. the actual picture showed him in utah with the guys from his "graduation" group, which suggested the "MASH" theme to a friend of ours. i love this picture. and now since i've kind of figured out how to do this (upload photos) ...
sorry for this weird reflective mood. these moments keep coming back to me, and i'm compelled to share / expose.
before "911," the schools in ohio were not aware of the dangers posed by milk "bags" (as opposed to the ubiquitous cartons), except for ONE ever-vigilant lunch-room aid in a small town in northern ohio, we'll call her mrs. "e."
matt was 9 and becoming ever-more aware of ecological issues. he developed a strategy of consuming his milk from these bags without using a straw. evidently mrs. e. felt that using these bags without a straw posed an EVEN GREATER threat to lunchroom security than normal, and one day noticed the kid drinking his milk in this suspicious way. "get a straw," said she.
"i'm philosophically opposed to straws, mrs. e."
mrs. e. turned sideways to her co-hort in maintaining lunchroom security, and said, "he's philosophically opposed to straws."
she must have seen clear through to his black soul and evil plans, as her next words were: "on the wall. now."
the dreaded wall. at LUNCHTIME. the worst punishment imaginable for any elementary school kid. he stood face to the wall for the next thirty minutes while the rest of the kids played ... well ... whatever they played at lunchtime.
at dinner that night we heard of his "infraction" and subsequent solitary banishment. bill quickly penned a note to the principal that matt was to carry to school the next day and produce if necessary. "principal m: matt has our permission to drink his milk without a straw. if drinking milk in this way is contrary to school rules, please call me to discuss."
the next day, mrs. e. was on the lookout for matt. "get a straw," said she.
"i have a note," said the 9 year old.
the sidelong glance to her aid in security matters, "he has a note."
he passed his "papers" to her, and she read (we assume she read the note as her eyes moved along the page and her lips moved).
i don't know if the note was passed on. we never heard from anybody. we HAVE heard, however, that this story regarding matt's brave stand against fascism in the lunchroom has been handed down and spoken of most reverently.
alas, it was a different time. we know better now than to question authority.
not.
-----
when jax (4)_heard this story at the dinner table, he fashioned his own rap line which he recited (sang?) INCESSANTLY for at least a MONTH AND A HALF.
"i'm philosophically opposed. to bimbos.
i'm philosophically opposed. to bimbos.
i'm philosophically opposed. to bimbos.
i'm philosophically opposed. to bimbos..."
Nothing But Love
here is the